okay so thread and ao3 won the vote so SEROROKI PHONE SEX AU LETS GO

tags: phone sex worker shouto, dom shouto, sub sero, switching/verse, light BDSM, these tags are just guesses bc there's gonna be a lot of sex, porn with plot, it's actually gonna be hella fluffy bc i care them
Shouto held his frosting-covered fingertips aloft, and reached toward the mixing bowl on his kitchen counter with his clean hand. His lip quirked into a smile as he peeled back the towel to reveal the perfectly risen dough inside.
Plopping the bowl onto his counter with the rest of the supplies, he absently brought his fingers to his mouth.

As he sucked away the sugary remnants of fresh cream cheese icing, he silently thanked whoever was listening for the bluetooth headphones that allowed him
to bake while taking work calls. Moaning aloud at the sweet taste, he withdrew his fingers, only to dip one right back into the frosting for seconds. These were only for him, anyway, so double-dipping was allowed.
“Yeah?” came the voice in his ear, his caller interrupting his own monologue. “You like that, baby boy? Like being bent over Daddy’s desk like the whore you are?”

“G-god yes,” Shouto slurred around the frosting and finger in his mouth.
“Don’t stop, Daddy – you know I need you so bad…”

Shouto turned his dough out onto the pastry mat, grabbing his rolling pin as the noises in his headphones became more garbled, wet schlicking sounds loud in his ear as ‘Daddy’ growled more of his one-sided narration.
“...knew you wanted – /hng/ – this fat cock – /ha/ – teasing me all the time…”

“Fuck,” Shouto grunted, putting his weight into rolling out the dough. “Yeah. Wanted you so long – c’mon, come for me – come inside – I /need/ it, /Daddy/.”
As expected, that worked like a charm. Shouto moaned above his soon-to-be cinnamon rolls as he listened to Daddy come undone on the other end of the line, sloppy groans and a chant of “take it, slut,” falling from his lips as he finished.
“Wow.” Shouto said after a few seconds, covering his deadpan tone with fake panting. “That was amazing.”

A breathy, cocky chuckle sounded in his ear.
“Yeah, I could tell you were enjoying yourself as much as I was,” ‘Daddy’ said, and Shouto’s brow rose as he smirked down at the cinnamon filling he was coating over the dough. “You’re not very subtle, are you, baby boy? I like that.”
“You caught me, Daddy,” Shouto replied with a glance down at his fully clothed body, and his incredibly soft cock. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“That’s my boy,” 'Daddy' said, pride evident in his voice, and Shouto gagged silently.
“Goodnight, baby. I think I’ll ask for you again next time.”

“Looking forward to it... Daddy,” Shouto lied.

He hung up the phone, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Usually, he really preferred calls like these, where the customer had a very specific fantasy they wanted to talk through, and he just had to whine and moan and say a few lines when prompted.
However, daddy kink was his unfortunately frequent exception to that rule – it was always a bit much for him. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t want to.

(Well, he /did/, because he’d researched a lot about kinks since taking this job, but still.)
Shouto finished preparing his cinnamon rolls, and set them in the oven to bake. With one last dip of his finger into the bowl of icing, he started towards his room, making sure to put on a timer for twenty-five minutes.
He was just opening his crossword puzzle book when his work phone rang again. A quick glance at the clock told him it was a little after 11 pm. Friday night was always pretty busy.

“Hi there,” he answered, slipping easily back into his phone voice. “This is Shouto.”
It had taken a bit of practice to master the voice, but he knew he’d finally gotten it down when he’d tried it on his bakery coworker, Shinsou (the one who’d set him up with this side job in the first place, and had shown him the ropes),
and Shinsou had blushed from the collar of his shirt to the brim of his work visor. His usual poker face had melted into a rare smile, and, still flushed red, he’d declared Shouto ready to start taking calls.

Speaking of that.
“I’m so glad you called,” Shouto went on smoothly. “Tell me, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to this evening?”

He used to cringe every time he had to say that line.
Now, though, he was completely unfazed, not even blinking as he filled in the answer for 28-down on his crossword puzzle ('chaste' – the irony).

“Oh, Jesus, okay. Right into it, then,” the man on the other end of the line chuckled.
His voice was warm, like he was smiling as he spoke, and his answer caught Shouto by surprise. Shouto huffed a small chuckle of his own into the speaker before he could suppress it, but it was quiet enough that the guy wouldn’t hear. Probably.
The sound of a throat clearing met his ears, and then the man continued.

“I’m Hanta. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”

“Hanta, huh? That’s a unique name. I like it,” Shouto replied easily. “It’s great to meet you, too.”

“Thanks, Shouto,” said Hanta. “That’s sweet of you.”
It still sounded like Hanta was smiling, like he was able to recognize the layer of humor in their present situation, despite being the one to put them in it, and it left Shouto with the bizarre (but undeniably comfortable) sensation of being in on an inside joke.
“So, Hanta, what can I do for you tonight?” he asked, practiced words lilting playfully on his tongue. “Or /to/ you, of course.”

“Ah, that’s a good question, huh?” Hanta chuckled. “I suppose I don’t have anything too specific in mind…”
Shouto decided that Hanta had a nice voice. Deep, but gentle.

“That’s okay, I’ll help you figure it out,” he said quickly. “Is this your first time?”

“That obvious?” Hanta laughed.

“A little. Don’t worry, though. It’s cute.”

“You totally have to say that, don't you?”
Hanta’s voice was warm and teasing, and a surprised snort slipped from Shouto’s lips at the question.

“No, I don’t,” he said honestly. “But… I have found that it helps.”
Hanta laughed, too, right into his speaker. It came through a little breathy, and Shouto liked the sound of that, as well.

“I bet,” Hanta said. “Sorry – I don’t mean to ruin the mood or anything. I guess I’m a bit nervous.”
Shouto hummed. “That’s okay. The candidness is a nice change of pace,” he admitted. “But you don’t need to be nervous. I /want/ to make you feel good, Hanta.”

There was a soft intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Right. Okay,” Hanta murmured.
Then, another airy chuckle sounded into the speaker.

“Oh god, you’re – you’re really good at this, aren’t you?” he asked, as if he’d realized a second too late that he’d had exactly the reaction that Shouto had intended.
He sounded preemptively overwhelmed, and it had Shouto’s lip quirking as he scanned his crossword puzzle.

This Hanta guy was funny.

“Why don’t you let me show you just how good?” Shouto purred back, without missing a beat.
(He internally commended himself on what months of practice had done for his witty-response time.)

Hanta laughed again. “By all means, please do,” he said warmly.

Shouto bit down on his grin, knocking the tip of his pencil against his desk a few times and humming as he thought.
Hanta said he didn’t have anything specific that he wanted, but Shouto wasn’t sure he bought that. The guy sounded young enough, and while Shouto couldn’t comment on his looks, his easy-going charisma was clear even through the phone.
In Shouto’s experience, guys like that didn’t call without a reason.

