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libraryofgage · 6 months

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Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing

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pilfappreciator · 5 months

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Brandi and Bruce’s S/o looking after the bakers dozen on their own, what shenanigans occur?

Anon this is?? Literally so cute what the hell??? Also referring to them as the "bakers dozen" is so genuis sfhjjfdadfggh—

Reader & the Bakers Dozen: babysitting solo

Includes: GN! Reader, mentions of polyamory, mentions of Vacay Lovers, slightly Parental! Reader, the Bakers Dozen

CW: Bruce Jr.

🍪 POV: your partners go off to some fancy convention to promote their business, leaving you to watch after all 13 of their kids. Chaos ensues

🍪 These little shits are already a lot to handle, so when you suddenly find yourself being the only adult in the house responsible for them? Yeah, babes, you've definitely got your hands full

🍪 Luckily, you've spent enught time at the Vacay Lovers household that things are at least a little easier for you lol

🍪 They definitely behave much better for you compared to other babysitters. Partly because you're smoochin their parents (and don't wanna get in trouble), and partly because they genuinely like you :3

🍪 But they're still little shits thru and thru, don't forget that

🍪 If they happen to have school? Chances are Bruce and Brandi already took care of their lunches and stuff before they left, so it'll be up to you to pick them up (WARNING: THE KIDS WILL TRY TO CONVINCE YOU TO GO ORDER AT THE NEAREST FAST FOOD PLACE! Unless you've got money for 13 happy meals, prepare to hit em with a firm refusal). Definitely helps if you blast some music in the van! They've kinda lost interest in Velvet & Veneer after learning the two literally tortured their dad and uncles...

🍪 Play Brozone. They'll go crazy and shout-sing along with Bruce's parts lol

🍪 Later in the day you can expect a few to come up to you for homework help. They might also wanna help with dinner, but fyi there WILL be a mess. Pasta sauce on the floor, flour all over the counters, stains on your clothes— the whole shebang

🍪 Want the least amount of casualties? Just let them set the table (no worries, all the plates and stuff are made of plastic ajdjakkala)

🍪 A few of them have some dietary restrictions tho so keep that in mind!! Luckily, you can always find a list of reminders/examples up on the fridge courtesy of lovely muppet wife Brandi <33

🍪 If the kids don't have school that day, then be prepared. You're gonna have very little time to yourself ://

🍪 Like they've each got their own interests and hobbies to keep them occupied, but sometimes they'll need you to reach somewhere up high, or for you to play tiebreaker/settle an argument, or they honestly just want you to join them for a game of hide and seek which???

🍪 "Aw, you sure you guys don't mind me joining in?"

"Yeah! Just cuz you're old doesn't mean you can't have fun, too!"

"...Gee, thanks :D"

🍪 They're merciless

🍪 They've all got their own set of chores they need to do. Each and everyone will try to worm their way out of them. All of them. Everytime

🍪 Sure, they can be a little hyper sometimes, but they're like 6-8 years old so that's expected. For the most part, they're all pretty chill

🍪 It's Bruce Jr. who you've gotta watch out for

🍪 He is a shit- stirer and I WILL FOREVER STAND BY THAT

🍪 This guy won't hesitate to rally his siblings into whatever plan he's been cookin in that feral little head of his. Prepare yourself because you're MOST DEFINITELY getting pranked. It's like a requirement or something

🍪 One nice thing i have to say about Bruce Jr. is that he's actually pretty resourceful. Like this little dude is using everyday household items like he's staring in his own Home Alone movie AKSJSJAKA—

🍪 Rest assured, tho, none of his pranks are seriously harmful or anything but like... at the end of the day, expect:

1) to be covered in craft supplies

2) your clothes/skin/hair a mess

3) to have one limb stuck in a bucket

4) all of the above

🍪 Honestly I feel like Bruce and Brandi would be surprised if they came back and DIDN'T find you sporting paint-stained clothes or with glitter in your hair. Maybe a few stickers slapped on your forehead??

🍪 The trick to dealing with this little agent of chaos is to either keep him separated from his siblings long enough so he doesn't manage to rope anyone into his schemes, or strike some kinda deal with him. Considering he's got 12 siblings, all of whom you need to be watching over at the same time, chances are the second option is your safest bet

🍪 Chances are he'll ask for something semi-illegal, or at the very least something that DEFINITELY requires adult supervision

🍪 DO NOT LET THIS BOY TALK YOU INTO BUYING ANYTHING RELATED TO FIRE. Seems like an easy task, I know. Unfortunately this little shit enherited his dad's charm so watch out o_o

🍪 He'll settle for a happy meal tho. Hopefully you didn't already cave and take him and his siblings out to eat earlier, otherwise you're spending even more money ajsjakkala

🍪 If any errands need to be run during your time there, you BETTER BELIEVE they're all coming with. You'll need to be incredibly vigilant during this time cuz these kids are even more rowdy in public than they are at home. If you're smart about it, you can turn the whole thing into a game! If everyone manages to grab everything off the grocery list in a certain amount of time or if they're able to find the best quality (but relatively cheap) brand of laundry detergent, then you'll buy each of them candy or something uwu

🍪 You can count on them to be cooperative, but like... bring the family child leash just in case

🍪 Cough cough (Bruce Jr.) cough cough

🍪 MOVIES BEFORE BED! It's a bit of a family tradition in the Vacay Lovers household. Yknow, just some way for the kids to spend time together before the day ends

🍪 You're most definitely gonna be playing tiebreaker when the time comes. All 13 of them have wildly different tastes

🍪 Absolutely no scary movies tho. They'll try to argue that theyre able to handle it, but at the end of the night expect to find yourself under a pile of frightened children who've ctawled into bed with you

🍪 Their collective nightly routine is literally?? So chaotic??? Like all of them are simultaneously trying to squeeze into the same bathroom just to brush their teeth... running in and out of their respective rooms... trying to sneak some extra dessert before bed

🍪 Literally never a quite moment in this household jshskakakam

🍪 You might have to read a few bedtime stories or sing a lullaby—

"Dad does it better"

"Just go to bed, Benji"

—but once they've settled in under the covers? Out like a light. They are unconscious the moment their heads hit their pillows

🍪 You'll probably have a mess (or two... or three) to clean up afterwards, but once they're taken care of? Dishes washed? Counters clean? You're more than welcome to crash on Bruce and Brandi's bed <33

🍪 Said couple returns home the next morning...

🍪 Just to find their kids drawing on your face with marker. Cross your fingers that none of its permanent 💀💀

Hope this was good! I know I call them all little shits BUT I MEAN IT AFFECTIONATELY OKAY AJSJAKA

Ngl I feel like this could have been like... more colorful? Like I was very general about the kids and their behavior as a whole, but now I'm super tempted to make a post describing each of them and all their little quirks! Just something fun to do that'll help me write them better in the future ;3

#anon i hope you know im using Bakers Dozen as an official term from now on #big brain move #love that for you <33 #i shall continue to slander bruce jr. till the grave #trolls #trolls band together #bruce trolls #brandi trolls #Vacay Lovers #Bakers Dozen #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #spruce trolls #x reader #headcanon #ask

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lexirosewrites · 1 month

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For next Sunday.

Less of a story, more of an A/B/O conceptual conceit with a potential idea tacked onto the end. The same way that getting a really bad upper respiratory infection can make you susceptible to them for years and years afterwards: getting rejection sickness, either one really bad one, or a bunch of small ones, can make you permanently prone to developing it again.

So. Steve Harrington, whose parents were home often enough for Steve to hope, but gone enough for their scents to fade, has been dealing with whats basically chronic rejection sickness all his childhood. It gets a little easier when he has a long term nanny, not just omegas hired to watch him for a weekend here or there. Getting popular helps too. He has people around that way. Sports help a lot because whether its intentional or not, they all end up scenting like the rest of the team most days, and Steve builds a reputation for being too protective of his hair to shower in the school gym most of the time.

It's better than it was, but that doesn't mean he's cured. Pulling away from Carol and Tommy, who have functionally been his pack, messes with his health. He doesn't even like them, doesn't want them around, but they've been part of him for so long his body panics. He clings to Nancy to try to make up for it, but that's not who she is, and it doesn't really work.

Nancy breaking up with him fully crashes him into rejection sickness. It's bad. It's so bad.

Luckily, it hits over the holidays, and he gets a scrip from a doctor to make it run faster. Means he feels even worse during it, but by the time classes start, he's functional again. The kids help some. Robin helps a lot. It's chronic illness though, so there's random times when his parents are home for a week, then leave, and Robin isn't enough to fully prevent it.

Enter Eddie.

Maybe its the band touring. Maybe its Eddie going into WitSec. Maybe its just that the town isn't safe so he and Wayne move. And they're not together, not dating, not - technically - more than friends, but that doesn't stop Steve from getting sick.

Ohhh noooo my poor baby🥺 I just know that Eddie would feel terrible when he realized!!

#slick Sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omegaverse #a/b/o #my asks

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 3 months

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Damon scrolling through tiktok and suddenly gets recommended a video his darling nerd posted that went viral

Spoiler, It's a thirst trap. ♡°▽°♡

🦪 Anon again !!!! >∆<

Yandere! Jock x Honor student! gn! reader

What if: Darling posts a thirst trap?

LMAO 🦪anon your ideas are so fun HADHSAHDAH

Damon was bored out of his mind.

School was out, summer is in, and he's truly about to lose his mind from the lack of things he's about to do.

He's tired of seeing his parents tip toe around him and he just wants out.

He wants to stretch his body and workout, but he doesn't have any kind of mental energy to do that after fighting with his mother just earlier.

Who in their right mind would cross Damon and tell him that his obsession love for you is getting too much by using the family printer and printing a life size cutout of you?

He's upset, but he still got the cutout anyways.

Mindlessly scrolling through his feeds, he decided to go through tiktok like a drone looking for mental stimulation.

The hours passed by, his thumb sliding across the screen as he drank in countless videos of sports, video games, drama, AITA reddit videos, viral videos, random ones, and sponsored vids.

Not until he saw a certain body doing the baba trend.

Sure, they're wearing a mask, but Damon can recognize that frame anywhere that looked so small beside him.

His breathing became shallow, blood pumping as he watched you lift your shirt up for the camera, showing off your body that's making his own body shiver.

You looked so shy, yet so bold as your eyes gazed through the camera with a cyber y2k filter on.

With the music wafting his ears, his gaze fixated on your body as the video repeats again.

and again.

And again.

And again...

It's engraved to his mind already as he shakily long pressed on the video. Finding it unsavable, he inwardly groaned as he frantically tried to find a way to save the video.

Damon was trembling, desperate to have your video saved on his phone as he downloaded a screensaver app.

Breathless as he may, that doesn't mean he's slow to record your video and saving it immediately on his gallery for future watches and uses.

What uses?

That's for him to know, and that's for everybody to not find out as he obsessively stalked through your profile.

"God..." He mused. "Little nerd, holy shit..."

Your profile was filled with you, in a black mask, doing different types of tiktok videos.

But it's no ordinary videos.

No no no... It's all thirst traps.

Baba, that DPR Ian belt dance trend, silhouette... You were participating in all these videos. And everything was to show off your body that he knows and love.

