#high heels fuck tube

[rafecameroninterlude]

congrats on the 5k! canon i request a homemade gelato (🍨) for bitchy!kook reader x dealer!rafe?

dealer!rafe x bitchy!kook!reader who make so much money together it’s ridiculous. bitchy!kook!reader is the one attracting the customers while rafe is supplying. bitchy!kook!reader is a certified passenger princess, courtesy of rafe driving around and making deals all night. bitchy!kook!reader who answers rafe’s second phone whenever it rings. “this is rafe’s perfect pretty angel girl, who’s calling?” she’d giggle when rafe would take the phone from her with a grumble. bitchy!kook!reader who doesn’t let any flirtatious advances go past her. “he’s not interested. maybe bring enough money next time?” rafe would laugh, pulling you closer to him as the girls who offered another form of ‘payment’ walked off embarrassed.

dealer!rafe who pays for all of bitchy!kook!reader’s beauty appointments. hair, nails, lashes, you name it. “go ahead and add on whatever you want. that glittery shit looks real nice on you, baby.” he’d be on the phone with you while transferring money from his account to yours. dealer!rafe who makes sure you never feel forgotten about, always doing things for you like buying you flowers, taking you out on extravagant dates, and paying extra attention to you in bed. “gotta make sure you feel special, right?” he’d lead you into a hotel room he booked for the night, the room decorated with your favorite things, various gifts littering the bed. “aww, ray..” you’d whisper his name before he had you screaming it.

bitchy!kook!reader who’s constantly stopping rafe from getting into fights. “do you really think you need the cops called on you right now?” you’d remind him, your boyfriend clenching his fists before letting go of the asshole that catcalled you. dealer!rafe who keeps you on his arm everywhere he goes, presenting you like a trophy. “you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” rafe would whisper against your skin, making sure you didn’t sit anywhere else but his lap at parties. bitchy!kook!reader who doesn’t carry anything but a tube of lipgloss and a stack of cash that rafe so graciously gifted her in her purse. “this is just for the week, if you need more just let me know.” you’d be smiling from ear to ear, trying to decide on which pair of heels you wanted to buy next.

dealer!rafe x bitchy!kook!reader who have heated makeout sessions when they’re high, both of their eyes bloodshot as they kiss each other in the dim lighting of their shared room. dealer!rafe keeps you up with his head between your thighs, praising you for always being so good for him. “wouldn’t want no one else by my side.” he’d mumble before making your legs shake. bitchy!kook!reader who wants rafe to earn money a legit way so they can grow with each other, maybe start ring shopping. dealer!rafe who indeed goes ring shopping and surprises reader in the most romantic way. “you’ve been the most loyal, never leaving me when things can get difficult, and never hesitating to get me out of jail.” is just some of the few things he tells you before putting a diamond on your finger.

[nottsangel]

I want brothers bsf! Theo to catch me sneaking out of the house to go to a party, slutty outfit on and all that jazz, and he just blackmails me into having sex so he won't tell my brother the truth

“where do you think you’re going in that outfit?” a low, menacing voice suddenly coming from behind startles you, your heart racing wildly in your chest as your muscles tense up. dickhead. you let out a frustrated sigh at the familiar voice, not in the mood for yet another pointless argument. as you slowly turn around on your heel, you find him leaning casually against the wall, a sly grin plastered on his smug face, evidently overjoyed to have caught you trying to sneak out of the house.

“none of your fucking business.” you hiss through gritted teeth, glaring at him with a exasperated look on your face as you cross your arms, chin held high. he gazes back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly impressed by your boldness, his brows raised and a sly grin spreads across his face.

unexpectedly, he slowly begins to strut towards you, each step he takes making your heart pound faster as you feel your entire body tense at his tall, imposing figure. when he stands merely inches away from you, he leans in slightly, his face right next to yours and his hot breath grazing your goosebump covered-skin and sending shivers down your spine as you unconsciously fidget with your clammy hands.

