#but like. that was still a pretty crowded building

[mental69er]

Mean Girl

content: you and cate have been close friends since childhood, secret crush, possessive and jealous cate, mean girl cate, part one of a series?

You had met Cate in middle school. Fresh from home schooling, the blonde had seemed terrified to be forced here from the safety of her home to the wilderness of kids on the cusp of raging hormones.

Big blue eyes darted back and forth as she tried to make herself as small as possible, brushing her shoulder length hair to try and cover her face.

Everyone was curious about her, to make things worse. Crowding her, and bombarding her with words. But her stammering and avoidance of their questions eventually bored them as they deemed her lame and she got her wish of being left alone.

She always seemed so scared and so jumpy, and she wore these gloves on her hands. Rumors spread that she must have monster claws under them, that was why she was hiding them.

She never stood up to them to tell them off, and it wouldn't be til a group of boys and girls, too curious and mean for their own good, decided to yank the gloves off that someone finally approached her after weeks of ignoring her.

"Leave her alone," you told them and they put up a stink about it, but ultimately they left her alone, hands shoved under her armpits to hide her hands, curled up into a tiny protective ball on the ground, tears dripping down her face.

You were popular and you had many friends, and that gave you the protection you needed to stand up to others. She had no one. They hadn't listened to her quiet pleas to stop.

"Are you okay?" you asked her and she shook her head.

She shuffled away from you.

"You can be my friend," you told her. "If you're my friend they won't bother you. And you don't even have to talk to me. You can just walk with me to class or something. They'll eventually leave you alone."

She didn't say anything to the offer, staring at you with big dripping eyes. You decided to leave her alone. She probably hated everyone at this school.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to find her walking with you to class, and from there it all started.

Over the years you stuck close together. She eventually opened up and started feeling comfortable enough to talk to others, but she mostly stuck to you. Living in a small town, meant you went to the same high school together.

There, things began to change. Cate's beauty began to draw others in and she began to garner attention whether she wanted it or not. She became the super popular one of the two of you, not that you minded too much.

You were much more interested in working on your grades and getting into as many extra curricular's as you could to build up your portfolio for college.

Cate still stuck by your side, trying to share as many activities with you as she could. She turned down offers to go to parties, much rather spending time with you watching a movie at your house or going shopping at the mall. She included you with her friend group much like you had done the same for her in middle school.

But you did notice a difference in her. When she was around others, she began to mold herself into their expectactions of what a popular girl was: blonde, pretty, and mean.

You didn't like that. The Cate you knew was kind and soft hearted.

Your senior year was filled with arguments about this, until you two stopped talking. You honestly expected this to be the end of your relationship. And then college came, and who should you see on your first day of orientation but Cate.

She ran up and hugged you, squealing with joy. "I'm so happy we're going to be together again."

She never mentioned the fall out in senior year, and maybe you were glad for it. That way the two of you could start fresh.

But as the semester went on, you noticed it. The same old patterns. Cate was popular here too, with no shortage of people trying to befriend her or sleep with her. And because you were her "best friend in the world" her words and not yours, she brought you into every social group she was in.

It was starting to get exhausting, dealing with the duality of Cate. When it was you two, she was softer, and extremely touchy with you. The amount of times that studying had been detracked because she wanted to slip her head into your lap and have you pet her head was too many times to count.

She'd express all her worries and hidden insecurities there, and you'd reassure her and then she'd smile at you so wide.

You needed distance from her. It would hurt to do this, but you couldn't stand this back and forth.

You started ignoring her texts, turning down her invites, even going to new locations around campus so she couldn't find you. You made new friends, friends that had nothing to do with her.

And then she found you one evening, as you were goofing off with your study group.

"Seriously? This is who you replace me with?" She sneered. "A bunch of nerds?!"

You froze, shocked by her reaction. Before you could answer she was storming off. Your new friends looked at her before looking at you.

"Does she think she's still in high school? No one cares about that stuff."

You stifled a sigh and packed up your stuff, before you left to go find Cate. She wasn't picking up your calls and she wasn't answering her text messages. It took a while to find her around campus, but when you did, you were glad it was in an empty room because you found her softly sobbing to herself, curled up into a small protective ball like when you had first extended friendship to her.

"Cate, what is going on?" you asked her, a mix of displeasure and disappointment in your voice. "You can't treat people like this."

"I should ask you! You're ignoring me! I thought we were best friends forever," she shot back as you coaxed her gently from her shell. Her limbs were lightweight and she didn't resist your touch as you moved her arms aside to see her face.

"You're mean to everyone but me. This isn't high school or middle school. You don't have to treat people this way. I can't stand seeing you act like that and only be kind to me," you told her, sitting down by her side, back to the wall.

"I- I need you by my side. I can't do anything if you're not there," she said, choking back tears. "And you're always there. Don't, leave me."

"I'm not trying to leave you. But I just can't stand by and watch you act like that. So cold and cruel to others when I know you're not."

"I do that to protect you."

"What are you talking about? I don't need protecting." Your hands cupped her cheeks and you brushed away the tears.

"In high school, I overheard a group of girls planning on bullying you because they thought you were too smart and needed to be taken down a notch. They were talking about doing such horrible things. I had the ability to be popular and use that the same way you used to protect me in middle school. So that's what i did, I brought you into my group and those girls wanted in as well. So I let them in, and then I was cruel to them because they deserved it.

It was amusing seeing how much they put up with from me and others in the group, just to fit in. And then I got used to that and kept doing it to keep you safe."

You sighed heavily. "Cate, you didn't have to do any of that. I rather you didn't."

"Please, don't hate me for it. I couldn't stand it if you hated me."

"I don't hate you," you said, wiping away the fresh tears that fell newly from her eyes. "Just don't do this for me. You don't have to anymore."

She nodded her head, eyes and lips swollen from tears. "Okay. I'll try. I just don't want you to get hurt."

You bumped your forehead into hers. "I won't. Promise."

She didn't seem to believe you, but she let you wrap her up into a hug, sighing contently as your hand stroked through her hair.

To be continued...?

[teddiee]

Nothing But Gravity: Chapter 3

Summary:

Tony lifted his coffee again, a makeshift shield. Bucky noticed how his knuckles had whitened again around the ceramic. “Yeah, well,” Tony said, quiet and terse. “Didn’t exactly get a choice. The old man set the path, and I followed.” He wiped at his nose and turned his gaze toward the nearest window.

The mention of Tony’s father hung in the air like a sour note.

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They ended up at a small café tucked behind one of the campus buildings, the kind of place most people overlooked in favor of the more popular spots closer to the main quad. It was quiet, save for the soft clatter of mugs and the hum of muted conversation. The air smelled like roasted beans and something faintly sweet, maybe cinnamon.

Bucky had always liked this place; it felt like a pocket of calm amidst the chaos of campus life. There were nicer coffee shops around—fancier ones, the busier chains that Steve usually preferred.

But this place had an undeniable charm with its colorful, mismatched furniture and large collection of secondhand mugs. It was currently bathed in a soft golden glow, the kind of late afternoon sunlight that slanted through the tall windows and painted everything in warm, honeyed tones. Dust motes drifted lazily in the light beams, giving the air a gentle, dreamlike quality.

“Welcome to Ninth Circle Brews,” Bucky announced with mock grandeur, stepping aside to let Tony pass first. “The coffee is fantastic, and the playlist is, uh…” He paused, listening to the faint hum of a tinny indie-rock cover. “Subject to personal taste.”

Tony darted a quick glance around the shop, shoulders still visibly stiff. There were only a few other patrons—a pair of students buried in textbooks at a corner table, a middle-aged woman pecking furiously at a laptop near the window, and a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone behind the counter. If Tony was relieved by the lack of crowd, he didn’t show it outwardly. But Bucky could sense a slight easing in the tension around Tony’s eyes.

They approached the counter. “Let me grab this one,” Bucky offered easily, tossing Tony a practiced, lopsided grin and pulling out his wallet.

Tony blinked at him, already reaching for his own back pocket. “That’s… you don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” Bucky paused, giving Tony a sidelong grin. “Unless you’ve got some moral objection to free coffee.”

Tony sighed, clearly weighing whether to argue, then stepped up to the register. “Just a black coffee. Please,” he told the barista quietly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in mock dismay. “Dude, at least get a cappuccino or something. Live dangerously.” He turned to the barista. “I’ll take a mocha latte, whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle… and, fuck it, toss an extra shot of espresso in there for good measure.”

Tony shot him a wary look.

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, man. Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Besides, I’ve got a big appetite, especially when I’m not stuck with frat house swill.”

Tony glanced at his feet with purpose, seeming to backtrack in real-time. “No, I… I mean, I’m used to the stuff at the dining hall at this point.”

Bucky snorted. “Low bar, that. Pretty sure the dining hall stuff doubles as engine degreaser.” He gestured toward an empty table in the corner. “Let’s sit.”

They made their way over and settled opposite each other at a small, round table tucked into the far corner, partially hidden by a shelf filled with worn books and mismatched pottery.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out comfortably underneath the table as his gaze fixed on the boy across from him.

Tony was a study in contrasts, the sunlight catching in his messy curls, turning the dark strands a rich chestnut. The warm light softened the sharp planes of his face, illuminating the faint freckles scattered across his pale skin like whispered secrets. His eyes were ringed by faint smudges of exhaustion.

He sat perched on the edge of his chair, looking like he was ready to bolt at any second. His hands curled tightly around the arm rests, his thumbs rubbing absentminded circles along the upholstery. He kept his head slightly bowed, his shoulders hunched as though trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

But Bucky noticed everything.

The way Tony’s foot tapped an uneven rhythm against the floor. The way his gaze flickered around the café, never settling for too long, as though afraid to linger anywhere—especially on Bucky.

He’s cute, Bucky thought, not for the first or second or even the fifth time, watching the way Tony fiddled with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Really cute, in a delicate, unguarded way that made Bucky want to reach out and smooth the tension from his brow.

Which was a problem, kind of, because that wasn’t how Bucky usually operated—he liked boldness, confidence—an energy that matched his own.

Tony was clearly the opposite: skittish, reserved, possibly the shyest person Bucky had tried to flirt with in… well, ever.

Not that he was exactly flirting.

Not successfully, anyway. But whatever.

Either way, Bucky found it… incredibly disarming.

“So,” he cleared his throat, shoving the distracting thoughts from his brain. Forced his line of sight away from Tony’s freckle-splattered cheekbones. “Freshman, right?” He kept his tone casual as the barista plunked down two mugs on the table—one black coffee in a slightly chipped ceramic cup, and one mocha latte drowned in whipped cream and an avalanche of chocolate drizzle. Bucky’s, obviously.

Tony muttered a quiet word of thanks before curling his fingers around his mug. He held it so tightly that Bucky wondered if the ceramic might crack under the pressure.

His eyes flickered toward Bucky, tracking the movement of his throat as Bucky took a slow sip of his drink. He then seemed to register the question and froze briefly, his fingers tapping the side of his mug before he shrugged.

“Yeah,” he answered eventually, his voice a little more guarded. “Freshman. First year here.” He took a careful first sip of his own coffee and chased the residue left behind on his lip with his tongue. Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug. “How’d you know?”

Bucky stabbed his tongue into his cheek and repressed his urge to laugh.

Tony couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Nineteen, max. His youthful boyishness radiated off him like sunlight, all large doe eyes and soft, rounded features that hadn't quite shed the last remnants of childhood.

His expressions flickered like a film reel stuck between frames—sharp but fleeting, raw but quickly masked. Regardless of his noticeable, tangible apprehension, the edges of his face still held vulnerability, too—that impression of someone who hadn't been totally hardened by the world yet.

“Lucky guess,” Bucky drawled eventually. His tongue felt a little fuzzy in his mouth. Too much whip. “Where y’living? Dorms?”

Tony nodded, a flicker of something—maybe unease, maybe thoughtfulness—passing across his face. “Yeah, the dorms,” he muttered, then paused, glancing at his lap for a second before looking back at Bucky. “It's... not bad.”

“Not bad, huh? You got a roommate, or are you flying solo?”

Tony seemed to hesitate, glancing away briefly. “I’ve got a roommate,” he said, quiet. “Bruce Banner. He’s... pretty cool. Physics major.” His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, and for the first time all afternoon, Bucky could hear the sincerity in his voice. “He’s been a good friend.”

“That’s good, man. Living situations can be tough. Take it from someone who lives with twelve other idiots who don’t know how to do their own laundry.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice a little warmer now. “Bruce is solid. He keeps me from…” He trailed off, suddenly. Something unreadable passed over his face, fleeting. It disappeared just as quickly. “Anyway, he’s moving into campus housing next year. With other physics majors.”

“And you?” Bucky pressed, treading lightly.