Yet, you don't tag them at all.

So, what's the point?

People were not discovering them too, as views are only mostly at single digits. Yet that didn't deter his annoyance and jealousy one bit as he bit back a moan, watching you tease the camera. Lifting your mask a bit and licking the air.

"What the fuck..."

Damon can feel himself getting hard down there.

It's a treasure trove just for him.

He can feel a twitching smile creep up his face as he gently clicked on follow.

Your first follower.

Damon doesn't know why you're running a thirst trap account, or why you're doing it in the first place.

If it's for validation, then he's sorry but he's gonna make sure he's the only one who can see the videos.

He doesn't know how, but he's going to do it.

He doesn't need rabid dogs on your account. He can't afford that.

Not when he can't exactly kill so many people if you were ever to go viral at all.

But now, he waits as he predicts your next move. If you're gonna go private, follow him back, ask him how he found your account.

All of the videos are saved anyways.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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oncomingnight · 10 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰!⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 ��𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐱 ❥.

Valentina was one of the only Hispanic girls in every single one of her classrooms throughout K-12. This was due to the fact her family resided in a town with an extremely small population that was surrounded by a mountain setting. This never dismayed her in being a confident girl, her mother raised her with the mindset of "they're just jealous of you". Yet, this didn't turn her into an egotistical monster. She was a sweet girl despite what her looks may have made you assume.

Her mother and father were extremely loving and protective parents, basically the staple for a stable family. They'd have game nights, movie nights, group cooking sessions, etc. Her father was the type to take photos of her outfits before she headed off to school, her sporting a confident pose and a dimple guarded smile.

It wasn't surprising to anyone around her when she got accepted into a top-notch modeling agency. It was difficult to move away from such a loving and memory ridden home, away from her parents, but she and them both acknowledged it was time for her to branch out. Valentina was able to rent out an apartment in the metropolitan city of Chicago, such a big city intimidated her quite a bit but she eventually adapted and conquered her feelings of timidness.

She was extremely surprised by the experience of being flown out to Europe and being paid to walk for the most sought after brands, but, it wasn't something she couldn't get used to.

A deal's a deal.

The two of you met at an event you had partaken in planning, assisting in choosing the venue, the entertainment and assorting several food choices of different diets. As she was sipping on a negroni, she scanned the crowd and eventually settled on you.

God, were you gorgeous.

It was quite the scene. Her dark, shadowed eyes circling around your figure and face as sensual jazz music was being played by a live band. She took the skinny black straw from between her lips, smoothing out her silk black dress with one slightly tatted hand before walking on over to you. As soon as Valentina was close enough to get a good look at you, she almost leaned over to squeeze your cheeks, you looked far too adorable for her to handle.

"Hi", she said with a wide smile before quickly sticking her hand out to shake yours as she said, "I'm Valentina, what's your name?"

As soon as you replied with a fond smile and told her your name, she could help herself and decided to say:

"Oh, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl, huh?" Ending her flirty sentence with a sultry laugh at the sight of your flustered expression. Before the conversation progressed even further, she requested to know your personal social media and even your number. Who were you to deny such a lovely lady?

She knows what she wants.

Valentina was always the first person to comment under your posts and reposted some of them onto her story, only those of which including your face or an outfit you decided to show off that day. It always included a caption written by her saying, "pretty." She never failed in texting you good morning and asking if you'd like to go out for lunch with her.

All of the checks were paid for by her, no matter how many times you tried to grab at the bill and take your card from your purse. The two of you could've gone on a shopping spree together, gotten coffee and then lunch and she'd still want to pay.

"Please? My treat." As if she didn't pay for your whole day out.

She treats you as if you're her girlfriend before she even asks you out, but don't worry, she eventually asks you and it's in the cutest way imaginable. You're taken to a floral garden and the only hint she gave you of the location was a text saying, "dress cute, as you always do." A red gingham blanket was settled onto the hunter green grass along with a woven picnic basket filled with every single one of your favorite snacks. You noticed the unusual nervousness that she had been moving with the entire time the two of you were hanging out.

"Y/n, I want to ask you before anyone else does, and don't say anything until I'm finished, okay? There's nowhere else in the whole world that I'd rather be than right here with you. Nothing would make me happier than being able to take care of you and hold you every single second of each and every day. You better believe me when I say that from the very moment I saw you, I felt nothing but love. Do you love me, Y/n? I want you to love me."

The intense wording of her confession startled you a bit, but you couldn't be happier. You were finally given the chance to tell her you also, indeed, did love her.

After you accepted her admission of love, Valentina gently placed her hand on the back of your neck and placed her plump, plum-colored lips onto yours.

You always tag along with her when she's set to walk and model clothing on a runway. Your presence makes her so much more confident than she already feels when she's swaying and strutting her hips. She'll find you in the crowd of fashion journalists and influencers, sending you a sweet smile and blowing you a kiss every once and awhile.

Her job can be a bit tiring but it's the reason she lives the life she does. She acknowledges this but the constant demand on the upkeep of her appearance is extremely irritating and overwhelming, especially when it's coming from people whose only job is to sit and judge someone's appearance.

The scum of the earth, as she likes to say.

When you're unable to be with her backstage during a show, she comes home and just nestles her messy head of hair into your tummy, whining and ranting about the people who made her angry that day.

"Sometimes I just wish I could do something to make them stop talking, like, forever." Valentina knows exactly what she could do to make her job easier but they're her superiors so they're restricted from her wrath.

Me when I can't fight my boss 🙄!!

Valentina absolutely loves taking you on holiday vacations, usually taking place in either Europe or her parents home back in Pennsylvania.

To her, there's no better way to start a morning than waking up next to you and seeing you peacefully sipping on your cup of coffee with a blanket wrapped around your bare chest. She's also

Valentina loves assisting you in more ways than one. She's a tall girl so she's able to reach up high shelves to grab something for you or put decorations up. She also enjoys assisting you in the sexual sense.

Sure, she comes home extremely tired from a long day at work, but she's not too tired to bury her head into your pussy and drown out your whines of overstimulation. Calm down, babe, it helps her relax! She'll also reach to hold your hand, staring at you with adoring puppy dog eyes as you writhe and attempt at moving your hips away from her gluttonous mouth.

Valentina is also a master at cooking. You'll wake up to the immediate aroma of chicken, cheese and homemade pasta noodles hitting your nose. She'll immediately whip up an excellent array of desserts for the two of you to share over a cup of coffee or tea.

Despite her tough aura, she loves to do nothing more than burrowing her head into your shoulder, wrapping her slender arms around your waist, nipping and kissing at your neck. You're far too cute for her to keep her hands to herself.

She's a complete baby when the two of you are alone, but there are some paparazzi photographs that show her softer side. A photo of you feeding her creamy tomato pasta backstage at a Mugler show, her sitting on your lap with her lips around the silver fork, looking at you with eyes filled with complete, pure devotion.

To some of your surprise, she isn't embarrassed by these pictures being published at all! It simply shows everyone who views it that your hers and she's yours.

It'll always be that way.

Back on the topic of holidays between the two of you, she enjoys wandering around vast cities with you as she holds onto your hand. Grabbing an iced coffee with a pistachio croissant whilst staying in Italy? And she's with the love of her life? Yeah, that sounds like an amazing day.

She's always happiest when she's around her baby, she's done terrible things to outside forces to keep it that way, and she's not above doing it once more. They should've known better and you'd understand if you found out, undeniably. They were trying to take you away from her, explain to Valentina why she should've sat back and let that happen.

You can't!

She adores dressing you up in her choice of clothing, especially if your personal style contrasts with her own. She'll purchase clothing that's in her favored style and pleads for you to try them on! She waits outside of the bathroom in your shared home as you change, anticipating to see her angel baby practically modeling the clothing she purchased.

Valentina also really enjoys doing your makeup! Speaking to you about your plans for the rest of the day and what outfit would look the best with the eyeshadow she's placing onto your eyelid. You make every single makeup look she applies on you absolutely perfect!

In general, she's incredibly protective but especially when it comes to people attempting to win you over with wandering hands and failed flirting. She practically powerwalks to where you and the person are standing and immediately starts interrogating them. She'll pull you closer into the side of her body, asking the person, "What were the two of you talking about? I'm kinda in the mood to laugh, tell me. I want to laugh too."

When it comes to her love for you, she'll go to the greatest lengths. If she ever sees you in an insecure attitude, there's nothing that could devastate her more. The girl that is the epitome of the word perfect, thinks she's unattractive..? How does that even work?

She'll look at your phone, seeing the influencer you're comparing yourself to and she has to stop herself from releasing a boisterous laugh. She gently takes your phone out of your hands before saying, "Honey, hey, look at me, yeah? I've seen this girl millions of times in real life, that workout didn't help her look like that at all, it was the surgeries." She's great at comforting you as she knows what it's like to feel unsure of yourself at times, and she never wants you to live in doubt of your appearance or attitude.

Those girls that are flat out lying on your explore page are going to get an extremely unexpected phone call filled with threats made to their personal cell. (With a voice changer of course!)

But, if she's incredibly angry she won't even bother concealing her real voice. She has enough connections to prevent any repercussions made toward her, she also has enough connections to help get rid of a person.

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pineappleciders · 1 year

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ayo can i request a male (or gn if you prefer) adult reader adopting tweek, butters and kenny? bc i love those kids but they all deserve much better parents than the ones they have in canon.

masc adult reader adopting tweek, butters, and kenny (and a bit of karen)

A/N: i've never gotten to do a male reader b4 so i'm glad you asked!!!! these r kinda separate to keep it simple, also reader is referred to as dad :)

TRIGGER WARNING: SA and abuse mentions, drugs (obviously)

tweek tweak

first things first, you start weaning him off the coffee. you still give him smaller doses for awhile just to keep him stable and with no withdrawal

if you send him to rehab, he'd definitely be a little scared. so you pack his backpack and lunch and pat him on the head and send him off, telling him to text you if he needs anything

he's always coming into your room in the middle of the night gripping his pillow and pulling his hair.

"dad, the gnomes! t-they're back, AGH!"