“yeah? i don’t think your brother is gonna like seeing you dressed like a fucking hooker, huh?” he taunts, whispering right into your ear, causing your breath to hitch as your eyes widen in shock— knowing him, he will snitch and relish every second of it. anger surges through you as your fists clench into tight balls and your jaw clenches, “don’t you fucking dare tell him, theo. can you just not be such a fucking asshole for once and let me go?” he lets out a condescending chuckle seeing you get all worked up, clearly enjoying getting under your skin and never growing tired of it.

he doesn’t even bother to respond as he licks his lips and he hungrily scans you from head to toe, his piercing eyes lingering on your barely covered tits spilling out of your tiny tube top. his head tilts slightly as he stares hungrily at you with a lopsided grin. you uncomfortably pull your top up at his burning eyes, casting him a disgusted glance before your own eyes are irresistibly drawn to his crotch, your frowned eyes turning wide instantly and your jaw gradually dropping.

“do you— do you have a fucking boner right now, nott?” you feel your cheeks heat up the instant you blurt out the words, unable to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. to your surprise, he simply shrugs nonchalantly, the cocky smirk never wavering from his face as he’s so fucking close to you— one step and his lips are pressed against yours. “can you blame me? you’re just so… so… fucking hot when you’re angry, bella.”

you shake your head and roll your eyes disapprovingly as you let out a chuckle in disbelief, lips pressed tightly together, trying to ignore the obvious boner in his tight pants but almost unable to as feel your core throb at the sight. you laugh awkwardly, feeling tense as you uncomfortably scratch the back of your head. “look. just, please don’t tell my brother okay? i’ll do anything you want, i promise” theo’s ears perk up at the last sentence, one brow raised and an evil grin spreading across his face. his eyes look away briefly, as if deep in thoughts, before they land on your lips while biting his own.

“anything, you say?” you nod eagerly, only caring about your brother not finding out, willing to go to great lengths at this point. “yes, anything.” he nods approvingly before his firm hand drifts to your exposed waist, making you shiver at his sudden touch. “so… how about you help me out, huh?” he growls in a deep, rumbling voice, gesturing to his painfully hard boner. you to gulp at the thought when realising what he’s hinting at, yet you nod hesitantly, gazing up at him with knitted brows as you remain frozen in place, his warm touch on your cold, bare skin making it difficult to think clearly.

“uhm— yeah, alright... okay… yeah, let’s do it then. but, uh— we gotta be quick, okay?” his other hand finds its way to the back of your head, forcefully pulling you as close to him as possible as you can feel his hard erection pressing against your bare stomach— just from the touch you can tell he’s huge. “mmm. that’s a good girl. i promise i’ll make it worth it, piccola. you’re not gonna want anyone else ever again, yeah? gonna fuck you so good.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[r4spb3rr13s]

“what? surprised i’m smarter than you, bakugou?”

katsuki doesn’t have an answer.

the first day he saw you, you were striding past him towards the dorm room right next to his with mina hanging off your arm. you had thick sunglasses pushing your hair back, chunky gold hoops dangling from your lobes and a big, playboy bunny necklace resting between your tits.

he had to hold in the aggressive eye-roll when you introduced yourself to him with a sly grin. your lips were glittery, baby pink and looked soft- no, they didn’t, what?

he’d stared at your hand and went into his room without a word.

his night was spent listening to you and mina blast someone called ‘ayesha erotica’. he’d never wanted to blow someone’s speakers up more.

it unfortunately wasn’t the last he’d seen of you- no, you decided to start popping up everywhere. it’s almost like you were trying to get on his nerves. that’s how katsuki felt anyways.

he would be leaving his lecture, and you were strutting past in the denim shorts held around your hips with a chunky belt. your belly ring glinted in the sun, and the click clack of your heeled boots made the zip of your ‘juicy’ hoodie slip down with every step.

he hated to say it, but he froze in the doorway and watched the entire way you walked.

then he snapped himself out of it and hurried away like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

but then it happened again- this time, you were in flared leggings and a tube top, platform sandals showing off your painted toes - katsuki noticed they matched your nails.

you’d been talking to mina, and noticed him staring, so you waggled your fingers at him.