“So, you have /no/ idea what you want me to do to you, huh?” he started, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.
“I have a bit of a hard time believing that, Hanta… with a voice like yours? And a good sense of humor? I bet you’re attractive, too… I think you could /easily/ go out and find someone to take home.”

A soft huff of flustered laughter rang through his headphones.
“So... why call me, then?” Shouto continued. “Don’t play coy.”

He heard a slight hitch of breath on the other end of the line. Bingo. When he spoke again, he replaced his playful tone with something more authoritative.

“Tell me, /Hanta/ – what do you really want from me?”
Nothing, for a long beat of silence. And then–

“I want you to take me.” The words were slurred together, like he’d pushed them all out on a rushed exhale before he could take them back. “I–I don’t care how, just– I want it rough.”
Shouto’s eyebrows rose. He blinked at his half-finished crossword puzzle.

/I want it rough./

Slowly, he set down his pencil.
That… that was so far left-field of his usual experience – calling men twice his age ‘master’ and ‘sir’, describing his feet in vivid detail, narrating to supposedly straightlaced businessmen how much better he could fuck their wives than they could – that it took him a
second to switch gears.

Hanta mistook his silence for something else. “I – uh – if that’s okay, of course?” he added, sounding a bit hesitant.
“Of course that’s okay, baby,” Shouto assured him, slipping quickly back into his role. If he wasn’t mistaken, he heard a soft noise at the pet name, and he couldn’t help the way his mouth twitched up into an amused smirk. /Cute./ “I just wasn’t expecting that from you, is all.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”

Shouto could hear the sudden uncertainty in his voice. He hummed, stretching out the moment on purpose.

“Well…” he said lowly. “I just thought you were going to be my good boy, /Hanta/.”

“Oh– /o-oh/.”
Shouto chuckled lightly into the phone speaker. “But maybe… maybe you’re not a very good boy, are you?”

Hanta let out an airy sound. Shouto could hear the rustle of fabric, as if he were shaking his head ‘no’. He carried on without waiting for a verbal answer.
“I think you might secretly be my slutty boy,” Shouto ventured, and he was rewarded with a soft moan spilling into the speaker. “Is that right? Tell me, Hanta.”

“Shit, y-yeah…”
“That’s what I thought… maybe all you /really/ want is to be shoved against a wall and fucked so hard that you can feel my cock for /days/ afterward?”

“Fuck, Shouto, please,” Hanta gasped. “Please fuck me – don’t hold back.”
Shouto ignored the interested twitch his cock gave at the sound of his own name, and translated Hanta’s request into what he really meant.

“You really /are/ a slut, huh? Just want me to use you, yeah? Slam inside and fuck you full of come?”

“Maybe—” Shouto started to say, but then a groan sounded on the other end that could only mean one thing.

Shouto paused, arching a brow at his crossword puzzle.

“Sh-Shouto?” Hanta asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Are you touching yourself already?” Shouto asked, his tone turning authoritative again. “Couldn’t even wait for my permission?”

Hanta sucked in a sharp breath. “S-sorry! I’ll stop – I-I didn’t realize…”
The corner of Shouto’s lip twitched. It was kind of cute that despite his claim of wanting it rough, Hanta clearly /did/ want to be a good boy for him.
“Didn’t realize what, Hanta?” he said in a quiet tone, one that dared Hanta to make an excuse. When Shouto was met with only the sound of a rough swallow, he smirked. “Good. Do I need to remind you who owns you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, god,” Hanta panted. “You– you do.”
“That’s right, my horny boy. You’re all mine, tonight.”

A low whimper sounded through the phone. “I’m yours,” Hanta parroted, and his voice was so sweet and obedient that Shouto couldn’t help the groan that slipped from his own lips. He shifted in his seat.
“Do you have lube, Hanta?”

“Yes,” came the immediate answer, and Shouto heard shuffling. “I-I’ve got it right here.”

“Good. You don’t need it yet, but I want it ready.”

“Okay,” Hanta said, breathy.

Shouto smiled. “Now tell me, Hanta, what are you wearing?”
“Um… just–just sweatpants.”

“You didn’t even get your pants off, earlier?” Shouto tsked. “Just shoved your hand right in? How desperate…”

Hanta gasped in his ear.

“Shouto…” he whined softly, and Shouto could practically hear his hips bucking up against nothing.
Degradation kink: check.

“Alright, baby,” Shouto cooed. “Go ahead and take them off for me, yeah?”

Again, the shuffling on the other end came quickly, as if Hanta were rushing to follow his instructions.

“Okay,” Hanta breathed a moment later. “I-I’m ready for you.”
The last few words were so quiet Shouto just barely caught them, like despite everything, Hanta was still shy saying them. Shouto groaned lightly into the speaker.
“You look even more amazing like this than I expected,” he praised, before remembering that he was supposed to be filling the role of an aggressive dom. It was a little difficult when his partner was so surprisingly sweet.
Oh, well. Judging by Hanta’s whine, he didn’t mind all that much.

Still, though, Shouto should probably try to give him what he asked for.

“Yeah? You like it when I tell you how good you look, Hanta-baby?”

A stuttering, drawn-out gasp met his ear in lieu of a response.
Praise kink: also check.

“I think you’d look even better with my cock down your throat, don’t you?”

Hanta cried out at that. “Oh, fuck– Shouto– please–”
“I want you to bring two fingers up to that pretty mouth and suck for me,” Shouto cut him off. “Slide them in slowly, all the way back to the last knuckle. Can you do that, my slutty little boy?”
He could tell Hanta was following his instructions by the muffled quality of the groan that sounded through his headphones. When Hanta’s fingers hit the back of his throat, he coughed around them, and Shouto felt his own cock pressing insistently against his zipper.
He reached down and popped his button open, sighing at the immediate relief.

“That’s a good boy,” he breathed. “Can you take another?”

“One more, then, baby,” he directed. At Hanta’s gagging noise, he added, “You like the feeling of my cockhead stretching your throat, huh, baby?”

Hanta’s response was a wet, desperate whine, stifled around three fingers.
Shouto swore under his breath, slowly letting down his zipper and pressing the heel of his palm to his erection. He’d never even gotten hard with a customer before, let alone done anything sexual on his end, but the noises Hanta was making were absolutely sinful.
Still, touching himself would be unprofessional.

“Of course you do, my horny boy,” Shouto said, and his voice came out breathier than he’d intended. “Now, I want you to spread your legs and use your other hand to prep that tight little hole for me. Use lots of lube.”
“Mmm– Mmmhm!” Hanta moaned emphatically into the speaker, and Shouto bit his lip.