"tweek, i thought we went over this..."

it can be a little difficult to calm him down sometimes, so you two practice breathing exercises in case you aren't there to help him

he carries around a little card keychain that you made for him with comforting words and grounding techniques. he carries it everywhere and attaches it to his bookbag!!

you put the coffee pods on the highest cupboard shelf so he can't reach them. he hasn't tried to reach them (as far as you're aware)

you try to smooth down his hair and brush it out but it somehow always pops back up. also his hairline is fucked. so are his teeth. he's a little fucked up in every way but you love him anyways

butters stotch

with butters, it's apparent that negative discipline is not the route here. you instead opt to use positive reinforcement when he obeys and does stuff right

you're not a pushover by any means, but you are a lot less strict than his biological parents.

he gets a little confused sometimes when he doesn't get shouted at or blamed for something he didn't do. like he walks in the door expecting to get yelled at but you just hug him and ask how his day at school was

he's really glad he can actually have friends over now. his friends are always commenting on how cool his new dad is compared to his old one

butters has learned to not talk about his trauma and past. he was always taught to bury it deep down and never mention it to anybody. so when he randomly blurts out how his uncle molested him at dinner, he's confused when you look horrified

he loves to play sports in the backyard with you!!! his old dad never really spent time with him, so he has the absolute time of his life playing ball with you. it becomes one of his best core memories

he likes to draw with crayons a lot so he always draws pictures of you and him like under a rainbow or something and you always hang it up on the fridge. you're quickly running out of room for his art

kenny mccormick

as soon as he gets home and you give him the OK to eat he is eating everything in your house

turns out it's really difficult for a 9 year old to properly grow on a diet of frozen waffles and dust bunnies. you're shocked when you're preparing his bath and he's a lot skinnier and shorter than the other kids

honestly if u adopt him then you have to adopt karen too. and kevin if you want. but preferably karen.

nothing makes kenny happier than knowing she's sleeping in a warm bed with a full stomach. it's just a bonus that he is too!!

like butters, he loves to play sports with you. specifically catch and baseball. he also forces you to play barbies with him and do a high-pitched girl voice

loves to fall asleep in your lap/in your arms. like he'll fall asleep mid-piggy back ride and just snore on your shoulder

always flexing on cartman that now that he isn't the poorest kid that cartman is now. cartman hates u for it

always wants a sip of your morning coffee and waits for karen to finish her food before finishing his. it's a force of habit and it's kind of sad but also really sweet

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tiyoin · 25 days

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Tiyoin the voices got to me again. I was scrolling tho tik tok and came across a video ,and it reminded me that you mentioned reader doing a sport before attending twst in the singing au. Wanna give a guess what sport I saw??

It was ✨figure skating✨. Just imagine it for a sec. Do I know anything about skating?? No. But the idea of anxiety reader being one is beautiful. Especially since skating isnt a confrontation sports like soccer and, reader doesn't have to be in contact with someone while performing their act.

I see reader starting the sport when they were young. They may have seen it as a way to put themselves out there while doing something they enjoy and find relaxing. They didn't compete in big contests with thousands of people watching (girlie would not make it). They would only get to county or district level of the contest B4 the nerves got to them. Most likely self sabotages at the end so they wouldn't have to seen and judged by so many. Reader does has a few gold medals tho. Yuu has been their personal cheerleader for a few years now. Going to as many contests as he can to just support reader and know they're not alone.

✨Now✨

What if there is a different competition (w/o a overblot hopefully) which a sport is picked randomly. Whether you want it to be a school vs school, dorm vs dorm or maybe grade vs grade you can decide. I think it could work with any of them. Like they pick a few people to represent their side and to complete. The ones that physically compete get prizes (💰) and the others get bragging rights and a 🍕 pizza party or smth like that idk.

Anyways, Yuu is like *puppy eyes* pls reader 👉👈we poor. And reader knows Yuu is only asking cuz they they really need the money and he would never make them do smth that would harm them. Yuus real motive is maybe this will help reader make friends or less be less anxious around their classmates. And he knows Reader is gonna win cuz none of the others skate.

The only ones in NRC that I can see being able to skate to a degree is Rook, Jade or Ortho maybe Epel too. He probably hated it till his grandma said only strong people could skate cuz it's hard. I think his home town is gets snow right? Can't recall rn.

Depending on which VS is picked the outfit and preforment is gonna be a easy choice or the hardest thing in the whole contest. Maybe a duet gets thrown in there. ➖👄👁️

Overall reader is ✨stressed✨ rightfully so. The creeps are recording, admirers admirering, rivals showing up left and right. Reader gonna need a nap after everything that's happened.

Another 3-5 am ask woooo. Sorry if there is any spelling errors. Why do the best ideas always come when I'm tired 😩. I can send u a tik tok I saw that inspired me if u want. Also I don't mean to mention Rook in every ask he just shows up w/o asking. Like my fav is Malleus and I haven't send a single idea with him.

Maybe it's cuz Rooks a Sagittarius and I'm a Gemini. They are sister signs. That's probably why he lives in my head rent free. I hope a good night.

MEL- I NEED TO KISS YOU BRAIN RIGHT NOW!!

especially with the death of YOI: adolescence... a sad day for anime lovers' everywhere (im on desktop so i can't do any emojis </3)

I actually had a really big skating phase. still do and would love to have prof. lessons. i wanted to do it so. badly. my parents said 'no' and that it was too late for me, so i mourn that. believe it or not, i was in soccer and almost did it in college.

but the ice feeling so freeing whenever reader steps onto it. they're not worried about sweating because of ice, and they can move how the want when they want.

reader would 100 PERCENT self sabotage themselves. filling their head with nonsense and because of all those thoughts (especially) 'dont miss this spin, dont miss this spin' only to miss it because they were focusing on whether they would 'miss the spin or not')

but in their home world, reader is phenomenal!! they're amazing! they got scouted by amazing coaches who wanted to tap into their raw potential, who were impressed by reader's hard work and drive... but reader always finds a away to miss things up for themselves.

OH MY GOD AHHH SPORTING COMPETETIONS WERE ALWAYS MY FAVORITE ARCS IN SHOWS

ITS LIKE THEIR OWN MINI OLYMPICS HAHAHA (reader: wdym you guys dont have olympics?)

ofc there's a pre sign up and auditions. reader is thinking and mulling it over. because trying out for the boys team is very different than the girl's team, is co-ed even allowed?? this is an all boys school after all!

(yuu brings crowley to their audition to convince him to give them student-ship so they can compete and WRECK those snot-nosed princes.)

maybe there's a partner skate? and you know that the admirers of reader that can skate and sign. the. fuck. up.

I WANT SKATER JADE!! I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT!! but home boy would probably not be able to skate at the level of reader just because he's og a fish and if he started skating when he turned human then he'd only have a year of experience </3

but lets just say there's a sports thing they have... not club but dedicated for this event... then i can see jade being somewhat on reader's level. but there's still a difference unfortunately

ROOK HUNT SKATED OUT OF THE WOMB!! ortho could professionally skate sine... 5 minutes ago? like c'mon guys get on his level.

though i can see rook rather being an observer. he also called it 'ice dancing' because that's what it is to him. but if rook trying out for this instead of his usual sweep of archery, all to stop some... he doesn't have a word for the level of disgust he'd have if he saw you dancing with a slimy no name.

plus he will be able to experience your growth! not just as a skater but as a person! he can also get closer to you!

vil. vil can! ice dance. he needed to learn it for a film and he's always liked the feeling of being on the ice. which makes pomefiore the contenders for being on the team / being reader's partner during partner categories.

epel would want ot learn hockey but was forced into ice skating by his grandma HAHAH she'd say that he can learn to play hockey after he's mastered the ice or something. it's something he's NOT proud of- but (if this is the point where him and reader are on good terms) then he'll happily play up him being a skating pro.

i can also see vil forcing epel into skating for the school. like wdym ice skating is for girls? get your ass on the ice NOW

SILVER AND LILIA WOULD ALSO BE ICE SKATERS AHHH. but it's a bit dangerous for silver to be on the ice but if it means helping support his friend then he's gung ho about it! just... please keep an eye on him in case he starts falling (he's usually good about that. making it to the sides before he was able to face plant on the ice. but lilia is always present in case of such emergencies (and if the designated watchers arent able to get to him in time))

lilia has dabbled in a bit of everything. so if you see him whip out a quad (with only a little bit of stumbling, as he complains about his bones again) he'll act like it's not hard (it's not- for him)

BUT IF MALLEUS WANTS TO GET INTO THAT ICE SKATING ACTION THEN HE'LL SPEND HOURS AT IT. the prince bale to do things a bit differently than everyone since he's.. ya knw, thee malleus draconia.

crowley ; you can barly even skate! why are you at the try outs!

malleus :... give me a week (and the mofo MEANS IT)

and dw i get random spouts of 'rook hunter-itis too. I DONT MIND YOU BRINGING HIM UP CAUSE I LOVE HIM- AND MALLEUS AHHHH)

#tiyoin 🔎#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted anxiety 🌀#mel <3

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rjalker · 8 months

Text

Edit: Can't believe the irony of me having to say this, but I do apparently have to say this: Not wanting boobs and not wanting to be seen as feminine does not mean you are, or want to be seen as masculine. I'm not transmasculine just because I don't want boobs and don't want to be seen as feminine.

You cannot read a post where the point is having boobs does not equal being feminine and go oh! right. Because not wanting boobs equals being masculine! No!! I'm not transmasculine! I'm not trying to look masculine! Kill the gender binary that has a stranglehold on your views of gender!

Stop shoving nonbinary people into a new set of binary boxes!

___

the idea that having boobs gets you automatically and inherently classified as being "female presenting" and "feminine presenting" in so-called progressive circles makes me want to maul people.

I've said this before and I'll just keep repeating it forever: I'm disabled. I can't wear a binder. If I tried I'd dislocate several ribs and that'd be the least of my worries. Like. you know why ribs not being where they're supposed to be is dangerous? Yeah. Yeah. Use your imagination. That's a real thing I have to worry about.

I can't even wear a sports bra that's several sizes """too large""" comfortably.

And yeah, I can use trans tape, but that takes concerted time and effort to put on and take off, and every time you put it on you get different results, and you might just mess it up entirely and waste it, and it can get itchy if you're sweating with it on (and it's 90 degrees almost all the time it's not actively winter here, so that's...literally unavoidable. Even sitting in the living room. Because the electric company charges an arm and a leg for AC during the summer AND won't even give you enough to actually cool your shitty tiny apartment even with all the doors shut and curtains drawn!!!!!), and it's expensive to buy more of.

And especially because this declaration of "feminine presenting" or "female presenting" that gets shoved onto you is not only misgendering you, but placing the blame on you for being misgendered for not looking not-female enough. It's no longer the speaker making incorrect assumptions, they're now literally declaring that this is a concious decision you make. You are choosing to "present" yourself this way...by having a body that you have no control over.

And even when it comes to clothes, the idea that the clothes you wear is another purposeful, conscious Presentation™ of your gender...

Even if we ignore for a moment the fact that being disabled and poor severely limits the clothes you can wear and even just have access to, what about people who literally don't get to choose what their clothes are? Kids whose parents buy their clothes for them, people whose carers choose their outfits for them?

My gender is not "sun-bleached tank top and shorts with a reflective sun hat". That's just what I wear so I don't die of heat stroke every time I set foot outside, and so that my joints are not being painfully constricted every time I move. I literally can't take my hat off outside during the day without developing a headache (or are they fucking migraines? fuck if I know!) within minutes from the sun trying to murder me from my light sensitivity. And it took me years to even realize that it was light sensitivity causing this. I remember in middle school the substitute gym teacher asked if I was a vampire because I moved to the closest shady spot every time we moved to a new area.

And like. Let's be honest. Even if I could safely wear a binder...They're fucking expensive.

It's just really fucking annoying that so many people equate binding with being trans and so many people who are supposed to be allies are just so comfortable labeling other people, who they haven't asked, as "feminine presenting" just because of the presence of boobs. Like we have any choice in the matter. Like having visible boobs just means you're asking to be misgendered.

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shieldofiron · 6 months

Note

Hello

But what about Steve who got kicked out by his parents when he came out as bi and somehow made it to California and ends up doing sex work and finds it is something he is good at and having a huge dick is good for something for a change. He also does some high end escort work too cos he knows all the etiquette stuff, thanks to his upbringing.