he flipped you off.

it was the start to a beautiful friendship, historians would say.

when the pink girl brought you to one of their parties, katsuki dropped his head into his hands and tried his best not to groan. you, with your dumb smile, stood in a tiny halter-neck dress.

your smile didn’t bother katsuki the most that night, though - it was more the fact hanta and denki had taken it upon themselves to sandwich you in between them.

but he watched you- you with your big, wide eyes, your stupid giggles and you slapping their chests and telling them to ‘stooooppp!’

it really pissed him off.

how could you be so dumb? it was obvious what they were doing, and everyone knew they were fucking whores-

why was he so mad?

he shut himself in his room for a week after that.

so when he saw you and mina stood outside your professor’s office holding pieces of paper, katsuki didn’t know what to think.

oh god, what if you started crying at your grade? fuck- he just needed to walk away and avoid your blubbering-

“bakugou!! come look at y/n’s essay!” mina yelled.

his shoulders dropped, and he prepared himself to pretend to be nice - it took so much energy to pretend to be nice for katsuki!

but still, he didn’t want to make your brows furrow, or eyes fill with tears. he didn’t fucking know why. he just didn’t, okay?

so he trudges over… and you’re grinning, from ear to ear. you’re in your typical attire - a tiny cami holding you in and a zebra print skirt cutting off way too high to be deemed appropriate for school.

he wasn’t really complaining though, because every flash of skin made his heart punch his chest.

you thrust the paper into his hands, and he grunts, giving you a little glare.

you stick your tongue out at him, but he starts to read.

and… it’s amazing?

it’s well written, the paragraphs flow, your topic is so interesting and something katsuki would have never even begun to think about-

and as he reaches the last page, he looks at the mark in red pen.

100/100.

his jaw drops, and it must have been obvious because you let out a snort.

“what? surprised i’m smarter than you, bakugou?”

and dumbly, he nods.

then he looks up and sees your frown. then he realises he nodded. then mina clears her throat.

“why are you surprised?”

he looks away and gives you your paper back. it’s obvious, really- but he can’t say that. it’s so douche-y… but he has been being a douche.

he dares to look back at you, and when he does, his heart plummets to his feet.

you’re stood with a hand on your hip, brow raised. you’re smart, beautiful and you have an attitude… katsuki stands there trying to piece it together.

you scoff and push the paper to his chest, “keep it. maybe you can learn a thing or two from it, katsuki.”

oh fuck.

he has a crush on you?

[nakedcleric]

incognithot (aizawa x student! reader)

♥ pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

♥ wc: 1,448

♥ synopsis: You're Aizawa's problem student. During Halloween, you dress up in a costume that hides your identity and get fucked by him.

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap, reader is 18, daddy kink, choking, unsafe sex, alcohol, dubious consent (alcohol involved), fingering

Just the thought of going out with your girls to celebrate Halloween and getting fucked by your teacher, Aizawa, in the restroom of some bar while you're wearing a costume and he's too drunk to notice it's you.

It's Halloween, and you use the occasion as a chance to dress up as a slut, of course, opting for a tight, black tube dress and high heels that are definitely brought together by the cheap cat ears you stole from your bestie and the shitty nose and whiskers your friend drew on you while half-drunk. You slap on a venetian-styled mask, hoping to maybe elevate your trashy couture a little bit. It doesn't, but it at least hides your identity pretty efficiently when aided by the mirage of night time.

He is the last person you expect to see in the bar, dressed up as Dracula too, and you're glad that your girlfriends aren't part of the hero course, because it would be pretty embarrassing to confess how horny you are for your teacher, and have been for a long time. Usually, you wouldn't even bother saying hi to him in public, already knowing that he would probably just choose to ignore you or just sigh at you for daring to bother him outside of class.

But tonight, you're brave, sexy and most of all, drunk as hell, so you don't think twice of approaching him and hitting him with some random joke about vampires, probably an awful one considering how unimpressed he looks, but it's enough to distract him from the group of people he was hanging out with. You are glad you don't recognize any of them, so you can embarrass yourself with a little bit more freedom. You expect him to sigh when he realizes who you are, maybe entertain your bullshit a little bit and then tell you to go do your homework, but he doesn't. You quickly realize why: He doesn't recognize you. Holy shit.

