#Defining Moments Package

[thisultraviolet]

YOU VOTED FOR SPEAK NOW.....

NOT EVEN THE KENDRICK VERSION YOU HAD TO PICK THE BAD ONE AGDKAGJ

[wandasaura]

YOURE ON YOUR OWN KID

summary — when boredom strikes in the absence of your girlfriends, you make friendship bracelets that will tether you together no matter the distance

warnings — fluff, the slightest indication of hurt but not really, mentions of lethal weapons and battle, minor mention of ohio but it’s a soft/happy moment

authors note — i am so high you gremlins better appreciate this, i got so carried away

Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure when summer had lost its whimsical spark, but as you trudged through the halls of the compound searching wistfully for something to do that could even begin to fill a fraction of the time until your girlfriends returned home from a last minute op, the early days of August just didn’t feel the same as they did when you had popsicle sticks and sandcastles to look forward to. The endless days that had once been vibrant within your memory, defined by sleepovers and an assortment of frozen treats, were now bland and filled with earnest longing for company that was hard to come across when the entire world needed saving and that impossible responsibility fell on the shoulders of a few ragtag individuals. 

The height of summertime had befallen you if the scorching heat outside was any minuscule factor in the judgment that determined ever changing seasons, yet still you felt paralyzed in an eternal winter, pessimistically comparing the barren landscape of early February to the isolating interior of Stark’s state of the art compound. Pepper and Maria had become familiar faces since the Avengers workload had picked up again, becoming short lived intermissions to the reality you lived in permanently, but even with their infrequent trips upstate to visit with you and collect paperwork that probably could’ve waited until Tony himself returned home, persistent boredom was slowly becoming your worst enemy. 

Wanda and Natasha had been trying their best though it was hardly any consolation, sending nightly texts and assuring that although they missed you terribly, they were doing well, but it just wasn’t the same as having them home with you. They called anytime they got the chance, FaceTime’d whenever a hotspot managed to be secured, but it would never be enough to heal the ache of their physical absence beside you in a place that you so desperately tried to call home for them. 

Scrounging through the game closet, because as ‘tough’ as Tony attempted to appear in the light of the everlurking media, he still valued spending time with his wife and friends – as hesitant as he was to ever truly call the Avengers such a thing. It was something of a shock to stumble upon a bracelet kit in the madness of board games and extravagant card decks, but knowing the billionaire, it had most definitely been purchased in a haze of sleep deprivation and later been put away by Pepper who would’ve  ultimately been the one to unbox each package as they came. 

Shrugging off your initial surprise, a smile derived of childhood nostalgia pulled at the corners of your lips, and for a single second, that unreplicable spark came back to you just as  the August sun created a breathtaking sunset beyond the living room windows. Settling onto the couch, illuminated by the slowly ebbing traces of warm daylight, you pried open the plastic packaging and allowed that innocent child within you to have a single moment of joy. Intricately you weaved plastic beads onto thin rubber string, shifting through tiny sections until you found colors and letters that fit your wildest desires, leaving out no tacky charm whilst you were at it. Before you knew it, your wrist had become adorned with personality by three entirely cliche bracelets, all different colors and hues but perfectly cohesive as they mirrored the colors visible just beyond the large windows. You grinned down at them blissfully, caressing the ‘N’ on the highest one on your wrist, mesmerized by the simplicity of their appearance on your body. They were so effortlessly simple, weaved and tangled together by environmentally damaging globes of hollow plastic, but they’d healed a part of your being that you hadn’t even recognized was slowly dying as adulthood stole the joy of childhood. 

After cleaning up the house, although you most definitely did slip the bracelet kit into your shared bedroom with Wanda and Natasha instead of placing it back in the closet for communal use, you fell into the couch once more, this time with a lousy dinner of buttered pasta and a sitcom that just didn’t hit the same without Wanda’s amusement to drown out the laugh track and Natasha’s dry commentary. At some point, you had fallen asleep to Michelle Tanner stomping through the kitchen, but when you awoke, groggy and disoriented, you found that the sky had morphed into a deep shade of violet and the house was filled with echoes of shuffling. 

You frowned, rubbing at your eyes with balled up fists as you took in your surroundings. The room was painted in near total darkness, however the lamp nearest your body had been switched on and bright an ambient glow to the blackness that threatened to drown you within it. There was also the telltale sounds of quiet conversation, and though the thick walls did a lot to muffle the sounds of life existing beside you for the first time in days, you recognized the drawl of Wanda’s soft Sokovian accent instantaneously. 

Shooting up from the couch, barely acknowledging that someone had thrown a blanket over top of you, weaving through the hallways that didn’t seem so barren anymore until you found your girlfriends bent over the countertop, still dressed in their tactile uniforms and covered in dust and dirt, but happily snacking on the left over pasta that you had placed on the highest shelf in the fridge. You didn’t give them a moment to react to your abrupt presence in the kitchen, certain that Natasha had heard your feet pattering against the floorboards and Wanda had felt your energy shift and grow closer. The Russian happened to be on the side of the island closest to you, and without hesitation you embraced her in a tight hug, wrapping your arms around her midsection and digging your face into the center of her back, effectively pinning her arms to her sides, though she could’ve easily escaped you if she wanted. 

“Hi, malyshka.” She cooed softly, her voice hoarse from smoke inhalation and a long stretch of yelling over bombs and active fire, but you paid it no mind, happy just to have her back in your arms miraculously in one single piece. “You gonna let me go so I can hug you the right way?” She teased when your grip remained steeled, not wavering for a second even as you nestled your head farther into the back of her spine. 

“No.” Your voice was small as it fell into the air, drowning both Wanda and Natasha in your tender softness. “Never letting you go again.” 

“As endearing as that is, malyska, you refuse to be in the bathroom when I pee. You’re going to have to let me go at some point.” Her humor was dry, blunt enough to have your cheeks twinging a shade of pink they hadn’t been since the day she and Wanda left, but you didn’t hold back your strained laughter like you would’ve had she not just been gone for nearly a week, instead, you allowed the sound to tear through your body and vibrate hers. 

You only loosened your grip because Wanda had rounded the corner of the island and pulled you back into her chest the minute you were in reach. Natasha took that to her advantage, shimming out of your loosened grip to turn around and embrace you fully, one hand cupping the back of your head whilst the other looped around your waist over top of Wandas. You sighed contently, laying your chin against Natasha’s shoulder while your hand slipped down to grasp firmly onto Wanda’s. 

Only when curious fingers brushed against your wrist did you remember the bracelets adorning your arm, and passionately you wiggled away from them to snag the lowest bracelet off, extending it to the Sokovian with an admittedly sheepish grin. “I made you this.” You offered simply as an explanation, awaiting Wanda’s reaction as she took in the sight of the bracelet, the lone bead in the center the first letter of your name. 

Wanda’s mesmerizing green eyes wrinkled beneath the kitchen lighting, and tenderly she stroked her finger across the beads that framed your single letter. “I love it.” You smiled shyly beneath her tender stare, cheeks heating up as you shifted your attention to Natasha, pulling off the bracelet that just as simply as the first, bore a black inked ‘W’. “I thought we could wear each other's names. That way when you're off saving the world one Hydra base at a time, you still have a little part of me with you, and I have a little part of you.” 

Natasha couldn’t contain her endearment, and for a single second as you glanced at her tearful expression, you were worried that she hated it, that she thought it was stupid and childish, which it most definitely was. A spluttered apology was on the tip of your tongue, hot and loaded as it formed in seconds, but it was pointless, because once she had taken a few seconds to collect her reserve, she slid the bracelet onto her wrist, fitting it comfortably over the sleeves of her sleek black uniform that desperately needed a dry clean, and smiled at you. 

“Yelena and I used to make these in Ohio. They weren’t as pretty, and they didn’t really mean anything significant, but it was the one thing that we could do that made us feel like real kids; me more than her. I love it, detka.” Natasha mumbled insightfully, though you didn’t have a second to unpack her whispered admission, because she was pulling you into a kiss that tasted of vodka and pasta the second words stopped forming on her tongue. You didn’t whine about the taste of her tongue, or how her lips were painfully chapped against yours, simply melted into the touch and shuddered as Wanda came up behind you to kiss a soft trail down your neck. 

Two weeks later, they were called away on another mission, this time in Nigeria where a Hydra base had apparently popped up out of the blue, but this time, amongst their tactical uniforms and lethal weapons, were two bracelets crafted by you. When they returned six days later, those same bracelets remained, looking dingy beneath the ambient glow of sunset, but entirely perfect as well.

[actiniumwrites]

BLURRED LINES

synopsis: the defining moment that changed the course of your relationship with them from being enemies to that of lovers

characters: kaeya, yelan, scaramouche, ayato, cyno, dottore, and alhaitham x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, injuries, blood, fighting, harassment (not from any of them), not proofread

notes: idk man i just wanted to write some enemies to lovers scenarios. each of these get longer as they go, so uh, sorry if you wanted some of the first ones to be longer cause i don’t really know what happened 😭 enjoy <3

Kaeya watched how you laughed so loudly, so confidently at him as you fought somewhere behind him. It was as loud and recognizable as usual. He felt his heart beat faster — flushed, annoyed, and fed up with your constant need to one up him, laugh at him for no reason, and point out each and every small mistake he makes. As the Cavalry Captain racked his brain for a comeback, anything to take you off your high horse, his ears began to hurt as your laughter faded into that of dreadful screams. Blue eyes caught yours in an instant, turned so fast that his body almost gave him whiplash. No. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not when he hadn’t realized his hatred for you was nothing more than a guise for his buried love.

Yelan’s faint laughs scared the people on the harbor. Such an intimidating women, softly — yet arrogantly — laughing to herself was certainly an odd sight to see. She had bested you once again, and you hadn’t even known it yet. And Archons she couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you realized it. Her laughter quickly subsided at the faint sounds of desperation and begging, coming from somewhere within a nearby alleyway. Nearly walking past it out of the need to be in other places, Yelan stopped in her trail when the whimpering cries turned into your voice. Fury festered throughout her body in an instant. Nobody was allowed to mess with you, not unless it was her. Maybe she hadn’t realized it yet, but she would do anything to protect you — even if it meant giving her life.

When Scaramouche fell limp out of the robot, falling from great heights as he plummeted to the ground, he held no beliefs he would be caught — no less by the hands of you, his sworn enemy. Yet, there you were, arms wrapped tightly around him as the traveler and Paimon stared at you in shock. Something about the way your heart felt the moment you saw him fall was deeply painful, like weeds growing around your heart. Though, the strong heat from your love was enough to burn those weeds, enough to propel yourself forward without thought and save the man you had unknowingly come to love. And as Nahida watched the scene play out in front of her, a knowing smile crossed her face.

Ayato loved nothing more than to argue and debate with you. It came as a package deal alongside the fact that you were from the Tenryou Commission and he was from the Yashiro commission. Because god you were so smart and always had the perfect comebacks, even though it was infuriating when you would win. What he didn’t like, however, was when he would watch you argue with someone else. Especially when you lost to them. Ironic, right? He hated watching his enemy lose? So when his eyes spotted you around the corner of Ritou, backed up against a wall as a rude man berated you, his eyes filled with fury and his heart was racing. No one was allowed to treat you like that. So he took care of them for you, even though he knew you were fully capable. And as you stormed away from him, he was left with a single question: if you were supposed to be his enemy, then why the hell did he care so much about you?

The moment Cyno saw you fall backwards, he scoffed. Honestly, when were you actually going to beat him while sparring? But then you didn’t get up. Cyno swore he felt his heart fall out of his chest. And oh archons, the moment he saw blood, the weapon fell out of his hand and his feet propelled him forward. His knees scraped against the rugged bricks of the floor as his arms wrapped themselves around your torso and hoisted it against him. But then your eyes opened and the laugh he always thought was so beautiful fell from your lips. Stopping when your eyes met his serious expression, you joked, “What? Don’t tell me you were actually worried about me?” Cyno’s eyes pierced through yours, a serious, yet genuine, expression painted across his face, “Don’t scare me like that, it’s not funny…I thought I lost you for a second.”

Dottore felt annoyed the moment he heard you knock on the door. So he ignored it, knowing only you would be stupid enough to get hurt and go to him at such late hours of the night. You could’ve seen another doctor, but he knew you loved to annoy him more than anything else. But then the knocks came again, weaker and more fragile this time. Sighing, he opened his door, only to find you. Your eyes were kept on the floor, but he could see the tears that pooled in them. Blood adorned most of your body, and your clothes were all tattered and torn. The arm that was holding you up against the door gave out and you collapsed, but not before Dottore caught you in his arms. You were mumbling, shaking, and absolutely terrified as you leaned against him. And yet, for some reason, Dottore couldn’t help but feel a small feeling of warmth spreading in his cold heart at the thought of you coming to him when you were most vulnerable. Though, it wasn’t enough to stop the anger he felt for the person that hurt you.

Alhaitham sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day as he spotted you in the library late at night. Shouldn’t you have already gone home? Or were you just trying to get ahead him again? Perhaps aiming to steal his position at the Akademiya this time? He never knew with you, but at least the competition kept things a little more entertaining each day. So, he made another sarcastic comment toward you on his way out. He couldn’t see your face from the way you were sitting, but your silence stopped him in his tracks. No rebuttal? No comeback? Not even an annoyed sigh? And then your shoulders started to shake, and small whimpers fell from your lips. Shit. Alhaitham didn’t know what to do in situations like this. But even so, he stopped and walked toward you. Sat down next to you and stayed quiet, only offering a few tissues and some water he had on him — which you hesitantly, but gratefully took. Maybe you were his “enemy” and maybe he didn’t know how to deal with people crying, but for some reason it felt natural with you and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you alone.

[readerthatreadsss]

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

Steven.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

“I want you,” is all your voice can manage, evaporating into the raw need that you are currently holding for your best-friend.

It’s a mutual lunch break hour from differing work environments, and you’d managed to huddle up into your benefits part of the friendship package, piling into Steve’s backseat. It’s not the first time… and it definitely will not be the last…

You’re insatiable for him, thoughts having been built from the night before, as you came three times with his name on your kiss starved lips.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

Paper bags and wrappers are carelessly littered to the beemer’s floorboards. Jackets discarded. Indiana’s icy autumn air goes hand in hand with Steve’s heater - leaving behind streaks of accumulated fog that is glistening across every window. Traded lunch tastes linger with every kiss. Steve’s peanut butter and jelly strong on his tongue as you pass it by with a sweep of your own turkey club.

And if you ask Steve Harrington one of the things he most remembers about today, it’s how you shamelessly licked the chip crumb from the corner of his mouth to finish it off. You were helped into his lap when the turning point occurred (a look, one that’s before a paused heartbeat, a sharp - shared breath). Only, it’s different on this occasion. Sure, you’ve taken control before, rode him until his eyes crossed and his toes curled into a crack, one that had him squeezing you so hard that you felt it for days. However, there’s something more building here and he knows that you know, but he isn’t sure what will happen (he is just privy to what he wants, what he’s fucking terrified to say).

“You have me,” he says, a blush pecking into the apple of his cheeks, results stirring between his legs.

You both take in those words - for a moment the sound of a soft rain and falling leaves trickling across his back windshield all that you can hear. But then Steve exhales a withheld breath that bumps at you from positioning, and you’re super sensitive to the situation, the need becoming an aching, overwhelming hunger to have. You find that freckle on his left ear first, licking your way down his jaw to follow, your hips starting rock in his lap - an established rhythm you’d worked together to find over the months. Steve’s eyes roll back, toes tingling in his Nike’s, and he’s realizing the interior of his car’s roof.

“Holy shit, honey.”

It’s said wet, weak. And he’s pretty sure he just spit the words into the air. But you pay it no mind, encouraged to find those defined tendons, covered in old scars and beauty marks alike - paying attention to each one. Steve attempts to raise his hips, close his legs to get some friction on his own accord. You provide, in synch, seconds later, dipping into a particularly hard thrust that has him whining into a whimpering pain.

It rushes across your body - molten heat obliterating your insides into an irreparable mess. Pulling away, you press your fingers straight into his mouth, nudging his chin back, your own tongue slicking across your teeth as you watch yourself wrecking him in only ways that you know how. Starved to command, to pleasure, to give to him, it’s leaving your lungs and you don’t try to stop it.