He's got his regulars, men and women, and a little apartment and there's this golden guy who looks like a freaking god who goes past every morning on a run, super early, when Steve has a coffee on his balcony. Steve starts thinking about him when he's jerking off or when he's with clients, he can't help himself.

And then one day he shows up at this fancy hotel to be some rich guy's escort for the night and it's the guy he's been seeing run past his balcony every morning.

Mr Hargrove, CEO of something.

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about just now while I was waiting for you to tell me the super sad bit of your idea.

The request is kind of weird.

Normally people request him in lingerie, something filmy and sexy that frames his body. When it's not that it's suits, from a casual sports coat all the way to a tuxedo, and he keeps it all in his closet.

"You know what it means?" Angela's gum snaps on the phone.

"Green basketball shorts?" Steve scratched his temple, "Not really. I think I have some from high school."

"Well, if they're tight," Angela said, "And he said sneakers. High white socks."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Okay. Weirdo. Did he say anything about sex acts?"

"Anal," Her gum pops.

"No shit, it's a guy," Steve rolls his eyes.

"He just asked what you looked like, honestly. Wanted a guy with brown eyes, brown hair, real pretty," Angela clicked her long nails against the counter, "Other than the outfit he wasn't too talkative. Sexy ass voice. He requested you specifically. Got all perked up when I said the name. Stephan the King only."

Steve shrugged, "Okay. Whatever."

Most of the time he wasn't too concerned with what his clients wanted. He was flexible in more ways that one, happy to bottom or top or escort them to the opera or just listen. Most of the time, the job was just listening, even during sex. Finding out what people liked and being that came naturally to him. He was good at bullshit, as Nancy would say. He was a great hooker.

He'd made his job bullshit. He got paid an ungodly amount by the hour to spread his legs or spread someone else's, and he was good at it. Hooked up with an agency that specialized in high quality work, and kept the total weirdos away from him.

His roommate Jason Carver had a good hand with the weirdos anyway. He was always getting the odd calls where he had to dress up in costumes and came home to their apartment at odd hours, covered in weird substances, his legs shaky until Steve made him take a shower. Last night it had been grape jelly.

And so here Steve was, not covered in jelly, sitting in a plush hotel room in Malibu with his Hawkins high shorts pushed down his thighs, trying to finger himself and thinking about his favorite spank bank material.

Steve didn't know the guy's name, but he called him the runner. Always running at 5 am, long blonde curls streaming behind him. He looked like the models on the covers of those Johanna Lindsay romance novels, the practically-bondage porn that he'd devoured in high school during sleepless nights.

He imagined the running slowing down when he got to Steve's balcony, his bronze skin gleaming and his blonde beard hiding a devilish smirk.

The smirk may be borrowed... maybe the shorts have him remembering some other sleepless nights in high school.

Steve is loose, last night he was working with a couple, and so he's pretty stretched out, which means he can concentrate on just relaxing, brushing his fingers ever so softly over his prostate as he imagines the runner smirking, his voice a hazy blend of movie stars and devilish California drawling.

He kicks up his feet on the bed, working himself shamelessly in time with his finger's motions. He rolls the tip of his pointer over the small nub of his prostate while he works a fourth finger inside.

The alarm on his watch goes off and he makes a winded noise, halfway between a whine and a groan. He was just getting to the good part of the fantasy, where the runner would position him, ass up, over his tiny Venice balcony and eat him out like he was trying to make Steve cum before the dawning of the apocalypse. He would rub his face all over that golden beard, ride him like a stallion. Steve rode his fingers through one more wave, heat crashing down his spine, before he pulled out, tugging up his shorts over his painful erection and rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands and check his hair.

He didn't have to do all this prep but it made his job more enjoyable. Most clients didn't want to go through a lot of foreplay, obviously. But he did like coming too, and it wasn't like he was taking ten clients a night. Might as well have fun.

He was all positioned on the bed when the guy came in. Ready for the masc fantasy, legs spread, his arms on his knees. His dick was lewdly outlined by the tiny shorts, but he guessed they weren't going to the opera so that should be okay.

"In here," He called out, holding his breath until the guy came around the corner.

That devilish smirk fell right to pieces.

"Harrington," The man gasped, the word more breath than it was noise.

"Billy??"

"What are you doing here? Is it Max? Is she okay?" Billy's face is vulnerable, pale under his golden beard.

Steve thinks of the last time they'd seen him, driving off into the dead of the night while Max had cried. She'd begged for Steve's help to move Billy out, and the last he'd seen of Billy Hargrove it was just him chuffing Max on the chin, telling her to be brave.

"She's okay, I..." Steve shook his head, "I'm just here to meet a client."

"Client..." Billy ran a hand over his eyes, and then dropped it over his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry, they must have given me the wrong key at the front I'm supposed to meet-"

"Killian Handcock?"

Steve froze.

"Yeah," Billy sighed, "That's me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Look, sorry for all this. I'll pay, of course, for your time," Billy began to dig in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"No, whoa, it's okay," Steve waved his hands, "It's okay."

"Obviously, you wouldn't-"

"We can still-"

Billy blinked at him.

"I just mean. It's fine, right. We know why we're here," Steve glances down at his outfit, "You really didn't know it was me?"

"Fuck," Billy dragged a hand down his face, "This is so fucking humiliating."

"No, really," Steve chuckled, "What high school crush am I supposed to be?"

The words are out of his mouth before he's fully able to think them through. It's all obvious later but in the moment, he's thinking of all the guys in their school with brown eyes... brown hair... real pretty...

Billy moves towards him, his face flashing angrily, and then he rears back, nearly slamming into the giant tv that dominates the far wall.

Startle response, Steve remembered from when Billy came back. If he so much as put his hands towards someone he would flinch, remembering what the Mind Flayer made him do.

Steve wasn't being a very good hooker. He wasn't listening. Wasn't thinking.

"You know," Steve sat back on the bed slowly, no quick movements. "I used to read these romance novels in high school. Kind of cheesy, definitely NOT always with the best consent. But... sometimes they'd have these tough guys, kind of take charge guys. And I used to imagine you... taking charge of me."

Billy just blinks at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Steve spread his legs, just casually.

"Is that what you used to imagine too?" Steve asked.

"Maybe," Billy says in a cracked voice.

"Tell me," Steve urged.

It takes Billy a moment, fumbling with his fancy wool jacket. He hasn't flashed the cash yet, but Richard Harrington's son recognizes an expensive suit when he sees it. Billy's got the money to pay.

Not that Steve's thinking much about payment when Billy starts talking, in that movie star drawl.

"Wanted you to fuck me. Me to fuck you. Wanted to turn you inside out and shake you like pants at the laundromat," Billy whispered, "See what falls out."

Steve bit off a moan that wasn't practiced, wasn't planned. They haven't touched for years. Not since after Starcourt, careful touches around Billy's healing body, friendly, boyish nudges. Nothing like this.

"Wanted to touch you," Billy's face is so raw with longing, blue eyes sparking, it's almost hard to look at, "Touch you all up and down those long legs. Wrap you around me like a scarf. Keep me warm. Indiana's cold as shit and you always looked so warm."

Steve spread his legs further, "I run hot."

Billy reached back and undoes his hair, and it's only as it streams down his shoulders that Steve realizes, almost chuckling if it wasn't for the open, bare way Billy's looking at him. Like Steve is some kind of dream come true.

And the thing is that Steve's a happy hooker. He's not looking for any pretty woman ending.

But... you know sometimes he imagines. Imagines a guy with long blonde hair pulling him close after sex and calling him honey, baby, sweetness.

Billy takes a step forward and Steve smiles at him.

"I'm assuming you don't want me scared, or nervous," Steve runs a hand up his knee.

Billy shakes his head.

"Boyfriend experience," Steve offers, but it doesn't sound like a question, because he's not asking.

Billy's telling him, in the trembling hand that finally finds it's way to Steve's knee, the heavy swallow when Steve tips his head back, letting Billy into his space.

Steve knows. He's listening.

"This a... you have rules..." Billy's voice is gruff, low. Barely heard over the hum of the ac and the distant traffic from the street below.

"I kiss," Steve cocks his head to the side, "I do just about anything. For you."

He runs his hand over the back of Billy's, just tracing the road map of his veins. The long route that led them both here.

"Billy," Steve breathes.

It was just like he imagined Billy Hargrove would kiss. Hard and rough and desperate, like they were about to be ripped apart. Maybe they were, because Steve was clinging too, and it wasn't bullshit. He was shocked to find it was true, every word of it.

He fell open on the bed, half smothered by Billy's bulk, and he reveled in it, wrapping his legs around Billy and tugging him until his full weight pressed Steve to the bed.

Billy broke their kiss with a rough pant against Steve's lips, "Don't wanna crush you, Pretty Boy."

Steve urged, tugging Billy harder, "What a way to go."

Billy's laugh felt different close up, and his beard was softer than it looked, tickling Steve's face. His kiss was hot, and he sank into Steve like a hot knife through butter.

Steve was used to having to work himself up, he forgot what a revelation it was to just kiss. They rolled around together like they invented it, gasping at tugging nips and sucked tongues like they had never done this shit before.

Billy cradled his face like he was trying to memorize it, barely even dry humping him.

And Steve was losing it a little, because the boyfriend experience never felt like this. Never felt like years of knowledge and a "be brave, shitbird."

Never like this.

He undressed Billy like his life depended on it, running his hands up and down Billy's scars and feeling like he could cry, or laugh or something. Somehow, Billy was now the slow one, holding him carefully, like Steve might break. And Steve was the animal, the cyclone, kissing Billy hard, rubbing up on him like a cat in heat.

Because it was Billy, Billy Hargrove, and he was murmuring about honey and sweetheart, and he was begging Steve in soft words to just, "let me take care of you, that's all I want. Want to wrap those legs around my head and drown in 'ya, Harrington."

Steve shook his head, trembling when Billy rolled his hands around Steve's cock through the shorts, pulling Billy closer with his legs.

"I'm ready," Steve whispered, "Want you inside of me. Please, Billy, let's not wait."

"M'Pretty Boy," Billy whispered back, sounding tortured. His brows were drawn up as if in pain, and he cradled Steve's cheek in one hand.

"Billy," Steve pulled Billy back by that long gorgeous hair, "Just fuck me. Please, God, I really want you to fuck me, please."

Billy had a slightly troubled look, but he nodded, tugging at Steve's shorts with gentle hands, chuckling softly when Steve reaches down and yanks them off roughly, losing them in the rumpled bed instantly.

Steve just rolled his legs up, not wanting to part before he gets into position and-

"Condoms," Billy gasped, his eyes jolting to Steve's face.

"Yes... fuck... sorry, yes, I have some, they're on the nightstand."

It's like dousing them both with ice water. Billy pulls back, looking at Steve and then looking down.

They sit there a moment.

"I want you to know," Billy said in a cracked voice after a long pause, his back to Steve. "I'm not a creep. I haven't thought of you in... in a long time. I don't like... hire guys and make them pretend to be you or nothing like that. I just..."

Steve waits, just listening. After a while he reaches a hand out and putting it on Billy's shoulder, rubbing slightly.