You don't quite remember what the hell you blab about, and he probably doesn't either, because he spends most of the conversation just looking you up and down, which makes you nervous, as it could either mean that, option A, he is starting to realize who you are, or option B, he is checking you out. You don't know which one makes you dizzier.

You get your answer when he wraps his arm around your waist at some point, pulling you closer, his intoxicating cologne now invading all your senses, as he pretends to laugh at some dumb joke you spouted. He is pretending to laugh. He is pretending, so he can get on your good side. So he can fuck you. It makes electricity go right into your clit, your pussy throbbing around nothing. You look up at him, starry-eyed, absolutely enamored with your handsome teacher, too drunk to realize what you're getting yourself into.

He whispers something in your ear, about wanting to get some privacy with you, talk more quietly. You agree enthusiastically, but are surprised when instead of leading you outside, he drags you into the restroom.

It happens.

Him pinning you against the wall and kissing you desperately, probably thinking you're just some hot slut he picked up at a bar rather than one of his students. You roll your eyes back at feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of whiskey and nicotine quickly flooding your senses as you remember the fact that this is the same man who scolded you for smoking during breaks, who scrunched his nose and told you this was a disappointment coming from you. The same man who grabbed your wrist and made you drop the cigarette when you refused to do so.

The same strong hands now groping you desperately, slapping your ass and making it jiggle. You hug his neck with your arms, standing in your tippy toes as he has fun squeezing you, pinching you, abusing you as much as he wants, because in his mind, you're some whore who is going to let him do whatever he wants.

Him sliding a finger into you and loving the way you arch your back and moan at the intrusion, both in pain and pleasure, a smug smirk trailing on his lips as he sees you struggle to even take a mere finger. Making a nasty comment about how you feel like a virgin, about how he's going to wreck you and stretch you out real good, about how pretty sluts like you are begging for it. It makes your stomach flip, both from shock and arousal, as your mind struggles to process this side of him. You almost feel attacked at the rough treatment, wondering what you did to turn the barely interested man back in the bar into this mean, obscene version of himself, but then you realize it's because you look so fucking hot he can't stop himself. In his eyes, you're some dumb, young bitch he's going to use tonight.

He kisses your neck while he fingers your pussy, struggling to even get halfway in there, having to use the full strength of his arm to bury knuckle deep into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as your lips part open, breathless. He plants wet, sloppy kisses on your neck, and the prickling of his beard against his neck reminds you that you're being fingered by your goddamn teacher, who always refuses to give you the 10% in your final grade because of your "rebellious" behavior. You bite your lip, heart beating wildly, tangling your fingers in his long hair as he sucks a hickey into your throat, and wonder what the fuck is wrong with you.

You know he is very much drunk when he doesn't bother with protection, instead choosing to turn you around, pin you against the wall and bully his raw cock into your tight pussy. You want to object at this, but he slaps a hand on your mouth, and for the first time in the night, you feel a twinge of fear run down your spine. Would it be a bad time to make a joke about how you're disappointed in him? Before you can make the decision, you squeal at the sensation of his fat cock head stretching you painfully, bigger than anything you ever had before. He grunts, frustrated at the tight fit, as he forces the entirety of his thick cock inside you, inch by excruciating inch as you do your best to accommodate your dear teacher. You always imagined him to be big when he would star in your wet dreams, but you never imagined him to be this...overwhelming.

He fucks you slowly at first, enjoying the way your plump ass jiggles when he thrusts into you. You moan sweetly, hypnotized by the way the pain slowly becomes sticky pleasure, as you push your hips back, meeting his thrusts rhythmically, and you realize this is probably the first time you two have ever agreed on anything. He is always too busy scolding you for shit, acting like a disapproving dad. You giggle dumbly, as the words escape your lips before you can calculate them, "Nngh, harder, daddy."

Everything suddenly stops.