“If you do a good job, I’ll even fuck your face while you work yourself open for my cock.”

A garbled, slick sound met his ears, one that sounded a bit like, “Oh, god.”
A few moments later, Hanta was whining around his fingers as he presumably pressed inside himself.

“Fuck, I bet you’re so tight,” Shouto groaned.
“I can’t wait to fuck you. Press your pretty face down into the mattress and push inside. Make you take it all in one go – would you like that, my slutty little boy?”

“Ah– ah– ah!” Hanta cried out, his hot, wet pants ringing through the line.
“God, of course you would. Hurry, baby, add another finger. I need to be inside you.” Hanta made a strangled noise as he complied, choking around the fingers in his mouth.
“Good, good, fuck. You’re so hot, Hanta. I–I can’t hold back, shit– I’m gonna fuck your face now, sweetheart.”

There was a cough and the sound of Hanta gagging, and Shouto breathed a curse as he listened to him start fucking into his own throat with his fingers.
“Shit– you feel so good, so perfect,” Shouto said, ignoring the way his own cock was leaking precome through his briefs. He grit his teeth, and imagined Hanta (or, at least, generic-stand-in-hot-guy Hanta) on his knees in front of him, imagined himself thrusting into his mouth.
“God, look at you– just taking it– such a good, slutty baby– you want it so fucking bad, don’t you, baby boy– ah, fuck–”

Shouto pressed down on his erection for relief, and his hips bucked up against his hand of their own accord.
He groaned out loud, but it came out as more of a growl through his clenched jaw. Flushing hard, he reminded himself that he needed to be professional. He just had to wait until Hanta finished and hung up.

Another wet noise, followed by a drawn-out gasp.
“I’m ready!” Hanta cried out, voice thick and hoarse from his own fingers fucking his throat. “Please, Shouto– please fuck me– need you so bad– so much– god, I need your cock–”

Now that his mouth was free, Hanta was babbling, not even taking a breath as he begged for Shouto.
“Oh, god, baby,” Shouto moaned as his pleas veered toward sobs. “Okay, okay. I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah? I want you to take your fingers out, then slowly press back inside. As many as you can fit.”
He listened to Hanta follow his orders, biting his lip at the choked sob that tumbled from Hanta’s mouth as he pulled out.

“Good boy,” Shouto praised. “My little cockslut is so obedient.”

Hanta whined, but the sound cut off half-way through as he breached himself again.
“Fuck– baby– you feel amazing,” Shouto panted. “God, your tight little hole is just sucking my cock inside–”

“/Shouto–/” Hanta gasped, and his voice broke on his name.

“Shit– you’re so hot. You have no idea what that mouth is doing to me, Hanta,” Shouto rasped.
“I want you to fuck yourself hard, now, baby. Don’t hold back, and don’t stop until I give you permission.”

“God, yes, yes, /yes–/” Hanta cried, and he didn’t wait to be told twice.
His moans rang loud through the phone as he began fucking himself in earnest, cutting off abruptly each time he slammed into himself, then starting over again as he pulled back out.

“Fuck, that’s right,” Shouto breathed.
“Harder, Hanta. I’m gonna pound that perfect little hole so hard you won’t be able to come without thinking of me for /months/, my horny little boy.”

Hanta yelled out at that, loud enough that his poor neighbors would surely be able to hear him, though he didn’t seem to care.
His moans were devolving into panted cries as he fucked himself on Shouto’s make-believe cock, sobs slipping out with increasing frequency.

“Pl– please!” Hanta gasped. “Come– fill– I–I need– I–”

Shouto felt heat spread over his chest. This guy’s voice was unreal.
“God, Hanta, I’m so close,” he groaned. “Bring a hand up to your neck and squeeze, just like I would – sides, not front. Keep fucking yourself. You like the way that feels, don’t you, slut?”

A winded gasp as Hanta cut off his own breathing. “Yes! O-oh god, I– I can’t– gonna–”
Shouto spat a curse through clenched teeth as his whole body throbbed with need. “Come for me, baby. Do it. /Now./”

There was a choked cry on the other end, and then Hanta called out his name on a half-moan, half-whimper as he tipped over the edge.
Shouto groaned, imagining come spurting from his flushed, untouched cock, splattering all over his chest and stomach.

He listened to him ride out his orgasm, little whines and sobs falling from his lips for a few minutes, until his breathing returned to normal.
A short, slightly pained groan met his ears, and Shouto assumed that was Hanta removing his fingers from himself.

“Are you alright?” Shouto asked.

“Holy fuck,” Hanta chuckled into the speaker. The sound was breathy and satisfied. “More than alright. That was amazing.”
“Did you really come untouched?” Shouto said, unable to stop himself.

“Yeah, fuck... I guess I did, huh?”

“Wow,” Shouto breathed.
His cock pulsed angrily in his underwear, and he closed his eyes, biting his tongue as he allowed himself to grab the length of it for a second of relief.

“‘Wow’ is right,” Hanta laughed, oblivious to Shouto’s situation. “I think I might be in love with you, dude.”
Shouto’s lips twitched into a grin, and he forced himself to pull his hand away. “You don’t even know me.”

“Shh, Shouto, let me have this,” Hanta teased. He made a soft noise that sounded like he was stretching, then sighed happily.
Shouto’s smile softened. “You should probably go get cleaned up.”

“Mmm, don’t wanna move,” Hanta replied easily. He sounded sleepy. “Five more minutes, yeah?”

“That’s not how it usually works,” Shouto chuckled, then bit his lip.
Hanta’s relaxed charm was back in full swing now, making it hard to refuse him. With a mournful glance down at his own untouched cock, Shouto added, “But... it’s your money.”

Hanta groaned. “Ugh, right. Okay, three more minutes,” he decided.
“Yeah, okay,” Shouto agreed. “What do you want to talk about? Want me to tell you what a good boy you were?”

“Oh, god no,” Hanta laughed. “I definitely don’t have a high enough salary for where that would go.”

Shouto felt himself flushing a little, pleased.
“Alright. What, then?”

“Hmm…” Shouto heard a rustle of fabric, and he could almost see Hanta rolling onto his stomach to think. He wondered if he’d used something to wipe away his come, or if he’d just resigned himself to washing his sheets.
“Oh! Can I ask questions about the phone sex gig? I’m kinda curious, but if you don’t like talking about it, I’ll think of something else.”

“I don’t mind,” Shouto replied. “It’s just work.”

“Awesome,” Hanta said, and Shouto could practically see the grin on his face.
"So, like, what do you /do/ while you work, you know? I assume you’re not actually jerking off over there all the time.”