“Suck on them. Come on, Steve, work for it.”

He doesn’t falter, the blown amber irises into twisted tangles, gone to blown abyss that is his pupils. He’s gone glazed over, sucking the salty taste off your digits, wanting so badly to be good for you. His trust in you, his engagement, you’re having to undo his jeans with a noisy, hasty hassle. Getting him bare cannot come quick enough. Watching his size spill from his briefs, resting its heavy, warm weight in your grasp as you reach - it takes you completely under its bidding. Steve is mesmerized, hands finding the plush of your waist to hold onto.

You manage to get your tights slid down from beneath your tennis skirt, coolness rushing in to prickle along your flesh. You won’t be bothered with boots, so you simply slide the pink silk aside, hovering over him. Steve can feel the slick silk as you brush yourself across his length, gently giving a tantalizing taste of a tease, your hand shining with the stain of his pre-release. He wants to pound you into the driver’s seat, his teeth clenched, legs bouncing. It simply serves to add more to the temptress show.

There’s a particularly large surge of rain that spills across the crystal behind your heads, in perfect timing with your new whispers. You get close, hands now pushing his shirt up to expose that deliciously black tufted chest, taking your fingers through soft curls. You circle his areola with a nail’s edge, lips sucking in his earlobe, before releasing to divulge a secret. “Wanna take you home and lay you out in my bed, pin your hands above your head.”

A low groan rumbles into a release from his throat. You take pity, one hand cupping his cheek. He holds his breath, your spare hand remaining on his chest, both heartbeats doing sporadic gallops, eyes zoned in on one another. He can’t function, you can barely let it roll off of your salivating tongue. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

Steve cries out, a literal beg and plead combo that makes you grasp and tug him back into your palm. It serves to your reminding cause. “Such a good guy, Steve. An incredible lover, the best best-friend a girl will ever have. Teaching me so much, always willing to learn.”

He goes shy at that, tries to tuck his face into your shoulder. “M’ not…”

Your spare hand finds his chin and holds him level. “You’re fucking everything, Steve Harrington. And I wanna — no — I need to feel you inside every single part of me.”

There’s this bone deep, muscle scraping rasp that drips like scorching, soaking hot honey when he speaks. You watch the five o’clock shadow swirl around his mouth as it separates to answer. His hands pinching into your sides, releasing to gently rub up and down the fabric of your shirt that is keeping parts of your skin away from him. You await, a soft smile indenting. One of his hands makes its way to your jawline, cradling, thumbing along the bone to help beckon you into his kiss.

Upon parting, lips grazing, stringing together - he lets you know. “So much crap has always been confusing, but you… You’re not.”

Your brows push together, throat constricting around a vice grip. Implications are fragrant, clear. No more exchanges as Steve’s hand finds your neck’s nape and brings you to his forehead, your leverage given to sink down in his lap. He frowns into his drawn out moan, relaxing into your shape. You curse at the stretch, hands seeking his shoulders out, digging into the blades.

You move, taking him with you. Your pace beginning slow, climbing to a quickening desperation, a burrowing trying work you over from the inside out. Throwing your face into his neck, it has you biting, marking. Steve’s breathing becomes choppy in just several minutes, his knees jerking rapidly, you controlling the rhythm, using him, being with him. He’s a sweaty, disheveled mess - hair askew from your languid pullings, shirt still wound up, and jeans soaked from the both of you.

There’s a sound that throttles his diaphragm, comes out tenfold. His massive palm slapping around to your tailbone, before it dives up the back of your shirt, fingertips dancing, shaping letters along your flesh, ending right beneath your bra band. He nuzzles your throat, leaves a kiss. “Yeah? It’s okay if I…?”

God… you can’t take it anymore. This man drives you past outer-limits.

You consent, and your bra straps are sliding from beneath your sleeves, falling over your arms, and discarded behind somewhere. Steve immediately brings your naked chest to his, breasts squished, stimulated by his fluffy, chestnut embankment. Hands find another set, fingers interlocking, and you rock so hard that his car begins to vibrate. Seconds, hours - who knows? Steve is pitiful in his warning.

“I’m gonna — Can I cum?”

You share a cheshire set of twin grins. Your mouths meet, arms raising to hold his against your hips, just… feeling your movements. You’re nodding, nipping at the stubble underneath his jawline. He swells instantly, his grip so tight on you that you can’t help but to pick your pace up to help him ride out his high.

“Good boy, baby. Feels so right, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s jaw unhinges, throat muscles tightening, legs raising until his knees hit the backs of your thighs, and everything rings static in his ears as the knot unravels at his navel, catching all on the way down to where you’re joined. He’s pulsing inside, a wide whine stretching past his lungs, slipping off his tongue. You lick at it, slowing your pace as not to overstimulate. His heart is racing, damp chest taking purchase across your own, making you rest your forehead against him. It’s a few moments that it takes you, and - reluctantly - you start to rise off, hand shifting between your thighs to press into your clit, mumbling how you wished you brought a toy to plug his essence inside.

There’s a panicked look that overtakes his perspired form, and he’s automatically keeping you in place, making you reach for his shoulder, tightening around his sensitive cock. “Steve…”

“Just… wait! Leave it inside?”

Fuck. This man…

“You sure you can handle it? I don’t mind.”

A reserved fondness, he unlocks a hand that still remains held with your own, half his fingers on your neck, the other on your face to hold. His eyes dart back and forth, a sparkling mirth making your heart dip to rise. You get it.

“I want you to finish with me still here.” He’s let go of your other hand to urge your hand aside and spread you apart with his own thumb, admiring the shine of mixed wants.

And those words… Fuck, they’re on the tip of your tongue. You’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to hold them back for.

[mindmelter]

I Want Cesar's Pecs

As Cesar was outside preparing for his daily run, I couldn't help but watch him from the window. He just recently moved into the apartment next to mine, and he was easily the most attractive man in the entire neighborhood.

I loved watching him jogging everyday, his stride was just powerful, his arms pumping back and forth, and those magnificent pecs bounced up and down with each step. I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and arousal grow inside me. I've imagined what it would be like to have those muscles, to feel those hairy pecs beneath my fingers, to feel them bounce as I run.

While I was daydreaming about Cesar's body, I didn't noticed him looking at me through the window, fuck, I tried to hide but it was too late. He had noticed me.

After a few seconds I spied through the window again, but he was already gone.

In that moment, I realized that I wanted more than just to admire him from afar. I wanted to experience what it would feel like to have a body like that, to feel those pecs bouncing myself. So I went to the beach to look for him.

He was way ahead of me, but I soon found him working out at the beach. And luckily for me the shore was almost empty. Cesar was the only one there doing some squats while holding some weights.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, focusing on the power I possessed. I have the ability to turn anyone I want into wearable bodysuits, and I've never felt the urge to use it more strongly than I did then.

I focused my energy, channeling it into my fingertips as they glow with a soft, warm light. Cesar, oblivious to what was happening behind him, continued his work out session.

I took a deep breath and reached out, touching his shoulder with my glowing fingers, he let out a deep moan and started to deflate almost instantly, I always loved watching this happen, watching them deflate like a balloon losing air. Cesar's huge muscles, once defined and strong, started to melt away, leaving behind a hairy, supple skin. Within seconds, he was nothing more than a human-shaped sack of skin and muscles. I looked down at him and I got hard by the sight.

While he was deflated on the sand, I couldn't resist the urge to grope and squeeze his pecs a little, they sunk as I squeezed but they still felt amazing on my hands, I even felt his package too, I could't wait to have that bulge to myself. But I played with him for just a few seconds as I knew it wasn't safe, even if the beach was empty, someone would appear sooner or later, so I started to put Cesar's body.

I turned him onto his back and once more started to concentrate the power on my fingers, when the tip of my fingers were glowing, I traced a line down his back with my index finger, creating an entrance.

First I put my legs into his thick muscular ones, and the muscles that once evaporated when he was turned into a skinsuit, now started to grow again, this time with me inside. I felt his muscles merge with mine, making me grow to his original size. Now there was only his hollowed head hanging on his chest, but before putting it on, I held his deflated face and gently kissed his lips. “Thanks Cesar.” I whispered to him before putting his face on mine.

I was now Cesar, In skin and flesh.

_______________________

It's been days since I'm wearing Cesar, he's just my favorite bodysuit at the moment. I know I'll eventually grow tired of him, like I always do, and I'll probably turn his pecs into pillows, but I'll remain inside him as long as I still get hard by just looking down at my new body.

I'm telling you, just by feeling these big meaty pecs going up and down with every step I make, makes my new big member so hard. Look how hypnotizing they are, can you really blame me for wanting these to myself?

And you think they bounce now? You should see how they bounce while I'm getting my new hairy ass pounded, men just love pinching and squeezing them.

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 1: Smoke and Mirrors

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7k

Chapter 1/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I was going to wait to post this since I have fifty-leven WIPs but to make up for me not being able to write for a while and also finishing two stories in the coming weeks - here we are. I'm nervous about posting this one for some reason. Hope y'all like it.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Track 1 - Smoke and Mirrors (each chapter is a track)

In the world of music, there's no denying that Velvet Rebellion's sound is electric, their melodies are undeniably addictive. But offstage, the drama and chaos surrounding this band have been the subject of endless tabloid fodder. It's a classic case of the music being sweet, but the rest of the package is a tad sour. Will their rock 'n' roll lifestyle ultimately overshadow their undeniable talent? That remains the question on everyone's lips.

The TV channel flicking produced a rapid succession of blips and static.

"You know, when it comes to Velvet Rebellion, it's clear that Natasha Romanoff is the best thing about the band. Her vocals are just on another level!"

"Oh, absolutely! Natasha's stage presence is incredible, and her voice, that raw emotion she pours into every note, it's what sets them apart. But let's not forget the rest of the band; they bring their own magic to the mix!"

Another press of the button. Another channel emitting the same rhetoric. 

"So, what are your thoughts on Velvet Rebellion, the band that seems to be taking the music scene by storm?"

"Look, I won't deny that they've had their moments. Natasha's got a powerful voice, and they've had some catchy tunes. But let's not forget, there's more to rock 'n' roll than just one person. We bring our own unique sound to the table, and we're here to show that rock isn't a one-trick pony."

Suddenly, the screen goes black. The television has been turned off. The room is silent. 

“Whatever,” The mysterious person tsks. There are better things to do. 

In the dimly lit room, the first flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a shadowy figure, and a guitar's haunting melody echoed through the air. It was a simple beginning, a humble birth of sound that would eventually become the anthem of a generation.

Images flashed in rapid succession—a chaotic whirlwind of memories and moments that had defined their journey from obscurity to stardom. The flashing lights of a small, dimly lit club, the very place where they had played their first gig, gave way to a sea of screaming fans, arms raised in fervent adoration.

“Bucky! Bucky!”

“Steve, we love you!”

Talk show interviews brought them into living rooms across the nation, their faces beamed into millions of homes as they shared their stories and their music with the world. The camera panned to Natasha, her fierce gaze unyielding as she answered questions with poise and grace.

And then, there were the guitars. Guitars being smashed in a blaze of glory on stage, a ritual that had become their trademark. The destructive catharsis of the act symbolized the release of their raw energy and passion into the world.

Groupies and fans clamored for their attention, their devotion evident in the longing looks and outstretched hands. Each face in the crowd told a story of how Velvet Rebellion's music had touched their lives.

Late-night studio sessions followed, with the band working tirelessly into the early hours, crafting the songs and lyrics that had earned them their place in music history. In the dimly lit room, the flicker of a cigarette lighter once again marked the beginning of a new song.

Magazine covers splashed with their images adorned newsstands across the country. Excerpts from clippings of their first studio album, "Velvet Love," told a tale of raw, unbridled emotion set to music—a story that had resonated with countless souls.

The montage painted a vivid picture of a band that had journeyed through the highs and lows of fame, never losing sight of the music that had brought them together. Velvet Rebellion had carved its path through the music industry, leaving an unforgettable mark on the hearts of those who had listened and loved.

*************

Sunlight filters through the curtains of Natasha and Wanda's cozy Los Angeles apartment. Disheveled yet determined, Natasha sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her guitar. She strums the strings absentmindedly, searching for that inspiration that once fueled Velvet Rebellion. Her fingers danced over the strings of her trusty guitar, each note a whisper in the quiet solitude of the bedroom.

Natasha's hair framed her face, and frustration lined her expression as she strummed the chords once again. The next album's melodies were meant to be born here. Yet, inspiration remained at arm’s length, teasing her like a fading dream.

"Come on Natalia," she whispered gruffly, remembering the name she had left behind long ago.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the muted TV on the dresser. A NEWS REPORTER's face appeared on the screen, accompanied by headlines that could never escape the relentless clutches of the media. She searched for the remote to turn up the volume as the face of one of her bandmates, Tony Stark’s pictures appeared. 

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“In a surprising turn of events, Velvet Rebellion's Tony Stark was arrested last night for public indecency.”

Natasha's eye-roll was instinctive. Tony always had a way of making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“...fans and critics alike have noted the band's gradual decline, and it seems the once-revered punk rock indie sensation is now on the verge of falling apart.”

The reporter's words cut through Natasha's indifference, a scalding reminder of the shadows that had been gathering around them. She couldn't deny it; the band had been stagnant for too long.

Fury sparked in her eyes, and she clenched the neck of her guitar, momentarily abandoning the song. The Velvet Rebellion of yesteryears, the band that had ignited stages and won hearts, couldn't be reduced to this—a spectacle of controversies and dwindling star power.

Returning her attention to her guitar Natasha sighed. The room's stillness hung heavy as she gently laid the guitar down on the floor. It felt like a futile effort, the muse remaining frustratingly out of reach, leaving her with an empty canvas and an aching desire to create.

Her gaze dropped to the small, black notebook, its pages filled with aborted attempts to capture the essence of their experiences and emotions in song. But today, those pages mocked her, an unforgiving reminder of the creative void that had taken its home within her.

Just as her frustration reached its peak, the bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, and in walked Wanda, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her hand. She plopped down on the bed beside Natasha, her eyes rolling in a knowing, teasing manner.

“How’s writing going?” Wanda asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to plop into her mouth. 

Natasha let out a weary sigh, her notebook momentarily forgotten as she shared her woes with her best friend.

“You have no idea. It's like I've hit a wall, and I can't seem to find my way around it.” Natasha said. “How are we supposed to come up with another album with no songs? It’s been two years. We’re going to be known as one-hit wonders.”

“First off that’s a bit dramatic,” Wanda attempted to calm her down. “We made the hot rock and alternative songs billboard charts for our debut. I think the momentum is still there.”

Wanda cast a glance at the muted TV screen, where a news reporter was still busy dissecting Tony's latest escapade. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, mirroring Natasha's exasperation.

“And of course, our dear Tony adds another branch to the publicity tree. It's almost impressive how consistently he manages to get into trouble.” Wanda shook her head. 

After placing her bowl of popcorn on the dresser, Wanda decided to abandon her sitting position and instead flopped onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. She grabbed Natasha's small notebook, a curious glint in her eyes as she skimmed through the handwritten lyrics and scattered notes.

“You know, Nat, I think I see where you're stuck.” Wanda hummed to herself for a moment. 

Turning her attention to Wanda, Natasha felt her frustration momentarily ebb away, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?” Natasha eyed her. “Please, share your wisdom.”

Wanda's eyes sparkled with an unexpected idea, and she pointed to a particular verse in the notebook. Her voice took on a sultry, poetic quality as she suggested a new lyric.

“How about this: "In the shadows of desire, we ignite the night."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as the words resonated deep within her. She quickly reached for her instrument and strummed the guitar, incorporating the new lyric into the melody, and in that instant, it all fell into place. A smile grew on her face, and she turned to Wanda.

“Wanda, that's brilliant! Thank you!” Natasha leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I know why I keep you around.”

Wanda beamed in response. 

"Speaking of," she began, her voice casual yet laced with an underlying purpose, "we've got a gig this weekend. It's a birthday party for Harley Jameson, you know, the producer's daughter."

Natasha's response was swift and uncompromising, her will clear in her refusal. Her head shook slightly as she firmly voiced her decision, her thoughts already drifting toward the disturbing pattern of her bandmates taking liberties with decisions without consulting her, the lead.