Tony shrugged again, this one tighter. He took another small sip of coffee, shielding his obvious disappointment with his mug, and Bucky’s heart tugged pathetically somewhere behind his ribs. “Still figuring that out. I’ll find something. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bucky sat up a little in his chair, curious. “You had a roommate before him?” Tony blinked at him, looking a little bewildered, and then realized his own slip. Heat flooded his face, blooming at his temples.

“No. No, I… uh. I was at MIT for a while. Before this.”

Bucky took a few seconds to process this new piece of intel.

“MIT? No kidding,” he said slowly. “How old are you? You seem—”

Tony exhaled, a short, sharp breath, like he was steeling himself for the usual barrage of questions. “Yeah. I, um… started college really young. At fourteen.” He paused, probably expecting Bucky to erupt into shock or disbelief. “Graduated from MIT at seventeen. I’m nineteen now. It’s… complicated.” His knee started bouncing under the table.

Bucky blinked at him. The confession settled in his chest, quickly morphing into something dark and jagged, but he reeled in his immediate reaction. Flexed his fingers before allowing himself to speak again.

“Fourteen,” Bucky repeated. “Jeez. That’s—holy shit, Tony. That’s impressive.”

Tony ducked his head. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t—? You literally finished MIT at seventeen.” Bucky leaned forward, unable to keep the reverence from his voice. “That’s… insane. In a good way,” he hurried to add, not wanting Tony to take it the wrong way. Not wanting to spook his date—was this a date?—five minutes into sitting down. “Seriously, you must be, like, a super genius or something.”

Tony’s lips quirked downward, and he stared into his coffee like he might find the right words swirling in the dark liquid. “I just… it’s not that I’m—I mean, I am smart,” he said, stumbling over his own admission, “but it was also about… circumstances. My father wanted it.” The word ‘father’ sounded tight in Tony’s throat, as though it hurt just to say it. “He… pushed for it. Hard.”

Bucky schooled his expression into something neutral.

Retreat. Retreat. “Must’ve been a lot of pressure.”

Tony’s jaw clenched; a flicker of something raw and pained darted across his features. “You could say that.”

A tense hush settled between them. Bucky let the moment linger, waiting to see if Tony would volunteer more.

He didn’t.

Instead, Tony took a measured sip of his black coffee, wincing slightly at the heat. His expression had fallen into something shuttered, his eyes vacant and distant, his hands clenched around his coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the present.

“You, uh, said degrees,” Bucky prompted carefully, setting his mocha down so he could give Tony his full attention. “As in, more than one?”

“Electrical engineering,” Tony mumbled. “And quantum physics.”

Bucky blinked once, slowly. “Both?” he repeated. “At MIT? By seventeen?”

Tony nodded, his expression guarded. “Yeah. My dad—he thought it would be… beneficial for me to explore multiple fields. So I…” His throat worked around a swallow. “I did.”

For a second, Bucky could only stare. He was sure his expression was betraying something like awe, or maybe horror, but he couldn’t quite wrangle it into something more impartial. A kaleidoscope of emotions spun inside his head—admiration, bewilderment, concern.

“Wow,” he breathed, finally. “I mean… wow, Tony. Shit, man.”

Tony lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, still avoiding Bucky’s gaze. “Wasn’t really my choice,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t exactly want to start college so young.”

And Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly found that he wasn’t quite able to form words.

He pictured a fourteen-year-old version of the kid sitting in front of him, trudging through MIT’s labyrinthine halls, dwarfed by backpacks twice his size, surrounded by older students who probably didn’t know what to make of him.

The mental image caught in Bucky’s throat. Restricted his breathing, faintly.

“That’s… that’s rough,” Bucky finally managed, stupidly, voice hitching a bit. “I can’t imagine. Most kids are worried about, like, eighth-grade dances at fourteen—not, Christ. College apps.”

Tony lifted his coffee again, a makeshift shield. Bucky noticed how his knuckles had whitened again around the ceramic. “Yeah, well,” Tony said, quiet and terse. “Didn’t exactly get a choice. The old man set the path, and I followed.” He wiped at his nose and turned his gaze toward the nearest window.

The mention of Tony’s father hung in the air like a sour note.

Bucky could see how Tony’s expression turned inward, like he was replaying some private movie reel he’d rather forget. The faint lines of tension around Tony’s mouth, the edge to his posture—everything pointed to a story far uglier than Tony was letting on.

Bucky wanted to ask. He wanted to press: What was he like? Why did you leave MIT? What happened? But a little voice in his head warned him that he’d lose Tony entirely if he pushed too far, too soon. That tension in Tony’s eyes was a flashing caution sign, a sign that said: Stop, you’re not allowed here.

So Bucky swallowed the urge and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get it,” he lied because, like hell, he did.

Sure, he knew the concept of parental pressure—overbearing coaches, pushy teammates—but nothing like… this.

Still, it felt right to acknowledge Tony’s discomfort rather than forcing him to detail the entire train wreck. “Not easy, having someone else dictate your every move.” Understatement of the century, clearly.

A muscle worked in Tony’s jaw. “It isn’t,” he said, voice tight. Then, as though catching himself, he slid a glance up at Bucky, half-expectant, half-wary. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear me whine.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, hollow though it was. “I’m asking, aren’t I?”

Tony’s lips twitched, something that wasn’t quite a smile but at least looked less grim. He fiddled with his mug again, turning it in small circles on the table. The swirl of coffee inside mirrored the swirl of tension in the air.

Bucky realized he wasn’t sure how to keep going. This conversation—this entire scenario—was so far outside his usual wheelhouse.

He didn’t know what he expected, really—a quick coffee meet-up, some surface-level banter, maybe, and an exchange of phone numbers if everything went well? The usual one-two punch.

Instead, he was currently knee-deep in some freshman boy’s messy backstory—haunted eyes and daddy issues and insane academic brilliance, to boot.

And he was floundering, no doubt about it. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just… unprepared.

He’d never been the type to shy away from spontaneity, or from wading into new territory on a whim. That’s how he ended up living in the frat house, for fuck’s sake. But something about Tony tugged at him more insistently—made him want to linger and pick through the layers carefully.

It wasn’t just physical attraction—though, yeah, that was definitely part of it. Tony was stunning; that much was obvious. In a quiet, unintentional way that left Bucky a bit tongue-tied. But there was also a sorrowful magnetism to Tony, an air of I’ve been through a lot, I’m trying to pretend I haven’t, that Bucky couldn’t ignore.

He’s different, Bucky reminded himself, a little forcefully. Not your usual type at all, Barnes. Yet Bucky found himself drawn in, like he was reading the first few pages of a book he couldn’t put down, even if the subject matter was complicated. Or grim.

A few long seconds of silence hung between them, punctuated by the acoustic indie-rock cover piping through the shop’s speakers. Outside, a stray breeze rattled the windows, and the golden light in the café shifted to a deeper, more subdued amber as the sun sank inch by inch.

Bucky cleared his throat softly, steering the conversation back into calmer waters. “So, I guess that means you’ve done, like, your share of everything—engineering, advanced math, you name it. Is that why you came here? To try something different?”

He half-expected Tony to dodge. Instead, Tony let out a quiet breath, his gaze sliding sideways. “Sort of. I, uh… I had a falling-out with my father.” The muscles in his throat strained around the words. “Stopped talking to him. So I applied here to keep my scholarships going. At least for now.”

“Scholarships?” Bucky asked, because God forbid he took a hint and changed the fucking subject.

Tony grimaced. “You know, the standard. Got to keep a certain GPA, take a certain number of credits, all that crap. The money’s nice—it means I don’t… owe my father anything. But it also means I’m stuck at a place that doesn’t quite know what to do with me academically.”

“And that’s why you’re basically re-doing your undergrad?” Bucky ventured.

Tony’s mouth twisted wryly. “Yeah. I mean, the admissions folks technically recognized my MIT degrees, but I… I was behind on some general requirements. Stuff that didn’t transfer. So they stuck me as a freshman.”

“So you’re sitting in classes with eighteen-year-olds who are fresh out of high school,” Bucky summed up.

“Eighteen-, nineteen-year-olds,” Tony corrected, lips pursed. “Kids my age, for once. But… yeah.”

“That’s got to be weird,” Bucky murmured, imagining Tony in a sea of other first-years discussing dorm pranks and frat parties, while he’d already done years at MIT, had two degrees, and a father complicated enough to drive him away.

Tony shrugged, but there was a heaviness in the gesture. “Weird, yeah. But it’s… better than the alternative.”

Bucky wanted to ask about that alternative—about the father who apparently used Tony’s brilliance as his personal project. But Tony’s expression screamed don’t pry, so Bucky eased off.

Instead, he let his gaze drift to the chipped mug in Tony’s hands, the swirl of coffee, the faint steam rising. He tried to picture how Tony must feel in this new environment, carrying a story no one else had—like he was juggling secrets in plain sight.

A pang of empathy hit Bucky. He was used to being liked—he was easy-going, charismatic, quick to flash a grin. He’d never had to worry about forging connections. Meanwhile, Tony looked like a porcelain figure perched on a shelf of clumsy giants, always on guard, always ready for someone to shove him off.

But he’s here, isn’t he? Bucky reminded himself. Tony had agreed to come with him, to share coffee, to open up about at least some of his backstory. That meant something.

When he finally spoke, he kept his voice low, gentle. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you ended up here, man. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Tony blinked, as if startled by the admission. A flush rose to his cheeks, faint but there. “Me too,” he said, so quietly Bucky almost didn’t catch it. He shifted in his seat, glancing around as if to ground himself. “Though… it’s been weird. I’m not… used to the ‘college experience,’ you know?”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, well, if your introduction to the ‘college experience’ was that party at the frat house, I don’t blame you for freaking out. That’s, like, the deep end of the pool.”

A ghost of a smile flickered over Tony’s lips. “Yeah. Not exactly a gentle ramp-up.”

He set his mug down, tapping one fingertip against the little chip in the rim. For a second, his eyes flicked to Bucky’s mocha. “You, on the other hand, seem to thrive in that environment.”

Bucky shrugged, giving a lopsided grin. “I’m a people person. Or maybe I just like chaos. Hard to tell sometimes.”

Tony’s response was an amused snort—soft, but genuine. The tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction. “I couldn’t do it,” he admitted. “Too loud, too many… unknowns. I felt like the walls were closing in.”

“And that’s why you bolted to the roof,” Bucky finished, remembering Tony’s pale, panicked face. “Hey, I get it. Sometimes I need air, too. Just, you know, maybe next time, don’t do it alone?”

Tony’s gaze caught on Bucky’s for a moment before skittering away. A flicker of something that might’ve been gratitude passed through those dark eyes. “I… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence briefly returned, but it wasn’t as charged this time. Bucky found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

He drummed his fingers against the table, searching for a lighter topic. Something that wouldn’t make Tony’s expression shutter up. “So, if you did have free time, in some hypothetical world, what would you do for fun? Don’t say more classes.”

Tony blinked, seeming to consider it. “I guess… I used to like to draw,” he said, sounding almost unsure of himself. “When I was younger, I’d doodle designs for robots and cars, just for fun. Now it’s basically my job whenever I’m in a lab. So I don’t do it much outside of that.”

“Robot doodles,” Bucky said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s cool. Back in high school, I couldn’t even manage stick figures that looked good.”

Tony’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “I was never good at people,” he admitted quietly. “Just machines.”

Bucky nodded, biting back the urge to make a self-deprecating joke about being a machine on the baseball field. Instead, he tried a new angle. “Well, if you ever want to practice drawing a face, I’d totally pose for you. I’ve been told I’m devilishly handsome from the left side.” He turned his head in an exaggerated profile, fluttering his eyelashes comically.

Tony stared at him, and for one excruciating moment, Bucky thought he’d just made a total fool of himself. But then a tiny, involuntary snicker escaped Tony’s throat. He quickly pressed his lips together to stifle it, cheeks darkening, but Bucky caught it. Savored it.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tony muttered.

“Ridiculously charming,” Bucky corrected, winking. “Not all of us can be mechanical prodigies, Trouble. Some of us just have to rely on wit and good looks.” He sunk back into his chair, unnecessarily smug as he watched a faint splotch of color bleed onto Tony’s cheeks. “What else, Stark? Clubs, sports, some top-secret robotics side project?”

Tony gave a little shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. “I’m not… great at the social stuff. The clubs here…” He wrinkled his nose. “I tried the robotics club once, but it was full of underclassmen who think they invented the concept of building drones. Felt kinda weird being the only one who actually had real lab experience.”

Bucky laughed softly. “So you out-nerded the nerds, basically.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Something like that.” Then he paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “I, uh… guess I do have a couple of side projects. Nothing major—just tinkering with some designs that might… well, that might go somewhere.”