You blink, slightly sobered now, wondering if you freaked him out, or even worse, made him realize who you really are. What an unfortunate epiphany to have while being balls deep inside you. You slightly turn around, concerned, but a hand on your head forcefully pins you against the wall again.

Out of nowhere, he picks up the pace, it's brutal enough to make the cubicle shake. His hand viciously wraps around your throat, pressing down on your windpipe hard enough to take away any oxygen going into your lungs. Your eyes widen as he starts fucking you at a brutal pace, shifting your body so he can put your leg on his shoulder and fuck you even deeper. Your other leg dangles on the air, as he now effortlessly uses you as a little sex doll, and the mere thought of you is enough to push you into the hot, white edge. You moan a loud, obscene "Oh fuck, dadddyyyyyy~" as you cum, the waves of pleasure hitting you like a truck.

Your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock, pushing him into his own orgasm, as he finishes with a brutal thrust, and a broken grunt. You feel yourself being filled up your teacher's hot, warm cum, shot inside you one, two, three times, painting your insides white. You almost cum again at the exquisite feeling and the thought of being accidentally knocked up by Aizawa.

Drunk in the post-orgasm haze, and still as stupid as ever, you wonder if this will finally force him to give you that extra 10%.

[luneaticlab]

AMORE (Chapter 1)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary!reader (female)

synopsis- Never in a million years you thought you'd end up with your boss, in bed.

Word count- 1.4k

IMPORTANT NOTE - Hey guys, this my first fic. I promise I'll improve. love and feedback are always welcomed.

•I do not own any of the pictures•

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

----------------------------------------------------------

"come again?"

hesitantly, you repeated the words you said to your bestfriend a few seconds ago "The last time i got laid was 13 months ago..?"

"Girl, are you fucking serious?" Lena, your bestfriend not-so-aggresively threw her hands in the air.

"What's wrong with it? You know i'm not the type to have one night stands and shit" you justified defensively, delicately caressing your 5 month old persian cat, fluff.

"Dude you are in your twenties, you are hot, rich and single, what's wrong with having some fun before you settle down?" all you did was roll your eyes, ready to nag her about hygiene during sex.

"Don't tell me you still have a crush on your jackass boss" alice appeared from your kitchen, a cup of hot choco keeping her hands warm.

you were taken aback, yes, you did have a crush on your not-so-jackass boss, maybe you still do, no one knows, you are too busy with work to think about that. But something about him just makes your thighs clench.

His thick thighs which you would die to sit on, his tiddies who always threaten to come out(thanks to the buttons which do not let them), and his freaking jawline which you want to hold so bad when he kisses you.

Just to be clear the chances of this happening is 0.01% .

He's the typical rich, young, hot bachelor desired by multiple women and owned by none. Somehow you always managed to keep a very professional relationship with him so far. But what's life without some thrill?

"Jeon jeongguk? go ahead , have sex with him then. A rich man is a rich man" Lena suggests as if she's telling you to pick out some roses from the neighbour's garden.

"sure, find me a now job by tomorrow then" Lena chuckles at your reponse.

"Girl, its not that hard, he's a man and he might have needs too, if you really want him on the top then maybe wear some sexy clothes at work, you guys see each other everyday"

"Yeah yeah i'll think about it" you shrugged off the topic, not wanting to discuss it further.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

"fuck!" You finally found your release , turned the vibrator off, took a shower, slouched on your bed releasing a lazy sigh

Yes ,the vibrator did wonders when you got it for the first time, but you've become too used to it, you knew you needed more and by more you meant jungkook's dic-

you pushed your sinful thoughts out of the way and forced yourself to sleep.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:

next day , 7.39 a.m

You got out of the shower, fresh and clean. Done with the skincare and your usual makeup (nude lips are mandatory!) .you were about to pick your grey sweatshirt, Lena's words resonating in your ears.

Fuck it, it's now or never.

you put the sweatshirt right where it belonged. Took out a white tube top which covered half of your tits, wore a black trouser matching with the blazer of the same colour of the trouser. A black nano belt bag from celine completing your look. Quickly wearing your jimmy choo high heels, you stepped out of your apartment, you felt confident.