"I'm not a creep. I'm not gonna follow you home and t-throw you in a trunk or something-"

"Stop," Steve said, rubbing Billy's back in slow circles. "I don't think that."

"I just mean.... I'll pay," Billy said it gruffly, "If you have another client tonight, you gotta rush, that's ok. But if you have the night, I'll pay."

Steve looks down, catching a glimpse of Billy's hands, tangled together in his lap, holding the condom that he grabbed from the bedside table. He's just as beautiful as he used to be, maybe more so. He's got a layer of fat over his muscles that makes him look softer, his hair is long and soft, and even the beard, it takes away all his rough edges.

"I don't have to rush," Steve said. "Why'd you have me dress up, Billy?"

"I just saw someone, the other day. Been seeing him. In Venice. This guy, he's always wearing these loose robes and he hangs out on his balcony in the morning," Billy bit his lip, "Sometimes with a blonde guy. Boyfriend or something. Anyway, he kinda looks like you. And my boyfriend dumped me like a year ago, because I'm still a total freakshow. Issues on issues on issues. So I thought, fuck it. Why don't I just... be the freakshow I am."

"You're not a freakshow."

Billy chuckles, "Trust me. I am. Pining after a high school... nothing. You didn't even like me."

"I-"

"Don't pretend," Billy looks at him, eyes glistening, "Don't you bullshit me, Harrington."

"I'm not," Steve says, heart in his throat. "I'm not bullshitting. Haven't been from the moment you walked in here."

Billy says nothing, just looking at him.

"I don't have to rush," Steve shook his head. "And if tomorrow, you just leave, and there's money on the stand... that's totally cool. But I'm rushing because... because..."

Billy just watches. Listens.

"Because I'm really glad to see you again, Billy. Really glad. And I wouldn't mind," Steve steels himself for rejection, sucking in a breath. "Seeing you after tonight."

Billy's brow furrows, and he looks down at his hands again.

"Like... maybe for real. And I can wear actual clothes. And no one has to pay anyone. And I'll know who you are. You'll know who I am. And I'll take you back to Venice to meet my roommate, who you already fucking know, I think."

Billy's blinking hard, and it takes Steve a moment to realize he's crying.

"Billy," He whispers, "Honey. Sweetheart."

Billy reaches out and cradles Steve's cheeks, pulling him into his lap and then into a kiss.

"I don't think you're a creep, Billy," Steve wraps his legs around Billy, and holds him safe and warm, "I know you. I know you."

Billy makes a wounded noise, like he doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing. But then he starts running his hands down Steve's chest, tugging on his chest hair and rolling his nipples between his fingers, and Steve goes kind of cock dumb and wild again, rolling his hips, seeking to get closer. He wants Billy to press him to the bed, crush him with his weight.

It's just a happy blur, punctuated by moments of crystal clear sweetness. Billy presses his cock inside of Steve after a long, leisurely, lovely trip between Steve's legs. It turns out his tongue really is magic like the girls used to write on the bathroom walls. Steve's heart is beating like a jackhammer and he's sweating like he did so long ago in high school, his hair flopping in his face as Billy drives into him hard.

"You used to look so fuckin' cute in these little shorts," Billy growled, "Put them on again. Wanna push them to the side, get you all fucked out and gorgeous. Want you to cum in them, pressed all up against the waistband."

And maybe Jason's rubbing off on Steve because he does, slides the somewhat wrecked shorts over his sweaty ass and flops back on the bed. He practically presents his ass on a Hawkins green platter, moaning all slutty.

"Used to dream about them every night," Billy rubs him through the shorts, "Used to think about you in the hospital. When you would wear that fucking family video vest and come drive Max. You got me through physical therapy."

Steve looked over his shoulder, still working his ass back on Billy's cock, "I still have the vest."

"Fuck... fuck..." Billy actually covers his face with his hands, "Is this real? This is real right, not fake bullshit?"

Steve's literally got a cock in his ass, and it's normally not how he does stuff, but he looks back, because seriously?

"Billy. I said I wanna see you? I like you? Now can you please keep fucking me, I'm so close."

Billy finally smiles that smile, that devilish grin, "At your service, Sweetheart."

And then he rocks his hips up and back in a way that presses right against that sweet spot that makes Steve see stars. He cums so hard it does soak into the shorts like Billy said, and Billy rubs it in messily, groaning and pressing his head to Steve's back.

Steve goes boneless on the bed, not even moving when Billy pulls his softening cock out and gets up.

There's a moment when Steve's heart skips a beat that he thinks Billy's gonna slap down an envelope of cash and ask him to leave. And that would be fine. Could be totally fine.

But instead he tugs the covers back and helps Steve under, wrapping his arms around Steve and holding him close to his heart.

"You meant that, about seeing me again?" Billy says softly.

"Yeah, weren't you listening?" Steve plays with the silver medallion that hangs across Billy's collarbone.

"Yeah, I was listening," Billy kisses Steve's temple softly, and Steve's heart flutters like a cartoon duck. "How about we start with breakfast tomorrow. I got a good amount, let's give someone the tip of their life. And I think you need waffles. Pancakes. Whatever the hell you want."

Normally, Steve would call bullshit. But Billy's got a Cartier tank ticking where he tucks a sweaty lock behind Steve's ear. And he knows Billy. He trusts him.

Steve tugs on the necklace until Billy gets the hint and draws him into another filthy kiss.

Steve's normally a pretty good hooker. He's not looking for a Pretty Woman ending.

But it turns out he's a bit of a sucker for the boyfriend experience.

---

This got WAY long. I'll proably put it up on ao3. @intothedysphoria and @dragonflylady77 be proud of me plz.

#asks #harringrove #my writing #shieldofiron #SW Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Billy x Steve #Steve x Billy #bratty steve harrington #bear billy hargrove #otter steve harrington

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satorhime · 2 years

Text

˚‧ ✰ ˓ ˖ SECRET-GO-ROUND | ˚｡ nanami kento x female reader ᨀ minors do not interact˓˓WORD COUNT ᨀ 7.8k˓˓ furueru kuchibiru!retelling, college!au, professor!nanami, uni student!reader, bratty!reader, age gap (nanami is in mid/late 30s, reader is in 20s), teacher-student relationships, carnival dates, a sprinkle of fluff 'n' angst, public sex, unprotected sex, blowjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, quickie on a ferris wheel, creampies, money shots, sensei kink, anal play, fingering, degradation + reader is a lil manipulative. @SYNOPSIS ᨀ kento is in a secret relationship with his student, but when he loses a bet to her, he has to take her on their first date in public. @SATORHIME SAID ᨀ this is my first long fic since the spring and i'm so excited for u to read it !! (/ε＼*) i hope u babies enjoy this nasty lil piece i cooked up in my candy store MWAH !!

nanami kento is a hypocrite.

he demands professionalism and punctuality from his students and he does not believe in making mistakes that can be avoided in life. his entire day would be ruined if he walked down a sidewalk and stepped in chewing gum when he could have taken the train, yet he detests tardiness. he grimaces at late assignments, typos in emails, and clucks his tongue at mispronounced words during oral presentations, even though, out of every faculty member and student at the university, he may be the one making the biggest mistake of them all.

it's surprising because nanami conforms to the standard. he studied law because he respected the structure of rules and resonated with upholding order and justice. he takes the moral high ground above his immature colleagues who refuse to grow up even though they're well past the age of thirty. much to nanami's delight, they stopped inviting him out on weekends because he couldn't stop sneering in disgust at their conversation, threatening to report toji, satoru, and suguru after they attempted to coax him into their long running competition of letting their good looks and expensive doctorates seduce starry-eyed students into fucking them for sport; tallying up each other's scores from their game like athletes every monday morning.

but yes, nanami kento is still a hypocrite.

because he is the only one with a student walking around his apartment half-naked right now.

of course, nanami knows better than that. he barely dated through his long years of school, too focused on hanging up degree after degree in his parents’ living room to have time for anything more than a couple of flings and failed dates. and now four years into his tenure, a brilliant professor with a heap of accolades under his designer belt, he fell in love with you, his pretty little student.

he doesn’t know how it happened when the two of you are complete opposites— nanami is a jaded homebody that rejects human interaction and you are a firecracker full of energy in constant need of his attention. it wasn't even supposed to happen, but it's been a downward spiral of forbidden feelings since that one fucking evening you stayed behind after class to discuss your law research paper with him. you'd ended up hitting it off— you found nanami handsome, confident, and easy to talk to. confiding in him about your worries over getting good grades and making your family proud, and somehow that conversation ended with you being fucked over his desk for the first time. in truth, he had expected you to have your fill of a fantasy you wanted to play out and skip onto the next after that, but you didn’t seem to care about any of the other boys who looked at you around campus.

instead, you were satisfied with wriggling your way into his heart, one swish of your plush hips at a time.

you’ve wriggled your way into his home as well, peeking your head curiously into his bedroom now. you find nanami still asleep on his back— his legs tangled in the bamboo sheets and one muscled arm thrown across his handsome features, shielding his eyes from the light beams. your eyes rove over his shirtless form, the morning sun illuminating the chiseled grooves of his toned abs— catching onto the fine dusting of golden hairs over his adonis belt. though he ignores the silly effect he has on you and the other students, your professor is easily the most beautiful man on campus and you could stare at him all day.

but not right now. a pout shapes your lips in disappointment because you rarely see nanami anymore. he’s busier than ever now between classes starting back up at the university, the cases he handles at the firm, and writing his faculty book. today is the first day he’s been free in almost a month, and he plans on sleeping the entire day away? that won’t do.

you tiptoe into the room, crawling onto the pillowy mattress to straddle nanami’s narrow hips. the warm weight rouses him, but his eyes remained shut, a soft groan rumbling behind his ribcage.

“it’s too early for you to be in my lap, little love,” his voice is rough and syrupy with sleep, making you suck your bottom lip into your mouth at the sound of it— but you’re determined not to let his attractiveness ruin your plan for the day. “come on, get off.”

“well, it’s too late for you to still be in bed, damn it,” you huff, peeling his arm away from his face to cup his cheeks. you watch as horizontal lines appear in his forehead, and you hurry to continue, “today is your day off, kento-sensei. i was thinking.. maybe- let’s go out on a date!”

nanami’s café au lait eyes flicker open with a speed that startles you, fixed on your pretty face. you’re wearing his shirt and there’s a pillow mark on your cheek, hair messy from sleep. he feels his chest cave in because there’s nothing he wants more than to take you out to see the world and share your beauty with it. instead, a weary sigh exhales from his nostrils and it sounds like a declination.

“you’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

“yes, you know that we cannot be seen together. what will you do if someone recognizes one of us?”

“we’re a couple, aren’t we? why are you always so worried about someone seeing us. c’mon, kento-sensei- i want to go to the carnival that's in town. we can even wear disguises!” you try reasoning with him melodramatically, but kento simply shakes his head at your antics.

“i’m sorry, love, but there is too much at stake, for the both of us,” nanami says, squeezing your hip in apology. you frown— you hate being coddled by him.

“too much at stake? like your tenure? is that really the most important thing to you?”