It was clear Tony was deliberately vague. But Bucky could sense the underlying excitement—a quickening in Tony’s voice that said I care about this more than I want to admit.

“Somehow,” Bucky said, “I’m pretty sure your ‘nothing major’ is beyond anything I can wrap my head around.”

A faint smile curved Tony’s lips. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But… it’s just something to keep me busy.”

They lapsed into another quiet moment, each sipping at their drinks, the ambient noise of the café drifting in and out. Bucky noticed that the golden hour light had deepened into a burnished orange, painting the walls and mismatched chairs with a warm hue. The place felt like a sanctuary apart from the bustle of campus, a small world of chipped mugs and drifting dust motes.

And in this small world, Bucky could feel the subtle tension thrumming in his own chest. Something unfamiliar. Warmer.

Get a grip, Barnes, he chided himself. But he knew it wasn’t so simple. For all his bravado and easy charm, Bucky had a soft streak a mile wide. And Tony, with his shaky boundaries and haunted eyes, was tripping every protective instinct Bucky had.

Eventually, Bucky cleared his throat again, quieter this time. “So, you said your father—”

Tony stiffened immediately, and Bucky kicked himself for not approaching that subject more gently. “Sorry,” he said quickly, palms up in surrender. “I was just… I was gonna ask if you had any siblings or something. But if it’s too personal—”

Tony relaxed a notch, though his brow remained furrowed. “No siblings,” he answered, clipped. “Just… me.”

Bucky nodded, letting the sentence end naturally. “Cool,” he said softly. Then, in an effort to keep the conversation flowing, he added, “I’ve got three sisters. Two older, one younger. Total assholes, but I love ‘em to pieces.”

Something softened in Tony’s eyes, a sort of wistful curiosity. “That must be nice,” he said, voice quiet.

Bucky opened his mouth to ask if Tony ever wished he had siblings, but closed it immediately—he could guess the answer, and pushing further might put Tony on the defensive again. So he simply nodded, acknowledging Tony’s statement without turning it into a question.

They both took the last sips of their respective coffees. Tony’s black coffee was nearly gone, and Bucky’s mocha was now just melted whipped cream at the bottom of the cup. Neither seemed eager to stand.

Bucky tapped the side of his mug absently. He felt… off-balance, in a way he wasn’t used to.

Usually, he led conversations with confidence, banter—flirtation, if it seemed welcome.

Now, the ground felt uneven under his feet—there were so many emotional landmines, so many half-spoken tragedies in Tony’s voice. Yet Bucky couldn’t deny how alive that made him feel, how it fed a part of him he rarely let out: the part that actually wanted more than surface-level fun.

God, he needed a drink. A real one.

“Listen,” he said, adjusting in his seat so he faced Tony more directly, “I don’t want to keep you here forever. But I… I’m glad you came.”

Tony’s gaze flicked up, meeting Bucky’s for a brief, charged moment. “Me too,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost under the café’s music.

Bucky pushed his luck, leaning forward just enough that Tony’s eyes flared with cautious awareness. “I’d like to do this again sometime—hang out, get coffee that’s better than engine degreaser, maybe not talk about your dad unless you like, want to, or… talk about something lighter. But only if that’s, you know, chill with you.”

Tony looked torn. He inhaled, slow and steady, before giving a short nod. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I… that might be nice.”

Bucky felt a grin start at the corners of his mouth, something warm and genuine and relieved. He’d half-expected Tony to freeze up or bolt. “Okay,” Bucky said softly, letting the grin take over. “Cool.”

They exchanged numbers—the actual act a bit awkward because Tony’s phone was hidden in his jacket pocket, and he fumbled it, nearly dropping it in the process. Bucky tried not to tease him about it, though a small chuckle escaped when Tony shot him a halfhearted glare.

Cute. Cute. Cute.

Finally, Bucky handed Tony’s phone back, having typed his name—Bucky Barnes—with a baseball emoji next to it just for the hell of it. Tony stared at the screen, the faintest flicker of bemusement crossing his face.

“You, um… you put an emoji,” Tony said, his tone halfway between amusement and bafflement.

Bucky shrugged, grin turning playful. “Gotta make myself memorable, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Dork,” he mumbled.

Bucky laughed, a real, full sound that echoed in the quiet café. “I’ve been called worse, believe me.”

Tony made a soft sound—indeterminate, but not hostile. “Yeah, well… I'll keep that in mind.”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket with care, as if it suddenly held something fragile.

They both stood, the scrape of their chairs echoing in the near-empty space. Tony fidgeted with his hoodie sleeves, pulling them down over his hands, while Bucky stretched his arms over his head. The moment felt heavy with significance in a way that made Bucky’s stomach flutter.

“Guess we should get going,” Tony said, eyes flicking to the windows where the light was now more midday sunshine than morning glow.

They stepped out into the crisp air that had gained a slight chill since they first walked in. The wind ruffled Tony’s messy curls, and Bucky found himself wanting to reach out and smooth them down—a fucking ridiculous notion. Instead, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

For a moment, they just hovered outside the café door. Students bustled around them, chattering about dinner plans or library study sessions. The sun was high and bright, casting sharp shadows across the walkway.

“Well,” Bucky said softly, “that was… not exactly what I expected, honestly, but… m’glad we got to do this, Stark.”

Tony seemed to consider that, biting his lower lip before letting it go. “Me too,” he echoed, more certain this time. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shoulders still a little hunched. “Thanks for… paying. And for… you know. Listening. Sorry, again.”

Bucky reached out, letting his knuckles brush Tony’s forearm in the lightest possible touch—a fleeting contact that made Tony’s eyes widen. “Anytime,” Bucky said, voice steady. “And hey—if you ever need a rooftop buddy again, or just someone to talk about… anything, you’ve got my number.”

Tony nodded, his throat working around a swallow. For a second, it looked like he might say more, but he pressed his lips together instead. Then he dipped his head in a brief, almost shy acknowledgment. “I’ll, um, text you. Maybe.”

God, Bucky hoped. Instead, he just smiled, easily. “Cool. I’ll be waiting.”

Tony made a small, noncommittal noise and started walking off, merging into the flow of students. Bucky watched him go for a few heartbeats, noting the slight slump in Tony’s posture that never quite dissipated.

Then Bucky sighed, digging out his phone. With a quick smirk, he thumbed out a message to Steve—Dude, you won’t believe who I just grabbed coffee with…—and set off across campus, the lingering warmth of Tony’s quiet smile still flickering through his thoughts.

[demonslayedher]

A post about the lead actor's feelings on the Kimetsu no Yaiba Noh/Kyogen stage adaptation:

To try to increase my karma for getting KnY Noh tickets, I went to a Noh performance and interview with Ohtsuki Yuichi, the actor who performs the roles of both Tanjiro and Nezuko. He was also one of the people responsible for seeing the potential for performing KnY as Noh. As he described in the interview, both KnY and Noh are trying to express the same things.

This was brought up in the later half of the on-stage interview. To give more background, the society surrounding Noh theater knows its roots, and is pretty dedicated in preserving traditions, like family lines dedicated to playing a certain kind of role in a certain school of how to stage the plays. Yuichi grew up surrounded by Noh, and although he was born into a different Noh performing family, he became the apprentice of Ohtsuki Bunzo (a living national treasure), hence why Yuichi has taken up the Ohtsuki legacy. Bunzo is a very influential figure and has dedicated a lot of work to revitalizing plays nearly lost to time, and he's a tough act to follow.

So when the topic of "new Noh" came up in the interview, Yuichi's very calm and experienced interview demeanor started to seem, at least to me, a little more hesitant. The lady interviewing him, a veteran reporter in the world of traditional performing arts, did not seem intimately familiar with Kimetsu no Yaiba. The vast majority of the audience was much older than Yuichi, and many of them were dressed in kimono. (I stuck out in that crowd as the only obviously foreign face.)

Yuichi explained what he usually explains about KnY and Noh, especially the themes with demons and building sympathy for them. The surface level similarities, like a mountain of spider demons, did not matter as much in seeing the potential for adaptation.

Unlike the audiences at the stagings of plays from the usual Noh repertoire, the vast majority of audience members at the KnY performances had never seen Noh before. They went to see a Noh performance because they were KnY fans, not because they had any previous interest in Noh. With a bit of a laugh in his voice, Yuichi (who had just been talking about the heavy sense of audience anticipation right before some famous plays begin) said nothing could compare to the tenseness before those performances, because nobody in the audience even knew what to expect. Still, he finds it gratifying how it has brought so many more people into the world of Noh, especially young people.

The discussion of this "new Noh" wrapped up very nicely with a reminder that five centuries ago the tales of Heike and Genji were super popular and drew crowds, so maybe someday "Kimetsu no Yaiba" will be considered a classic piece of Noh canon.

Before that, though, there was a part when Yuichi sped up little by little as he got more animated recalling a little anecdote.

You see, he explained go the interviewer, the world of KnY is actually very complex. There are, like, whole encyclopedias (the fanbooks) with information about the characters, like their birthdays, their hobbies, favorite foods, etc.

He then goes on to say how they did a week of performances in Tokyo last December (frustratingly, I did not manage to get a ticket). One of those performances happened to fall on December 28, which is Kamado Nezuko's birthday.

The whole audience--everywhere--there were so many Nezukos. Nezukos everywhere. People cosplay and come to watch Noh. Everyone was cosplaying Nezuko that day, because the fans know these things. There were so many Nezukos.

He did not make his point that eloquently, but he sure made his point. I don't know if he was a truly shook by anime fandom since he's always been deep in Noh fandom instead or if he was nervous about what the core fans of traditional Noh thought about it, or maybe that was just his excitement for KnY and that project coming through.

I, in any case, am still super excited to hopefully, hopefully, hopefully see the continuation. Aside from seeing Yuichi reprise his roles, Bunzo is playing Gyutaro and I really, really want to see that mask.

Come on, karma...

[beepborpdoodledorp]

so I had a lil idea 

[vilelittlecritter]

Look, if we can get video game show adaptations like fallout and the last of us.

I NEEEED a half-life show NOW

Maybe like have Half-Life 1 be a movie and half-life 2 a show.

Idk

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole. 

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual. 

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated. 

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift. 

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you. 

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you. 

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response. 

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule. 

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option. 

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.” 

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle. 

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.” 

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction. 

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.” 

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck. 

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself. 

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life. 

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex. 

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two. 

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes. 

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting. 

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle. 

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body. 

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last. 

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt. 

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close. 

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you. 

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it. 

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron. 

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place. 

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in. 

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with. 

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. 

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up. 

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace. 

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope. 

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you. 

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek. 

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.” 

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt. 

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.” 

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.  

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you. 

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again. 

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you. 

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly. 

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.” 

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy. 

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that? 

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head. 

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot. 

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous. 

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him. 

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[classyrbf]

THREE'S A CROWD...OR IS IT! — GOJO + GETO

SYNOPSIS...gojo and geto don’t mind having a third, it adds to the fun of their relationship if you know what I mean

INFO...gojo x geto x fem!reader, poly(?), riding, anal, recording, fingers, squirting, reader is a complete horndog, praise, degradation, oral (m!receiving), double penetration, creampies, overstim, quite literally filthy just pure filth, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Look at how she’s riding you, Suguru. She’s so fucking desperate to cum,” Gojo lets out a breathy laugh, gripping the flesh of your ass while you slam your hips down on Geto’s throbbing cock. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve came already, jumping back and forth between both of them. “Come on, pretty, arch your back more and work for it.” He lands a harsh slap against your ass, humming to himself as he watches the way your pussy creams around his boyfriend’s cock.

“Such a greedy little thing aren’t you,” Geto rasps, looking up at you with a lustful gaze. “Putting on such a show—nnngh fuck.” He grits his teeth, your pussy milking his cock, fluttering around him. He’s so deep inside you, it feels like your entire body is melting, completely on fire. No matter how tired you were, you just couldn’t stop cumming.

“Mmmph, fuck I’m close! Yes, yes!” You whimper, biting down on your lower lip when you feel your orgasm building. The pressure becoming all too much to contain. “Fuckkkk!” Your body shakes above him as clear liquid leaks from your sopping cunt, soaking your thighs.

Geto lifts you from his cock, holding onto your waist as he allows Satoru to rub his slender fingers along your leaky slit. With your legs still quivering, you find it hard to hold back your whimpers as both men laugh in your ears, so satisfied with the way you were permanently slutted out for them. Gojo coos, rubbing your swollen clit in circles as a means to tease you. “More, more, please.” You grip onto Geto’s broad shoulders helpless, digging your nails into his skin. And when you feel his fingers slide into your aching hole, you let out the most lewd cry known to existence, both men’s cocks twitching greedily.