You were aware of the stares you were getting at the office, you weren't surprised, not your fault you look good with a minimum effort.

You spot your coworker Diana at the cafeteria, she waves at you , her look telling you that she's got something for you

"Hey y/n, I've completed the list of the guests we are going to invite at the company's gala, Do you mind passing it to Mr.Jeon? I got some last minute work to do." She asked holding your hand

Bingo

"Sure, why not , I was about to give him his espresso anyway." you smile at her politely before taking the file.

Quickly making your way upstairs, you fic your hair before you knock his door.

'"Come in"

"Good morning Mister Jeon, the list for the guests for our company's gala dinner has been finalized." You said as you placed his espresso and the file on his table.

He looked up to see you, "Alright, thank you y/n, I hope you didn't forget we have to go to daegu today."

You caught him stealing a glance at your chest.

"Ofcourse sir" you smiled curtly before leaving his office, swaying your hips on purpose while doing so.

Jeongguk and you had to go to Daegu today for the monthly inspection of the company's factory there.

Being Jeongguk's secretary was undeniably challenging, but the salary was enough motivation to continue doing your job.

・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜

3.39 p.m

"Mister Jeon, we are ready to leave." You said as you peeked out your head from the door into his office.

He nodded while fixing his blue Ralph Lauren coat as he walked past you , you followed him behind, making sure everything is on the right place.

You looked at him from behind, good Lord he was so damn hot then you looked at yourself. You guys would make such a power couple in your opinion.

"Did you have lunch sir?" You asked knowing he might not have eaten given the fact that he absorbs himself too much in his work once he starts.

"I didn't have time to"

"I figured, I ordered chipotle for you, will you be okay with a burrito bowl ?" Jungkook liked having light meals on work days and he gets carsick easily so chipotle was the best option.

"Yes, thank you y/n i appreciate it." He said gratefully, flashing you a small smile which you could write a whole thesis on.

----------------------------------------------------------

You were driving the car and the ride was smooth, you guys talked about work related stuff. Until,

"How have you been lately, y/n?" Jeongguk asked out of nowhere.you glanced at him for a second before replying "I've been good, pretty much the same since 2 years. working on weekdays, staying at home on the weekends. Oh, and I've got a new roommate – a furry one. Adopted a cat a few months back. It's nice having someone waiting for me at home, you know?"

You have no idea why you are giving a detailed explanation instead of the typical 'I'm doing good' but it is what it is.

"Any special someone in the picture?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

You glance at him again in surprise before refocusing on the road, this guy is really picking his moments. "No special someone right now sir, how about you?" He started this.

He chuckled a little,"Not at the moment, not into relationships anyway."

well damn, at least it was worth the try.

You catch jungkook looking at you a lot of times during the ride.

"We have reached, sir." You both get out of the car and head towards the factory.

----------------------------------------------------------

7:51 p.m, Daegu.

It was pouring cats and dogs.

"I think we should book a hotel and stay there for the night". Jungkook suggested while looking up. All of the workers were leaving and driving in this crazy rain is dangerous.

"But i don't have any spare clothes."

"Should we buy them on the way?" Jungkook asked finally looking at you.

"I think we should."

----------------------------------------------------------

You guys found the nearest hotel, and went to your respective rooms.Jungkook chose a package of 1 night+ dinner because you guys didn't eat anything after lunch.

"Let us change then meet at the dinner hall yeah?" Jungkook said looking at you, your clothes were a little drenched, the droplets on your half-exposed boobs were visible and he can see your bra underneath the white tube top.

"Sure , sir"

You guys literally shoved your faces in the food because the meal was ten out of ten and ya'll were hungry as hell.

When you entered the elevator, jungkook looked at you for a second before speaking " Good day today"

You smiled at him. Damn that smile, he couldn't control himself , he brought his face closer to yours, literally a gap of 2 centimeters between. "Can I kiss you?" He asked , it came like a whisper.

"Please" You practically whimpered.