Shouto chuckled. “If I tell you, is it going to ruin the illusion for you? I was rather hoping you’d call again.”
“Fuck no, are you kidding me?” Hanta laughed. “That was some of the best sex I’ve had in so long, dude, and it was just with my fingers! Next time, I’ll be smart enough to get a toy out beforehand.”
Shouto’s cock pulsed another bead of precome, and he bit down on a groan. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Great.” Hanta sounded genuinely happy, and it made Shouto’s cheeks warm.
“So, what do you do, like, during? Video games? Gardening? Contemplate the inevitable downfall of capitalism?”

Shouto laughed. “I mostly just bake. And I do a lot of crossword puzzles.”
“Oh, sick, you can bake? That’s awesome! Did you make anything tonight while we were talking?”

Shouto shook his head, biting his lip to stop it from pulling into a grin. What kind of guy wanted to pay for phone sex, only to shatter the whole fantasy for himself right afterward?
“Sort of. I put cinnamon rolls in the oven right before you called, so you technically had my full attention,” he explained. “Actually, I couldn’t even focus on my crossword.”

Hanta laughed at that.

“Oh man, you know how to flatter a guy, Shouto,” he teased.
“Also, ugh, I’m so jealous. I’m pretty sure one of my neighbors is making cinnamon rolls, too– I can smell them all the way in my bedroom and it’s making me so hungry. Is the universe punishing me for spending half my paycheck on a phone sex line?”
As if on cue, Shouto heard his stomach growl. He huffed a laugh.

“I’m sorry to bring it up, then. Maybe you should make yourself some food, after this.”

Hanta sighed dramatically, but Shouto could still hear his smile.
“If only we all had your skills, Shouto. Alas, I can barely make toast without nearly burning down my building, so I’ll probably just pout for about five minutes until I pass the hell out from getting railed within an inch of my life.”
Shouto snorted, Hanta’s blunt answer taking him by surprise. He started to reply, but then the timer for his cinnamon rolls went off in his ear. Jumping, he hurried to click out of the alarm.
“Um, actually, it looks like my cinnamon rolls just got done, so I need to go take them out of the oven. I’ll go ahead and let you go so you can actually afford to call me back sometime, okay, Hanta?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks for tonight. I really had a great time.”

Shouto blushed. “Yeah. I did, too.”

“I’ll pretend like you don’t have to say that,” Hanta laughed. “Talk to you soon, Shouto.”

“I really don’t. Goodnight, Hanta.”
The line went dead after that. Shouto stood, then winced as he remembered how hard he still was. With a groan, he tucked himself into the waistband of his sweats and hurried into the kitchen to save his cinnamon rolls from burning.
After tossing them haphazardly onto the stovetop to cool, he bolted back to his bedroom, shoving his hand into his briefs and flopping onto his mattress as he began replaying Hanta’s cries and pleas from earlier in his head.
He finished so quickly that when he returned to the kitchen to frost his cinnamon rolls, the pan was still too hot to touch.

* * *
Sero pulled his front door shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, quietly whistling a tune to himself and twirling his keys in hand. He spun on his heel to lock his apartment, just barely resisting the urge to do a little dance as he did so – he felt /great./
Not even his 7:30 am commitment to helping Denki move into his new place could put a damper on his spirits. Not after last night.

Sero jumped in surprise when the door to the apartment next to him suddenly burst open.
He blinked, hand pausing halfway through turning his key, as he watched his neighbor exit his apartment in a flurry of long red and white hair, quickly shutting the door behind him with just a little too much force.
He didn’t notice Sero standing there as he stuffed whatever he was holding – it looked like some sort of pastry – into his mouth so he could pat down his pockets for his keys with both hands.

“Good morning, Todoroki,” Sero chuckled, arching a playful brow at his neighbor.
Todoroki started, whipping around to blink wide, mismatched eyes at him over his breakfast. Sero ignored the way his stomach fluttered. He could handle talking to the hot, mysterious guy next door without swooning. Maybe.
“Mph. Mo’n’ng, ’ero,” Todoroki said around his mouthful, fishing out his keys and locking his door with one hand as he removed the pastry with the other. He swallowed, then looked back at Sero, lip quirking just slightly.
“I didn’t expect to see anyone else out here so early on a Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah. I got roped into–”

Sero’s eyes went wide as he cut himself off, taking in the pastry in Todoroki’s hand. He lifted a hand to point at it, and Todoroki’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“So /you’re/ the cinnamon roll culprit,” Sero accused.

Todoroki blinked at him. “I’m the— what?”

Sero let out a laugh, hand falling back to his side.
“I was /dying/ smelling those things at midnight last night. It should be /illegal/ to do that to me after all the stores around here are closed, man.”

Todoroki chuckled softly, bringing his hand to his mouth to cover it. Cute.
“Sorry,” he said, and he at least seemed to partially mean it. “I work at a bakery. I practice at home sometimes. I was tweaking my recipe yesterday.”

Sero’s brows rose.
“A bakery, huh? That’s pretty impressive. Well, judging by the smell, I’d say you’ve definitely perfected cinnamon rolls already.”
Todoroki shook his head ‘no’, but his cheeks went a little pink, and his lips curved upward just slightly as he tucked a stray piece of long hair behind his ear. “It still needs work.”
Sero opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get the words out, his phone started buzzing and ringing in his pocket.

“Ah, shit,” he cursed as he fished out his phone and silenced Kaminari’s call. “Sorry, I gotta run. We only have the moving truck for a few hours.”
“Okay. Bye, Sero.”

“Bye, Todoroki,” Sero said with a smile. “See you around.”

“See you,” Todoroki replied.

Sero was already turning in the opposite direction, quickly walking away, so he missed the way Todoroki’s eyes lingered on him as he went.
It was a shame, really, because that meant he didn’t see the small smile Todoroki allowed to curl briefly over his lips, either, before he, too, made his way out of the building.

End chapter one! Please consider leaving a comment or kudos on ao3 if you're enjoying the story so far! <3

look at this adorable art of these cute boys from chapter 1! my heart <3 https://twitter.com/merrybrandy_/status/1292087159227326464?s=20

new tags: edging, recreational drug use, todoroki smokes like one cigarette for a special occasion, more cinnamon rolls

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720312/chapters/62837485

link to the top: https://twitter.com/_arxaris_/status/1290826816815472641?s=20
Hanta sighed in exhaustion as he finally flopped back onto his bed. Glancing at the clock on his side table, he cursed softly under his breath. The green block numbers told him it was 11:53 PM.

His friends hadn’t left his apartment until a few minutes ago.
Even though he told them he had a work event the next morning and that he wanted to go to sleep by eleven, he’d had a terrible time getting them to actually go. They’d lingered for almost an hour after eleven o’clock, claiming that he couldn’t rush a Super Smash Bros tournament.
And then a Mario Kart tournament.