Geto’s large hands spread your ass, holding it open for Satoru as he fingers you tight pussy, creaming all over his fingers as he pushes up against your g-spot over and over at a rapid pace that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Awe, Satoru, I think you made her go stupid.” He huffs with a smile, grabs hold of your jaw and holding your face up like some trophy. “What a pretty dumb thing you are,” he whispers in your ear, his degrading yet praising words went straight to your pussy. “You like being ours?” He pressed a wet kiss to your jaw as you nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna make me cum again!” You squealed, breathing heavily as your gripped onto Geto’s muscular arms. “Oh my g-god!” Your entire body shivered with pleasure as you came around Satorus fingers, earning a warm giggle from him as he toyed with your soaked cunt. Before you knew you it, you went limp from the sheer amount of exhaustion, but god were still so turned on, still so hellbent on cumming more and more.

“Taste yourself on my fingers, baby. Come here.” He guided your head slightly upwards, grinning at the way you obediently stuck out your tongue and took his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. You stared up at him hazy eyes, moaning around his finger until you let them go with a pop. “You’re fucking dangerous,” he uttered under his breath. He reached his hand down, stroking his dick slowly from the base to the tip. “Spit on it for me.” You gathered all the spit you could, spit right onto his dick no matter how messy or sloppy it was. Gojo couldn’t handle himself anymore, snatching you from Suguru and pushing you down onto the floor. “Join us.” He looked at his raven haired boyfriend who had a smug look on his face.

Geto stood to his feet, grabbing his phone from off the nightstand to record the moment that was about to happen. He couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you was so excited to suck two dicks at once. You were gleaming, a cheerful smile on your face as he hit record. “That’s its, baby. Look up at the camera for me while you suck it.” You slapped Geto leaky tip on your tongue while still jerking off Gojo before switching sides and doing the same.

“She’s such a fucking tease,” Gojo groaned as he grew impatient, leading him to grab a fistful of your air and shove his dick down your throat. Your eyes immediately went wide, gagging around his thick length while he fucked your face. “Your throat feels so fucking good. Fuck.” He tosses his back, sweet moans filling the room. Your eyes grew teary before he pulled you off of his cock, strings of saliva coating your lips while you gasped for air. “Messy fucking girl.” Satoru slapped his dick on your face.

With his hand still full of your hair, he guided your mouth to Geto’s pulsing cock, watching the way you eagerly stuck your tongue out as you took him down your throat. A soft groan left the man’s lips, clenching his jaw when you wrapped your hand around his base and bobbed your head up and down. “Good girl. Keep it up.” He hissed when he hit the back of your throat. You released him from your mouth, dragging your tongue down his veiny shaft, licking and sucking on his heavy balls while Gojo bucked his hips into your hands.

Your eyes veered over towards Gojo, smiling up at him before doing the exact same thing to him. You could tell he was more sensitive on his balls than Geto was, moaning louder when he felt your tongue on his balls, his eyes rolling into the back of his when you took one then in you mouth, gently sucking on it. “God, you’re so slutty.” Even though his words may have been harsh towards others, he said it with the utmost lust and appreciation. His hands cupped your face as he bent down and kissed your lips, sloppily dragging his tongue over your bottom lip and sucking on your tongue.

He lifted you with ease, pushing you back onto the plush bed, your head falling into the messy comforter. All while Gojo was making out with your and trailing his hands over your body, Geto was setting up his phone on the nightstand, grabbing lube from the bedside drawer. You were completely unaware of what they wanted to do with you, but at this point there was no going back. “We wanna try something with you.” Gojo kissed along your jaw, licking at the skin on your neck, ghosting his fingers over your cunt.

Gojo flipped you over to you were on top of him, kneading the plush flesh of your ass your rubbed your wet pussy up and down his shaft. A little yelped escaped from your lips when you felt a cold substance on your ass, looking back to see Geto, smirking down at you with a lube bottle in his hand. “I’ve never done anal,” you said worriedly, but god the idea of it sounded so hot. You’ve always seen it in porn and always wondered how good it felt but you knew it’d take some time before the stinging stretch would dissipate.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” His fingers massaged the lube around your rim, making sure to get it nice and wet. “We’ll take good care of you.” He rubbed the lube over his dick as well, biting down on his bottom lip as the mere thought of him and gojo fucking you at the same time. He couldn’t wait to see turn into a complete mess before them.

“Yeah,” Gojo smirked, “we got you.” His hands cupped your ass, spreading it open wider for Geto as he rubbed his swollen tip against your hole. “You can take it, right, baby?” Gojo landed a swift spank on your ass causing you to jolt.

“Y-yeah, I can take it.” You nodded at both of the men, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his fat head press against your ass. “Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping onto the sheets below you. “Fuck!” The stretch made you wince and you pulled away from Geto to get a small break.

“Take it nice and easy.” He rubbed his hand up and down your back as Gojo placed sweet kisses on your cheek. You could feel him push in again, feeling his head make it through. “Ahh, shit,” he breathed, sucking in a breath.

“Mmmph!” You bit down on your knuckles, feeling Geto add more lube to help slide in easier. Slowly you could feel every inch of his enter inside of you. The stretch hurt, but damn did it feel good. “Nngh!” You cried, feeling Gojo grip onto you tighter until Geto was fully inside of you, resting for a minute. “You’re inside. I can feel it so fucking deep!”

What you didn’t expect was Gojo to lift your hips just high enough to where he could slide his cock inside of your pussy. With wide eyes you stared down at him, mouth agape as you inhaled deeply. They were both inside of you and without even moving, without even making you cum, your head was already spinning. You felt so full of them, succumbing to the feeling of how deep inside you they were.

And once they started moving, you let out the most wanton moans, falling forward on Gojo’s broad chest as Satoru thrusted his hips upward and Geto slammed his against your ass. You couldn’t even form words to express the amount of bliss and ecstasy you were feeling coursing through your entire body. “Pussy is so fucking wet. God, you feel so good. Yeah, take it like the slut you are,” Gojo grunted, harshly grabbing your ass before spanking it a few times.

Geto was mesmerized at the way you were taking both of their cocks, watching the way they slipped in and out of both of your holes while sat there and took it, body limp and staring in a fucked out haze like you were drunk on their cocks. And you were. You drunk, high, whatever it is, you were. “You like it, baby? Hm? Speak to us, pretty girl. Let and me and Satoru hear those moans,” he huffed, gritting his teeth when he pressed deeper into you.

“I love it! I love it so fucking much!” You cried. “Feels so fucking good, so deep inside of me! Fuck, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m—” Your body began quivering as a deep guttural groan escaped your lips, the orgasm being so intense that your entire body felt like it froze up.

Gojo couldn’t withstand the way your pussy was clenching around him, milking him effortlessly with each thrust. His thrusts grew sloppier and faster as he chased his orgasm, before thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls. “Goddamn! Fuck me, baby.” He moaned, holding onto you tightly as he pushed his seed deeper inside of you, fucking you nonstop.

“Keep going! Keep going! I wanna cum again! Please!” You begged, the sloppy sounds of your squelching pussy and skin on skin bounced off the walls of the bedroom.

Geto’s hips trembled as reached the brink of his orgasm, powering through it as he came inside you, still slamming his hips deep inside until his cum was leaking out. “Fuckkkk!” Geto let out an animalistic growl.

With all three of your sweaty bodies pressed together, and the mess of all of your cum mixed together, the filthy scene and thought only made you more turned on, more desperate. “Don’t fucking stop. Oooh, I’m gonna cum again. I’m gonna cummm—ahh!” You let out a scream of pleasure as your body quivered with such intensity, your orgasm taking over completely.

“You take it so fucking well, baby.” Gojo murmured against your ear, panting heavily as he pounded his cock into you. “You want us to cum inside you again, huh? Fill up your holes?”

“Yes! Yes!” You cried, gasping for air. “Oh my god!” Your eyes crossed and rolled back before Geto pushed your head down into the mattress. You bit onto the comforter, trying to suppress your moans but it was to no avail. Geto leaned down towards his boyfriend, pressing his lips to his as they sloppily made out while simultaneously pounding you. As if on cue, both of them could feel their orgasms approaching, swallowing each others moans. Before you knew it and they knew it, they were both cumming inside of you at the same time, breathy curses and moans shared between them.

For a minute they both stayed inside of you, all three of you trying to catch your breath before Geto pulled out first, looking down as he admired the way your hole was pulsating and his thick cum spilled out. Satoru did the same, pulling you off of his cock while his cum dropped down your folds and onto his balls. Your body felt weak, but you found the strength and roll off of Gojo and onto the bed where you were still trying to catch your breath.

Both of them cuddled beside you, pressing kisses to your jaw as they meekly smiled against your skin. “You doing alright, sweetheart?” Geto asked, tracing his fingers down your abdomen.

“I just need to rest because…holy shit.” You breathlessly chuckled.

They laughed with you, sharing your exact same thought. “You did amazing,” Gojo chimed in. “I can’t r thank you enough.” He locks eyes with Geto. “We can’t thank you enough.” He pulls you for a kiss but this time is sweet and soft, not heated and sloppy like before.

Geto pulls your gaze his way, also kissing you, pressing his lips against yours longer. “I almost forgot.” He sits up and grabs his phone off the nightstand, ending the recording. “Good memory to keep.” He teases.

“Shut up!” You shyly turn away from him as he was just pounding your ass just minutes ago.

“You know I can’t resist teasing you.” His lips curl into a smile.

“Is there anything we can do make it up to you for this?” Gojo asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You were such a good girl we have to repay you.”

You thought about it for a second, staring at the ceiling. “Um,” you paused, “a nice hot, bubble bath with candles and some good food. Like that after sex food that hits the spot.” You smile, sharing looks between both of them.

“As you wish.”

[therealmylesmorales]

Don’t Take It Personal

Summary: you’re a little worried about how much time Vi is spending with her new friend

Part 2

Warnings: vi’s kind of a dumbass, ngl. Angst probably. R plays a sport for the plot (just vibe guys) loser!vi au

WC: 1.6k

Vi made a new friend.

That was a rare feat for her, seeing how out of the few people she considers a friend included you, her girlfriend, and Jinx, her sister.

She came home beaming after her usual workout at the gym. There was a new face she didn’t recognize and to Vi’s surprise, the friendly chat turned into a new friendship.

Her name was Caitlyn Kiramman. You knew her name, seeing the title “Kiramman” around a few buildings. Caitlyn was studying abroad for a few months, hence why Vi didn’t meet her until now. And yet, the new friendship was blossoming quickly. You didn’t mind, just happy that she managed to make more friends without you being present.

That was until Vi started hanging out with her more than you.

Srry, babe cant make it. At the gym wth Cait 💪🏻

11:23am

You frowned a bit at the recent text Vi sent you. You were at the library waiting for her for your weekly study date but when she was almost half an hour late you finally texted her. Only for your girlfriend to take a raincheck. Again.

Seeing how Vi wasn’t showing up, you still decided to stay for at least another hour; work still needed to be done with or without her. When you did decide to leave, you had to pass by the gym in order to go home. You figured Vi was still inside so you didn’t bother to linger until you heard a familiar voice.

”I’ll see you around, cupcake!”

Cupcake?

You turned to see Vi and Caitlyn leaving the large building. Vi immediately saw you and rushed over to you. Caitlyn gave you a polite wave before going her own way.

She was calling her ‘cupcake.’ You felt a little irritated at the—at your— nickname Vi called Caitlyn. Granted, ‘cupcake’ wasn’t one that was used very often, only when Vi was teasing or being purposely irritating to you. But still. It was your name.

Pushing the negative feelings aside you greeted Vi with a kiss. She smiled into it then pulled you into a tight hug, her arms almost crushing you.

”You stick, Vi,” you muttered into her neck.

A soft laugh escaped her. “You enjoy it. What are you doing here?”

”Going home. Then I saw you and…cupcake.”

”Don’t be like that,” Vi groaned, trying to play it off. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Never said you did.” You tried to change the subject, not wanting to make it a big deal. “Are you going to my game Friday or are you going to be too busy with Caitlyn. It’s the last one of the season, Vi.”

“Hey, have I ever missed a game before?” She asked rhetorically. ”But if it makes you feel better, I promise that I’ll be there.”

”Good.”

Vi then wrapped her arm around you, putting you in an almost headlock, and started walking in the direction of the same apartment. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

While what Vi said did ease some of you worrying, it didn’t stay for long. For the rest of the week, Vi was still with Caitlyn. Even though you attended most of the same classes, and stayed in the same home, you only saw her in passing or for only an hour at night. And every word that came out of her mouth was about the other girl.

“I really think you’ll like Cait, she reminds me of you.”

“Caitlyn squatted 210 today! She’s catching up to me.”