"Absolutely not, Wanda," Natasha declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Aren’t we better than performing for snot-nosed brats?

Wanda, ever patient and understanding, propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Well, when that snot nose brat is paying us fifty thousand dollars plus a retainer,” Wanda shrugs. “And all the booze and food we want.” Her words were measured, spoken with the calm that came from knowing this conversation was inevitable." Nat, remember," she began, "you're the lead, not the boss. We haven’t been taking gigs because you've been declining. You know we need to keep the momentum going."

Natasha's jaw clenched in frustration. She leaned back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she contemplated her response.

"There's a reason, Wanda," Natasha explained, her voice tinged with concern. "Our brand has taken a beating lately with all the scandals we've had over the years. It’s not a good look being so new. I want us to lay low for a while, let the storm pass."

Wanda sighed, her eyes reflecting her understanding of Natasha's concerns. But she also recognized the band's need to keep going ahead despite the challenges.

"Nat," Wanda said, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I get it, I really do. But we'll be fine. Harley's party should be a breeze, and I promise we'll stay out of trouble. We'll stick to the music, no antics."

Natasha's hesitation lingered. Ultimately, the trust she had in Wanda, her lifelong friend and partner-in-crime, began to outweigh her reservations. She finally nodded, a reluctant but willing acceptance of the gig.

"Alright, alright," Natasha conceded. “We'll do it. But just this one, and we'll play it safe."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with a victorious smile, recognizing that she had won this battle for now. With that agreement, they returned to their songwriting. 

**************

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn of Harley Jameson's grand estate, Velvet Rebellion gathered on the makeshift stage. Around them, staff and party planners began to decorate the backyard. Their instruments glistened under the setting and stage lights. 

Natasha, her guitar slung securely across her shoulder, couldn't help but notice Tony, seated behind the drum kit, his sunglasses doing little to hide the lingering effects of his earlier indulgence. She approached him with a stern expression, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Tony, you better get it together," She warned. "We're not messing this up tonight."

Tony, ever the charmer, brushed off her concerns with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

"Nat, I promise, I'm fine. See?"

With that, he launched into a lively drum solo, his sticks dancing skillfully across the drumheads. The rhythm was tight, the sound electrifying. Natasha couldn't help but acknowledge his undeniable talent, even as she sighed in resignation.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "the sunglasses are his secret weapon now."

Standing beside Natasha, Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His quiet and calming presence was a balm to her nerves.

"It's alright, Natasha," He reassured her, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll get through this gig, just like our old days. Tony’s recovering but he seems fine."

Together they glance back to their bandmate who was more than likely inebriated. Tony chugged a bottle of water, before crushing it and dropping it down onto the floor beside him. 

Natasha's gaze softened as she looked at Steve, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, he’s the epitome of fine.”

“Okay,” Steve pulled her gently to the side. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” Natasha shrugged. “I just can’t help but think that gigs like this are beneath us. I mean we went from performing at the MTV Video Music Awards to this? A sweet sixteen?”

Steve looked at her. He had been through thick and thin with Natasha and knew the depth of her concerns. 

“Natasha,” He replied. “I get your worries, but I promise this is a good thing for us. Todd Jameson is one of the biggest music producers in Hollywood right now. There will be a lot of executives here just to support his daughter. Think of what that could mean for us.”

“Fine,” Natasha nodded. “But if he fucks up I kick his ass.”

“Oh, you bet. Right after I’m done kicking it,” Steve joked causing Natasha to burst into laughter. 

Natasha steps back over to the mic. “Alright let’s take it from the top.” 

As Natasha prepared to lead the band into their rehearsal of the first song, the peacefulness of the backyard rehearsal space was abruptly disrupted by the arrival of Harley Jameson. She swept onto the scene with all the extravagance befitting a Hollywood princess, accompanied by a harried-looking party planner and another woman, who appeared to be a guest.

Harley, the embodiment of a spoiled heiress, immediately began issuing orders with a sense of entitlement that left the party planner flustered.

"No, no, no! These decorations are all wrong! Change them around! The mirror ball should be over here. And I want a live peacock by the pool. It's not too much to ask, is it?" Harley demanded impatiently.

The party planner, clearly overwhelmed, tried to keep up with Harley's demands. "Harley, we only have a few hours before the party starts. It's going to be challenging to make all these changes in such a short time."

Harley huffed, uninterested in the logistical challenges she was causing. "I don't care about that. Just get it done. My dad said I could have whatever I wanted."

Meanwhile, Harley's attention shifted to Velvet Rebellion, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Oh, my God! I've been dying to meet you! I'm a huge fan!" she exclaimed with excitement. “I’m so happy I could get you here.”

She bounded over to the band, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she was creating, and introduced them to the party planner and you.

"This is Velvet Rebellion!" Harley introduced with enthusiasm. "Steve, the keyboardist, Tony on the drums, Bucky on the electric guitar, Wanda, the second lead singer and bass guitar, and Natasha, the incredible lead singer!"

You and the other woman exchanged glances, your expressions a mixture of frustration and amusement at the whirlwind that was Harley Jameson. You gave a small wave, opting to be in the background of this exchange. 

Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, managed to maintain her composure and put on a friendly smile despite Harley's overwhelming energy. She nodded graciously at Harley's enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you so much, Harley!" Wanda replied with genuine warmth. "We're thrilled to meet you too. Your party looks like it's going to be incredible!"

Harley's energy showed no signs of waning as she delved into the details of the band's performance. When Wanda mentioned their planned first song, "Smoke and Mirrors," Harley immediately piped up with an alternative suggestion.

"No, no, no," Harley interrupted with fervor. "I want you to start with 'Ink and Whiskey.' It's my favorite!"

Natasha, who had been preparing to protest the sudden change to their setlist, hesitated as she saw Wanda's meek demeanor. However, it was clear that Harley's demand had disrupted their carefully planned sequence.

Natasha began to voice her concerns, but Harley's retort was swift and smart-mouthed. 

“We’ve already planned this out for-” Natasha began. 

“Oh, you can change it, can’t you? It’s just a silly setlist,” Harly questioned. 

Before Natasha could respond, you intervened with a calm yet authoritative tone.

"Harley, let's tone it down a bit," You advised, your demeanor oozing an air of authority that surprised Natasha. Harley listened, her earlier defiance giving way to a more composed demeanor.

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Harley shrugged. 

Natasha found herself intrigued by your presence and the respect Harley seemed to show you.

"Alright," Natasha conceded with a smile, "since it's your birthday, we'll start with 'Ink and Whiskey.'"

Wanda offered a nod of agreement, and the tension in the air began to dissipate.

Harley, feeling triumphant, turned her attention to the party planner.

"Sarah, darling, let's make sure everything is perfect. I want it to be a night to remember!" Harley changed the subject, pulling you both back into a conversation with ease. 

Sarah, the party planner, nodded and tried to hide her relief that the brief crisis had passed. 

"Of course, Harley. Everything will be just as you want it."

Natasha watched the exchange between Harley and Sarah, her curiosity piqued more by you. 

“Who’s the chick?” Natasha pointed over to you with a tilt of her head. She got shrugs from Steve and Bucky. Tony was way too distracted to answer as he flirted with one of the staff. Wanda squinted to see if she could guess. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m guessing it’s not her mom.”

“Interesting,” Natasha mumbled to herself. She shook her head. There was no time for whatever the thumping in her heart was proving to be. She was here for the band and for the music. Also for the money, she couldn’t forget the money. 

As the preparations for the party continued, your cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the conversation flow. You excused yourself with a polite smile and stepped away from the group, heading toward a quieter corner of the backyard a few feet away.

Natasha couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation, the tone of your voice suggesting a heartfelt exchange, likely with a significant other. Natasha discreetly glanced in your direction, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Your voice held a gentle warmth as you spoke softly into your phone, your words filled with affection and longing.

 "I miss you too, sweetheart. Yeah, the party's getting started here in a couple of hours. It's not the same without you. Can't wait to see you soon." You smiled. 

Natasha couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but the tenderness in your voice painted a clear picture of a loving connection between you and someone special.

Meanwhile, Harley, always the inquisitive host, began questioning Steve and Bucky about the band and its music.

"So, guys," Harley started, her interest genuine, "Have you ever thought about going solo? I am dying to know the secret."

Steve and Bucky, accustomed to answering these questions, engaged in a friendly chat with Harley, even if they also found her annoying. 

As Natasha discreetly observed you from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but be captivated by your natural beauty. You were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and form-fitting jeans, a look that should have been unremarkable, but on you, it was utterly captivating.

The way your hair was styled, framing your face in soft waves, added to your appeal. Your skin had a radiant glow, and your features held an understated elegance that drew Natasha's attention. Despite the casual attire, you exuded a timeless charm that was impossible to ignore.

Natasha found herself admiring the effortless beauty that seemed to emanate from you and she wanted to know more. 

Just as Natasha started to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, you turned around with a warm smile, catching her off guard. She quickly toyed with her microphone stand, feigning indifference.

You found her reaction amusing but were soon drawn back into your phone conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the person on the other end of that call and what had sparked such a genuine smile on your face. 

She toyed with the mic stand for as long as possible, physically forcing herself not to look your way. It’s a few more minutes before you returned to the group. You turned your attention to Harley and Sarah.

"Harley, don't forget, you have that hair appointment in an hour," You reminded her, glancing at your watch. "We need to make sure you're all set for your big night."

Harley, momentarily distracted by the band's presence, nodded in agreement.

"Oh, right! Thanks, y/n. I'll head out now," Harley replied with a grin. She turned to the band and offered her farewells. "Catch you all later!"

With that, Harley and Sarah departed, leaving Velvet Rebellion alone in the backyard.

As the group began to disperse, you took a moment to say goodbye to the band. 

“See you guys tonight,” You said. “I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need refreshments just ask one of the staff and they will be happy to help you with anything you need.” 

Natasha responded with a small smile and a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the brief but pleasant interaction.

Once you, Harley, and Sarah were out of earshot, the rest of the band couldn't resist teasing Natasha. Wanda, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, chimed in.

"Uh oh, I know that look," Wanda teased, earning a knowing chuckle from the others. Natasha's momentary fascination with you hadn't gone unnoticed, and her bandmates were more than happy to playfully nudge her about it.

“There’s no look, I don’t have a look.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, you don’t,” Wanda grinned. “Any bets on how long until she gets her number?”

“I say within the hour,” Tony raised his hand pulling out a single, crinkled five-dollar bill from his back pocket. 

“Fifteen says they sleep together after the show,” Bucky shrugged. Steve is the only one to remain silent. 

“I don’t know,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for later. The girl barely said two words to any of us.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Now, can we rehearse like a proper band?” 

She tried to erase your image from her head as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. 

From the top. 

*****************

The night was alive with energy as Velvet Rebellion took the stage, the crowd gathered around, eager to soak in every note of their music. Natasha oozed confidence and charisma, a star in every sense of the word. The opening chords of "Ink and Whiskey" filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. This birthday party was a rager if she’d ever seen one. Natasha always considered rich people stiff and uptight. Going to plenty of parties once their debut kicked off their careers. Stiff drinks, weird pleasantries, and even more drugs. She was being proven wrong with this particular shindig. 

She moved to the edge of the stage, her presence magnetic. She sang with a passion that could be felt in every corner of the space, her voice carrying the weight of their lyrics. The audience couldn't help but be drawn into her performance, and they eagerly joined in, singing along and dancing to the beat.

Wanda, standing beside Natasha, bled a different kind of cool and calm. Her steady presence provided the perfect balance to Natasha's fiery performance. It was clear to anyone watching that their dynamic was the secret to their success.

Natasha lowered her head, giving Wanda the floor to sing her part of the chorus. Wanda’s hands moved steadily between the chords as she sang into the microphone. 

Ink and whiskey, the pages of our hearts,  

Tangled in the chapters where love starts,  

In the darkness, our secrets we confide,  

With every word written, our souls collide

Natasha steps forward, moving close enough to the microphone so that she and Wanda could harmonize the last verse. Her eyes travel from Wanda’s, smiling as they share in the energy and joy of being on stage before she maneuvers herself to face the crowd. 

In the night's embrace, our love's sweet refrain,  

Ink and whiskey, like a runaway train,  

Through the highs and lows, we'll find our way,  

With every word we write, love's here to stay

In the front row, Harley danced with her friends, reveling in the music and the excitement of the night. The atmosphere was electric, and the joy was contagious.

As Natasha sang, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on familiar faces among the sea of B-listers and music enthusiasts. But the one that stood out the most was you. Your eyes locked, and Natasha couldn't resist a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of your earlier encounter.

You raised your glass in a silent toast and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end. You weren’t a huge fan of the music genre but you could see why Velvet Rebellion was such a rising star amongst new artists. Their stage presence was undeniable, the song was catchy and the beat was electrifying. It helped that Natasha was cute. All good things in your book. You can’t take your eyes off the stage as they move into their next song. It’s a bit disjointed considering Harley made them change the setlist around the last minute but it seems smooth either way. Natasha dances a bit for this one, her body movements fluid and effortless. Almost as if she’s had some training. 

You’re momentarily distracted when a distant family member comes to say hello. 

The show must go on as Natasha continues to sing her heart out. 

**********************

The final notes of their setlist rang out, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Velvet Rebellion had given their all, and now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going.

Wanda had convinced Natasha to stay a while longer, promising that the night was still young and full of possibilities. Tony, ever the charmer, remarked with a grin, "I see a few MILFs in the crowd that I wouldn't mind mingling with." He slipped into the crowd with ease, chatting up the first single woman he saw. 

Natasha, however, remained all about business. She stood at the bar, surveying the party and keeping a watchful eye on her bandmates. The chaos and revelry around her seemed to blur into a colorful swirl of dancing bodies and laughter.

It was then that you approached her, catching Natasha's attention. Your presence was a welcome change of pace, and Natasha couldn't help but appreciate the genuine compliment she received.

"You guys were incredible," You said with a smile. "I'm impressed."

Natasha, always a woman of few words in such settings, offered a gracious nod of acknowledgment. 

You extended your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself, "I'm y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Natasha shook your hand firmly and replied, "Natasha. Likewise."

You couldn't help but notice Natasha's reserved demeanor. Almost as if she felt too cool to be here. 

"I couldn't help but wonder," You began, your curiosity evident as you raised your voice above the music. "why aren't you out there dancing like the rest of your bandmates?"

Natasha offered a wry smile and shot back, "I could ask you the same thing."

“Touche,” You nodded. “I’m not much of a party girl.” You turn towards the bartender. “Do you want a drink? Eric here makes the best mojitos.”

“Sure, I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Natasha asked. 

“You heard the woman,” You jokingly said to Eric as he began to make your drinks. As you focused your attention on grabbing a few napkins, Natasha gave you a once-over. Your party dress was a delightful balance of simplicity and style. The knee-length and backless dress showcased a flattering silhouette, hugging your curves in all the right places. The deep, midnight-blue fabric was decorated with tiny, shimmering glitter that seemed to twinkle with each movement you made. Its sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps added a touch of femininity to the ensemble, while the mid-thigh slit allowed for easy movement as you moved. The overall effect was a cute yet elegant dress that perfectly suited the festive atmosphere of the party.

Natasha's observant eye caught the jewelry adorning your wrist. It was subtle but tasteful, hinting at a level of refinement that didn't go unnoticed. It was at least half of her salary for tonight’s show. This only interested her more. She needed to know who you were. She wanted to know the mystery behind you and your name. 

“Here you go,” You step back over to Natasha to hand her a drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“Not at all,” Natasha shrugged. 

"You know, if you're looking for a bit more quiet, we could step inside for a breather." You suggested, tilting your chin towards the house. 

Natasha considered the offer, realizing that a change of scenery might be a welcome respite from the party's chaos. With a small smile, she agreed, "That sounds like a good idea."

You led Natasha through the sea of people and inside the mansion to a nearby office where the music's relentless thump was muffled, and the atmosphere was quieter. It was a welcome change from the frenzied party outside.

As you settled into seats close to each other on the couch, drinks in hand, Natasha couldn't help herself and began to ask you questions. 

“Why did you ask me in here tonight?” Natasha asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I have been invited into much worse places.”  