Oh, well. It wasn’t the end of the world. He’d enjoyed his friends’ company (as well as kicking their asses at Smash), and his work commitment wasn’t /actually/ until the afternoon, anyway. He just hoped Shouto was still working this late.
After double checking that he had everything ready (his bottle of lube and an actual dildo, this time), Hanta quickly dialed the number that he’d saved into his phone.

His pulse picked up automatically, and nerves danced in his stomach,
a grin stretching over his face at the first ring. He’d been waiting for this all week.

When the operator answered, Hanta read her his credit card information and requested to speak to Shouto again, foot tapping impatiently against his bed covers all the while.
It only took a minute or so, but it felt like an eternity, and he barely listened as she read his number back to him.

But then, the phone was ringing again, and his heart was leaping into his throat.

“Hey there, sexy,” came Shouto’s familiar voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Hanta’s eyes went wide, and his heart forgot to beat for a moment. He felt his cock twitch with interest.

“Y-you have?”

“Of course,” Shouto purred, sending a shudder down Hanta’s spine. “Tell me, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to tonight?”
Hanta blinked.

A wave of realization crashed over him – Shouto had no idea who he was.


How could he – Hanta hadn’t even said anything yet. He’d just fallen hook, line, and sinker for one of his rehearsed lines.
Hanta snorted into the speaker, rolling onto his side. His smile came back full force, tugging at his cheeks. “Fuck, I can’t /believe/ I fell for that. You’re too good at this.”

“Oh.” There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line. “Hello, Hanta.”
Hanta’s eyes went wide again as his heart thudded in his chest, beating quickly against his ribcage. Shouto remembered him without him even saying his name. Oh god. This guy was going to be the death of him.

“Hi, Shouto,” he said, a little breathless. “You remembered my name.”
“You’re very memorable.”

Hanta bit his lip to stop his grin from stretching further. “Really?”

“Definitely. I’m really glad you decided to call again. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t.”
A soft noise escaped Hanta’s throat before he could catch it. He couldn’t even try to talk himself out of believing what Shouto was saying, because he’d /remembered his name/ from his laugh and voice alone.
“Isn’t there some rule about not calling too soon after the first date?” Hanta joked. “Gotta play it cool and make it look like I’m not too into you. You know – beyond the whole paying-exorbitant-amounts-of-money-for-you-to pretend-to-fuck-me thing.”
Shouto laughed on the other end. It sounded like he was stifling the sound behind his hand. Cute.

“In that case, I can assure you that you’ve been perfectly aloof and mysterious,” he said. “Outside of that part, of course.”

“Oh, excellent,” Hanta laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“It /is/ a bit of a pity though…”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I kind of preferred it when you were crying on my cock,” Shouto said, his tone casual, as if they were talking about the weather.
A surprised moan fell from Hanta’s lips.

“Fuck,” he said, throat going dry. “Me– me too.” Chuckling weakly, he added, “Have I mentioned yet that you’re really good at this?”
“Maybe you’re just a little easy, love.”

Hanta moaned again, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his hips into the mattress. Shouto was going to kill him, there was no doubt about it.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he countered, a little breathless.
“Have you thought about what you’d like me to do to you tonight, baby?” Shouto asked, slipping fully back into his /sex voice/, as Hanta had named it in his head. Hanta groaned lightly, eyes slipping closed as he put the phone on speaker and set it down next to him.
“Or do I get to have my way with you again?”

The added confirmation that Shouto really /did/ remember their night together had Hanta’s cock twitching against his sheets, already hard. Perhaps Shouto had a point.
“I–I thought about it this time,” Hanta admitted. He felt his cheeks flushing.

“Oh?” Shouto replied, almost too quickly. Hanta wanted to believe that the interest in his tone was genuine, even if that was maybe a silly thought.
“Yeah,” Hanta said quietly, biting his lip. “Would— would you maybe be up for edging me tonight? No worries if it’s too late for th—”

“Yes,” Shouto cut him off. “God, yes. Let’s do it.”

“Oh.” Hanta grinned, the color on his cheeks deepening. “Okay, then. Awesome.”
“What do you have with you? You mentioned a toy last time.”

Hanta’s stomach flipped over. He really remembered. “Yeah— I have one here with me.”

“What kind of toy is it?”

“Oh, It’s just a plain dildo, nothing fancy. I wanted…”
Hanta trailed off, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed by where that sentence was going.

“What did you want, Hanta?” Shouto asked, a touch of authority seeping back into his tone. “Tell me.”

Hanta flushed.
“I wanted— I wanted it to feel real, I guess,” he breathed. “As much like you as possible.”

“Fuck,” came Shouto’s voice on the other end, followed by a slow exhale. “Good boy.”

Hanta groaned softly, rolling his hips against the mattress.
“Before we get started – let’s use color safe words tonight, just so I can check in on you every now and then, okay? Green for keep going, yellow for slow down, and red for stop. Have you ever used them before?”
The words sent a shiver of anticipation down Hanta’s spine. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I have.”

“Good,” Shouto replied easily. “Are you still wearing clothes, Hanta?”

“Uh— yeah. Just a tank top and swe—”

“Take them off.”
“Shit— y-yeah, okay,” Hanta said, quickly sitting up and tearing his tank top over his head, before gracelessly shoving his pants down and kicking them onto the floor. “Okay. They’re off.”
Shouto chuckled on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t the same laugh he’d used a few minutes ago when Hanta was joking around – this was his /sex voice laugh/, and it sent a shiver through Hanta’s whole body.

“That was fast. Are you excited?”
“I’ve been waiting all week to talk to you again,” Hanta said honestly.

“Fuck,” came Shouto’s soft voice. “Did you think of me a lot this week, Hanta?”

Hanta groaned. Of /course/ he’d thought about him. How could he not?

“You already know the answer to that.”
“I want to hear you say it.”

Hanta’s cock throbbed at the words. “I can’t come without thinking of you anymore,” he admitted quietly. “Just like you said.”

Another muffled curse rang through the speaker. “How did I get so lucky to get such a good boy all to myself?”
Hanta felt his face flushing as an involuntarily whimper bubbled up from his throat. It was embarrassing how much the comment made him want to be even better, made him want to make Shouto proud.
“You like it when I tell you how good you are, don’t you, baby?” Shouto cooed, and it only made Hanta’s skin burn hotter. “God, I can't wait to hear what that pretty voice of yours sounds like when it's begging me to let you come.”
“Oh, fuck— mhmm, that’s what I want,” Hanta panted, rolling his hips again. “Make me beg for it—”

“Don’t worry,” Shouto purred into the phone, and the sound sent a shudder through Hanta’s whole body.
“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t know how to do anything but beg for me.”

Hanta’s eyes flew open again. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

“I’m going to break you tonight, Hanta.”

A gasp caught in Hanta’s throat.