”I’m sorry, baby. Cait and I made plans to see that movie. You can still come!” You hate to admit it but that comment made you pissed off more than anything.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. You haven’t even properly met the girl yet it seemed like you knew everything about her.

When Friday finally came, you just hoped Vi would pay more attention to you rather than her friend. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.

Hey, pretty, the game is starting soon. Are you still coming?

6:37pm

Yoooo Viiii??

7:01pm

Violet, dude, where are you??

7:15pm

Your leg tapped nervously against the ground, scanning the crowd for the familiar pink haired girl, but you came up dry. In the crowd you could see Jayce, Viktor and Mel who all gave you encouraging smiles. Even Jinx showed up, sitting next to Ekko. She gave you a small shrug at your questioning glance before turning back to your phone, possibly texting her sister.

The coach got your attention, urging you to join your teammates on the court. And with a heavy, disappointed sigh, you got up from the bench. You couldn’t focus on Vi anymore, but you still hoped that she would show up sometime during the game. She did promise after all.

But throughout the game, that familiar full head of pink hair was nowhere to be seen. There was an empty spot next to Jinx that was never filled. Trying to ignore the wide open space was almost impossible, but the game was won without Vi cheering for you. Sure, the ball did slip from your hands more times than you’d like to admit, but your team won.

Your friends that did decide to show up wanted to take you out for the rest of the night, a congratulatory dinner, but you weren’t feeling it. And while Jinx doesn’t like saying the word no, she surprisingly let you go home after you refused. You really just wanted to see if or when Vi would be home.

It was nearing nine at night and Vi still hadn’t called you and your recent text went unanswered. The TV was playing a show, mostly used as background noise as your thoughts took over you.

Almost thirty minutes later, you could hear some noise coming from the hallway.

The door to the apartment opened and you could hear Vi humming a song to herself when she locked up for the night. From your spot on the couch, you saw nothing wrong with her so you were glad to know she was safe. But now she had to dig herself out of the hole she dug.

Vi actually seemed surprised to see you but the smile she gave you was instant. “Oh, hey, babe. Why are you still up?”

”Waiting for you,” you shot back, moving to get closer to her. “It’s been hours Vi, we all have been calling and texting you—“

Vi showed you her phone, a black screen staring back at you. “It died a while ago. What’s with the third degree?”

”Do you remember what day it is?”

”Um…the tenth?”

”Um, maybe it’s the day of my game that you’d promise to come to,” you mocked. Yeah, you were being petty but you thought she deserved it.

Vi muttered a small curse to herself and she looked genuinely apologetic. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear, I was going to come but then my phone died, and-and I was with Caitlyn and—“

A heavy sigh escaped you at the name. “Caitlyn, right yeah. That makes sense.”

A look came on Vi’s face, one you knew too well when she was about to become argumentative. “What are you talking about?”

”You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Vi,” you pointed out. “I’ve noticed it— we all have. You’re always with her.”

”We’re friends!”

”You’re friends with Jayce but when’s the last time you’ve hung out with him since meeting Caitlyn? Is she too rich for chargers so you couldn’t check your phone for five minutes?”

Vi scoffed at you. “What, you want me to stop hanging out with Caitlyn just because you’re jealous?”

”I have nothing to be jealous of, Violet!” You yelled. “Cait’s a friend, I get that. But you have been blowing me off time and time again for her. And the one time I actually needed you, you were with her instead. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

A short pause came from Violet. And what she said next, set your skin aflame.

”I just think you’re overreacting. It’s a fucking game, I’ll just watch the next one.”

“Okay, you know what,” you paused, running your hands over your face; it didn’t do much to calm your heated nerves. “I’m not doing this with you, right now, Vi.”

Vi’s tense posture immediately changed at the tone of your voice; it was shaky, as if you were holding back tears. You almost never cried, at least in front of her, so the new sight was worrisome. She heard you breath in harshly before continuing.

“I’m way too upset at you right now to even finish this conversation,” you said quietly to her. “I’m tired…and honestly just want some space from you.”

Vi swore her heart stopped at those words. Space? “You…Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Space was the main thing Vi hated. It meant you leaving her.

”I am, actually.” Your back was turned from her at that point so you couldn’t see her face fall in disbelief at the sight of you getting ready to leave the apartment.

She knew you made up your mind and were done hearing her but Vi still had to try. “Babe, don’t go. You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry, alright?”

”Glad you came to your senses,” you muttered, albeit bitterly.

Vi was desperate at this point. “You don’t have to leave! I can sleep out here!”

”When I said ‘space’, Vi, I meant completely,” you said. Your voice was starting to get tense, a tell that you were getting annoyed. “My parents live a few minutes away, remember? I'll be fine.”

”Y/N please, just—“

“Vi! I’ll…talk to you eventually,” was the last thing you said before the door closed behind you.

[gurugirl]

Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

“Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

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Audience Participation

Kinktober Day 8: Hypnotism

Three Yandere Vampire Men x Feminized Male Reader CW: Noncon, vampires, vampirism, biting, blood drinking, praise kink, mind control, hypnotism, feminization, polycule, public sex, exhibitionism, public masturbation, praise, oral sex, anal sex, death of a side character, kidnapping, general yandere behavior Word Count: 3.2k

(The EXTREMELY long awaited rewrite of audience participation is here. Not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. REALLY hope this gets a good reception! Don't forget to comment <3)

You were but the humble servant of the wealthiest merchant in your city, Rorik. And he did not accrue such wealth by being kind or generous to the lowly peasants that cleaned his shops or grew the produce that he sold. No, he got his fortune by exploiting the labor of the poor. With rampant poverty in the city it was very easy to do. You were exceedingly replaceable and you had nowhere else to go. When you weren't sweeping floors, stocking shelves, or tending to the fresh produce grown out back you were in the overstuffed shack where the other male employees were stuffed. Of course it wasn't free, Rorik charged each of you a large portion of your income for this "kindness". But there was nowhere else you could afford.

Poor living conditions and low pay were certainly not the end of the abuses you had to endure at the hands of your employer either. It was not at all uncommon for Rorik to fly off the handle and get physically violent towards whichever servant was nearest.

And if all that wasn't bad enough you only got one day off every other week.

Still... it was better than being homeless and mercilessly beaten by the town guards and not having even the smallest crumb of food...

It was one of your rare days off and there just so happened to be a traveling actor's troupe in the city for the week. You had heard their performance was pretty interesting, and best of all they were doing a free performance for nothing but tips today and tomorrow. It would be set up in the town square and anyone would be able to attend. You walked into the square and stood at the edge of the crowd that had already assembled. There was a raised platform so you would be able to see okay, though hearing every detail might be an issue, but that was your fault for sleeping in a bit.

Not long after you had arrived the actors stepped onto their stage and introduced themselves. There were three of them, all men. A large muscular man named Viktor who appeared to be in his forties. He seemed gruff and grizzled, not the type you would typically expect in the theatrical arts. In stark contrast to him there was a somewhat flamboyant skinny man named Oliver who seemed to be in his mid 20s with long red hair. And the third man had an average build and medium length black hair and seemed more cold compared to the other two and looked to be around the same age as Oliver, his name was Sebastian.

The first thing they performed were some small skits that the rest of the audience really enjoyed, they didn't get such a strong reaction out of you but you still liked them. After that as a warm up they did a short play, completely with cool fire effects. It was pretty impressive how only three people managed to play such a large array of characters. And even though they had appeared gruff and cold respectively Viktor and Sebastian were very convincing in each role they played. And the costumes were simply perfect.

It was hard not to imagine being in their shoes. Traveling from city to city, trying new foods, meeting new people, getting to pretend to be someone else, always having enough money. After a few moments of fantasizing, you shook yourself out of your silly pondering and focused on enjoying the performance.

Unbeknownst to you, while you were watching the play, one of the actors was watching you. Oliver. Something about you seemed familiar, as if he had known you all his life. You captivated him, perhaps it was the rags you wore in place of shoes or your tattered clothing that reminded him of his own humble beginnings. He could tell you were daydreaming about what your life would be like if you were like them. It was plain on your face. But you really didn't know how life would be with them. The thirst for blood, skulking the shadows for a quick feed, never being able to set down roots for fear of suspicion.

They were vampires.

And if what happened next had never happened you wouldn't have had to find that out.

As you were thoroughly enjoying the performance, and Oliver was equally enjoying your eyes on him, you were suddenly smacked hard in the head. It was Rorik. And he was even less happy than usual. You cupped your head and grunted in pain.

"Why the fuck are you slacking off here!? You cannot just take your day off when one of the other peasants is sick! Take off next month, if I even fucking let you after this!!"

The shouting had caused a scene and all eyes were on you as Rorik roughly grabbed you by the arm and dragged you away. Tears streamed down your face from a combination of pain, humiliation, and frustration. You couldn't even have one day, just one, to forget your troubles.

Seeing the abuse you suffered cemented Oliver's decision. The troupe would have soon moved on for another location, but because of his previous infatuation with you now combined with seeing you abused as he once was guaranteed that he had to do something. He was sure he could convince Seb and Viktor to go along with what needed to be done. If he couldn't he would just have to push onward and do it himself.

Rorik took you to the general store, the largest of his several establishments, and shoved you in the door before leaving in a huff. You donned the uniform that you kept in the back and began another relentless shift. When it finally ended you hobbled your way to the shared shack, sobbing silently on your way. All the while being watched by three sets of eyes in the darkness. When you got to what passed for your home you washed up and went to the lump of straw you used as a bed to let the sweet void of sleep take you.

Oliver wanted to be the one to fetch you, but he also had other... "preparations" to make. He wanted to get you a little gift that he was just sure you would love. So instead it was Sebastian who was sent to get you. His ability to put people under a trance was as good as Oliver's. But it had just never been Viktor's forte. After leaving your shitty shack you began to shamble off to your job but a handsome man with cold eyes bumped into you.

"Oh hey, sorry about that."

You were going to respond but upon meeting his gaze you found yourself unable to speak. Instead you just let him take your hand and lead you towards the town square and into the outfitted wagon they used as a mobile home. It contained many props and costumes and a long cushioned bench on each side to be used as beds while traveling. Sebastian sat you down and immediately began stripping you and applying makeup before Viktor swapped in and started dressing you up in a beautiful dress. Sebastian spoke.

"We are sorry about your situation."

He brushed your cheek gently before applying a bit of blush.

"We watched you a bit and we agreed. You're going to join us. We were a bit reluctant but... Ollie convinced us..."

You could hear and understand the words but were powerless to protest under his trance. You didn't even want to. The hypnotic spell you were under muted negative emotions, so you just smiled and nodded at the nice man.

"Oliver is going to literally squeal with how pretty you look."

You smiled dumbly at that, you weren't sure why. You were a man and men did not typically wear dresses but it was nice to be thought of as pretty.

Viktor chimed in.

"Heh, yeah, he always had a thing for princesses."

"She just needs her crown."

Sebastian placed a beautiful ruby and silver tiara on you. You were still confused why they were treating you like a lady, but not enough confusion to break the spell, you just accepted it instead. Viktor explained your role.

"Hey girlypop, you're going to be in our play and your part is the princess. Don't worry, you don't have any lines to memorize."

"Yeah, just be good and act scared of the vampire and then happy when the knights come to rescue you. You can do that for us, right?"

You just smiled and nodded slightly.

"I will be playing the vampire, Ollie and Seb will be the knights."

Now that you were adorned in your princess costume Viktor and Sebastian began getting dressed in theirs.

"Oh, Vik! You remembered to tell the guards today's show was adult only right?"

Under the trance your mind vaguely wondered what was so adult about the show, but you easily pushed the thought away.

"Of course."

When Oliver came back to the others, with a box that contained the gift he had gone to get for you, he was already in his outfit. Shining plate mail that really looked authentic.

"Oh wow! She looks just so perfect, I want to take her here!"

Viktor stopped him from practically pouncing on you.

"Not yet, it'll ruin the make up! Besides, the show is about to start..."

//////////////////////

For the most part the show was a normal affair. Though quite a bit longer than the shorter plays from the day before. It started with you playing the part of a quiet melancholic princess who's somber beauty attracted the eye of a vampire lord that wanted to add you to his manor. Everything went normally until the vampire had absconded with you.

The scene after that entailed the vampire fucking the princess. And he did just that, right in front of the audience. He hitched up your dress, slathered your hole in lube and took some time to stretch you out with a couple of fingers, and then slid his cock right up into you for everyone in the crowd to see. As you were instructed you acted scared of the vampire, some of your real confusion and fear bubbling up to the surface. The audience loved your "performance", they could almost believe that you were really being held against your will and ravaged by the big bad vampire. Many of them openly masturbated at the lewd display before them, jerking their cocks or slipping fingers into their cunts as you cried and struggled and pleaded for help, not knowing or caring that you weren't a willing participant.