“i won’t have this conversation again,” he clips sternly, propping his torso up on one elbow to narrow his sharp eyes at you. “when your classmates start rumors about you fucking me for extra credit, will going out on a date really be worth that? i’m thinking about your reputation, not mine.”

“i don’t want you to think of my reputation, i want you to treat me like your woman,” you roll your eyes. it’s always the same argument. while nanami is content to hide your relationship in shaded alcoves and apartments with the curtains drawn, you want to love him openly. to run errands with him and sit in sunny windows at cute little cafés with him— to not have to lie at sleepovers with your friends when they ask who is the one who is making you so happy.

nanami’s silence is degrading, frustration simmering up in your chest. a deeper frown twists your features as you reach for a fluffy feather pillow, gripping both ends and swinging it down— aiming right for nanami’s head.

he knocks the pillow away easily, unamused. “what are you, an infant?”

“argh, you’re so annoying. fine then, have it your way!” you grumble, but then your big doe eyes glint mischievousness in them. nanami can only watch with a lifted brow as you reach for the buttons of your (his) shirt, unbuttoning them quickly with trembling hands. your heart picks up to thump excitedly as you slip one side of the shirt apart, letting the fabric pool in the crook of your elbow— revealing pebbled nipples to your professor’s confused eyes. you gently cup one of your breasts teasingly, a minx. “let’s do it this way instead.”

“and what way is that? are you trying to bribe me, young lady?” he snorts, but his eyes flicker down to the soft swell of your breasts, the knot in his throat bobbing as he swallows.

you nibble your lip as you sit on your knees between his legs to paw the sheets covering his hips out of the way.

“obviously my bribery’s working since you’re already hard,” you tease in a saccharinely sweet voice. kento prefers sleeping in expensive silks with nothing underneath so your eyes are immediately drawn to the very visible print of his erection. you cup the bulge of his cock gently, palming it against your hand— little cunt pulsing greedily as you feel it twitch under your touch, nanami hissing under his breath.

the pit of his stomach lurches traitorously because he knows what your mushy little brain is up to— whenever he refuses to let you get your way, you’ll be reaching to hold his cock in your hand as if it is a genie that can grant all of your wishes.

one of these days, you will drive him insane.

especially when you’re humming sweetly as if you're folding laundry, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas and tugging them down to his ankles. the heavy strain of his cock plops against his abdomen. you grab for it, marveling at how tiny your hand looks compared to it. honestly, nanami’s cock is just so fucking pretty to you that you long to tell all of your girlfriends about it— thick and weighty, a little darker than his body with a dusky tip that leaks so much. maybe you would leave out the detail that without proper preparation, his cock stretches you out painfully. tears and snot and limps in your walk whenever he fucks you.

“oh, it’s leaking,” you simper breathlessly, throat running dry.

“don’t be crass,” he scolds, but you ignore him to stare in wonderment at the way the bulbous head is drooling precum in a steady trickle, smearing over your hand as your thumb rubs against a thick vein. you go slippery, wet between the thighs at the thought of sucking it into your mouth, basking in the way his hips give a little jolt as you touch him. but other than that, he regards you with a flat look. “so what are you planning, hmm? tell me.”

“i want to make a bet with you,” you lower your face until you’re level with his crotch, opening up and lolling your cherry tongue out invitingly. nanami inhales a serrated breath as your soft lips sucks the tip of his cock into your little mouth, sampling his taste.

“how about this?” you continue, fluttering your lashes as you breathe in the masculine scent of his cock. he tastes good, sweet precum bursting over your tastebuds as you pause to swipe your tongue into the slit. you can't even wait, suckling down on the tip greedily, pausing between licks to speak. “if you can keep yourself from cumming until.. eleven ‘o clock then i’ll drop the idea of going on a date, but if you can’t… you have to take me to the street carnival. pretty please?”

he pauses to think about it for the longest, and you roll your eyes, scraping your teeth ever so lightly against the underside of his length to bring his attention back to you, earning a dirty look in reward.

“i’m offended you think i’ll lose,” he snorts, but the way his hips kick as you kitten lick over the slit of his tip makes you smile. you're already winning. “i’m an adult, little darling. i know how to control myself.”

“oh yeah?” you coo, challenging him by tilting your head down with an open mouth, warm and wet on the wide girth of nanami’s cock— drawing him in against hollowed cheeks, lathering him down in saliva that smells like mint and morning coffee. you reel back, hard on the pull up before slurping him back down in a slow mouth fuck.

he tosses his head back with a deep huff from his nostrils, hand twitching on the bed. sometimes you hate how quiet nanami is. on some nights, after he is forced to watch boys flirt with you around campus while you’re dressed in tiny little shorts and slutty little skirts, he’ll toss you on his mattress and fuck filthy lies into you about sitting you on his cock in front of all 40 students in his course and claiming you as his girl, growling in your ear until you’re splashing his sheets with cum and crying into his shoulder because you want it so bad. but during times when you’re being bratty, he never rewards your bad behavior with the praise you work on your knees for.

you briefly glance at the clock on the nightstand.

10:32 AM

“gonna cum yet, nanami-sensei?” you tease on the release, his cock slipping out of your mouth with a wet pop, glistening in your spit. you smile up at him with precum on your teeth, blinking coquettishly as you let his cock plop against his abdomen, flattening your tongue to lick long stripes up and down the length of his cock. “it’s okay if you want to let go of it, i’ll catch every last drop of your cum.”

“i’m not going to fucking cum,” nanami snaps, gritting his jaw. his eyes are narrowed and though he looks unimpressed and obstinate, he frays at the seams. “are you so hungry that you’ll eat my cum? stop this childishness and i’ll make you breakfast then.”

“mm-! that won’t work,” you giggle at his weak attempt, before sinking your mouth back down on his cock, nose buried in the sandy hairs around the base. digging your fingernails into the olive skin at his thighs when the tip of his cock bumps against your fleshy throat, gagging around him as you struggle to swallow around the thickness lodged in your throat. mouth too small to accommodate the size of his fat girth. your cheeks are so cute, too— chubby with the strain, but you’re determined, even as thick precum drools down the back of your tongue and you choke, gurgling and flexing your tongue to greedily swallow it down.

he’s always sensitive in the morning, waking up with his stiff erection pressed shamefully between your ass cheeks so you know exactly how to work him, a sweltering suction around his leaking cock. burning hot pleasure right into the pit of his gut. his fingers fist in the sheets and he looks so fucking ruined in the morning sun with his jaw slacked, neck blotchy and bursting with veins from the strain of holding off his grunts of pleasure— holding off his cum too. “j-jesus fuck, love. that’s it-”

this time, nanami is the one desperately searching for the red glare of the alarm clock, eyes wildly reading the numbers.

10:47 AM

thirteen minutes left. if he can just—

“don’t pretend you don’t feel good, kento-sensei,” you giggle as you reel back to breathe, swirling your tongue over the tip of his sticky cock. he grunts, his hips jolting desperately. “i know all of your weak spots, after all.”

the law professor bristles, panting as he glares down at you.

“don’t look at me like that… i just wanna make you feel good,” your aggressiveness isn't new to him. though usually you’re gooey in the head, on your back with legs splayed, letting him do whatever he wants to you— there are times like right now when you’re dipping further down to suck on his balls, weighty and full with cum, sending nanami’s hips into a frenzy. his hard cock slaps against your forehead as his hips jerk up, but you wrap your hand around it— pumping him quickly.

“fuck, i…”

“duh-oh, i’m running oush of time,” you mumble as you suck greedily on one of his balls, watching the clock.

10:57 AM

“what are you-”

“you liked it when i did this, right sensei?” you hum, melodic voice like a siren on a shipwrecked shore, luring him in. devilish mouth smiling sweet as you’re committing sin, lowering further to play your dirty tricks on him— spreading one of nanami’s ass cheeks apart to swirl your tongue around the rim of his hole at the same time you squeeze his cock painfully.

“d-don’t, darling. fuck… you’re going to make me-”

his reaction is immediate, a big fist twisting in your hair to shove your head away from him but it’s too late. above you, nanami punches out a grunt that sounds ruined, the spongy wetness of your tongue teasing at his puckered hole combined with your firm hand pumping his cock in a steady rhythm is too much. he loses the bet with the back of his head shoved into the pillow, thighs twitching from the shocks of pleasure as long ropes of cum splashes onto your face in white strings, dripping wet down your cheeks.

when he shoves your head away, you sit back on your heels— beaming up at him with the prettiest smile of triumph, covered in his cum.

“that’s that,” you tease, “should i wear my white or pink dress?”

“we’re only staying for a short while,” nanami announces with an exasperated sigh, even as he fastens the neon pink unlimited rides! armband around your wrist. when he finishes, you beam and hook your hand into the crook of his arm— scoping out the attractions. “where do you want to go first?”

the last day of the traveling carnival is crowded. an annual late summer tradition in your city, it never fails to draw out the numbers on weekends. lovesick couples share kisses, dining on overpriced treats. exhausted families push around strollers with wailing babies inside of them while teenagers shove each other in the queues for thrill rides, pop music blasting through the speakers. it’s a risk, the kind of location nanami would have avoided for a first official date with his student, for fuck’s sake, but he hates seeing your looks of disappointment.

he much prefers the way you look right now— drunk on the scent of buttery popcorn and sugary cotton candy— a devastating figment of his dreams, dressed in a little white chiffon sundress that whirls around your thighs with each movement. your eyes twinkling in glee behind the shades perched on your nose at the colorful tents, fast rides, and rows of sideshows.

“let’s try out one of the sideshows first?” you suggest, pointing excitedly to the striped canopy stalls lined up on one row of the carnival, adorable prizes sitting on shelves behind carnies enticing passersby to try their luck at strength tests, shooting games, hook-a-duck and skeeball for cheap prices. “you could use a win after this morning.”

“does that mouth of yours ever know how to be quiet?” nanami wonders wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose out of habit as rosy flush creeps above the collar of his shirt. “lead the way if you’re finished making fun of me.”

rolling your eyes, you tug him by the arm over to a shooting range. colorful balloons line up in many neat rows. the carnie behind the stall brightens up at new victims, his smile missing several teeth as he gestures to the game— holding up a handful of sharp darts in invitation.

“good evenin’, good evenin’ to the lovely couple! interested in trying your luck in pop-a-balloon? all ya hafta do is aim and throw. hitting five red ones in a row wins the largest prizes,” he markets, “yer fella looks like he’s got a good arm on ‘em too. whaddya say?”

“it’s an obvious scam they’re running. the red ones are the smallest,” kento points out under his breath, but you shoot a glare at him, nudging him forward. he sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his shorts to retrieve his wallet, slapping a crisp ten on the wooden counter. “fine.”

“good choice! take these darts ‘n’ give it yer best shot, buddy,” the carnie pockets the bill, handing the darts to nanami and stepping safely out of the way.

“alright, which one do you want, darling?”

“the big one,” you grin.

“of course you do,” the male purses his lips, folding up the sleeves of his shirt before he takes the darts. it’s attractive the way his forehead creases, concentration narrowing his eyes behind his green tinted sunglasses. he knows games like this are rigged, but that doesn’t stop him from carefully analyzing the balloons because you want the prize and he’ll do anything for you. it’s easy math, calculating the distance between his stance and the target wall— stretching a visual line across the tiny red balloons.

the first dart strikes out, bursting the balloon with a startling pop. you clap your hands happily in support, a greedy pang of want twinging in your lower belly as you watch his biceps ripple with the movement as the rest of the balloons bursts easily until he's out of darts— game over.