/Oh, fuck./
Heat hit his gut /hard/, spreading fast and burning through his body. It left his arms and legs tingling, his chest on fire, and his head dizzy.

Holy fucking shit. Shouto was /unreal/.
When he opened his mouth, Hanta didn’t have a single hope of stopping the word that fell from his lips.


There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side. And then—

“Lube. Now.”
Hanta scrambled to obey, fumbling as he popped open the cap of the bottle. He clumsily poured what was likely way too much lube onto his fingers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was definitely going to have to change his sheets after this, anyway.
“Good boy,” Shouto praised. “Now, on your knees, baby.”

Hanta let a soft moan slip, more heat searing through him as he rolled onto his stomach again, then lifted himself up to his knees, so his ass was in the air. He spread his legs wide, blushing at his own lewd display.
“Fuck, you look so good like that,” Shouto whispered in his ear, and Hanta whined into his pillow. “Presenting that tight little hole for me. God, I’d love to eat you out, tease you with my tongue until you’re a drooling mess, pushing back onto my face.”
“Oh, god, Shouto…” Hanta groaned, bringing a slick finger to his rim and circling the outside without pushing inside, imagining Shouto’s mouth on him. He shuddered at the first cool touch, as he’d been too impatient to bother with warming the lube between his fingers.
“That’s good, baby. You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you? I’m going to push a finger in now, nice and slow.”

Hanta moaned as he followed his directions and pressed inside, picturing Shouto’s finger instead.
The familiar burn had his cock twitching in anticipation, but he made himself pull out and thrust back in slowly, like Shouto said. With a soft noise, he set a patient pace for himself.
“So obedient,” Shouto purred, as if reading his mind. “I’m so lucky. I’m gonna add another, sweetheart.”

“Please,” Hanta gasped, and he pressed a second finger in alongside the first, whining against the stretch.
He did his best to scissor them apart, but he was so tight they hardly moved. He groaned, pushing back against them.

“God, that’s it, baby. You’re so tight. How is my cock ever gonna fit in there?”

“Fuck, Shouto,” Hanta panted, hand picking up speed.
He arched his back into the sensation as he pushed deeper, and he cried out as his fingers brushed against his prostate for the first time.

“Yeah, right there, huh?” Shouto said, voice breathless. “God, I love the sounds you make for me.”
Hanta whimpered, open-mouthed and wet, as he repeated the motion again, and again, picturing Shouto above him, relentlessly crooking his fingers just right.
He’d be able to do it so much better than Hanta, whose wrist was already cramping as he struggled to maintain the awkward angle.
“I can’t wait to have you crying out like that on my cock,” Shouto groaned, and his voice sounded pinched, like he really was having to hold himself back. “Wanna have you pinned beneath me, wanna hear you /screaming/ while I fuck into that spot over and over and over again—”
“Oh— h-holy /shit/, Shouto—”

Hanta gasped as he stilled his fingers, his untouched cock throbbing threateningly between his legs. Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a shaky breath, and tried to back away from the precipice he’d so suddenly found himself dangling over.
“Wow.” Shouto’s low chuckle sounded through the phone, and Hanta bit his lip hard around a pained groan. “I guess I forgot how sensitive you are, my horny little boy.”
Hanta whined. That pet name had absolutely no right to sound as hot as it did falling from Shouto’s lips, but the mocking tone he used when he said it went straight to Hanta’s cock every time.
“Are you ready for me, sweetheart? Or do you need another finger first? I’ll have to be careful not to go too deep...”

Hanta whimpered as he quickly tried to scissor his fingers again.
This time, he found that it was a little easier, and his walls gave into the stretch without as much resistance. Coaxing his eyes open again, he squinted appraisingly at his dildo.
His selection of sex toys certainly wasn’t huge or anything, but out of what he had available, he’d chosen the one that seemed closest to the size and length of an average cock.
Maybe it was silly, but like he’d told Shouto, he wanted it to feel as real as possible. As much like /Shouto/ as possible. He had no idea how big Shouto was, and he hadn’t wanted to make him uncomfortable by asking personal questions, so this was his next best solution.
(Okay, it was definitely silly, because it’s not like he’d ever actually /meet/ Shouto, so there was no harm in imagining him with whatever cock he wanted. But… still.)
I can take it,” Hanta rasped, and he cursed under his breath at how wrecked he already sounded. He cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”

“God, of course you can,” Shouto groaned quietly, and Hanta heard shifting on his end of the line.
“You’re so perfect for me, aren’t you, pretty boy?”

“Hnng—” Hanta moaned, burying his face in his pillow. It was unfair how easily Shouto’s praise affected him, how it made his legs spread wider and his back arch deeper.
“You have to let me take my fingers out if you want my cock, Hanta,” Shouto reminded him gently, and Hanta felt the flush on his chest darken in color.


Hanta cut himself off as he pulled his fingers out of himself, hole fluttering around empty space.
A frustrated, desperate noise fell from his lips, and he scrambled to slick up his toy, unbothered by the lube that dripped down onto his sheets. Shouto shushed soft comforts into his ear the whole time, waiting until Hanta was back in position to continue.
“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Look at that wet little hole, just waiting for my cock. Fuck. I bet I could come just rubbing myself against it.”
Hanta’s brows furrowed and he groaned as he pressed the head of the dildo against his opening, teasing over it a few times without pressing inside.

“But that’s not what you want tonight, is it?” Shouto murmured, and his voice sounded even lower, even more husky and breathless than before.

Hanta shook his head, then belatedly realized Shouto couldn’t see him.
After a couple tries, he managed a broken sound that vaguely resembled a “no.”

“That’s what I thought,” Shouto said, and somehow, he made even that sound like praise. “I’m going to push inside, baby boy.”
Hanta nodded in half-delirious agreement as he lined up his toy and pressed forward. He didn’t pause after he breached his entrance, instead making himself take it all in one slow push. He cried out at the sensation of Shouto’s cock stretching his walls, but he didn’t stop—
Hanta wanted to impress him, wanted to be good for him.

“Oh, /fuck/, my baby is so tight,” came Shouto’s breathless voice. “So good, god. Squeezing me, practically begging to be fucked full of come.”
Hanta could almost /see/ Shouto’s eyelids fluttering as he bottomed out, taking a second to let Hanta adjust to his width, to let /himself/ adjust to the feeling of tight heat wrapped around his cock, and Hanta was struck once more by just how /good/ this guy was at his job.
“Oh god, please—”

“Gonna— gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.”

Shouto sounded like he was barely holding back, and fuck, that had no right to be so hot when it wasn’t even /real/.
Hanta immediately obeyed the unspoken command, and pulled the toy out of himself halfway before pushing back in, this time with more force.