“Thanks, I think,” You chuckled. You sensed Natasha's curiosity and offered a simple explanation, your eyes holding Natasha's in an unspoken connection."I enjoy meeting new people," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "And I've decided I wanted to talk with you."

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze thoughtful. "I also wanted to apologize for Harley's behavior earlier. She can be... spirited at times."

Natasha waved off the apology with a small smile, understanding that spirited was one way to describe Harley's antics.

You went on to explain, "Usually, I don't speak up like that, but my uncle has a way of spoiling Harley. It's... complicated."

Natasha's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Your uncle? He’s Todd Jameson?"

You took a moment before revealing, "Yes. He and my dad are half-brothers. Making Harley my little cousin. I don’t admit it often."

The revelation left Natasha intrigued. She had heard the name Todd Jameson before, a figure of significance in the entertainment industry. The connection between you and Harley was now becoming clearer, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the family connection.

“That would make your dad…” Natasha began. 

“Nick Fury, the one and only,” You finished for her. “Different fathers. My dad is somewhere out there tonight. It’s a thing I don’t like to admit to strangers.”

“I get it,” Natasha nodded. 

The revelation about your family connection to Todd Jameson made Natasha pause for a moment. She had always admired the award-winning jazz player turned talent manager, Nick Fury, from afar. His contributions to the music industry were legendary, and Natasha couldn't deny that she was a fan of his music.

She decided not to fangirl, though, and instead offered a genuine smile. "Your dad is a legend. I've always been a fan of his music."

Your eyes lit up with appreciation. "Thank you, Natasha. I'll be sure to pass that along to him." You set your half-empty cup onto a coaster, before turning back to Natasha. “So, watching you on that stage. Not many people have that star power. I was wondering if you have experience dancing? You were incredible.” 

Natasha's eyes sparkled as she recalled her performance. "The way I danced on stage during our set, it's a part of who I am. I guess you could say it's a bit of my background showing through."

Your curiosity piqued, and you guessed, "Ballet, then?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, I did ballet for sixteen years as a child. I even got into Juilliard."

Your eyes widened in admiration. "That's amazing, Natasha. How did you get into singing and music?"

Natasha took a sip of her drink and smiled as she delved into the story of how she got into music. It was a story that she didn't often share, but there was something about her conversation with you that made her feel comfortable opening up.

"It all started back in high school," Natasha began. "I was really into dancing, and it was an elective at my school. But then, one day, I decided to join the choir on a whim. And I fell in love with singing and songwriting. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I needed something to keep me out of the house and off the streets."

She paused for a moment, reminiscing about those early days. "So, I started writing songs, and my friends Wanda and Steve would go over to Steve’s small bedroom. We'd play our rented instruments and experiment with different sounds. It was just a fun little hobby at first."

Natasha's gaze drifted, lost in the memories of those simple beginnings. "Then Bucky, Steve’s best friend well, he's always been a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a talent for the electric guitar. And Tony...his dad's pretty wealthy and bought us all our equipment. Plus, he's good at the drums."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "It was a bit of a motley crew, but that's how Velvet Rebellion came to be. We started playing in small venues, dive bars, and country clubs. And somehow, we made it here."

Natasha's usually guarded demeanor had softened in your presence, and she found herself enjoying the opportunity to share a piece of her journey with someone who seemed genuinely interested in her story.

“I love that,” You nodded. You and Natasha share a smile before she asked. 

“Is your boyfriend here tonight? I don’t want to keep you too long,” She fished for more information. 

“No, no,” You shake your head. “No boyfriend. You?”

“Not really into monogamy at the moment,” She shrugged. She doesn’t know if this statement will bite her in the ass later but for some reason she trusted you. “Tell me about you. Are you in the family business or?”

"I've always had a bit of a connection to the music world," You began. "As a teenager, I sang a few backup vocals for artists my uncle produced. I guess you could say I almost pursued a career in music, but life had other plans for me. I got pregnant at seventeen. Dedicated to finish school and go to college."

You took a thoughtful swig of your drink and continued, "Now, I'm a publicist. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good at what I do.When I'm not working, I'm taking care of my daughter, Isabella. She's nine years old and the light of my life."

Your face softened as you spoke about your daughter, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. "She's with her dad for the weekend," you added, "and we co-parent quite well."

Natasha was genuinely interested in your life outside of the party scene, and she couldn't resist asking, "Do you have any pictures of Isabella? I'd love to see her."

Your eyes twinkled with delight as you pulled out your phone and began to share a few adorable images of your daughter. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she admired the photos, enjoying this glimpse into your world beyond the music and the party.

“Here she is at gymnastics practice,” You flipped through a few pictures of Isabella’s smiling face. “And swim. She is a little spitfire and she wants to do it all.”

“Wow,” Natasha smiled as if Isabella were her own child. “Do you ever want more?”

“Maybe one day,” You said wistfully. “For now I feel pretty full with everything in life. You?” 

You noticed the change in Natasha's expression and asked, "Is something on your mind?"

Natasha sighed, leaning back into her seat. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for motherhood," she admitted. "I have a younger sister, Yelena, she’s attending the University of Cambridge in England now. She's even developed a bit of a British accent." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

"But," she continued, "I enjoy the fast-paced life, the music, the performances, and the constant movement. A significant other won’t quite understand that I don't always have the time. Not that I don’t ever want that someday but…” Her voice died down. 

You listened empathetically, understanding the complexities of Natasha's life as a musician. "I get that," you acknowledged. "But it's essential to find the right balance for you, whether it's in your music career, personal life, or something in between. My dad was able to do it. When he crossed over into hip-hop there was definitely a lot he missed but he still made things happen"

“Really? Well, I will have to ask him for pointers.” She grinned. 

Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, there came a polite knock at the office door. A member of the party staff popped in to inform you that they were ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley.

You turned to Natasha with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting and talking to you, Natasha," you said genuinely.

Natasha, not wanting the connection to end, began, "You know, I'd love to..."

But before she could finish her sentence, your cheeks flushed, and you interrupted already knowing what she was going to say, your voice bold, "Are you going to call me, or are you going to leave me hanging in the wind?"

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at your sudden assertiveness. It was a pleasant surprise. "I’m not that type of woman," Natasha said. At your look, she laughed again. “You got me there.”

You returned her smile and handed Natasha your phone, saying, "You'll just have to trust me with your number instead, and I'll call." Asking for her number instead eased the pressure off Natasha, and also your nerves at hoping she’d call. 

You gave Natasha a wink and chucked a thumb over your shoulder to indicate you were going back to the party. Natasha nodded and watched you walk away. When her eyes trailed lower she doesn’t even feel guilty about it. 

Natasha left the office, rejoining her bandmates outside in the backyard, just as they were preparing to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley. The festive atmosphere was in full swing, and the energy of the party was infectious.

As the crowd gathered around Harley, Natasha's eyes scanned the faces, and they landed on you, who was standing among the partygoers. Your eyes met, and you shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had developed.

Tony, always quick to pick up on things, couldn't help but tease Natasha when he noticed her grin. "So, did you get her number?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony's assumption but then burst into laughter. "No," she replied with a playful smirk, "she took mine."

The party was still in full swing when someone on stage stopped the music with a loud, "Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention, please?"

The spotlight shifted to the stage, and all eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. It was a friend of Harley's, and he had a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke into the microphone.

"I have a special surprise for our birthday girl tonight," he announced. "We have someone here who's agreed to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Harley, and I think you're all in for a treat."

A collective cheer and applause erupted from the crowd as they eagerly anticipated the surprise. The spotlight moved to you, highlighting your face and putting you on the spot. You managed to not look like a deer in headlights which was a feat in itself. Natasha's curiosity was piqued, especially considering you had mentioned you weren’t much of a singer.

You tried to protest shyly, but the crowd begged you to come up on stage. Encouraged by their cheers, you reluctantly made your way up to the spotlight.

Once on stage, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath, your nerves palpable. You began with a little birthday speech, your voice tinged with affection and humor.

"I want to wish a happy birthday to my cousin Harley," You began, your smile directed at the birthday girl. "Even though she's a bit of a brat," you teased, earning laughs from the crowd, "she's my brat, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then, as expected, you began to sing "Happy Birthday." Your voice, which you had modestly downplayed earlier, was nothing short of remarkable. It was soulful, sweet, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated through the entire backyard.

The crowd, including Natasha, was utterly blown away by the unexpected talent that you possessed. Your voice filled the air, making the birthday celebration even more special and memorable. It was a moment of pure magic, and Natasha couldn't help but be captivated by your incredible singing ability.

Natasha decided two things then and there. One, she really liked you, and two, boy, was she in for a ride.

---> next part

[lordprettyflackotara]

if looks could kill || Colby Brock

smut, 18+, minors dni. tw: hate fucking? very angsty smut? some gagging shit too. ngl i got mad angsty towards the end so my bad guys💀

You had some fucking nerve.

As soon as Colby made out your small figure in the sea of everlasting dancing bodies, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

He hated the effect you had on him, your smile practically illuminating the room.

It had been four months since you both had broken up, your relationship ending in pure hatred for one another.

He had cheated on you. You cheated on him.

Sam constantly referred to you both as the match from hell.

Colby had purposefully ignored all of that, avoiding you like you were the black plague.

Yet here you stood, boldly and proudly standing at his and Sam’s celebration party.

You were most certainly not invited. As Colby eyed you over his red solo cup, he wondered if he should publicly humiliate you by having security escort you out.

He glanced over at his best friend, Sam, who was laughing at a joke someone was telling him.

Colby sighed as he realized he couldn’t make this about him or you. Sam deserved a celebration.

He couldn’t allow either of you to be the center of attention. And you were wearing such a short dress Colby almost caught a glimpse of your panties.

The brunette excused himself, throwing his empty red solo cup in a random direction. The taste of straight liquor burned his throat, but the flames of his distaste for you were far more engulfing than alcohol could ever be.

You were at the drink table, pouring yourself a shot. Colby towered over you as he forced himself by your side, leaning down to talk in your ear.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” He hissed. You shrugged nonchalantly, setting the bottle of alcohol back down on the table.

“This is supposed to be the party of the year, you’d be stupid to think I wouldn’t come,” You replied. You tried to play it cool as you downed the shot, Colby’s hardened gaze not leaving your face. “Besides, I still support Sammy. He deserves all of this and more,” You say. Colby annoyedly looks around, ensuring that Sam’s attention was still on the group he was talking to previously.

“If you actually cared about Sam you wouldn’t be here. We’re a package deal, you know that,” Colby argued. You crossed your arms, staring up at your ex lover. His brunette hair had grown out just a little bit more, his jawline just a tad more defined than the last time you had really looked at him.

“You’re not one in the bedroom,” You replied, causing Colby to snap. You knew the mere thought got under Colby’s skin, every single time. He took a step towards you, staring down at you. “He would never fuck you, get that sick thought out of your head,” Colby growled.

You giggled playfully as you leaned forward, twirling his black tie around in your hand. “You didn’t have a problem with the idea when we were together. What was that you wanted to try? Him fucking me and you watching?” You asked innocently.

That was it.

Colby hastily grabbed your wrist, leading you through the endless waves of people. His grip was harsh and his pace was fast, causing you to almost stumble behind him in your heels. He led you to the closest bathroom, practically throwing you inside. The brunette locked the door behind the both of you, before shoving you against the bathroom door.

“Get it through your thick skull. You’re not welcome here. Sam’s not going to fuck you. Whatever stunt you’re trying to pull isn’t going to work,” Colby said firmly. You never failed to frustrate him, your eyes looking up into his curiously. He took the brief moment to study your face in the odd yellow lighting. Your eyelashes were longer, your lips slightly more plump.

Why were you so difficult?

Colby stepped away hesitantly, allowing you to stand up straight. You brushed off your dress, standing still.

“Why are you still here? Didnt you hear me? Sam’s not going to fuck you-” Colby snarled. You took a step closer to him, yanking him towards you by grabbing his tie. You wrapped your hand in the lacey material, causing Colby’s breath to hitch. Your faces were an inch apart at most, Colby’s cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink.

“You never said you wouldn’t fuck me though,” You purred. Colby eyed you carefully, searching your face for any signs of sarcasm or future torment. You were serious, your grip on Colby’s tie not loosening. Colby stood up straight for a moment, forcing himself away from you.

You were so tempting. His eyes scanned your body, soaking in every curve and inch of your soft skin. Truth was, as much as Colby hated you, he couldn’t find it within himself to get over you. You were like a drug addiction. He found himself trying other drugs to soothe over his lust for you, but those women never satisfied him the way you could.

The way you challenged him. The way you would eventually crumble and fully submit to him. You willingly became his fuck doll in the end, your cunt taking his cock better than any other woman could. Colby licked his lips, unsure if he should take a bite of the forbidden fruit.

“Thats what you came here for, wasn’t it?” He asked you. Your innocent act faded, your eyes darkening as you placed your hands on Colby’s shoulders. “I would’ve taken Sam, but no one is as good as you,” You confessed. Colby bit the inside of his cheek, before his resistance finally faded.

Fuck it.

His lips found yours before you could take another breath. Colby’s lips were as needy as yours, his large hands slithering down your body. Your body was pushed back on the bathroom door, a gasp escaping your lips as Colby devoured the sound. “You’re so filthy. Coming here dressed like that for everyone to see,” Colby panted. His nimble fingers found the zipper to your dress, yanking it down as his tongue found its way into your mouth.

You groaned as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass, his grip almost bruising. “Says the one dressed in a suit and tie. Did you honestly believe you’d take another bitch home? Some blonde girl that would let you put your tie in her mouth as a gag?” You replied mockingly. Colby smacked your ass, your arguing lighting a fire under him.

This.

This right here is what Colby missed the absolute most.

This was what ignited the flame in his relationship with you, but also diminished it.

Your smart ass mouth.

In a swift motion he yanked off his tie, glaring down at you.

“Open your fucking mouth. I’ve had enough of you talking,” Colby growled. You obeyed him mockingly, flattening out your tongue and opening your mouth for him. For a brief moment the idea of face fucking you into oblivion crossed his mind, but it quickly faded. He didn’t want to use you, he wanted to feel you.

Colby shoved his wadded up tie into your mouth, relishing in the sight of you gagging just ever so slightly.

He began kissing down your neck, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside into the sink. Colby smirked into your skin as he began to suck hickies into your tender skin, your moans muffled by the gag. “Gotta remind you who you belong to,” Colby muttered, littering your skin with bright purple and brown marks. He huffed as he lowered himself down further, his cock growing harder by the minute.

Your small hands found his hair as he kissed your breast, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. His eyes were an endless sea of lust that you were going to drown in. He took your left nipple into his mouth, your muffled groans music to his ears. Your bud hardened in his mouth, the sensation making your eyes flutter shut.

Colby cupped your pussy, teasingly rubbing your folds. He released your breast with a pop, a ring of saliva coating your stimulated nipple. “If you don’t look at me, I stop. You understand?” Colby asked. You forced yourself to open your eyes, to swim above the high waters of lust that were rising. You nodded, looking down at the brunette man as he fully settled onto his knees.

He examined your lacey black panties, smirking.

“You wore my favorite set for me? You really are my personal whore,” Colby snickered. He yanked down your panties in a swift motion, your cunt practically dripping. You spread your legs, giving Colby more access as you tugged lightly at his hair.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Colby murmured, leaning forward. His fanned his hot breath over you teasingly, enjoying watching you squirm. You audibly whimpered, the sound muffled by his tie. Teasingly he kitten licked right over your clit, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

“Needy aren’t we?”

Colby’s hands gripped your thighs, before licking a stripe up your cunt. You moaned his name into the gag, your eyes never straying his. Colby’s mouth and tongue were relentless, assaulting your clit and sucking your juices like his life depended on it. He could feel his cock twitch in his trousers, your taste causing him to go feral.

He brought two fingers to your aching cunt, slowly pushing them into your entrance. You tugged at his hair, causing him to quietly groan as he pushed his digits inside of you. Your walls were squeezing around him, desperate for release. “This is when you look your prettiest. Your body begging for me like this,” Colby told you, his eyes wondering down to your cunt.