“congrats, man, y’ didn’t embarrass yer girl,” the carnie jokes, but you can tell he isn’t happy about the quick and easy win. “which one d’ you want, miss? top’s yours to choose from.”

“that one,” your eyes sparkle, pointing to the large pompompurin prize in that adorable little suit. you’re handed the fat plush that dwarfs your frame, squeezing it to your body in delight. “it looks like you, nanamin!”

“oh? should i be worried about the competition?”

“please, no one can ever replace you.”

you say it with a teasing smile, but nanami hates the way his heart stutters, even as his mind screams that he isn’t supposed to be here with you, entertaining your girlish affections, in love with you beyond repair.

but as the sun relaxes the sky into a dreamsicle orange, so does the weight on nanami’s shoulders. he still keeps his eyes sharp for familiar bodies, but he finds it harder to resist your energy— letting you take his hand to drag him around the rest of the carnival grounds to various attractions. spending his money on sticky cotton candy, powdery funnel cake and customized couple items. forcing him to accompany you on your favorite rides, too— rollercoasters and carousels and tilt-a-whirls until the two of you are dizzy and windswept.

“you looked relaxed,” you hum over the noise of thrill ride chains clanking together and carefree laughter in the background, tucked comfortably under kento’s arm as the two of you wait behind three other couples in the queue for the ferris wheel— your favorite and final stop before the date finally ends.

“i don’t have to work today,” he replies dryly, but his thin lips quirk up as if he wants to smile.

“that’s the only reason? ken, you’re so boring.”

you really have a terrible habit of not letting him finish his sentences, he thinks.

“wah, i wish we could do this everyday!” you cheer, cuddled up against nanami’s warm side as the ferris wheel begins to move, ascending higher into the sky as the large capsules sway in the breeze calmly.

nanami simply nods in reply as he stares out of the window of the enclosed gondola, the giant pompompurin he won for you balanced comically on one of his knees. the view is breathtaking from up here. people strolling around the carnival grow smaller, the winking lights on top of the tents nothing more than tiny fireflies in the late summer night from this height. so high above the world who would judge you, it’s easy to forget decorum and feel like a normal couple.

it even has kento completely at ease, sighing peacefully and believing that nothing could ruin the peaceful moment of bliss between the two of you up here—

until the ride jeers and jolts to a hard stop, swinging the capsules violently.

you hear a crackling noise from the speaker attached to one of the beams.

“attention all ride passengers!” the teenager operating the ride speaks into the staticky intercom with mildly contained panic. “we’re experiencing a malfunction and will have the ride working after a short while. please remain seated and do not open your capsule door. thank you!”

“just grand,” nanami purses his lips in disapproval before his eyes slide over to you, reaching over to draw you closer. “are you alright?”

but where he expects to be met with your apprehension, your answering smile is a twinkling constellation of giddiness and opportunity. after all, how could you be afraid when you’re stuck at the top of the world with the most attractive man born into it? looking at him right now means thinking of nothing else anyway. he looks good out of a suit with the outdoors on him— hair mussed up and sweat staining his pristine white linen shirt. you think about earlier today when you whined at him about lacking romance until he agreed to eat cotton candy from your fingertips, melted sugar crusted against your digits as nanami licked and suckled obscenely on purpose until your panties were embarrassingly damp.

knowing this date out in the open with him will likely be your last, you plan on making the best of it until the very end.

“h-hey, sensei?” you call for him, warmth blooming over your cheeks at the sudden idea pushing to the forefront of your mind.

“mhm?”

“didn’t seeing me in this pretty dress today make you want to fuck me?”

“don’t flatter yourself, darling,” he replies flippantly, but you don’t miss the sharp intake of breath that rattles through the quiet gondola that betrays his answer. you looked like an angel of sin the entire day in your little white dress. how many times did that fucking hem flutter above your thighs in the wind as you carelessly bounced around, giving him a flash of your cotton panties? how many times did he have to yank it down before another man got a look at his girl— “i hardly noticed it.”

“i could show you now,” you hum softly, never satiated. you rest your chin on his shoulder, fingers playing along the top of his thigh. “you could fuck me right here and no one would know. we’ll be here for a while…”

“you force me to come on this date with you during my day off, now you want sex too? you’ve been hanging around frat boys too much,” he deadpans, but his cock twitches in traitorous interest against his inner thigh at your nasty little proposition. it’s hardly appropriate and he shouldn’t allow you to crawl onto your knees and plop right into his lap, but nanami can never find the willpower to deny you whenever you desire something that he can provide. “need i remind you that we’re in public? what are you-”

“don’t be mean to me, sensei. i didn’t get to cum this morning, you know,” you whine childishly with a blubbery pout to goad him. you’ve always been insatiable and greedy, the simple thought of being stuck at the top of a ferris wheel with nothing else to do but wait to be rescued swirling a lusted ache into your cunt for him, needy and pulsing.

“if we would’ve stayed home per my suggestion, i would’ve taken care of this here,” he tuts, his voice clipped and hard as he gestures to the way you’re already squirming against his thigh. “you just can’t wait for me, can you? even after class, you always have to sit on my cock before we get home. what am i going to do with you?”

“i-i can’t help it,” you bundle the hem of your dress against your hips as you lean back, the center of your panties soaked and sticky wet between your puffy lips. he can’t see the damp patch waiting there for him, but he can feel it. wetting the cloth of his shorts down where you squirm and wriggle. the lights on the beams of the ferris wheel rotate into the gondola, flashing neon rainbows across your and nanami’s features in the quiet dark, allowing you to see the way his honey brown eyes darken to black.

“stop thinking so much for once and pass the time with me,” you continue, purring the words against his neck. you move closer, your breasts pressed up against the damp linen of his shirt as you run your tongue over the sharp cut of his jawline, inhaling the spicy scent of his sweat and tom ford aftershave. your next move is the last bit of convincing he needs, fingers slipping between the gap of your bodies to palm the fat line of his growing erection. “y-you’ll fuck me, right nanami?”

nanami grits his teeth as he feels his cock thicken in arousal, staving off a groan. his fingertips itch with the desire to touch you. he doesn’t know what has the biggest affect on him right now— the high altitude, the memory of your cute little throat struggling to swallow around him first thing in the morning, or just you in general. wearing a sundress shorter than some of his work shirts and begging him to fuck you on a ferris wheel.

“come here, pretty little thing,” nanami murmurs huskily, squishing his big fingers into your soft cheeks to draw your lips to his for a kiss. he never fails to make stars bust behind your eyelids when he touches you— bold and bratty until you’ve gotten your way and he’s in the lead, letting you squirm on his lap. your cunt gushes at the kiss alone, warm and wet and forbidden as nanami tongues over your bottom lip— sucking it into his mouth, kissing you to a swell until you open for him obediently and he’s fully in control. searing licks of his tongue as he explores you.

the kiss is sloppy, just how you like it. challenging a clean-cut man like nanami who lives by the book into swallowing your soft whines and moans, into swapping strings of bubbly spit that tastes like cotton candy and caramel apples.

“you’re so messy, even in public,” he chides, breaking the kiss to give you room to breathe but you chase it, nipping his upper lip with your teeth hard, nanami grunting low in his chest before you soothe the sting with your tongue. he pinches your chin between his fingers, twisting your head to the side to redirect his mouth to your neck. he knows better, but you cloud his judgment— murk up the waters of his mind as he fastens his lips onto a spot against your neck, suckling at the skin until the capillaries burst and his mark blooms slow.

“o-oh-”

“you’re even messier down here, aren’t you? filthy girl, how long have you been this wet?” he groans lecherously, fitting a hand between your spread legs and his thigh so he can twist the front of your ruined cotton panties against his fist, drawing them upwards so the damp fabric wedges painfully against the seam of your unused cunt.

“that h-hurts, ken,” you whine, but it whispers off into a blissful sigh as nanami shifts the fabric, rubbing raw against your slit. with his free hand, he tugs the sweetheart neckline of your dress to press wet kisses over your chest with a hum.

“i’ve got you, darling. i’ll take care of it- make it all better,” he promises, and just as he’s about to jerk your panties to the side and put his fingers on your pussy, the intercom crackles in a tinny screech—

the two of you startle, chests heaving breathlessly and hearts thumping tandemly in erratic rhythms.

“attention all ride passengers,” the voice is unfamiliar, clearing their throats before continuing, “the ride will be back in working condition in an estimate of thirty minutes. thank you for your patience and we apologize for the inconvenience.”

thirty minutes.

“n-nanami-sensei, h-hurry up! please, before-” you whisper out in a frantic breath, fumbling for the loops of his belt to unbuckle it.

“hush, i promised i would take care of it,” he grunts, as unhurried as ever as he swoops his head down and fastens his lips around your nipple over the material of your sundress, suckling the bud until he feels it peak against his tongue, until the fabric is soaked in his spit and your pussy clenches hungrily in need. he nibbles at the bud, torturing you— pinching it between his teeth, bringing irritated tears to your eyes at the little twinges of pain. “alright now. i want you to take my cock out and rub it through your messy little slit, can you do that for me?”

“can i sit on it?” you flutter your glistening eyelashes at him as he reels back, leaning against the bench of the capsule, letting you twiddle the buttons of his shirt apart first— revealing golden skin and the ripples of his washboard abs before you continue, sliding the zipper down on his shorts. kento’s cock is fully hard when you draw it against your palm, warm and twitching when you squeeze it experimentally.

“what did i teach you? haste is the enemy of quality.”

“god, y… you’re so annoying,” the gondola is too dark to see, but you know what it looks like from memory alone. his cock bounces between the two of you, slapping against your belly button, the mushroom tip leaking foggy droplets down the thick shaft. your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth as you wrap your fingers around it firmly, spreading tacky precum as you pump him slowly.

he tugs your panties to one side as you lift up just a little, letting nanami’s cock bend along the line of his thigh— long and hard under your ass when you sit down against it. he knows that the two of you are running out of time; he can’t tease you like he does at home or in his office after hours, boring you with philosophical quotes or quizzing you with topics you don’t pay attention to in his class and forcing you to sit on his cock for hours when you answer incorrectly. drool floods your mouth at the delicious friction as you hump your pussy over his cock desperately, wetting him down in strings of slick; your puffy clit rubbing against the flared head, but it's not enough.

“n-nanami-sensei, c-c’mon, this isn’t fair-” you pant into the crook of his neck, oversensitive and strung out, swiveling your hips in a slow circle, grinding your clit down hard until it feels sore.

“what isn’t fair, little darling?” nanami chuckles in amusement, but he sounds like ruination, voice gravel on stone. he slips the straps of your sundress from your shoulders to press kisses to your heated skin. he forces the fabric down further, just until one of your nipples are exposed and he can wrap his lips around the bare skin, suckling it against his tongue. he drags his cock away from your folds, slapping it hard against the coarse curls at your mound. “you think i'm unfair because you want my cock inside you around all of these people and i won't give it to you? when will you ever learn propriety, hmm?”