He cried out into his pillow, his untouched cock throbbing heavily between his legs. Shouto groaned on the other end of the line, and Hanta did it again, toes flexing and a wrecked noise ripping from his throat as he hit his prostate.
It was easy to find at this angle, and it was so /good/ – /too/ good. He started fucking himself in earnest with shallow thrusts, unable to resist the temptation of brushing over that spot on each one.
Somehow, over the sounds of his own wet panting, he heard a quiet curse from Shouto. Hanta fucked himself faster, bracing himself for Shouto to tell him to stop, to work himself up to the edge slowly, but instead—
“Harder. Right there, baby,” Shouto instructed in a firm tone. Hanta groaned, hips bucking forward against thin air. “Is your hair long enough for me to pull it, Hanta?”
Hanta felt heat spread through his stomach as his cock pulsed precome onto his sheets.

“Yes,” he gasped as he complied, putting more strength behind his thrusts. Then, for no real reason, because Shouto definitely didn’t need to know, he added, “I-it’s shoulder length.”
“Fuck, that sounds hot,” Shouto murmured, almost as if talking to himself. “Take your free hand and fist it in your hair, right at the base of your skull. Sorry, that wording isn’t the sexiest, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“S’fine,” Hanta slurred, hurrying to do as he was told. He gasped as he tangled his fingers in his hair and balled his hand into a fist, tugging backward.

Some distant part of him appreciated that Shouto seemed to really know what he was talking about.
He’d given him instructions for choking himself properly last time, and made sure to establish the color code for tonight. Even though they weren’t together in person, it made it easier to submit, knowing he was in the hands of someone capable and careful.
“That’s it,” Shouto breathed. “All this pretty hair makes a good handle for me to press you into the mattress, don’t you think?”

Hanta’s eyes shot wide. “Please,” he croaked, even as he scrambled to tighten his own hand and use it to push his forehead into his pillow.
His thrusts got sloppier and faster, losing rhythm as he split his focus between his two hands. Shouto chuckled darkly.

“Such a good boy, Hanta. /Fuck—/ it’s almost hard to treat you like the slut you are…”

“O-oh /fuck/— Shouto—”
Drool spilled from Hanta’s lips and onto the mattress as the toy slammed into his prostate in time with the word ‘slut’, so perfect it was almost as if Shouto had planned it—
and then he was close, /so close/, his abdomen tightening, warmth spreading through his chest, his toes curling of their own accord—
Then, somehow so low and intimate that it felt like Shouto was really there, whispering in his ear—

Hanta sucked in a stuttering breath, eyes widening as his hand halted mid-thrust, the one that surely would’ve pushed him over the edge.
He was silent, forgetting to even breathe as a wave of shocked heat washed over him in place of an orgasm and his body pulsed in protest, falling away from the edge.

When he finally exhaled, it came out as a choked sob.
“Fuck— good boy,” Shouto praised, his voice low and raspy with something that sounded like awe. Hanta’s cock jumped at the words, sensitive and leaking between his legs, and he felt his lower lip wobble. “You did so well. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to stop.”
Hanta swallowed around the lump in his throat.


“What’s your color, baby?”

Hanta blinked slowly, considering the question.
His body felt sensitive, overly hot, his cock swollen and dripping, his hole twitching around the toy still held halfway inside him by a shaking hand. His legs were quaking in warning. They wouldn’t hold him up for long.
He knew he was close to tears, too, and he was having trouble managing words.

But his /head/ – his head felt… not quite empty, as much as full to the brim with everything /Shouto/.
He was trying to think logically, but all he could focus on was Shouto’s voice in his ear and Shouto’s hand in his hair and Shouto’s cock inside him. His body was trembling, but his mind was only concerned with one thing.
Vaguely, he knew what he was getting into if he said green. But, this was what he’d asked for, right?

He huffed a weak laugh into the speaker.

He must be a masochist.

“That’s my boy,” came Shouto’s reverent whisper. “I’m gonna push back inside, nice and easy.”

Hanta followed his instructions, but everything was so sensitive now, his nerves strung out and tingling.
The first thrust felt like torture, and the first brush of the toy’s cockhead against his prostate had his whole body jerking as another sob was ripped from his throat.

“O-oh, god,” he gasped. “Shouto, oh god, Shouto— I-I wanna come, every— everything is so hot— y-your cock— I—”
He was babbling, but he couldn’t make it stop, his words devolving into pants as he fucked himself steadily back toward the edge.

“Jesus… you’re so fucking hot,” Shouto breathed. Hanta whimpered at the praise, dimly aware of movement on the other end.
“I’m gonna go a little faster now, baby, I know you can take it.”

Hanta felt his tears finally spilling over his cheeks as he followed Shouto’s instructions, overwhelming heat spreading through his abdomen as he pushed against his prostate again and again,
faster and harder on every thrust. He was dimly aware that he was making a lot of noise, but he couldn’t seem to close his mouth, or stop the cries falling from it.

“I— Shouto, I-I need—”
It was so much and not nearly enough all at once— he wanted to stop, but he /needed/ to keep going, /needed/ to come— he was getting close again already, his whole body felt like it was on fire—
“Shouto— please—” he cried, voice breaking. “Let me come, oh god, p-please— Sh-Shouto, I ne— I need it— please lemme come—”

“Holy shit, H-Hanta…”

Through the speaker, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of clothes rustling, followed by a slick sound, and a low groan.
Hanta's eyes shot wide, and he choked half-way through his own wet pant, as his entire body froze.

Was— was that…?
“Are you okay, Hanta?” Shouto asked, sounding concerned. His side of the line quieted until Hanta was hearing only his ragged breathing. It sounded like he was hurrying to try and control it. “Wh-what’s your color?”
“Green,” Hanta breathed quickly, almost dismissively. He didn’t care about colors anymore. Suddenly, all he cared about was knowing that Shouto was enjoying this, too. “Shouto, are— are you… touching yourself?”
There was a second of silence, then a muttered curse.

“Shit, yeah. I’m so sorry— I—”

Hanta didn’t catch the rest of Shouto’s apology.
At his confirmation, Hanta’s whole body throbbed hard with desire, and then he was coming onto his sheets, unable to stop his hand from slamming the toy as deep inside as it could go.
He screamed into his pillow as his delayed orgasm finally ripped through him, the force of it dragging the cry straight from his lungs.
He collapsed onto the mattress with a weak sob as he came down.

“H-holy shit...” Hanta distantly heard Shouto’s voice from the other end of the line, and he turned to the side, gasping for breath. “Did you just—”
“I-I’m so— sorry—” Hanta panted weakly, trying to focus his vision. “I— you— fuck, sorry— I really didn’t mean to— but you— you’re actually fucking yourself too, oh god—”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Hanta,” Shouto repeated in a tense voice, cutting off his babbling.
The words sounded rushed. Hanta blinked, brows furrowing, or at least trying to. He wasn’t sure he could move his face yet.