He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot you like hit most. You moaned loudly into the gag, your sinful noises giving Colby a bigger ego by the moment. That was another thing he adored about you, your ability to involuntarily make him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Colby began finger fucking you quickly, your body beginning to tremble as the cord inside of you began to become tighter. He used his other hand to draw fast circles around your clit, your thighs shaking. “That’s it. Good fucking slut. You’re doing so good for me. You filthy thing,” Colby said, swallowing as he watched your thighs begin to tremble.

Fuck. You were a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m gonna cum Colbs- fuck!” You groaned, your words muffled but still coherent through the gag as your orgasm crashed over you quickly. Your thighs trembled as your walls spasmed around Colby’s fingers, the feeling alone enough to haunt his fantasies for the next month.

Colby stood up quickly, yanking the tie out of your mouth and undoing his belt. You smiled as your high began to settle down. “You’re not half bad at giving head,” You teased. The brunette shoved his pants and boxers down quickly, his hands hungrily gripping your waist. “Fucking jump,” He ordered. You did as instructed, your back flat against the bathroom door.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The taunting tone of your voice, the haunting gaze of your eyes. He needed you now.

“You’re lucky I was feeling nice, next time i’ll skip foreplay and just make you take me,” Colby muttered, coating the tip of his cock with your slick. You whimpered as he brushed against your clit, before beginning to shove himself inside of you. “There won’t be a next time asshole,” You argued weakly, your walls stretching out to accommodate Colby’s size.

Your words made Colby roll his eyes, bucking his hips into yours aggressively. You whined as his cock fully sank inside of you, his tip brushed against your cervix. “There will always be a next time. You’re stupid if you think otherwise,” Colby panted, his cock twitching as you squeezed him. He began to move, dragging you up and down on his cock.

You began to groan his name, his hand flying over your mouth. “What did I say? This party is for Sam, not you. So shut the fuck up,” Colby snarled. You bit your bottom lip as you yanked his hand away from your mouth, glaring at him as he hit your g spot. “You’re so miserable Colby. I’m going to find a nice man and settle down one day. You’re going to be the fuckboy of youtube forever. That’s your punishment for what you did to me,” You argued, your words laced with venom.

Colby pinned you flat against the door, his cock buried inside of you as his eyes searched yours for a glimpse of the old you. The one he had before you cheated on him.

“Oh yeah? Guess what your punishment is?” Colby asked mockingly. You raised your eyebrows, before he snapped his hips into yours. You moaned loudly, clamping a hand over your own mouth to keep quiet as Colby’s brutal pacing began to quicken. His hips were relentless, his stamina unfazed as he held your body up against the door.

“Your punishment is this. You feel my cock? How good it makes you feel?” Colby huffed, gripping your skin harshly. You nodded weakly, his cock abusing your cunt to Colby’s liking. “You’ll never be able to replace me. It doesn’t matter what shrimp dick fuck you end up with. You’ll always think of me. You’ll always think of this,” Colby growled. He was going feral, his hips moving on their own as he quietly groaned your name.

You gripped his shoulders, wrinkling his crisp white button up. “I hate you Colby Brock,” You replied, biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from making anymore unholy noises. Colby grinned at your insult, before watching his cock go in and out of your dripping pussy. “I hate you too sweetheart. But fuck, you take me so well,” Colby muttered. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his cock continuing to use your cunt as it pleased.

His breath was hot as he groaned your name quietly, trying to avoid any outsiders hearing either of you. You hugged him tightly, allowing him to use you as he pleased. You loved the way his cock stretched you out mercilessly, then abusing your g spot into pure euphoria. “Colbs-” You began, trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm. Colby gripped your flesh harder, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“I know baby, me too. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock,” Colby ordered weakly, his own orgasm approaching rapidly. Your body trembled as you came, your walls squeezing Colby’s cock tightly. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Colby moaned into your skin. His thrust continued, fucking you into overstimulation as you ride out your orgasm. “Colbs, cum inside of me, fucking please,” You whined. Colby chuckled darkly as he lifted up his head.

He was proud of you in an odd way.

“I knew you were still my cumdumpster,” Colby said darkly, before bringing his lips to yours. The taste of your lips sent him over the end, his cock twitching and spilling his seed inside of you. You struggled to keep up with his needy lips, your body gone completely limp as his seed filled you. He pulled away slowly, his lust fading and usual distaste for you returning.

Colby slowly set you down, doing as he always did. He looked around, grabbing the closest hand towel and running it under the tap water. “Just breathe for me, okay?” He murmured. You did as instructed, focusing on your breathing as he wiped your overstimulated cunt. He cleaned you up, tossing the rag aside.

He handed you your bra and panties, before dressing himself quietly. It always ended this way, the two of you dressing in silence after a good fuck. You never understood why he bothered to clean you up. As you put on your dress, the brunette was quick to help you zip up the back zipper. You both were facing the mirror, the reflection showing people both of you used to be.

You gave Colby one last glance before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving the brunette alone with his thoughts.

He slipped out not long after you, the remaining guest seemingly unaware of the sinful act that had occurred moments before. He snaked his way through the smaller crowd, returning to his place beside Sam. His best friend was happy to see him, giving him a drunken smile.

“Hey dude, where’d you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Sam asked. Colby shrugged, accepting the cup of liquor Sam had passed him. “I’ve been mingling. You know how I am,” Colby lightly joked. Sam signaled for him to come closer, as if he had a secret to tell him. The blonde placed one hand on his shoulder, before quietly telling him the realization he had:

“Y/n is here. I don’t see a problem with her being here but I know you guys have a history so I thought i’d let you know,”

Colby shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, his thoughts circling around being buried in your cunt just minutes ago.

“Thats fine man. I don’t really care. Where’s she at?” He asked curiously. The brunette figured you would’ve left, having completed your goal of him fucking you. Sam pointed at you in the mist of the crowd, an influencer Colby didn’t recognize with you.

He watched as you grinded your ass against the man, his hands gripping your waist. The waist Colby’s hands were on minutes earlier. You caught Colby’s eye, sending him a flirty wink as you continued to dance with the stranger. Colby’s gaze hardened, fire dancing in his eyes of envy as he eyed the stranger.

If looks could kill, the strange man standing where Colby should’ve been would be dead.

The only thing that broke Colby’s hardened stare was Sam’s question:

“Hey dude what happened to your tie?”

[hotmentransformed]

Insert to Grow

Tim was walking to get his weekly groceries when he stumbled upon a strange store in his local strip mall. It was a small, dark store that he had never seen before, with a sign that simply read Curiosities in bold letters. Intrigued, he decided to stop by before he got to the supermarket to step inside and take a look around.

Tim couldn't help but feel a little uneasy as he walked through the dimly lit aisles. The store was filled with oddities and peculiar items, from strange trinkets to bizarre gadgets. But one item caught his eye in particular - a small device that looked like almost like a butt-plug. Intrigued, Tim picked up the device and examined it closely. It seemed to be well-made, with a sleek design and a label that simply said Grow. The packaging boasted advanced technology that promised to stimulate, all you had to do was insert to grow. Being a single guy, he didn’t mind the idea of having some extra help getting off, rather than only using his hand. After some hesitation, he decided to purchase the device and take it home.

Once he arrived home, Tim immediately went to the bathroom to try out the device. He locked the door behind him and turned on the device, feeling a slight vibration in his hand. Pulling down his pants, he reached behind him and brought the device to his butt, and the vibrations grew stronger and more intense. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the sensation was oddly satisfying. 

However, the vibrations suddenly intensified and caught Tim off guard. He stumbled and slipped, falling forward onto the stool in the bathroom, and the device penetrated him. He tried to reach for it to pull it out and turn off the device, but it seemed to have entered him so deeply that he couldn’t reach it. Tim's body started to shake uncontrollably. He was terrified and tried to calm himself down, but it was too late. His mind was foggy with pleasure: the device had taken over, and Tim could feel his old self slipping away.

As the vibrations continued to course through his body, Tim's muscles began to explode with strength and mass with every shake. His biceps swelled with bulging veins, and his forearms thickened as if he had been lifting weights for years. His chest expanded, and his pecs grew into a solid mass that jutted out from his chest like armor, ripping apart his shirt as it fell to tatters beside him.

Tim felt a strange sensation in his abdomen. It was like a fire burning deep within his core, and he could feel his abs contracting and expanding with each pulse. He looked down and saw his stomach rippling and bulging, as if something were moving just beneath the surface. With each passing moment, his abs grew thicker and more defined. They bulged out from his stomach like a six-pack of cobblestones, and he could see each muscle fiber twitching and contracting beneath his skin.

Tim could feel his thighs thickening, and his calves grew into sculpted pillars of muscle. His shoulders broadened, and his traps grew into a massive hump that seemed to swallow up his neck. He could feel his back arching, and his spine seemed to stretch as if his body was struggling to contain all the new muscles.

As Tim's body continued to vibrate with increasing intensity, he realized that his shoes were getting tighter and tighter until they could no longer contain his rapidly expanding feet, ripping apart beneath him. As his feet continued to grow, he began to kick and flail across the tiled floor, trying to get a foothold, but he couldn't find any traction. His feet were now too big, too sweaty, and too slippery to get a grip on the smooth surface. They were massive, almost cartoonishly large. His toes curled and flexed uncontrollably, and he could feel the sweat pouring off his feet, creating a puddle on the floor beneath him. The smell was overpowering - a pungent, musky odor that filled the bathroom and made Tim gag. It was a mix of sweat, dirt, and something else, something primal and animalistic. 

As the transformation continued, Tim could feel a strange itch all over his body. He looked down and was shocked to see thick tufts of hair sprouting from his skin. It started on his chest and back, but soon hair was growing everywhere, even on his arms and legs. He felt his face changing, and his once-smooth skin was now rough and covered in thick hair.

Tim's mouth hung open as he struggled to breathe. His heart was pounding, and his breathing became labored as his body underwent a complete physical transformation. The vibrations shook his body so violently that he could barely stand, and his vision became blurry as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Finally, the vibrations began to subside, and Tim was left standing in the bathroom, his body trembling and covered in sweat. He looked in the mirror and was shocked at what he saw:

He was fucking gorgeous. His lips plump and beautiful, and a smolder to die for. His facial hair was perfectly trimmed and his eyes were soft and inviting. His face was unbelievable... but his body..?!

He couldn't believe the sheer size and mass of his new muscular body, and he couldn't help but admire the way his pecs bulged and his biceps swelled. He flexed his arms and watched as the muscles rippled beneath his skin. He turned to the side and admired the way his abs rippled and bulged with each movement. It was like he was looking at a completely different person, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the new body he had been given.

But suddenly, a massive headache hit him like a ton of bricks. It was like a sledgehammer had slammed into his skull, and with each pulse, he felt his mind growing duller and more sluggish. His thoughts became slow and confused, and he couldn't concentrate on anything except the throbbing pain in his head.

As the headache intensified, Tim's mind grew more and more muddled, and he could feel his intelligence slipping away. His vocabulary became limited to basic words, and he struggled to put together even the simplest of sentences. All he could do was flex his massive muscles and drool uncontrollably. He looked back in the mirror and realized he had become a completely different person. The intelligent, thoughtful Tim was gone, replaced by a hulking, drooling man with a body that defied belief. He tried to focus and think of a way to reverse the transformation, but his mind was too dull and confused to devise a plan.

All Tim could do was stand there, flexing his muscles and drooling uncontrollably. The device had given him the body of a god, but it had also taken away his intelligence and sense of self. He was a dumb, mindless hunk of muscle and just another piece of eye candy for some lucky man to have the pleasure of calling his trophy husband.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Liu with a goth girlfriend that's really flirty? Sfw and nsfw if you would please♡

sO rare to get Liu requests so tysm for giving me the chance to write more for him! I also included Sully because I assumed this was a request for the package deal ;0

Hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist: x

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

SFW

Honestly, Liu would love himself a goth gf—and I mean, who wouldn’t?

But Sully? Sully would go nuts

Like, Sully would actively push Liu out of the front so that he could be with their goth gf instead

Which, obviously, would come to test Liu’s patience

Like, usually, Liu isn't the jealous type; he trusts his partner unconditionally

But always needing to share them with his alter would inevitably come to grate on his nerves

Especially if he's always getting jostled around the headspace so that Sully can front instead

The two would inevitably end up fighting over who gets to be with their goth gf

And so the best solution would be to work out well-defined boundaries so that things don't get out of hand

From that point on, the occasional bickering might still surface, but things should go relatively smoothly

Other than that, Liu considers himself more of a romantic than a flirt, while Sully’s definitely more of a flirt

So things with Sully are bound to naturally get a bit... steamier faster

But more on that later~

Liu's still always very flattered whenever she flirts with him

He's just a lot more prone to getting flustered about it, which is so damn cute, I swear

It's so fun to tease that boy~

In terms of the whole style thing, personally, Liu's always had more of a basic style preference

He adores his s/o's wardrobe, but he's never considered wearing anything like that himself

While Sully, on the other hand, has always thought their body could use a bit more of a stylistic flair~

So Sully has tried to modify what he wears, but since Liu's the main and original host, he's often stuck with a basic wardrobe anyways

Now, if his goth babe wanted to give him a makeover, however--

Oh, he certainly wouldn't refuse

The two might be able to convince Liu to dress a bit more goth-like on the regular

And, honestly, that doesn't just go for style; their girlfriend would have so much power and influence over both of them

She'd have them wrapped around her little finger like it's nothing

And they wouldn’t have it any other way~

NSFW

Like I mentioned, Sully’s a huge fucking flirt

And to have a very attractive girlfriend who also returns his flirting just as enthusiastically?

Hoo boy—it does things to him

He's not one to back down, so if his s/o doesn't give in either, things are bound to escalate

Especially if she acts kind of bratty in her flirting?

Oh god, it's such a weakness for him

No matter where they are, he will push her into some secluded corner to shut that bratty mouth of hers up

And there's almost nothing he loves more than tearing off all of those pretty black clothes from her body to absolutely ruin her

Liu, on the other hand, isn’t as provocative as his other counterpart

His sex drive isn’t as high, so while he’s usually flattered by the flirting, it doesn’t drive him nuts like it does with Sully

His love-making sessions are usually softer and slower

He'd rather reaffirm his love and dedication to his partner instead of using her for his pleasure

So on that note, he's very sweet and selfless

He'll worship every inch of her, murmuring sweet nothings as he does so, all while holding eye contact and treating her like the dark empress she is~

Even in such an intimate moment, he won't be able to stop himself from getting all flustered and bashful if she keeps flirting and teasing him

If she's more into rougher sex, he'll try to give her what he wants, but he will be hesitant, and he will need reassurance because he really doesn't want to hurt her

And honestly, if ever she really wants to try something he isn't into, he's perfectly fine with letting Sully take control

And Sully will be more than happy to do the dirty work~

With two polar opposites, it's basically impossible for their goth gf to not be fully satisfied with their sex life~

It's a sweet deal for all three of them~

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Stephen was the above average joe. Muscular. Huge package. Standing at 6’4”. When he walked into a room people stopped and stared looking a the muscled specimen that heaved the room. And with large size 16 feet you could hear him coming too.

Stephen had a perfect life but where someone is so perfect there has to be a downfall. Stephen’s was that he always took advantage of those close to him. He was able to be so muscular and hot spending all his time in the gym and never once helping his boyfriend, Matt, pay for rent. He was a leach. Every night he would come home dripping sweat. Kick off his massive shoes leaving them where they fell. He would drop his dirty sweat clothes in the hall way and never clean after himself. Then while still dropping sweat, flop down on the couch. Staining even more than what he already has. But it was time. And his boyfriend had had enough.

While Stephen fell asleep like he always did on the couch, his boyfriend still in front of him with a menacing glance. Holding the book he had from his family he began to chant the spell to make Stephen change.

Stephen was dreaming about plowing the hot gym bunny. Bending him over the sink and thrusting himself in. And all the while began to scream while he was having sex …

“….and this vessel must change to meet this new form!” His boy friend finished reading. And then he seen the fine print,,, there had to be an agreement from the one the spell was going to effect. He began to panic. How would he get Stephen to agree to…”YES YES ! FUCK ME !!!” Matt’s mouth dropped. How could this have happened in a more perfect moment. Stepping back slowly he hid the book. Now. Watching as his boyfriend began to change.