Though you were frightened and disoriented you weren't completely under your own will and Viktor's cock also fit into you perfectly and you couldn't help but to begin whimpering in pleasure and arching your back in need, pressing your ass back against him with each of his thrusts into you. It didn't take very much of this for your cock to twitch as you came, and it didn't take him very long after to fill you with his seed. You were in a complete daze now, barely aware of what was going on.

After showing your leaking hole to the audience your knights in shining armor showed up to rescue you from the foul blood-sucker. Sebastian "slayed" him by "stabbing" him with his mighty "sword". He fucked Viktor's face hard, to much cheering by the audience.

Now the two valiant knights carried you away from his lair. Oliver was the first to speak to you.

"Fair princess, we have rescued you! Wouldn't you like to show us a token of your appreciation?"

He looked into your eyes and pulled you further into the hypnosis. You really believed you were a princess that had been saved by a violent monster. He kissed you passionately and you returned the gesture. He removed the bottom half of his costume and guided your head to his throbbing cock, the slight musk hitting your nose before you engulfed his entire length in your warm and eager mouth.

As you were bent over sucking Oliver, Sebastian lifted up your dress and slowly pressed his cock into you, using Viktor's left over load as lube. He said some cheesy line about the princess' royal hole being very tight. You weren't really paying much attention, you were more focused on the distracting sensation of Sebastian fucking into you as Oliver gently thrust in and out of your perfect wet mouth as you continued to suck his cock. Oliver felt as though he must be in heaven, he didn't last too terribly long. How could he possibly last while you looked up at him with your lips around his dick while he felt every little murmur and twitch of pleasure being caused by Sebastian?

Sebastian lasted longer since he had already fucked Viktor's face, you came before he did while Oliver praised you for taking it so well and peppered you with kisses. Your cock throbbed and dribbled semen as he did so. When Sebastian finally finished inside of you the "knights" cleaned you up and the play wrapped up with the implication that you'd be taken back to the castle and all was well. The audience clapped, those who weren't still one handed due to masturbating. 

The vampires took you back to their spacious wagon, they had you seated comfortably before Sebastian ended the spell he had you under.

"Wh-what the hell!? Why did I do all that stuff? Why am I here? How'd you make me do all that?"

You were understandably confused and disoriented. You had a somewhat fuzzy memory of everything they had you do. All the sex in the play. Having you here alone. Just what were they and what were they after? The door to the wagon was being blocked by the muscular one, Viktor. So you couldn't just run off. Oliver was excited to talk to you.

"We saved you! You were a damsel in distress so we heroically rescued you from that vile man! Now you can be treated like a proper princess~"

The weirdo kept talking as if you were a woman. It may have made you blush if you hadn't been so traumatized by what they did to you on stage. The whole town would know within hours. It was the most humiliating violation that you had ever endured.

"Y-you drugged me somehow! Or used witchcraft! You're disgusting rapists, just let me go!"

Oliver looked dejected. It looked like Sebastian was about to yell at you but Oliver started talking again. He held out a large box that was all wrapped up for you. He stuttered and stammered, in denial about the words you had for him.

"Y-you're just shy... maybe I should have taken things slower for such a reserved l-lady. I'm sorry. B-but you'll love us, okay? I promise! We will take good care of you, I even got you a gift to commemorate our new relationship..."

You took it and began unwrapping it, not really seeing any other option.

"I'm not a girl! Stop calling me th-"

You were shocked into silence when you saw what was in the box. The bloody decapitated head of Rorik... You reeled back in shock and rolled to the floor. Oliver looked at you like a proud pet cat that was presenting you with its kill. Viktor looked away at the scene and Sebastian had his face in his palm.

"You like it right? I punished him and made him hurt a bunch for you~ Y-you like me now right?"

Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ollie, I told you, most people don't like dead things as gifts... they like flowers and shit like that..."

Oliver sniffled and looked as if he might cry after considering Sebastian's words and seeing the terror on your face.

"Please just let me go, I promise not to tell anyone..." You barely managed to squeak the words out.

Oliver began crying at your insistence to be released while the other two ignored you and tried to cheer up their partner. Oliver grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while you struggled. His grip was like iron. He kept muttering something about being sorry and how he'd get you flowers and make you the happiest lady ever while nuzzling you. You were only getting ever more panicked so Sebastian calmed you down with another dose of hypnotism. It was strong enough to make you enjoy Oliver's touches and reciprocate by leaning into his chest.

"We... may have have messed up by having sex with her so soon... not everyone enjoys being on stage I guess... should have gone slower. Let's just keep them enthralled while she gets to know us! See Ollie? She already stopped struggling."

"Yeah Oliver, just give your little doll time to adjust. Moving in with her new boyfriends is a big step in a relationship. Once you turn her she'll probably be so grateful that she'll be obsessed with us!"

Oliver was convinced. He would just be patient. You could be turned by morning.

"Yeah, you'll love being a vampire! It isn't so fun not being able to stay in one place for very long, and of course blood takes some getting used to... but it's so much better than what you were dealing with and you have us with you too! You'll see we are your heroes and then we'll make love allllll day, it'll be amazing."

Vampires? That should have set alarm bells off in your head, but it didn't. Probably because you were "enthralled" as Sebastian mentioned. Vampires were considered very rare, is that really what they were...? As if on cue, Oliver sank his fangs into your neck. You flinched but then moaned softly. All Oliver had to do was drain you nearly to death then feed you some of his own blood. If he sired you it would give the two of you a special bond and you'd be much more likely to love him.

You clung to him as you faded into unconsciousness, he laid you down carefully and bit his wrist, he allowed a few drops of blood to drip into your mouth. To say he was excited would have been an understatement. He finally had a pretty girlfriend he could dress up like a living doll and bounce on his cock. And he sired you, so not only would you share a soul bond, but you would also still be susceptible to his hypnotism, should he ever need it.

If you ever resisted him he would just subtly change your outlook on things and overtime you would genuinely fall for all three of them. Oliver and Sebastian watched you rest as the vampirism took hold while Viktor went to the front of the wagon to begin the journey to the next town, you would never see your hometown again.

[clara-a7]

Pool Party | Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Pairing: Nicholas Alexander Chavez x Reader

Requested? No~ (requests are open!)

Word Count: 1,4K

Warning: smut! 18+ *sexual content + unprotected sex!*

Disclaimer : Everything written here is FICTITIOUS. This story is written in second-person point of view and the reader is a female

A/N: im pretty sick so I hope it makes sense. !english isn't my first language!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was still high in the sky, casting a warm glow over Cooper’s pool party. Laughter and music filled the air, but you barely heard any of it. Your eyes were locked on Nicholas, standing by the pool’s edge, his broad, muscular body gleaming in the fading light. His torso, still wet from an earlier swim, made your breath hitch, a body that seemed chiseled to perfection, glistening under the soft pool lights.

Nicholas was famous, and everyone at the party knew it. He was the guy who had girls swooning over him without even trying. But tonight, his gaze kept drifting toward you, as though he couldn’t help himself. Each time your eyes met, something dark and inviting flashed in his expression, sending a rush of heat through your body.

Your heart raced, already imagining what it would be like to feel those strong hands on your skin. You had met him through Cooper, your best friend, but things had been building between you and Nicholas for a while now, by lingering looks, fleeting touches, and shared moments filled with tension that always left you wanting more.

"Watch your drooling," Cooper’s voice snapped you out of your daze. You blinked and turned to find him grinning at you, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I wasn’t!" you started, but Cooper’s knowing smirk stopped you. He sipped his drink, clearly enjoying your reaction.

"Sure you weren’t," he teased, nudging you playfully. "I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. He’s into you, and trust me, he’s been holding back."

You swallowed hard, your eyes drifting back to Nicholas. He had caught you staring again, and this time, there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes. It sent a wave of heat through you, a pulse of need settling deep in your core.

"You think I should go for it?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but the nerves and anticipation were unmistakable.

Cooper grinned. "You know what I think. Stop overthinking and just go after what you want."

Before you could second-guess yourself, Cooper gave you a nudge in Nicholas’s direction. With your heart pounding in your chest, you took a deep breath and began walking toward him, feeling the heat of his gaze on you the entire way.

As you approached, Nicholas pushed away from the lounger, his eyes dark and focused entirely on you. The small crowd around him faded into the background as you got closer, the air thick with tension.

"Hey," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way Nicholas’s lips curled into that slow, confident smile made it difficult to keep your composure.

"Hey," he replied, his voice deep, the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand reached out, gently brushing your arm as he pulled you closer. "I’ve been waiting for you."

The warmth of his body was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming as he drew nearer, his hand sliding along your waist. Your breath caught as his lips reached your ear, his voice low and teasing.

"I hope you enjoyed the view," he murmured, his voice husky with need, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as he pressed closer making your heart race faster. Every inch of you was aware of him, his presence, his touch, his scent.

"I did," you whispered back, barely able to keep your voice steady.

Nicholas retreated just enough to look at you, his eyes burning intensely, his hand still possessively resting on your waist. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d do if I could get you alone,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

"Me too," you say it.

His eyes burning intensely, his hand still possessively resting on your waist. "I’m tired of waiting," he said, sending another shiver down your spine.

Before you could answer, Nicholas took your hand firmly, guiding you away from the busy crowd. His touch was urgent but controlled as he led you to the back of the villa, weaving between the revelers who laughed, unaware of the tension building between you two.

Your heart raced as he pulled you into a secluded hallway and then opened a door to one of the bathrooms. As the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted, the silence amplifying the heat between you. The outside world melted away, leaving only the two of you in the dimly lit space.

Nicholas didn’t waste time. He pressed you against the cool tiled wall, his body hovering close as his lips crashed against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands roamed over your sides, exploring your curves with an urgency that sent waves of heat pooling in your belly.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. His hands slipped beneath your bikini bottoms, fingertips grazing your bare skin, sending a shockwave of heat through you.

Nicholas’s touch was electric, his fingers tracing teasing lines down your thighs before pulling your bikini down in one swift motion. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated skin, but that feeling was quickly replaced by the warmth of his body pressing into yours. His lips were relentless, devouring yours with a need that matched the fire building inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body instinctively responding to the intense chemistry between you, your heart racing as you felt the hard length of him pressed against you through his swim trunks.

"I need you," he growled, placing you on the bathroom vanity.

His hands roamed your body, rough and possessive, as he quickly freed himself from his trunks, tossing them aside.

Before you could catch your breath, Nicholas lined himself up and thrust into you, filling you completely in one powerful motion. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Nicholas didn’t hold back, his hips rocking into yours with an unrelenting rhythm. Each thrust was hard and deep, the intensity of it making your whole body tremble as pleasure flooded your senses. The world outside ceased to exist—all you could feel was him, the heat between your bodies, and the desperate need growing with every movement.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he drove into you. His words made your body tighten around him, pulling him deeper as you moaned his name, lost in the sheer pleasure of being with him like this.

"Nicholas... I’m so close," you managed to gasp, your body trembling as he drove you higher and higher, pushing you to the brink.

Hearing you, Nicholas growled, his pace quickening as he pounded into you with renewed intensity.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice thick with command and lust.

His words sent you spiraling over the edge, your body clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through you, your head falling back as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, gripping onto him as your whole body shuddered with the intensity of your release.

Nicholas wasn’t far behind. With one last deep thrust, his own release hit, his body tensing as he groaned your name, spilling into you as he rode out the final waves of his climax. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high, your breathing still heavy, your bodies pressed together.

For a moment, the world was still. Just the two of you, tangled together in the small space, hearts racing, skin damp with sweat. Nicholas’s forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged but soft as he held you gently, the urgency of the moment fading into something softer, more intimate.

"That was..." you began, still breathless, but Nicholas silenced you with a slow, lingering kiss, his hands sliding up to cup your face.

"More than worth the wait," he finished, his voice soft now, full of satisfaction. He kissed you again, tender this time, his lips gentle against yours, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

In the quiet aftermath, you smiled back, the intensity between you lingering in the air, knowing that this moment had changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

!Pictures is not mine. Found on Tumblr and Pinterest. Full credit to the owner!

[cosmosis]

based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you. 

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat. 

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.  

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy. 

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you. 

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do. 

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront. 

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say. 

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

 Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you. 

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person. 

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.” 

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission. 

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest. 

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears. 

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there. 

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it. 

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing. 

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you. 

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“ 

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates. 

You raise your eyebrow. 

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory. 

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.  

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article. 

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[eveninggstar]

victory lap ⊹ ࣪ ˖

lando norris x rival!Mercedes!reader

26.08.24

୨ৎLando proposes a bet that if he gets pole and wins from pole in Zandvoort then he gets to not use a condom next time you and him have sex.