“n-not ‘til you fuck it into me, kento-sensei,” is your petulant response, gripping the skirt of your sundress dress until the skin of your knuckles feel taut. it’s unfair that he makes fun of how much you want him, it's unfair that he has all of that cock but he won't let you fuck yourself on it, it's unfair but you let it happen— wriggling in anticipation, letting him slap the tip of his cock against your clit and tease you out as you moan for it dumbly. “wanna sit on it your cock so i can learn something!”

“why do you think you deserve it?”

the effect he has on you is dangerous. maybe you’re naïve and reckless with your heart, the dewy-eyed college girl helplessly in love with her professor— but no one has ever made you feel the way that he does, not the shitty frat boys or snobby trust fund babies that chase your cute smile and pretty skirts at parties and in hallways. while he thinks you’re using him to fulfill a fantasy, you’re simply unable to convey your feelings into actual words. it’s more than just wanting to fuck him because you’re good at it and it feels good. instead, it’s because when his cock is stretching you out, the two of you joined in the most intimate way possible, it’s forbidden words left unsaid. you deserve him because you lo—

“buh-..’cause you always gimme what i want?” is how you choose to respond instead.

“incorrect answer as always, brat,” he scolds, reaching around to deliver a punishing slap to your ass, making you cough out a yelp. “sit on me, even though you don’t deserve it.”

oh.

you glance out of the window behind kento’s head. it’s too dark to see inside of the other stranded gondolas below you, but you wonder if they can see you. if the other couples are watching as you lean up on sore knees, smearing his precum along your folds as his cock swipes through your slit until the fat head catches on your entrance and you hear him hiss.

your heart thuds painfully against your ribs, the familiar feeling of delicious fear at the sheer size of your professor’s cock setting an ache in your belly. you widen your thighs, your knees scratching against the rough material of the bench as you reach down to spread one of side of your folds apart, opening yourself for him. but as you plan to sink down slowly, carefully, the ferris wheel suddenly rocks, spearing you down too fucking quick on the blunt head of his cock—

“w-wait, k-kento-sensei-!” your abrupt shriek rings out in the silence as you scramble desperately to wrap your arms around his neck for support. glassy tears spring hot to the corner of your eyes, the stretch making your sore cunt flutter around him tight and desperate as your knees try to snap shut against his hips uselessly. you try to hold yourself from sliding down on him any further until you're ready for it, but you’re so fucking wet that your pussy greedily sucks in the rest of his inches and your thighs give up against the strain, weight forcing you down to sit flush against his lap— jutting his cock up against your womb with a deep twinge.

“take it easy, darling girl,” he bites out behind clenched teeth as his head tosses back against the window, his groan vibrating against your bodies. fingers digging deep into the soft skin of your hips at the intrusion, the sensation of your pussy sinking down on his cock is too much— breaking him out into a cold sweat, feverish. you're so small, tightening around him until he feels like choking. his calloused hand tries to rub soothingly over the soft dimples of your lower back, but he’s just as fucked out as you.

“i-i can’t-!” you cry out, trembling in his arms and clinging to him hopelessly, snot bubbling in your nose and mascara staining your cheeks. you shift experimentally and you feel your stomach lurch with a wet gasp punching from your lips, but there’s no real time to get used to the stretch of his cock inside of you and you know it— not when the mechanics are close to fixing up the broken ride. “n-nanami-”

“you can do it, love,” he coos, kissing the temple of your sweaty forehead with the tender care you deserve for trying to accommodate his fat girth. he rewards you by fanning his hand over your belly, thumb dropping upside down to rub through your folds, fucking it over your swollen clit in squishy circles. “show me how well this pussy can take me.”

you nod dumbly, the pleasure singeing your nerves raw as you shakily lift out of his lap before sinking again, his cock disappearing against your gummy walls with a thick push that squelches lewdly on the draw in. it’s overwhelming and so fucking good, your hand slapping against the window behind his head for leverage— leaving a print in the condensation. “eugh- f-fuck, kento-”

there’s a different kind of stroke to a cock when you’re not allowed to have it. sweet punishment for your sins because you aren’t supposed to be here with your professor, fucking him at all, let alone in public. forced to settle for short, deep drops of your hips instead of bouncing high and spreading it out— keeping him snug against your cervix in order not to rock the capsule too much. it’s messy and your cunt loves it, slick spreading along your thighs, gushing down the length of nanami’s cock.

“ah, look at you. you love this, don’t you? you wish someone would see. it’s like you want to get caught so everyone will know who this cunt makes the sweetest sounds for,” nanami rasps out, thumbing your clit faster now, leaving his fingerprints under the hood of the sore nub. he widens his stance, spreading his feet apart to force you to sink deeper into his lap— hard jostles, your ass cheeks slapping down lewdly against his balls. your back arches so prettily for him that he can’t help but grasp one of your tits into his hand, bringing it to his mouth to taste the salty skin on his tongue.

“i-i love it-! i love it s’much, kento-sensei. love you s‘much-!” you sob loudly, burning with the affection his cock fucks against your nerves. you’re drunk on the pleasure, too much dopamine twinkling in your brain to realize the weight of your confession, but kento does. heart sputtering and swells inside his chest cavity because you sound like you mean it— cock thickening inside of you.

“fuck- fucking love you too, my darling girl.”

the desperate rhythm of your fucking upsets the gondola, rocking it slightly, and kento loses ground— his teeth catching your nipple in a pinch that makes you fuck down on him harder. the pain combined with the pleasure of his cock dragging in and out of your cunt dizzyingly sweet. he soothes over the sting with a gentle suck of his mouth and you squirm with a whine, gushing around him even more, your sticky cream foaming around the base of his cock in a squishy ring that aids your slide.

“we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience, folks. the ride appears to be fully operational now and we will begin unloading passengers now!”

the intercom announces loudly as the engine of the ride cranks up on the ground, the flashing lights shining into the gondola once again. you don’t even pay attention to the bright beams, eyes rolled back and and head too full of cum to notice so kento quickly clamps his hand over the back of your head and forces it down against his shoulder to hide your silhouette in the window.

“no- don’t wan’ get off yet. i-i’m so close… wanna cum on your cock so bad!”

“what are you going to do if we reach the bottom of the ferris wheel doing this?” he pants, his hands pressing searing bruises into the curve of your hips as he lifts you effortlessly up and down his cock, breaching your soaked cunt with powerful, deep fucks that leaves you ruined.

“a-are you scared of getting caught, nanami-sensei?” you whine, shifting against his strong hold, drooling against his shoulder as you moan loudly. nanami answers by bucking his hips off the bench hard, letting the devastating drops of your hips be met with hard snaps of his own.

“hush, filthy girl. you’re so fucking loud,” he hisses, his hand leaving your hip to stuff three fingers into your mouth, clacking against your teeth with the movement. “suck them or do you want someone to hear us and stop you from cumming?”

by the time the ferris wheel begins to descend, your mind is lost to the pleasure nanami fucks into your pussy. your exhausted fingers rub furiously at your puffy clit as you bounce frantically on your professor’s drenched cock, letting the fat cockhead bully that spongy sweet spot nestled along your walls repeatedly until you’re wailing even louder, the sound barely muffled by nanami’s thick fingers.

it’s so fucking good that neither one of you care about getting caught any longer, consequences be damned. the musky scent of sex permeates the tight air, the capsule rocks violently with your sloppy movements. and how could you care about anything else when nanami grips your hair and hisses into your ear, once and for all, “cum for me, you little slut,”

“uhuh, k-kento-sensei ‘m gonna cum for y-you-! jus’ for you-!” you promise with a cry, swallowing his cock down with greedy bounces of your cunt to his lap— thighs trembling violently, eyes crossing up, blurring your vision with tears as you fuck lewdly. your nails scratch down the window desperately as kento takes over and rubs his fingers through your slit, hooking his middle finger into your cunt alongside his cock, stretching you out even further while his thumb is back to rubbing into your clit again. sharp shocks of pleasure in that final movement that burns through your veins, throwing you over the edge.

“give me one, little love- give me one right here, let me feel you-”

you’re wailing too fucking loud, but he doesn’t dare stop you, not when you’re this breathtaking. trembling in his lap as the knot in your lower belly bursts wide open, knees clacking against his hips as your orgasm curls your toes, washing you down with white hot pleasure. you cling to nanami’s neck desperately, cunt expanding as overstimulation sets in and you splash juices against his shorts and the hem of your sundress with so much force that his cock slips out with a wet squelch, until you quickly push it back in with a gasp.

“h-hah, oh god-!” you squeal, writhing all over his lap, cunt still pulsing and clamping around him. kento swears and you know that he’s close too, doing your best to give him a few more weak drops of your cunt on his cock. his muscles tighten and he cums with a long guttural groan that he buries against the sweaty skin of your neck, spurting thick globs of warm seed right up against your womb just as your gondola reaches the bottom of the ferris wheel—

“f-fuck, darling. get off- get the fuck up right now-”

you quickly climb off of kento’s lap on gummy legs, his cum pooling against your cotton panties and trickling messily down your inner thigh. you wipe your thighs on the hem of your ruined dress as kento calmly tucks his dripping cock back into his shorts before buttoning his wrinkled shirt up with an air of easy sophistication, as if he just didn’t fuck his student dirty on a ferris wheel, as if your squirt isn't soaked into his shorts and dripping onto his shoes.

“come here, you,” he beckons, reaching for you to tenderly wipe your tear stained cheeks with his shirt, clearing up the smudges of mascara. “there.”

you smile at him blearily just as the door to the gondola opens. the ride operators take in your disheveled appearances, but round it up to an hour of being stranded at the top of a thrill ride. what were they going to say, anyway? miss, why is that man's cum leaking down your leg?

nanami is casual, holding his head high and exiting first with your pompompurin plush while you follow behind him shyly, his arm wrapping around your waist to hoist you down from the gondola. he knows that the limp in your walk will be too obvious— you’re always so sore after he fucks you— so he kneels down on the platform, letting you climb onto his back to be carried.

the carnival is deserted now. rides that once blasted the summer’s top hits have been shut down, sideshows boarded up for the night, and fairgoers who filled the streets have gone home by the time you and nanami make your way towards the exit, avoiding the makeshift emergency triage to the left checking on passengers of the ferris wheel even though no one was injured. but maybe you needed to let them check your heart and diagnose why you selfishly forced nanami into hanging out with you on his only day off, why you confessed to loving your professor while you were bouncing on his cock—

why you meant every word you said to him.

“say, kento,” you call sleepily, one cheek smushed against his shoulder as your head lolls cutely against it. you hear him hum for you to continue, shifting your weight evenly as he walks out of the carnival grounds and towards the parking lot. a lump forms at the base of your throat, and you hate how vulnerable and weak you sound. “i’m sorry for dragging you out here today on your day off. you must be annoyed with me, right?”

“don’t be foolish,” his voice is back to that endearing monotone, but he gives your thighs a soft squeeze as he strolls, pressing the key finder to his mercedes once you reach the parking lot to locate it. he's been an idiot the entire time, hiding you away like he has. “i’m off next saturday too so let’s go out on a date again.”

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