Soon Stephen’s well defined abs began to push outwards. His legs began to get fuller and he also began to shrink in height. His pecs quickly lost all definition as they were hidden under a thick layer of fat and his stomach continued to balloon out warden. Hair began to sprout from ever office of his body giving him in a thick coat of fur. His feet got shorter becoming a size of extremely wide and thick size 11s. He had little sausage toes now while his fingers fattened up. His butt began to inflate and sag as it widened and his back began to grow wide to match. A thick unkempt beard began to grow out of his face while he started balding. What was once a hunk before now looked like an out of shape 45 year old man. Matt smiled at his creation. Knowing that there was more to come.

Matt woke up to screams from the living room. Walking in he seen Stephen looking at his phone and trembling. “What the fuck has happened to me !!” Matt asked him. What he was talking about. All a part of his plan to make Stephen lose his mind. He was going to treat Stephen like the fat older man he was now. Even though he was the only other person in the world now that would remember what he is really supposed to be like. “Phen. You need to stop acting weird. It’s time for you to go to work. I wasn’t able to wash your janitor uniform though. “ Stephen just looked at him. Whatever happened seemed to have changed reality he thought. He had to get out of there. And sadly. It seems as though the dirty uniform was the only thing that would fit him. Before he left the apartment Matt handed him some pills “don’t forget your pills Phen. You know you need your heart meds and that cholesterol needs to come down. Try not to eat those 4 double cheeseburger for lunch again” he said as he kissed Stephen’s fatter face.

Work was hard for Stephen. He found that at his new size and short let height he was screed on all aspects of life now. He was the lowly janitor of the gym he worked at ! And people would just throw dirty clothes on him and expect him to always be at their whim for cleaning. During his lunch break he wanted to find a way to fix this. He had to get his old body back ! But then he caught glimpse of it. The burger signs. And drawn by an impossible force he walked over. Walking through the doors he was greeted by the cashier. Working his wallet out of his pocket with his meaty hands he paid for his food. 5 double cheeseburgers. And he ate ever bite. Licking the grease from the wrappers and his fingers. He was forced by some unseen force to be the fat animal he looked like. Walking back home he could help but feel winded. His lunch should have. Been enough to make him feel full for days but his stomach was growling like an angry bear. He felt so tired. As he walked through the apartment door he shuffled his wide feet down the hallway and looking in the mirror began to cry.

Somehow during the day he had gotten older. And much bigger. What little muscle definition he had was completely gone. Now his stomach was rock hard and protruding in an impossible beach ball stomach. Completely bald with white facial hair. Matt came around the corner and Stephen cried. He pleaded for Matt to remember him. “Phen. Are you ok? I know you’re jealous of my youth. But we’ve talked about this. You’re a 61 year old man. You have to come to terms with that!” And he walked off. That number reverberated in Stephen’s head.

Walking around the beach no was no longer fun for Stephen. He was getting looks now but not for his hot young body. It was for the massive beach ball he carried. He had been stuck like this for a whole month at this point. Continuing to try to find a way to change back there just has to be one. Matt came walking up to him with food. “You know one day. I’m going to stop giving into her hunger. We gotta find someway to get you. Lose weight Phen”. Phen aggressively at the multiple cheese burgers, fries and shake that Matt had brought him. Matt watched his creation. Everything from that night with spell had come true. An intense appetite that never went away, old age, massive bloated stomach with no muscle definition, and all the pains that would come with his body being like this. He knew that Phen was trying to find a way back. To get his old body back so he could be happy. But little did he know, that the Matt altered the working of the spell. “And when you agree to this the changes will be permanent”.

[chukeis]

Tsukishima Kei was known for his tall, distant demeanor, which often made him seem unapproachable to those around him. Despite his indifferent exterior, there was something about Yn, a vibrant and energetic member of the girls’ volleyball team, that captivated him. Their interactions began to deepen through countless practice sessions and quiet, shared moments. Slowly but surely, a unique and undeniable connection started to form between them, one that neither of them had fully defined or understood yet.

It was Valentine’s Day, a day that Kei usually dismissed as trivial. However, this year felt different. He couldn’t shake off the hope that Yn might give him something special, a token that would affirm the unspoken understanding between them.

Yn, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. She had spent the entire weekend making chocolates, a task that seemed to weigh heavier with every passing moment. She had decided to give chocolates to her friends, both male and female, but the batch meant for Kei was different. Those chocolates carried her feelings, feelings that had been growing since they first met on the court.

After two failed attempts to give the chocolates to Kei, Yn’s nerves got the best of her. She approached him, shaking and struggling to find her words, while Kei simply looked at her curiously. “Oh, nothing. Good luck at practice,” she stammered before quickly walking away, leaving Kei to sigh in confusion.

Unable to muster the courage to give the chocolates to Kei directly, Yn turned to Yamaguchi, Kei’s closest friend. She found him in the hallway, the chocolates clutched tightly in her hands.

“Yamaguchi-kun,” Yn said softly, her voice trembling slightly as she caught his attention. “Um, could you… could you give these to Tsukishima for me? Please?” Yamaguchi looked at her, puzzled by her anxious demeanor and the sweat on her forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Yn was panting and replied, “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I can’t give them to Kei myself. I don’t have the courage. Could you please do it for me?”

Yamaguchi hesitated, “I think it would be better if you—”

Yn cut him off, her voice growing more urgent, “I know, but I can’t. I don’t have the courage. Could you please?”

Startled by her outburst, Yamaguchi’s eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, he was taken aback, but then he understood the depth of her anxiety and the pressure she was under.

Yamaguchi looked at her, then at the chocolates, and a knowing smile crept onto his face. “Sure, Yn-chan. I’ll make sure he gets them.”

Kei, who had been passing by on his way to the gym, stopped in his tracks when he saw Yn and Yamaguchi together. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but the sight of Yn handing Yamaguchi a small, neatly wrapped package made his heart sink. He turned away quickly, a frown etching itself onto his face.

In the gym, Kei tried to focus on practice, but his mind kept drifting back to the scene in the hallway. He had thought their feelings were mutual, that they shared something special. But now, doubt crept in, gnawing at him. Was it all one-sided? Had he misread everything?

After practice, Yamaguchi approached Kei with a bright smile, holding out the chocolates. “Here, these are from Yn-chan. She asked me to give them to you.”

Kei stared at the chocolates, then at Yamaguchi. “Why didn’t she give them to me herself?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

Yamaguchi sighed, recognizing the hurt in Kei’s eyes. “She was nervous, Tsukki. She wanted it to be special, but she couldn’t find the right moment. It wasn’t easy for her.”

Kei looked down at the chocolates, his heart heavy. He felt a wave of guilt for doubting her. Without another word, he left the gym, the chocolates clutched tightly in his hand.

He found Yn sitting on the bleachers, her face buried in her hands. She looked up when she heard his footsteps, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Tsukishima-kun…” she began, but he cut her off, holding up the chocolates.

“Why didn’t you give these to me yourself?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with a vulnerability that was rare for him.

Yn stood up, her hands trembling. “I… I was scared. Scared that you might not feel the same way. But I wanted you to know that these… these are special. They’re for you because… because I like you.”

Kei’s heart skipped a beat. He stepped closer, his expression softening. “Yn, I thought… I thought you were giving them to Yamaguchi. I was an idiot for doubting you.”

Yn shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, Kei. It’s always been you.”

Kei reached out, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding. I like you too, Yn.”

Their confession hung in the air, a promise of the future they would build together. And as they stood there, amidst the echoes of the gym, Kei realized that sometimes, even the most logical minds could misread the heart’s intentions. But with honesty and courage, they could find their way back to each other.

asdfghjkl;lkjhgfdsa i hope you guise enjoyed it! I know this is cheesy 😫😫 but it’s actually inspired by “Kimi ni Todoke.” 🫡😆

[merakiui]

Mother

yandere!kabukimono x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, pregnancy, implied codependency, brief mentions of murder/death, brief mention of childbirth note - recently i was inspired to write a kabukimono story, so i hope you can enjoy it!

i. the miracle of life.

There is a little human growing within you.

Kabukimono has never heard of such a phenomenon, but according to you it’s a normal facet of life for all creatures. He, who has only ever interacted with men, young and old, and the occasional grandmother, has never known the word pregnancy. It’s a complicated concept he struggles to parse at first—like that first sip of sake or the stickiness of a sweet. It’s something that leaves you pleasantly rounded like a ripe lavender melon, softens the skin on your bones, and allows you to grow into the kimono that was once two sizes too large. It’s something you speak of with overwhelming warmth, a fondness so enticing it’s almost tangible. It’s something the men at the furnace discuss with great pride and merriment, swapping stories of their beautiful, beloved wives and the tiny miracles that dwell within the womb, adoration painted upon weathered countenances. 

Miracles. Kabukimono has heard the word once or twice. Miracles, as he has come to learn, are wonderful things wrapped in silks. Newborns swathed in softness. Frail humans who manage to overcome illnesses that are said to snuff both body and soul with the excruciating passage of time. Sometimes a miracle is simple and not nearly as exciting as tales of heroes and villains or a mortal fight for recovery. Sometimes a miracle is waking up to begin another day. Sometimes it's torrential rain battering thirsty farmlands. Sometimes it’s a delicious meal prepared by a loving hand. 

If Kabukimono’s existence were to be defined as a miracle, it would be both a grandiose, gilded lie and bittersweet flattery all in one pretty package. Miracles are wanted, loved, and accepted. Disasters, curses, failures—however you wish to name the wandering puppet—are unwanted, despised, and abandoned. Kabukimono may not know every truth of this vast world, but this is one he’s understood from the moment he awoke in a lonesome pavilion. 

There is a little miracle growing within you. 

“Although they’re not very little now,” you remark, taking his cold, bloodless hands in your warm, blood-filled ones.

You guide them to your belly, secured snugly with a hara-obi, and he averts his gaze, if only to be respectful of the bare flesh you’ve put on display. The men at the furnace note he often stares at you; they’ve said it’s unbecoming of a young man to fix licentious eyes upon a maiden. Once, they joked of repentance for invasive gazes: A man who strays too far from his honor when a lady is involved shall gouge his eyes out and present them to her in hopes of earning forgiveness. Kabukimono, unable to comprehend the sarcasm or the laughter, procured a shard of shattered glass, raised it to his eye, and was promptly stopped by a very concerned Niwa. 

“Now listen here,” he had said, addressing the group of chuckling men, “it’s not very honorable to trick others.”

Kabukimono knows that there are two types of tricks: the painful kind and the painless kind. Betrayal falls under the painful category. Swapping his bitter tea for sake falls under the painless category (though he was not spared of the dizzying, disorienting effects or the subsequent hangover). Had he sliced his eyes from his skull, he wonders if he would have felt the sting, the agony, the fluid filling empty eye sockets—if such fluid even exists within his unique anatomy. Kabukimono is grateful for Niwa, for he often rescues him from painless tricks that may turn painful should he follow through with blind trust. 

And, had he truly lost his eyes that day, he never would have had the pleasure of looking at you like he does now. 

“Not very little…” he parrots, and he can practically feel the heartbeat from your miracle the moment his hands rest upon your belly. It shimmers in the candlelight, but that’s only because you’ve applied herbal oil meant to soothe weary muscles and prevent stretch marks. “How big will it become?”

You hum, idly trace patterns onto the tops of his hands, and say, “It’s difficult to approximate. Imagine…a very big lavender melon.”

Kabukimono can do that. He peers past you at the purple pile on the table, spoils from his last walk. He always returns with too many, but then pregnancy leaves you with a voracious appetite and sometimes you can eat more than one melon in one sitting. It’s very admirable, so he brings more each week and you never stop him. 

“That’s big,” he mumbles, awestruck, and he slides a hand across the width of your stomach. “How does it fit?”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Oh.” He leans closer, suspecting he feels movement from within, and he’s proven correct when something shifts under his palms. His eyes, blown so very, impossibly wide, flick up to yours. “It… It moved!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, and your eyes are the prettiest gemstones in the moonlight. He could stare at them forever. “They kick and squirm often. This, too, is the sweetest miracle.”

“How so?”

“A restless baby means they are alive and well within.” You look like a statue of the gentlest goddess when you cradle your stomach. “It’s all I could ever hope for.”

Curiously, Kabukimono withdraws his hands and lifts the hem of his silks to view his own flat, porcelain stomach. He presses a palm against synthetic skin. It’s cold, but there is life crackling beneath his hand, just barely contained within the frame his mother personally sculpted. 

Mother. It’s another word he knows well, but he cannot seem to apply it to anyone other than his creator. But, as he has come to learn, a mother is meant to provide and protect. His mother is currently absent, so she cannot do those things. 

“You must have something you want.” 

Kabukimono lowers the fabric, cinches it tight, and peers at you. “Something I want?”

“Like a miracle of your own.”

“I am unable to conceive a miracle.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing a quiet, melodious laugh. “It doesn’t have to be a child. It can be anything you want.”

His hands rise to his chest and he intends to admit his true wish—a heart and a place amongst humans—but instead he says, “I would like a mother for myself.”

“Do you not have a mother, Kabukimono?”

“I do… I did.” He shakes his head, finding that the admittance is too troublesome on his tongue. “I’m…unsure.”

You nod, your features softening with understanding. “Perhaps something else then?” Kabukimono reaches out to touch your belly, hesitates, and draws away, conflicted. You offer an encouraging smile. “You can touch. I don’t mind, and I don’t think the baby minds either.”

And so he does.

“I want to see your miracle when it’s brought into the world,” he whispers, speaking more to your baby than to you. “And I would like to know the miracle of life.”

As if in response, your little miracle kicks.

ii. the miracle of death. 

Your little miracle almost fell from the sky that envelops it.  

On the way to the furnace, a man bumped into you and you were sent stumbling on uneven ground. Kabukimono does not want to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t been a few steps behind—if he hadn’t rushed to your aid with a quickness rivaling lightning. He’d caught you in his arms and, noting the raw panic sullying such a friendly face, could only exhale a slow, relieved sigh. 

When you fell, you were holding your belly, shielding it as if it was worth more than your own life. When you fell, the man who had been the catalyst for this short-lived horror did not jump in to catch you. When you fell, you were a sliver away from tragedy. 

Kabukimono tastes red-hot anger in his throat, but he cannot understand where it’s coming from or why it consumes him entirely. But he must get it out of his system. It’s unpleasant and wrong and sordid. He doesn’t like it. Not at all.

And so, later that same day, he repays terror tenfold and leaves the man clinging to the strand he calls life.

“I won’t allow you to take my miracle away.” It’s spoken like a fact, shot through with syllables of deadly certainty. The sharpened tip of his blade prods at the man’s abdomen, a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. For nearly taking a life, you shall pay for it with your own.

“Your mother?” the man had sputtered, terrified and confused, sticky with sweat and tears. 

Kabukimono does not let the man speak again, for the sword sinks into his stomach, and unease morphs into painful torment. To be certain the man won’t survive, Kabukimono twists the sword, sullies his hands in the process, and yanks it free with startling strength. Blood speckles a pristine canvas. It’s warm and wet.

He did not say mother. He did not. You’re a miracle. You are not his mother. You will be a mother to your miracle, not him because he isn’t a miracle. 

He did not say mother. 

Kabukimono finds himself sitting across from you now. There is a ghastly tear in crimson-spattered silks. You suspect the truth in the liquid staining his attire. Surely you must. But you keep your lips pursed and thread the needle through with expert fingers, humming as you work. Kabukimono sits primly, watching you with bright, indigo hues. You hum a melody he has never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m glad.” You snip the excess string away and tuck the needle into your sewing kit. “It’s fixed. I’m sorry if it looks a little awkward. I’m not the best at—”

“It’s perfect,” he insists, admiring the stitching as if it’s the most valuable thing in all of Teyvat. Irreplaceable, for no one could replicate your exact pattern, and that’s what makes it so special. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for all of two minutes before the silence shatters his resolve. “Your miracle…” He frowns, suddenly ashamed. “He almost hurt your miracle…”

“But he didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.” You hold your hands out, palms up, and add, “Your hands aren’t meant to break and destroy others. You were given these precious palms to embrace others, to protect others, to respect others.” 

Slowly, he places his hands in yours. His seem to weigh heavy like a grimy sin, yet somehow all it takes is a single touch from you and all of his filth is cleansed. His fingers curl around yours, entwining like vines.