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

smut

unprotected p in v sex, kinda bratty reader, lando smacks readers ass twice, sex on the floor, lando is controlling but in a good way, probs more

ngl this is prob the best smut ive ever written so far lol kinda like this one bc i love lando two wins!!! Also this is pretty long i dont know how many words

The tension between you and Lando had been building up for years. The two of you were rivals on the track, always pushing each other to the limit, but beneath that fierce competition lay something neither of you could ignore—an undeniable sexual tension that everyone seemed to notice. The paddock was rife with rumours, and even your respective teams had exchanged knowing glances whenever the two of you were around each other.

It all came to a head one balmy summer evening at Zandvoort. The Dutch Grand Prix was notorious for its challenging circuit and passionate fans, and both of you were ready to put on a show.

You were lounging in your driver room, going over your strategy for the weekend when Lando sauntered in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his McLaren race suit unzipped just enough to give a glimpse of his undershirt. He was clearly up to something.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with that signature mix of charm and mischief. “How confident are you feeling about this weekend?”

You looked up from your notes, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Confident enough to wipe that smug look off your face, Norris. Why do you ask?”

Lando chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Well, I was thinking... How about we make things a little more interesting this weekend?”

Your curiosity was piqued. “Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He leaned in close, his arms draped around your shoulder and his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make a bet. If I get pole position and win from pole, then the next time we have sex i don't wear a condom." He stayed silent for a few seconds, then leaning his face closer to your ear so his nose flattened, "Let me finish inside of you, baby."

A shiver ran down your spine at his bold proposition. You knew Lando liked to push boundaries, but this was a whole new level. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from him.

“And what do I get if you don’t?” you asked, your voice steady despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“If I don’t win from pole, you get to call the shots next time,” Lando replied, his eyes darkening with the unspoken promises laced in his words.

You leaned back in your chair, pretending to consider it, even though you already knew your answer. “Alright, Norris. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Saturday came around, and the atmosphere at Zandvoort was electric. The roar of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the thrill of competition all combined to create an intoxicating environment. Qualifying was intense, with both you and Lando pushing your cars to the absolute limit.

“Lando Norris takes pole position!” the announcer’s voice boomed across the circuit.

You clenched your fists, a mix of frustration and anticipation bubbling within you. Lando had done it—step one of the bet was complete. But there was still the race to come, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the sun shining down on the packed grandstands. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you strapped into your Mercedes, your focus narrowing down to the task at hand. The lights went out, and the race began with a flurry of motion.

Lando held his position at the front, but you were right on his tail, refusing to give him an inch. Lap after lap, you pressed him, looking for any opportunity to overtake, but he defended fiercely, his car perfectly placed at every turn. The tension between you both was palpable, each of you pushing the other to the brink.

As the race neared its conclusion, you realized that Lando was going to pull it off. He had driven impeccably, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find a way past him. At this point you were nowhere near him. He had a 20 second lead and had lapped over half the grid.

Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Lando had won the bet. As you pulled into the pit lane, you saw him celebrating with his team, his face lit up with triumph. But when he caught your eye, his smile turned into something more—something darker, filled with desire.

Later that evening, after all the interviews and celebrations, you found yourself in Lando’s motorhome. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed winning a race this much.”

You swallowed hard, your body already responding to the heat in his gaze. “You got lucky, Norris.”

He smirked, stepping closer until you were backed up against the wall. “I think we both know it wasn’t just luck, Y/N. Now, are you ready to pay up?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his body against yours, his hands sliding up your sides. You could feel his heart pounding in time with your own, the intensity between you both reaching a fever pitch.

“You won fair and square,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was fierce, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for so long. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Lando didn't waste anytime before he urged you backwards towards the sofa. Your mouths slotted together and his hands groped and explored your body, going from your chest to your thighs. His hands manoeuvred the remains of your race suit to the floor, only leaving you in your fireproofs. With the reduced barrier, he could easily press against you causing you to let out many gasps and a few tugs to his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Lan, hurry up.”

He paused, eyes scattering over your features. His face was no longer the happy winner everyone outside saw. He was now drunk with a lust filled haze. He lifted himself up off of you slightly, bringing a hand to your face and caressing it with the utmost care. His breath felt warm against your face, causing your eyes to flutter shut. The calmness you were experiencing was cut short by the strong grip Lando had on your face, squeezing your cheeks and puckering your lips.

"You're the one needing to be faster." He practically growled, looking deep into your eyes. "Remind me who came first." He paused, awaiting your answer. "Who won the bet?" His voice sent shivers down your spine.

"You," you mumbled, then began to smile as his hand drifted to your neck. He returned the smile and slowly moved his face to the underside on your jaw. He kissed it sweetly, then tightened his grip.

"Louder, baby." He commanded, his words dark but mixed with the feather light kisses sent your head into another dimension.

"You!" You spoke up, earning a nip to your neck. He then came back to your face to then deepen the kiss you had earlier.

He moved your lower body so he could fit more comfortably between your legs. Your hands desperately gripped at his damp hair, needing to hold anything to ground yourself.

You felt the hand around your neck slowly trail down the length of your body before settling at your groin. Your legs attempted to close shut, although his waist was preventing you from doing that. He began to work at your clothed clit, his thumb easily circling over the smooth fabric.

"Uh-" your voice cut off as he pressed on the dampening fabric harder.

"There you go, you're speeding up. Getting wet so quickly," He spoke condescendingly as he nuzzled his nose in your cheek. "Why cant you be like this on track?" He began to mouth at your neck, causing you to let out a breathy moan. As much as you hated Lando's cockiness, god was it hot.

“Shush.” You moaned, an audible show of your composure.

You could barely speak, Lando's thumb never faltering on your soaking clit. His body was overwhelming you, and you started to squirm. However, that same thumb stopped giving pleasure. Before you could protest, he was hastily ripping your fireproofs off. This left you bare and flushed below him. Your chest heaving up and down as his eyes scanned over our body.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, surely leaving a mark this time, as you expelled a breath of pleasure as his fingers worked their way into your slit.

Your words were lost on you, wanting to ask when he was going to get to the real reason of your bet. But in all honestly, you didn't care if he would carry on pleasuring you. However, you did want his fingers to enter you, to leave you wanting more of a stretch for days after.

His fingers left your aching cunt, leaving it to pulsate rhythmically. You reached out to hold his hand, an iron bruising grip you're sure of it. His race suit clad crotch bumped against your bare one, giving a shock of unexpected pleasure.

"Lan!" you practically yelled, your squeal bouncing off of the surrounding walls.

He shushed you, then ordered you to not touch yourself. He slowly slinked up off of the sofa, eyes solely focused of your slightly twitching body. The rest of his race suit joined yours on the floor, in addition to his fireproofs.

His cock sprung free, the tip beat red and dripping at the sight of you. Lando stood proud for what felt like forever. His left thumb was stroking his lip as he shook his head in the opposite direction. That's when he uttered-

"Get on the floor."

You submissive sex haze briefly broke, thinking you heard him wrong.

"The floor?" You pushed your body up, looking at him like he just asked you to get on the floor like an animal. Oh wait-

"I won the bet, baby." He smirked, eyes still raking over your nude body. "Floor, there's not enough space on the sofa for us."

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, you melted your way off of the sofa. You knew the position he wanted you in, he rarely fucked you when not in it. You laid on the floor for a few seconds, collecting yourself. Lando saw you laying there, not having you be a pillow princess he ordered you to-

"Flip around, ass up. I know!" You rolled your eyes, then did it. What you didn't expect was a harsh smack to your ass. You let out a mixture of a moan and a sound on pain.

"Enough of the bratty attitude," He smacked your ass lighter this time then gripping the plump, reddening flesh.

Finally, you thought, the head of his cock began to notch at your entrance. His fingers had intertwined with the nodded strands of your hair and he pulled up as his dick pushed into your cunt in a swift motion.

You both let out a groan of pleasure. Lando held himself there, letting you and himself adjust to the jaw dropping pleasure. This was the first time the pair of you were having sex without a condom, and god did it already feel a million times better. The pair of you had to focus to not cum straight away.

No words were needed between the four walls of you sex filled haven, as Lando thrusted into you. His palms splayed on your hips controlled your movements as his relentlessly bullied his cock further and further into you. You hands struggled to hold onto something, eventually finding solace in Lando's fireproofs.

His name was chanted like a prayer from you, in return you got delicious sounding moans and groans from behind you. You were sure his face didn't look all that different to yours in the moment. Pleasure filled, and only focused on the other.

His repetitive ruts and the bruising grip on your hips rendered you speechless. You wanted to say keep going, feels so good. But that was the problem, since the pleasure was that unbelievable you couldn't say. The loud sounds of sex echoed as your skin slapped in a fast tempo, each smack more pleasureful than the last.

Lando leaned closer to you, chest flat of you back. At every thrust you could feel the tense of his abs and the perspiration drip onto your equally sweaty skin. He began to mouth at your neck, settling for small thrusts whilst he was buried at the hilt. One on his hands slithered away from your hips and found solace on your breast.

His hot breath spread across your neck and down your spine as you shivered. His moans had turned to grunts and pants.

"Like it when you can feel me this good?" He grinned into your hair, leaving small kisses in his wake. "Like it when your this full?"

You wanted to nod, only giving a weak, stuttered head movement. The remaining hand on your hip drifted to your swollen clit. He helped ease you to completion.

"Aren't you glad I got pole." He teased you. "That I won. You wouldn't feel this good if I didn't."

You whimpered at his words, too turned on to be annoyed that he won and you didn't. But yeah, you were happy he won. He doesn't have to know that though.

You wanted to tease him, give him payback to what you were feeling, what you always felt with him, however none of that would be happening. He knew you like he knew the tracks the pair of you frequented, and knew that you were actual putty in his hands this very moment.

He picked up his pace, resulting you to let out loud moans and sexual noises of the like. The speed of his thrusts felt as if his dick was going to come out, luckily it didn't and you got the full pleasure.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, you can cum for me. I know you can-"

His hand came up as fast as his reflexes allowed, as you came. He slowly reduced the pleasure he was giving to your clit and eventually reached his own high. Your neck vibrated at the animalistic groan he let out into it.

Needless to say, the pair of you would be having more bets like this.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[tasteleeknow]

handled.

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. hands on necks (not exactly choking but choking adjacent). dirty talk. slightly rough piv. soft!dom minho.

It's not what you expect, the first time someone reaches out to wrap their fingers around your throat. It's during a lesson in self-defence, part of a compulsory skill. You flinch away as their fingertips graze your skin, scrunching your shoulders at the unnatural feeling. It's not a neutral act, a simple experience of skin on skin.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting.

It takes many attempts for you to build a tolerance to it, the anxious feeling never settling completely despite your ability to hold still.

It was hard to imagine how the act could ever elicit anything other than that deep, instinctual urge to squirm away.

Until him.

His fingers flex as he tugs the black glove down his wrist a little further. It's a vital part of his costume as far as your concerned, a last minute addition ties up his all-black theme perfectly.

"Are you having fun?" you question, back pressed against a wall in a dark corner of the room.

The New Year was around the corner, the costume party in full swing around you. It'd taken a doe eyed look and a soft kiss to his neck to convince your boyfriend to join you.

He offers you a small lopsided smile, the delicate lip ring balanced prettily on his lower lip. "Mm," he hums with a small nod.

You tug him a little closer, "You sure? I know it's a little more crowded than I—"

"I'm fine," he says, the bare fingers of his glove free hand stroking gently over your wrist. "I'm all good."

If you were being totally honest with yourself, a (not so small) part of you hope he'd ask to leave. Getting him dressed up like this was the best part of the entire night, you'd decided. Now, you'd very much rather be at home taking the costume off him than stand around in a crowd of drunk partygoers.

The lip ring presses into his plush lip a little as he nibbles at it for a moment. You could leave the accessories on him. The ring, the silver necklace hanging around his collar—just long enough to tickle your chin if he was above you... and then there was the glove. Your eyes drop involuntarily to the hand in question.

"What about you?" Minho asks, tugging your eyes back to his.

"Hm?"

"Having fun?"

You blink.

He smiles, keenly aware of your propensity to drift elsewhere. "What you thinking about?" he asks. You would have answered him. You were too far into your relationship to be timid about such things. But then... then he reaches up with that hand... the dark, smooth fabric cool against your skin as he tilts your chin up a little. "Talk to me," he encourages gently.

Oh, he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you like my costume?"

His eyes drop down your body quickly. "Mm," he hums. "Very pretty."

"I like yours too."

He fails to suppress an amused, knowing smile. "Yeah?" His hand drifts from your chin along your jaw, coming to rest just below your ear. It allows his gloved thumb to play with your lobe a little as he steps into you a little more. "What do you like about it?"

"Fishing for compliments?"

"You seem desperate to offer them."

You frown, "No."