“What? Why are you sorry?” he asked. Hanta was the one that broke the rules and came early.
He felt like he was missing something, but it was hard to think very quickly, or even at all. He grunted as he rolled onto his side, his toy still held inside with a shaky hand.

“I— you’re a customer,” Shouto said, his tone a little bewildered, like it should’ve been obvious.
“I shouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

In his half-delirious state, it took Hanta a second to process his meaning. When he finally did, he just snorted.

“Are you serious?”
He huffed, then started shallowly thrusting the toy inside himself again, whimpering a little from oversensitivity. “I’m a customer who would pay /double/ to listen to you come apart from fucking me,” he said breathlessly.
“Hanta... a-are you—”

“Yeah,” Hanta panted, cutting off Shouto’s strained words. “Please, Shouto, don’t make me beg again. I want— I want you to come so bad. I want to /make/ you come.”
“Hanta,” Shouto breathed, so quiet that Hanta could barely hear him over the sound of his own pounding heart, and the blood rushing in his ears. It sounded like a warning.

“Please. I want it so bad.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll— I’ll do anything.”
A few seconds of silence. Then—

It was the sound of Shouto’s last thread of control snapping, and it was accompanied by hurried shuffling on his end, presumably clothes being ripped fully off—
and then Shouto was fucking into his fist, the wet, rhythmic sounds of him stroking his precome-slick cock meeting Hanta’s ears, along with his relieved groan.
“God, fuck, Hanta—” Shouto gasped. “You have no idea— what you do to me— so fucking sweet and obedient— a-and that— that fucking mouth—”

“O-oh god—” Hanta felt his entire body flush hot.
The praise felt different now— now that he knew it was real, now that he was listening to Shouto touching himself on the other end. “Fuck me, Shouto, h-holy /shit/— please—”

Hanta scrambled to match Shouto’s fast pace even as his skin burned from oversensitivity.
He could feel himself swelling against the sheets again already, high from the idea that somehow he had managed to work Shouto up just as much as Shouto had him.
Hanta shifted onto his stomach, rolling right into the still-sticky mess of his first orgasm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than moan and sloppily grind his hips into the slick spot, again and again and again.
Shouto didn’t sound like he had much more composure on the other end, either, his choked words keeping time with the sound of slapping skin. “Hanta, I’m— /hng/— /Hanta/—”
“Shouto,” Hanta gasped as the dildo finally nudged his over-sensitive prostate again, and it was so much— he’d just come—
but the feeling of the toy and the slick of the sheets and the sound of his name spilling from Shouto’s lips was too much, and suddenly he was teetering at the edge again. He sped up, his stuttering hips moving on their own. “I— I’m— f-fuck—”
That’s all he got out before his words cut off, his mouth widening on a silent scream as he came a second time, emptying himself with a violent jerk against the mattress that left his bed frame squeaking.
On the other end of the line, Shouto stuttered a curse under his breath, and a second later he was following suit, a rushed, choked noise ringing through Hanta’s speaker, followed by a low groan.
Hanta listened, enraptured, to the sound of Shouto finishing – finishing for /real/ – as his heart tried to beat out of his chest.

Slowly, the background noise died down until he was only listening to Shouto’s heavy panting.

Hanta broke the silence first.
“Holy shit,” he chuckled, sounding winded and wrecked. “That was incredible.”

Shouto didn’t reply immediately, instead groaning softly, as if forming words was taking a fair bit of effort on his part. Hanta grinned.
“Yeah,” he finally breathed. “Def— definitely my best call ever.”

“Yeah?” Hanta laughed. “That mean I beat fresh cinnamon rolls?”

“Don’t get carried away,” Shouto said, but he was still breathless, and the admonishment only made Hanta’s smile stretch wider.
“You called really late. I made a pie earlier.”

“Ah, fuck, that sounds good,” Hanta groaned, rolling out of his wet spot and onto his back as his stomach rumbled. “What kind?”

“I’ve gotta sta—” Hanta started to say, but he cut himself off at the sound of a loud /meow/ through the speaker, followed by scratching noises.

“Shit— no, /stop/, you demon child—”
Hanta’s brows shot up. He listened to hasty movement on Shouto’s end, grunting and fabric rustling, followed by footsteps, the opening of a door, and another meow.

“You’re such a diva,” Shouto grumbled.

“Dude, you have a cat?!”
“Yes, sorry. I usually keep her locked out of my bedroom when I work in here so no one will hear her, but— um— our call was a little longer than I expected.”
Shouto sighed in exasperation, but it was accompanied by the tell-tale sound of him hoisting the cat into his arms, giving him away.

“No worries, I love animals,” Hanta chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest as Shouto’s cat started to purr. “What’s her name?”

Hanta snorted. “Tofu? You named your cat /Tofu/?”

“Yes. I considered soba, but I eat a lot of soba and was worried she’d get confused.”

Hanta’s cheeks were starting to ache. “You know you could’ve just given her an /actual/ name, if that was a concern, right?”
“She /has/ an actual name, Hanta. It’s Tofu,” Shouto said firmly, but Hanta could hear the smile in his voice. He laughed.

“Alright, whatever you say, man.”
Hanta glanced over at the clock, which very rudely informed him he was about to have one /hell/ of a charge on his credit card statement. He sighed.

“I better get going, or next time I call we’ll have to budget for about two minutes.”
“Yeah, okay,” Shouto said, then hummed. “Next time.”

Hanta felt his cheeks heating. He bit his lip as his smile widened. “That okay?”

“Of course. I can say with complete honesty that you’re by far my favorite customer.”
Hanta felt his heart try to switch places with his stomach.

“Oh my god, you’re not allowed to make me blush for /real/,” he laughed, turning to hide his grin in his pillow.

Shouto chuckled. Hanta’s next words came out muffled against the fabric.
“But also please don’t stop and you should totally jack off again next time because that was /so/ fucking hot.”

Shouto actually laughed at that. “Okay. As long as you’re okay with it. Just tell me if you ever want me to like, not do it, or anything.”
“I really can’t see that happening,” Hanta said quickly. “Well, unless I’m like, edging /you/, or something. But even then, it’d only be for, like, a minute.”

“Oh?” Shouto said, and Hanta grinned, knowing the interested lilt of his voice wasn’t an act this time.
“I’m going now, Shouto,” he said teasingly, purposefully not answering his unspoken question. “Give Tofu a big goodnight kiss from me, okay?”

Shouto chuckled again, and god, Hanta really liked that sound. “Yeah, alright. Goodnight, Hanta.”
Hanta smiled. Well, he smiled wider, because he hadn’t ever really stopped.

“Night, Shouto.”

Hanta waited for Shouto to end the call, and then he screamed into his pillow.

* * *
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