“I will embrace others. I will protect others. I will respect others.”

You squeeze his hands reassuringly. “When you’re upset, rather than acting rashly, take a step back and sit with your feelings. If the unpleasant thing persists, come to me and we can discuss. But please don’t take your frustrations out on others. You weren’t made to hurt others.”

“Then if I was not made for destruction, what else could be the purpose for my creation?”

To that, you’re unable to produce a satisfactory reply. Instead, you pull one of your hands free, lick your thumb, lean towards him, and scrub the blood from his cheeks. He blinks at you, unaccustomed to such consideration. The men at the furnace often tease him for trailing after you like a lost, little duckling, seeking your approval and affection. Tonight, since the men are nowhere in sight, he thinks he can allow himself to be greedy without any admonishments from Niwa or Katsuragi. You sure do like that (Name), huh? the latter often muses, exchanging wary, furtive glances with Niwa, as if both are preparing to weather a calamity. 

Kabukimono always speaks the truth unless he must take care to conceal it. So when he tells them, I like her more than I like the world that surrounds me, he means it. Because without you there is no world.

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmurs, as if it’s a secret, a title not meant to be uttered by him. 

Oh, he said it again. He said mother. 

iii. the miracle of motherhood.

Kabukimono kneels at your bedside like an angel of death dressed in the purity of white. He watches you throughout the hour, listening to your cries, your groans, your hisses, while a grandmother assists below, whispering soothing consolations that somehow reach Kabukimono’s ears despite the shrill noises that fill the room. Kabukimono has learned she’s a granny who delivers life, so he puts his faith in her to take good care of you and your miracle.

The process is much longer than he anticipated. Though you’re covered in sweat and tears, your chest heaving, your hand searching for him in the midst of the commotion, you are the most beautiful miracle he has ever known. He closes his hand around yours and you squeeze so hard you might just tear his wrist from the joint. But it doesn’t hurt him, and he spends the afternoon at your side, watching the toll the miracle takes on your body.

He never blinks, burning the scene into his retinas. 

Some time later, you are holding your miracle in your arms, tears tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks. Kabukimono watches mother and child with wide, adoring eyes. After all this time, your miracle is finally here! You’re holding such a fragile human and there is love trickling from your lash line. Kabukimono wants to cry with you, but the tears won’t come. 

So instead he smiles. You seize his wrist and drag him down to where you rest, and the smile widens.

“Your miracle is leaking,” he observes, and you snort in amusement.

“Crying,” you correct, bumping your forehead with his. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Kabukimono is inclined to agree, but your eyes are not on him. For the first time in the many months he’s been acquainted with you, he is not all you see. Somehow that saddens him, carves a hole into him, but he can’t mourn. He shouldn’t. He’s come to learn that the miracle of childbirth is an occasion worthy of celebration. He should be happy for you—and he is—but there is a pang in his chest. Something is not fitting where it should. Something is amiss.

“I think I’ll name her…Aika.”

“Is it common to give miracles names?”

“Of course. Everyone has a name, even you. We’re all given one the moment we’re born.”

Even me… 

Aika continues to cry and you rock her to and fro in your arms, shushing her with a song. She settles within minutes, lulled to sleep, and you follow shortly after. He refuses to leave your bedside, preferring to watch over you like a dutiful guard.

Kabukimono weighs his two warring wants: a name of his own, generously given by his mother, and you. In this very moment, you are attainable. A name, however, is not. But perhaps he can survive without one if it means you’ll accompany him through nameless wandering.

He’s only ever whole when he’s with you. 

iv. the miracle of rebirth. 

The Balladeer stands at an all-too-familiar doorstep. He has since swapped his pure linens for a shroud of darkness, and he’s taken on a new alias (he refuses to call it a name, for only you can grant him one). You haven’t changed in the many years that have since followed, for you are not fully human like him. Yet you veil yourself in the wonders of humanity, always empathetic in nature, tainted with weak emotions. You will never be human, but then neither will he and there is catharsis in similarity. The both of you stand on equal ground in that regard, or so you might have thought. 

He is better because he feels nothing, or so he believes. Perhaps, in the center of the labyrinth that is his mind, he recognizes his flaws and the fact that he is worse because you can accept the many aspects of humanity. 

Shrugging these irritations away, he composes himself, squares his shoulders, and knocks thrice. He could forego etiquette altogether, kick your door down, and force himself inside for the sake of a cruel surprise, but he refrains from doing so. He suspects your newest miracle might tumble from your sky if he shocks you and then you will never know the sweet cycle of motherhood again.

You know better than to ignore Death when he comes knocking. The door opens wide; there’s no need to crack it and peek through the thin sliver when you’re already aware of the person who awaits you on the other side. 

As he has observed over the course of many months, you do have another miracle, hidden under the softness of a floral-patterned kimono. He smiles at you, sharp and wicked under a blanket of stars, and spreads his arms for a hug.

“Mother,” he says in a sarcastic singsong, knowing it unnerves you terribly when it spills like sin from his lips. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Like an old habit, you welcome him in. Beyond your doorstep, the corpse of your most recent lover lies slumped and bloodied, decapitated and disemboweled, dragged so far there’s a vermilion trail marking the path. Sometimes you think these humans are not killed by The Balladeer but rather by the sheer ferocity of the hatred and anger he harbors. He’s always diligent with each of your lovers, swooping in the moment he catches their scents, like a predatory cat finely tuned for slaughter. 

He palms at your stomach, uncharacteristically gentle. “Aren’t you just full of miracles, Mother?”

There is a little human growing within you, and The Balladeer has made it his duty to bear witness to the birth of each one of your miracles.

[simbouquet]

TS3: CAS Lighting Edit

Last year, I was experimenting a little bit with the CAS lighting and managed to come up with this neat little mod that I’ve had sitting around up until now. I figured it was about time I shared, so here it is!💡

More info and download under the cut! 

Previews: White Background / Default CAS Background

This CAS lighting is much less flat than EA’s default, with defined shadows that draw attention to the Sim’s face and add depth to their features, overall making them more faithful to what they’ll look like during gameplay. It also happens to make the mirror reflection just a little more bearable to look at! :P

I’ve included comparison images in the links above, one with the Sim on a flat white background where you can see the differences in lighting without distractions, and another in the good ol’ CAS screen to give you an idea of how it looks inside that environment.

Compatibility

This mod is compatible with all your usual world lighting mods, since they edit completely different resources.

This mod is incompatible with any mods that edit the CustomLightRigging _INI resource. AFAIK, the only other mod like this that’s out there at the moment is @criisolatex's lovely Pure CAS Lighting Mod, which I recommend if you prefer a more stylized, silky-smooth look.

Download: SFS / MTS

Place the .package file in your Packages or Overrides folder.

Credits & Thanks

s3pe: Exporting/Importing resources, creating the .package file.

Notepad++: Editing the .ini file.

Adobe Photoshop 2024: Creating the preview images.

Thanks to @misspats3, @antoninko, @simplyslow and @probablyzora for testing and giving feedback!

Thanks to the lovely community at TS3 Creators Cave!

[ph4ngz]

I’m so obsessed with your lust quirk fics they’re so good 😮‍💨 could you do one w todoroki?

It's purring. (This came straight out of my pussy I won't even sugarcoat it, literally one of the horniest experiences of my life)

Lust quirk w/ Shoto!

↑ Contains; ProHero!Shoto x fem!reader, aphrodisiac themes, begging, choking (hardly), no condom, no prep, reader is a terrible neighbour, shamelessly desperate Shoto :D

4.5k+

/-/-/-/

An oddly patterned series of knocks upon your apartment's front door disturbs you from your nightly routine and you sigh, irritated due to the timing, the fact that you were halfway through changing into your sleepwear, and finally due to the fact that you'd just made sure every light was out only to now turn them back on again.

"Oh, what the hell..."

There's no way you can answer the door right now! You look down at your bare legs. Hell no, even if you weren't clad in only panties and a shirt, you still didn't have any makeup on. Before you can shrug it off and continue changing, pretend you're not home and snuggle up in your fresh sheets, another string of knocks sound. Somehow, they seem a little more desperate than before?

"Ugh, hold on, jeez." you complain to yourself whilst flinging your pyjama bottoms to the floor agitatedly, then push your oversized T-shirt down to cover your exposed lower half and expertly navigate your way through the dark, too stubborn to flick any switches and help yourself. Hopefully this is just a package being delivered?

The moment you unlock and pull back the door, concern draws itself upon your features.

"Todoroki?"

The slumped figure before you, partially blocking the yellowish lighting from out in the hallway, straightens almost immediately at the sound of his name being called as if he hadn't knocked in the first place, eyes shaded by a hooded, lustful gaze directed your way. Something's wrong, obviously. Your friend and coworker is usually so calm and composed.

Your worried stare slowly travels downward and holy shit he’s unbuttoning his shirt. You can see his abs. His defined, beautiful abs. The ones that prove the strength he worked so hard to obtain during his hero training. Wait, he’s not injured is he…?

"A-Are you hurt?" You blurt out, training your eyes anywhere else but his body. Man, this feels illegal.

Is he HURT? Why would he come to you and not the hospital anyway!?

"Y/n-" the hero begins, pausing once he clocks your current attire. Todoroki's eyebrows bow all of a sudden and he practically collapses against the door frame, an arm coming up to shield his forehead as his cheeks puff out with a long, uncontrolled exhale.

Your mouth opens, but you doubt you'd be able to correctly respond to the second bout of hurried words currently falling from his own, so you keep it closed tightly.

"Oh, you look so fucking hot okay—" He breathes out, closing his bicolour eyes. The unexpected statement, although a dizzying compliment to yourself, seems as though it's a problem for him. You don’t miss the way his other hand starts to wave his shirt back and forth from his chest, using it as a makeshift fan.

Also, you'd been ready for bed not even five minutes ago, bare faced and tired as all hell, in what world would your appearance be considered as 'hot'!? Alright, this is seriously confusing. And you're stood here in your underwear! ... In front of... Hah, oh.

Blushing harder than a drunken man, you take it upon yourself to grab a flustered Todoroki's wrist and drag him into your dark apartment, shutting the front door so that the both of your forms are visible in the moonlight filtering through a large window only, it's pearly glow illuminating each and every one of your features.

Of course, he didn't let that happen without a "fuck, don't- don't grab me like that I-", but that doesn't mean anything serious, right?

Whipping your head around to face the poor guy, you raise your voice a little as you ask: "Okay, calm down. Stop stuttering for a sec, can you take your time and tell me what's wrong?"

Only a frustrated groan can be heard in return.

Then, out of nowhere, his mouth is forced onto your own and the mix between a pleased moan and a confused yelp that escapes you is something to be embarrassed about. Your face feels as if it's melting, the way his tall frame bends to reach you slightly and his newfound grip on your waist overheating you. You don't have time to decide whether or not you should kiss back as Todoroki soon separates himself and cuts your next hurried words off.

"Should we be doing thi—"

"I need you, I need you, it's so,"

His pleading stops to then continue into the crook of your neck, which you definitely did not give him access to. The tingling sensation his heavy hands leave behind as they're rubbing up and down over your hips sends you to heaven and back.

"So frustrating... I know we're friends and I really hate myself for ruining us, I swear, I'll never speak to you again Y/n, just please touch me. Anywhere you want." Todoroki's hushed, whiney voice alone is enough to make you moan, in fact it does. The hero's thick fingers slide beneath the handles of your panties, rolling them down on both sides with the movement for easy removal if you let him.

"You're moaning now oh fuck, nngh, I can't take this much longer. It hurts."

The words vibrate over your neck and he soon begins to leave openmouthed kisses on the heated skin, breathing heavier than ever. God, it feels so good to hear him beg for you, to experience everything you've ever wanted. But should you be feeling this right now? You've heard rumours of a certain "Lust Villain" around your agency enough times, and there's no denying their existence after what's just happened.

You begin to interrogate the derailed hero, removing him from you when you speak.

“Have you fought any villains today?”

Your fingers are suddenly in Todoroki’s two-tone hair, making it messier than it was before. He hums a low mmph and tries his best to give you an answer.

“I was- I have. They shot me with something,”

You can’t imagine how surprised you look as his eager hands find your asscheeks, ashamed of the slutty moans that flow straight from your chest.

“You said, hah, that you were in pain yeah?”

He squeezes, harshly. Gritting your teeth in order to control your voice, you force yourself to focus on his instead. It’s not until the texture of his jeans and the cold metal zip tickles your palm do you notice that he hasn’t spoken until now.

Holy shit, when did he take your hand?

“Right here, you can feel how hard I am, right?” Todoroki presses his forehead to yours, his body heat immediately making itself apparent on your skin.

He’s pushing your hand harder against his crotch, eyes closed whilst his other free hand is still cupping the soft flesh right underneath your ass. You can make out the distinct outline of his cock even through the thick denim covering, restricting it.

It’s instant relief when you dare to give an experimental rub with the heel of your palm, and the hero makes it very clear.

“Ah~” He whines deeply, feeling every drop of precum soak and stain his underwear.

The debauched sound causes your walls to clench straight away, and you give not even a second thought about helping him out. Wow, your resolve totally just threw itself out of the window.

Todoroki lets you drag him by the arm once again, this time with your bedroom in mind, although he doesn’t wait to cage your smaller form between himself and the kitchen counter. His hips are already nudging into your ass before you know it, and all you can do is lean forward over the solid marble and hide your flushed face. Then, he snakes his muscular arms around your waist, holding you closer with every thrust.

This is getting you so wet, pussy slicked up by your arousal and it hasn’t even been touched yet. His restrained dick is rock hard against you, twitching and jolting under his clothes.

The heat of your cheeks must be making your eyes water, because it’s getting increasingly difficult to see through the gaps of your fingers each time he occasionally grabs your hips to slam them back into his.

“Shiiiiit,”

Your glossy eyes widen a fraction at the aggressive growl emitting from behind you. He’s trying to hold back, you can tell.

Soft ah’s and oh’s disrupt the midnight silence, both of you unable to contain them. Until—

“Ohhhhh God… M' so sorry, I can’t wait any longer, you’re on the pill right?”

You respond with a cute, pathetic sniffle and a nod, still covering your face. The curve of your back arching even more once he stops moving, the lack of friction making you feel empty.

Without a single word, Todoroki swiftly tugs your panties down halfway and you cross your arms over the counter to nestle your head even lower. It’s awfully silent other than his laboured breathing and the jingle of his belt being unbuckled. The suspense is fucking killing you.

Faster and faster, he’s fucking his large hand to his current view: you, legs shaking and back arched, covered tits smushed into the cold marble. His brainwashed mind travels from ‘how far can her legs spread’ to ‘sliding along the counter must’ve been making her nipples so hard’. A slight glint of moonlight reflecting off of your leaking cunt catches his attention.

“Uhhhhh…” Drawing out his delicious moan caused by the sight, his upper body almost collapses atop of yours, but luckily he catches himself on the counter.

You jump when his middle finger unexpectedly parts your lower lips by dragging a quick line between them, halfheartedly checking in case you’re not lubricated enough as if you aren’t already drenched. Your clit pulses due to the fleeting stimulation, your little hole practically dripping and his quivering mouth opens with a silent moan.

“How- How are you this wet?” Todoroki’s in disbelief as he studies the thick coating of your slick around his finger, but seemingly insatiable desire quickly overpowers it.

The desperate hero sucks off every trace of your juices and doesn’t even bother to engage in further foreplay, he wouldn’t be able to cope much longer. He knows he probably should’ve gone about this in a way that’s more comfortable for you, but thinking straight is something completely foreign in this moment. Anyways, he knows you’re wetter than ever for his twitching cock. You’ll take him just fine. Right?

With serious haste, Todoroki forces his aching cock past your pussy lips and the sudden sensation paralyses you. Shock, pain and ultimate pleasure contort your facial features in ways that you’ve never seen, nor anybody else until now.

“Sh-Shoto—” you muffle loudly into the back of your forearm, inwardly panicking about your legs not being able to stay up for much longer. Todoroki’s hand frantically searches for your neck whilst he continues to push his throbbing dick inside of you. And when he finally can grab ahold of your throat, he lifts up your head to cover your mouth with his other hand.