"No?" he questions, stepping even closer. He's pressed against you now, warm and dark—a barrier between you and the rest of the room. "My sweet girl wouldn't lie to me." He leans over you, lips brushing your jawline. "Would she?" he adds with a whisper. His breath tickles, hot against your sensitive neck.

You realise your error then. It was too late. The time had passed for you to drag him home and tear the dark clothes from him in the privacy of your shared apartment.

It was happening here.

Your eyes flick quickly across the room before you're grabbing his wrist and tugging him along with you, dodging drunk friends and acquaintances as you beeline for the hallway door.

Minho chuckles behind you, letting you tug him along without resistance.

You'd let you of tomorrow contemplate the decisions you make next. When you find each room taken, occupied by a couple or a group of intoxicated friends, you tug open the laundry door and slam it behind you both. There's a small lock on the door handle. You twist it.

"You like it that much, then?" Minho says from behind you.

He's leaning against the washing machine when you turn, arms crossed—sleeves rolled to his elbows.

You take in a few shallow breaths before he's stepping towards you and lifting you off your feet. It shouldn't be as easy as it is for him to lift you on top of the dryer. He settles between your legs, hands gliding up and down your thighs a few times.

His dark hair has loosened a little over the evening, the hairspray you'd used to keep it in place off his forehead giving into the humidity and copious tousles by distracted fingers. There's a lock hanging just over one of his eyes.

You reach up to brush it aside delicately.

"I lied," Minho whispers, seemingly prompted out of silence by your action. "When I said it's pretty..." he thumbs at the hem of your dress where he's slipped it up your thigh. "...I lied." His fingers brush your skin on one thigh, the fabric of his glove is cold against the other. "Pretty isn't right," he continues. "It makes me want to hold you down... sink into you..." His gloved hand snakes up your side slowly, coming to rest at the base of your neck. His fingers are splayed out across your collarbones, just below the point that would normally make you itch to squirm away.

"Min?"

His eyes flick up from your neck. His fingers twitch against you. "Mm," he hums. It's a sweet sound, in total contrast to the way he looks at you. Like he wants to tear you apart. You find you like the idea. You also find... that you wish his fingers would inch up just a little.

It's not a thought you dwell on. Instead you reach up slowly, like he might spook, and wrap your fingers around his wrist.. then slowly... gently... you guide his hand up to your throat. His eyes stay fixed on yours; his fingers ghost light on your skin.

"Don't look at me like that," he says as your fingers squeeze his wrist. "All fucking sweet like you don't want me to—"

"Please," you interrupt.

He leans forward with a groan, lips pressing to the side of your neck. He squeezes slightly at the movement. It's enough to have you dropping your head back.

It's different. It's so different to how it'd been with a stranger, with someone other than him. This makes you want to crawl under his skin, beg him to hold you and consume you—to take you. His. His. His.

"Minho," you gasp as his lips part and suck at your neck, his wet tongue poking out to lave at the marks he leaves as he goes.

His hand stays at your neck as he works, a comforting and steady pressure. He's got you, it says.

A tiny clink breaks you from your trance. His lip ring is gone when he pulls back, fallen into the dark and bouncing off things around you as it goes. You could not care less. You tug him back towards you, hands at the back of his neck to guide him. His lips are wet and hot against yours, moving with a laziness that did not at all align with upbeat music and countdown starting outside.

His tongue slips out to meet yours, his body falling over you a little in a desperate attempt to get closer. 8...7...6... the partygoers chant. Your fingers grasp at his hair, tugging a little. He whines. 3...2... You could be anywhere... you ponder as the cheers start and the new year begins. You could be anywhere and anytime, and all that would matter would be whether he was there with you.

His breath comes out in deep gasps when you finally part. It's a brief reprieve. He's on you in the next second, tugging your hips towards his and burying himself inside you. It's your turn to attach yourself to his neck, kissing and biting your way through his sharp drives into you. The dryer bangs against the wall behind you with each one.

"This what you wanted?" he gasps as you fall back on your hands. His hands grasp your hips. One warm. One cold. "Hm?"

His lips glisten with spit, a mixture of each of you. You're about to reach towards him again, desperate to taste him, when he releases one hand from your hip.

It's the bare hand this time, that wraps around your neck. It's worse—better. His fingers twitch each time he pumps into you. Your pulse flutters against them. You can feel it.

Then he pauses, tugs you flush against him—buried deep. "My sweet girl," he says. He presses his fingers into your skin at each side of your neck. It doesn't cut off your breath, instead, your cunt clenches around him—your high taking you off guard. It's a rush, a heaviness in your head that seems to match perfectly with the heavy, fullness of his cock buried deep.

There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting. And then... there's this.

[lovebugism]

I lurvvv ur writing so much and I totes am picking up what your putting you down, Steve picks you up for a date in his truck you’re tryna get to know each other first but the tensions just building and you can’t resist heheheh👀🫣

thank you for requesting :D — eddie and the gang get strangely protective of you when the find out steve's taking you out on a date (loser!reader, implied enemies to lovers | 1.6k)

The sun sets outside of The Palace Arcade. Dustin bursts through the doors and out into the orange-tinted parking lot, headed undoubtedly for Eddie’s rusted van. “I call shotgun!” he shouts to no one in particular, but to you especially. He’s confused and only slightly relieved when you don’t race him for it.

“You can have it,” you say with a roll of your eyes, pausing on the curb and crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie pauses mid-stride. His wild curls sway around his face when he spins to glare at you, dark eyes narrowed in an accusatory squint. It’s unlike you not to challenge Dustin for the front seat, just like it’s unlike you to dress as nicely as you are now — all pretty and made-up for a day at the arcade.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

“No,” you shrug, pretending to be cool about the whole thing. “I told you, Steve’s picking up—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he interjects. 

“That’s weird,” you scoff an awkward laugh. “I coulda sworn I said something earlier—”

He takes one slow step towards you, glancing up and down your form with a suspicious gaze. “What’s going on? Are you lying to me?” he rambles. “Wait— You’re not staying late to try and beat my Robotron top score, are you?”

“No!” you blurt, half-offended by the accusation. “You’re literally the only person who cares about that stupid game, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Steve’s coming to get me because…” you trail off, speaking in hesitant murmurs as your friends crowd behind Eddie. You swallow hard and lift your chin, feigning an air of confidence. “Because we have a date.”

“You have a what now?” Lucas wonders aloud, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Eugh!” Eddie groans, much louder than probably necessary.

“It’s not a big deal!” you shout back.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grouses.

“It’s one stupid date!”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs emotionlessly. “But one stupid date turns into one stupid year together. Which turns into one stupid marriage and having stupid babies—”

“You sound jealous,” you laugh.

“…Of you or Steve?”

“Either.”

“Doesn’t matter— It’s still disgusting,” he concludes, face screwed with horror. “Now whenever I see you guys, which is practically all the fuckin’ time, all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Steve boning each other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pervert,” a familiar voice quips from a distance. 

Your heads whip in sync to find Steve sauntering down the sidewalk with his hands in the front pocket of his creased slacks. He’s wearing his good khakis, and the nice sweater his mom got him for his birthday. An angel, fallen from the heavens, now landed in your lap.

Eddie scowls while the brunette boy flashes you a lopsided smile. “Ready to go?” he asks you, despite the number of curious leers from the surrounding teenagers.

They’ll probably never get used to King Steve having a thing for a weirdo like you. 

You won’t either.

“Yes, please,” you lilt quietly and take the hand he extends towards you. His palm is warm and softly calloused under your touch, almost the exact feeling of velvet.

He leads you a few spots down to where his truck sits idling. Eddie calls behind you, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright? Actually, no— Don’t do anything I would do.”

You smile over your shoulder. “Whatever, Eds."

“And don’t keep her out too late, either, or I’ll call the Chief,” Dustin shouts, rushing to the two of you when you disappear between Steve’s pick-up and a rusted Chevy. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, trying hard to be intimidating despite his oh, so pinchable cheeks. “And, trust me, I’ll know.”

He leaves out the part where you live across the street from each other.

You nearly say something about his empty threats until Steve beats you to the punch. “I’ll have her home by midnight, Dusty-Bun,” he cajoles over his shoulder, opening the squeaking passenger-side door for you.

You giggle to yourself and duck inside. 

The pleather interior is still smooth, with little to no signs of weathering. And everything in it smells like Steve — his cologne, his hair gel; the cigs he smokes, the gum he chews to cover it up. It’s a sweet sort of musk that makes your head swim.

“Don’t call me that!” you hear Dustin gripe when the driver’s side door opens and closes again.

Steve puts the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Wham! plays softly on the radio. He sends Dustin a measly wave as he backs out of the parking lot. The boy flashes him his middle finger in return.

“Sorry about them,” you murmur, sliding the seatbelt over your chest.

Steve laughs. “You say that like I don’t know ‘em.”

“Still. They’re total freaks. I feel like I should apologize.”

“Nah, don’t— don’t worry about it,” he stammers, suddenly very hyperaware of the song playing on the radio. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. A sickly sweet pop beat that he can hardly stand, so he figures you must despise it.

His hands grow clammy on the steering wheel, and he readjusts his grip. “Uh, you can put a tape in the deck. You know. If you want to or whatever.”

You take the opportunity to fish through his belongings with perhaps more swiftness than you mean to. He motions to the glove box, and you lift the handle to open it. Right on top of the unorganized cassettes sits a tube of lipstick — a tiny golden thing with a ring of familiar maroon at the bottom.

“Wow. This is a really pretty shade, Steve Harrington,” you croon. “I bet it really brings out your eyes.”

Steve’s gaze flits from the road, to the lipstick in your hand, and back again. His face floods with horror, and your grin widens. “That’s— That’s Robin’s. I swear. She leaves her shit in here all the time, it’s so annoying—”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Stevie,” you giggle.

You keep the lipstick in your lap while you rummage through the tapes. Plastic clatters together under your fingertips before you ultimately settle on a David Bowie cassette. Modern Love plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself when Steve taps his anxious fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

He clears his throat. “I, uh— I didn’t wanna say anything earlier, you know, with Eddie and everyone around, ‘cause they’re total drama queens, but, uh… You look really pretty tonight.”

You slouch in your seat, trying and failing to hide your smile. “Just tonight?” you tease.

“Every night,” he corrects.

“Well, you look really pretty tonight, too, Stevie.”

Your eyes narrow in a playful squint. Steve’s cheeks flush a faint pink color. He rolls his eyes and turns away. “Stop flirting with me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“You started it!”

“No, I was being sincere. You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, am I?” you lilt.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why does that have to be such a bad thing, huh?”

Steve glances at you for a moment. The amber streetlamps whip by every few seconds, casting flitting shadows over his statuesque face. “…You’re doing it again,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say, though the way you look at him says otherwise. 

You sit up straighter and flip down the truck’s visor. A sliver of your eyes shows in the small mirror there. You slide the top of the lipstick off with a soft click. 

“Think Robin will mind if I use this?” you ask him, already twisting at the bottom of it.

“I think Robin forgot it existed the second she left it in here,” Steve scoffs.

You smear the muted rogue over your bottom lip, then rub your mouth together to disperse the satin onto your top one. It feels strange there, like a heavy swathe of powdery silk.

The last time you wore lipstick was senior prom, you think — and even then, you'd wiped it off as you snuck into the Hellfire classroom to finish Gareth’s D&D campaign.

It feels foreign on your lips now, but a good kind of foreign, as you turn in the leather seat to face Steve better.

The mischievous look in your eye makes him cower slightly. It makes his heart skip a beat, too, but he cowers nonetheless. “What are you doing?” he wonders without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothin’,” you lilt, cupping his left cheek in your right hand. “Just focus on the road.”

His breath catches when your lips press to his jaw, lingering there to stamp the shape of your mouth onto his skin. He tries hard to focus on the road, but he gets quickly drunk on the feeling of you — on the warm hand on his face, on the soft plush of your lips, and on the perfume spritzed on your neck he can smell from here.

He has to remind himself to breathe while your mouth kisses wherever it can reach — his chin, his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

The entire right side of his face is soon marked with your lipstick stain. It makes him feel slightly unbalanced. He needs you to do the same to his left side, too, so he can feel whole again.

“What was that for?” he wonders aloud, breathing heavily for a reason he can’t name, as you settle back in the seat beside him.

“For bein’ so pretty,” you shrug.

“You know I can’t go into Enzo’s looking like this, right?” he laughs.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to go to Enzo’s at all. Maybe we could go somewhere a little more… private.” 

Steve’s eyes flit to you once, then linger on your face for longer than he means to. Your lipstick has smudged softly from where you’d kissed him so ardently. Your mouth is slightly swollen from it, too, as it curls into a mischievous grin. He shakes his head and turns away before he can drown in your eyes.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “Lover’s Lake it is…”