From beside your head, he’s observing the debauched expressions that play out on your cute little face, tempting him to fuck you senseless like he currently has a choice. His palms are oddly completely different temperatures against your damp skin, definitely a side effect of his quirk. The hold around your neck is colder but isn’t uncomfortable at all, you find that the lack of air reaching your lungs is numbing the pain rippling from your core.

“So, tight, o-oh my god,” the hero groans between rapid breaths, pausing his sentence whenever your warm pussy squeezes around his pink tip too much. The further he manages to reach within your fucking guts with his long cock, the more frequent and harder his tiny thrusts are getting.

The tearing pain is starting to subside for now, your walls finally getting acquainted with his size. That is until his length enters areas totally unknown to even yourself. Your watery eyes clench shut immediately. Todoroki releases your throat as a would-be strained, guttural moan simultaneously rips from your chest, the lack of restriction from his grip causing the noise to increase in volume and heartiness.

“nnnnNGHAH!” The echoing sound is hardly muted by his palm, even when he tightens it against your plump lips halfway through. He may be completely under the influence of a lust quirk, but that doesn’t mean Todoroki’s forgotten what time of night it is. Nor about the group of people he can hear in the next apartment over.

Suddenly, he’s completely stilled behind your weak, shivering form. It takes a few seconds for you to notice that he’s stilled your body too. His previous grasp on your neck seems to have situated itself within your tangled hair, big clenched fist having yanked on a handful to steady your movements. Typical late night city ambiance and laboured, heavy inhales and exhales through your noses are the only things audible to you.

You feel the hard throbbing and twitching of his dick everywhere in your lower half during this bout of silence, the heavy pressure of it leaning into your clenching walls almost unbearable. The way he’s keeping his hips pressed to your bare asscheeks with so much strength. And how his chin is nearly resting on your shoulder, shaky fingers gripping the furthest edge of the counter just proving his intimidating size. You need him to move. Surely he must be dying to, no? He said it was painful… so why isn’t he movi-

Your feeble attempts to wiggle around within the cage of Todoroki’s muscular arms instantly make every inch of his body coil impossibly tight around your own.

“Stop, gah! moving... Listen.” his usually soft, calming voice is rough and breathy next to your heated ear. A demand.

Trying your hardest to focus, you open your tired eyes and almost zone out whilst your ears are searching for whatever he wants them to hear. There’s nothing?! You’re about to speak up, about to beg him furiously just to fucking moveeeee when you finally catch on.

Only faint, yet still noticeable if you aren’t miles away in La La Fuck Me Land. Excited teenage chatter… clinking glass bottles and… oh great. Your new neighbour. You’d previously ran into her a few times on your way home, a quick wave and a smile and whatnot. Both of you were on good terms, but the thought of being known as that type of neighbour is scaring you. What if her friends already heard your embarrassing sex noises— what if they’re all laughing at you right now, not just some random joke or celebratory cheers?

“Tch- Tchodoroki, thatsh my new neighbour.” His hold on your mouth is so strong now that your words are close to being a string of incomprehensible hums.

“Look, I wanna move so, fucking, badly. It’s literally killing me to be inside you like this, when��”

You furrow your brows in confusion when the hero pauses out of nowhere, but they soon bow pathetically once you realise his prominent abs are tensing up against your back. Your heart flutters as Todoroki hurries to rid of his pesky shirt and throws it to the tiled floor. He then practically tries to rip your own shirt off before it reaches your head, urging to grant it the same fate strewn across the floor.

The tiny movements of his cock are gonna drive you nuts, you think.

“When I can feel you dripping down my thighs and you’re making me feel so fucking hot, I, just… If I move, Y/n, you’ve gotta promise me you’ll be quiet. I can’t risk being seen exiting your home after so much noise, promise me.”

Anything.

“Promisch.”

That’s all the hero needs you to say before driving his pelvis to thump against your asscheeks, his leaking cock hardly leaving your cunt just to be rammed back inside. You manage to suck in a panicked gasp through Todoroki’s thick fingers. He’s barely started and he’s already reaching places nobody else ever has. Just how big is he?

You’re almost embarrassed by the saliva that escapes your lips and wets his palm, but if anything, he’s fucking loving it. It’s only an incentive to fuck you so much faster, harder than before, just to keep you drooling for his dick like a thirsty slut.

The pace of his thrusts increases as well as the ear ringing slapping they bring with them. You can hear everything, everything him. Only Todoroki. Every obscene squelch coming from between your legs, every ragged, shaky breath he breathes, every word that just comes tumbling out of his mouth without warning.

“Ah, you’re so slutty for me— Mmmm, god I love it so much.”

For a second there you might’ve forgotten who’s cock you’re being pounded by if you didn’t have his voice memorised. You’ve never once heard the man say such dirty words, but damn if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever listened to.

He’s practically jackhammering into your sloppy pussy now, set on achieving only one goal: to cum. He’s been trying to keep his aching pain on a low for too long, he needs to reach his high or else he might go insane.

If Todoroki wasn’t under the influence, you’d definitely have something to say about the lack of stimulation he’s providing you. But even then, with the way he’s repeatedly bullying your cervix to no avail, you’d hardly be able to form the right words to say. It’s something about the way he’s desperately pulling on the counter with all his strength just to fuck into you, you can’t think straight enough to worry about it chipping beneath his grip.

“Lower, lower,” the hero orders and bites the shell of your ear, and you’re trying to string a coherent sentence in your foggy mind to ask him what he means before the hand tangled in your hair manoeuvres your head so that your fucked out face is smushed into the cold marble. Your back arches as far as it can, making Todoroki comb a clammy hand through his usually neat fringe whilst forcing your back down with his elbow.

Somehow, this position allows his length to brush up and down the perfect spot inside, and you don’t think you can hold another noise in with the euphoric, tingling sensation crawling all the way along your spine.

Well, that “promisch” didn’t take much to break, did it?

“Fu-u-uck!” The sudden change of volume in the room startles him and even yourself, you had no idea that you could be so vocal. You gain the courage to make worried, guilty eye contact with the hero. Let’s just say, you can’t regret your choice.

Looking at him with his back straightened, alarmed and wide eyed like a deer in headlights, fluffy two-tone locks astray and messy, a sheen of sweat glazing his forehead and threatening to drip… pastel irises almost swallowed by his dilated pupils. Pretty… so fucking pretty. The sight alone causes your already constricting walls to clench even harder around Todoroki’s jolting cock, and he wonders how the fuck you haven’t pushed all of him out yet. He can’t move with your pussy gripping him like this, but it doesn’t seem like he has to try when you say:

“Todoro-ki, I wanna cum too, p-please don’t,”

You take a deep breath of air like his dick had been taking it away from you all the is time and continue.

“Tease me… like this…”

The newer tears forming in your eyes, paired with the words you say don’t give the man any time to gather self restraint, as he’s already began to cum.

His seed paints your insides icy white, the temperature of it driving you crazy. The expression he’s wearing whilst his hot cum fills you up is something you’ll never forget. Eyebrows dipping, nose slightly scrunched, eyes clamped shut and gorgeous lips trying and failing to conceal the moan behind them.

“Nngh~haha—” a breathless, overwhelmed laugh follows the unholy sound, the intensity of his orgasm being anything but funny.

You can’t see it, but you can feel all of it. There is already so much of him coating your sensitive core. You swear it’s starting to trickle down your thigh more and more each time Todoroki's hips continue to make contact with your lower half. Warm cum being pushed in and out of your tight hole, some of it being splattered upon your kitchen tiles by the strength of his thrusts. Even with hardly any room given between you both he's still managing to fuck into you so hard, with so much power. Hunger and desire.

His legs are trembling, as are yours. You can't imagine how exhausted he must feel after enduring the symptoms of that quirk he fell victim to, draining the last of his energy to chase the insane discomfort away. You almost forgot about his situation purely because he's making you feel so damn good. You know he's using your body as an outlet, you would be a fool for thinking there's more to these circumstances than there actually is.

“Nngh, you...okay?” you ask sweetly, trying to whisper, and Todoroki dons an adoring, appreciative smirk at your attempt to look out for him even whilst being fucked stupid.

Oh, he's fine.

If he's being completely honest he doesn't know whether or not he should be thankful for today's events or if he should be pissed off fucking rotten.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs with his tiny smile morphing into a pleasured grimace, still slightly amused by your concern despite his current state.

Of course he's okay, you could say he's having the time of his life right now. The hero may be under the control of an aphrodisiac of some sort, and he may not be able to think straight, but he's got one thing down for sure: He wanted this— you, sober or otherwise.

You'd clearly been on his brain the moment he got attacked, and maybe the moment before that one, and the moment before that moment, even. But that doesn't mean it was that quirk urging him to fuck you, oh no. Todoroki had that part planned way before, all this is just a minor adjustment to his schedule.

“Shhhhhoto, you're so lou.......”

Are you talking to him? Anyways—

Yes, that orgasm was the most intense 15 seconds he's ever experienced, but he feels guilty for it. What if you think he's using you? Actually, that's true, but USING using you? This is what's pissing him off. He could've been jackhammering you, stone cold sober right now without a worry. You would know that he's serious about you.

But then again, he could've just gone back to his place and fucked his fist until the effects wore off. Yet he's here, fucking you to no avail. God, he wants to see how your perfect face looks when you cum so hard on his dick. Needs to rough you up and make you want him 24/7. He must. Now.

Todoroki, line of vision lowering in a lusty, irritated daze, is dragged under by a series of utterly euphoric waves as soon as his trance is shattered by the sight of your little cunt barely able to take the entirety of his fat cock even with him pressed so hard against your quivering body.

The view is making him so weak, so grateful for you. Letting his head hang for a few seconds, he forces his eyes shut in case he rushes to earn another orgasm again. He won't let himself cum unless it's with you. The pain is nothing more than a challenge to him, just a means to see how long he can last until he can't take anymore—

“Fuck! Ple-hease, please!” you're literally sobbing now, too tired to face the hero.

Shit! Why're you being so loud!?

...It seems that you're not the only one who's suddenly increased the volume, either.

“Grr! Mmph, oh my fucking god,” Todoroki has been getting louder this entire time, had you tried to tell him just then? His own growling and groaning through gritted teeth is causing his ears to ring after zoning out for so long.

Honestly, fuck the neighbours, either of you could give less of a shit at this point, you're too lost in the feeling.

On impulse, he snakes an unsteady hand around your hips to immediately rub soft, weak circles on your puffy clit. His fingers are burning hot to the touch which is only increasing the sensitivity of the bud. Not to mention the perfect amount of pressure he's rubbing you with just increases the pleasure tenfold.

The tears rolling down your face and gathering on the marble beneath eventually soak into your hair, but you can't control yourself with him pounding your poor pussy this fast and—

“HUH! Shit, shit, shit!”

You bite down the urge to scream in pleasure when Todoroki quickly leans over to busy his other hand with one of your tits, rolling and flicking your nipple, simultaneously keeping you steady by forcefully pulling your body flat against his broad, sticky chest.

Yeah that’s right, atta girl, he thinks to himself.

Now that he's stimulating two of the most vulnerable parts of you, you begin to lose it. You're pleading, begging the man to “keep going, keep going, don't stop!”, and you're convinced that if he does stop, takes away your detrimental release, you might even die.

“Cum with me,” the feral hero demands with that irresistible voice into the crook of your lolling neck, “cum with me, baby.”

Jesus, fuck! This is so intense! So close, so close, so close-

!!

“Cumming—!”

All you can manage is a tiny, strained pathetic cry before crashing down in his hold, shivering body nearly paralysed with overstimulation as you squirt, helplessly tensing up with Todoroki's fingers still toying with you.

He’s rubbing you through your orgasm just as his own hits him like a brick.

“Hmph, hmph, huh, Y/n!”

The man can hardly fucking breathe as the high courses through his veins, and he has to squeeze you hard due to the sheer amount of pleasure from watching you squirt all over his fingers, and relief from that damn aching pain swiftly fading away.

.

.

.

“…I wanna take you out for dinner tomorrow.” (Sober.)

“No, no it’s okay Shoto. You.. you don’t have to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you? It’s not like I was using you, I could’ve chosen anybody else. Notice how I’m not apologising for that specifically.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You’re even more shocked to the core to see a few tears sliding down Todoroki’s cheeks when you crane your head around in disbelief.

“Um! Are you okay, still?”

The serious grasp on your torso lightens, and you can feel a messy head of hair pressed into the side of your face. He grins and blesses you with an uncharacteristic wheezy chuckle, absolutely fucked out for the night.

Neither of you have to say a word after that as you help each other clean up, even though you’re both desperate to get the hell into bed and pass out.

A comfortable, happy silence.

/-/-/-/

“I’ll pick you up at five, that sound good?” Todoroki says as he’s on his way out of your apartment.

You shout excitedly from the bathroom, soaking in the bubble bath he so adorably prepared for you before you woke up, “Yup!”

Your agreement paints yet another relieved smile on the hero’s face whilst he end the conversation with an “alright”. He feels like a total loser grinning like this, he admits to himself, making sure your front door is shut properly before spinning on his heel.

Oh, but that smile doesn’t linger for too long.

He’s met with your next door neighbour, face to face. She’s holding her keys, in the position she was in before she spotted his recognisable face, about to unlock her door to put down her grocery bags.

Todoroki’s expressions falls instantly, morphing into a terrified grimace.

“I will literally pay you—”

“I won’t say a word, take my details if you don’t believe me.” She offers him a soft, trustworthy look.

‘Phew’ may as well have been written on the man’s forehead. But wait!

“Don’t… Don’t say anything to her, okay?” He gestures to your door, knowing full well that you’re at peace with the situation after forgetting about your audience, relaxed in your little bubble bath without a worry in the world.

“Understood.” She nods politely.

“Have a nice day.”

/-/-/-/

[rogunetocentral]

Day 1 - Prompt: Touch

The relationship between Rogue and Magneto fascinates me for a number of reasons, but one in particular is the lack of importance on touch. After the 80s, much of Rogue's anguish from her inability to touch others focused less on her inward struggles with guilt and shame of how she can hurt others, the feeling of isolation of never being able to hug or safely be next to her friends, families, and ever strangers without hurting them. Instead the focus shifted to how her inability to touch impacts her romantic relationships as she felt insecure about having a lover she could not touch. One could argue it was a natural progression or shift of Rogue growing into an adult like her older peers, but unfortunately that progression led to stagnation halfway through the 90s and quickly regression that we still see on and off today.

The connection with Magneto happened between the transition period of her coming to terms with her powers following her great and heartbreaking storylines in the 80s, and then the early 90s where she was thrown head first back into feeling insecure about herself. The ability to touch safely wasn't an issue when Rogueneto first had their spark and when they parted ways and met up again throughout the 90s it still wasn't a concern or at least their main concern. The relationship between the two went beyond the physical their connection came from an emotional, sometimes mental, and empathetic understanding of the other. The entire Joseph storyline was about whether Joseph should be trusted or should Rogue tell him about his past as Magneto, but it was rarely about her not being able to touch him. The only genuine time her powers came into the equation for him was during the Christmas story where he gave Rogue a gift of momentary physical touch. But overall her powers did not define that relationship.

Age of Apocalypse was similar, Roguneto were already in love but in denial about it until being able to touch allowed them to freely admit their feelings. It wasn't the touching that made them fall in love. The ability to touch was a bonus.

Back in 616, Rogue flying off to Genosha to plead with Magneto to turn back to the X-Men and remember what connection the two had. All while she was powered up. Their issues went beyond her touch. It was a struggle based on their philosophical differences at that time.

The connection was highlighted in the 2010s when Rogueneto got their official start. Once again, Rogue's power wasn't an issue but the difference in their viewpoints and past antagonism was. However, they shared real feelings for each other and the more time spent near or with each other led them to making their relationship official.

For Rogue, a character defined, in many ways, by her inability to touch, Roguneto represents a relationship that looked beyond what touch meant in the grand scheme of things. The times they touched were not crux of their relationship. It was a moment of intimacy. Rogueneto is not a relationship that works in spite Rogue's powers, an obstacle to overcome, it is a relationship that considers her powers as part of the whole package.

Rogueneto is a great ship for Rogue as it showcases her beyond her struggles with touching, beyond her insecurities about love and self-worth. It's a relationship that's built on connection, true connection, and the difficulties of having a connection with someone she may not have the opportunity to be with at all.