Just like that, his lips were on yours.

To be continued

[chronically-ghosted]

vivarium

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 8K summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for.  warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations! **massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Ezra Masterlist 🤍 AO3 Link

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh. 

A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan. 

“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.” 

You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:

Shit, he’s so fucking hot. 

Oh, bad thought.

You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by. 

For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off. 

While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat. 

From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap. 

“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”

Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble. 

Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.

For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.

And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you. 

As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious. 

Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did. 

But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.

“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world. 

“Ez–,”

He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move. 

Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest. 

“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.” 

Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same. 

“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again. 

“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”

Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.

With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water. 

“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.

“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.

“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”

“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”

You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours. 

Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.

“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.” 

Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched. 

The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously. 

“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.” 

With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.” 

He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.

“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”

“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.” 

His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous. 

His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.

“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”

Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red. 

You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall. 

“I’m taking a hike.”

You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.

“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.

For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.

The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour. 

Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut. 

But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him. 

“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.” 

His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while. 

“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.” 

One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.

“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?” 

That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror. 

“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.” 

At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out. 

“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.” 

Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.” 

His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.” 

He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire. 

“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”

He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire. 

“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”

Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.

After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand. 

“Neptune? You with me?”

Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”

He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence. 

You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.

“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”

His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp. 

“Regret what?” 

“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”

You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl. 

The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour. 

“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.” 

Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”

Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.

“But it would have been only half a life.”

“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”

“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”

“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”

“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.” 

He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.” 

In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence. 

You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way. 

That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.

His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor. 

“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him. 

But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.

“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.” 

There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside. 

His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured. 

“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?” 

His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.

His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.

The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.

His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.

Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways. 

The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks. 

His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.” 

He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but. 

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops. 

“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he. 

Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief. 

But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude. 

“You let another man besides me do this to you?” 

The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you. 

You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer. 

“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”

“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple. 

“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face. 

He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.

“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.

“Ez– shit, the flap–,” 

He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples. 

“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.” 

His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs. 

You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.

He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes. 

“Neptune, I revolve around you.” 

A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.

Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart. 

Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it. 

His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.

Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out. 

“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release. 

You want to obey his every word. 

His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit. 

Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.

And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.

“Was that mine?” 

Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.

“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.” 

You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain. 

“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.” 

Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black. 

“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.” 

You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.

Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him. 

His wide palm appears beneath your chin.

“Spit.”

You do.

That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder. 

He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap. 

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”

As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs. 

He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan. 

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.” 

“And for what?”

He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth. 

“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”

Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger. 

“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off. 

“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob. 

He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him. 

He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock. 

“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”

His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob. 

“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.” 

On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.

“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”

“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,” 

He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath. 

“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.

You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster. 

“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.” 

Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.

“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?” 

All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb. 

Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.

But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening. 

“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life. 

“J-just a little harder, Ez.” 

He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest. 

As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.

His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.    

“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!” 

His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion. 

Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible. 

You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full. 

The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe. 

The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him. 

You lay like that for a long time.

And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.

Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain. 

In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do you want this to change things for us?” 

“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.” 

He smiles, unguarded and open. 

“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and  Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.

“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”

With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.

“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

+

[elsm44]

friends? what friends?

club!ellie x fem!reader (dni -18)

you and ellie meet at a club after your friends ditch, only she has a few things in mind that might make your night a little better… 🌚

warnings: nsfw, cunnilingus, some dirty talk, a little boob stuff, lots of pet names, lowkey in public…, that’s it i think (also not proofread)

the blue club lights gave a rough shadow and outline to every body in the place. loud rap music bounced off the walls, enough to give you a headache if you focused on the noise long enough. pushing through the crowd, you were calling your friends’ names, who were no where to be found.

“callie? mason? liv?” it was no use over the music, but you tried again anyway. “callie?” you yelled louder. “mason? liv?”

people just whipped their heads around and stared at you like it was your fault you ended up in this mess. you told your friends you had to use the bathroom and they swore they’d stay in one spot while you were gone. when you got back? they were gone. again. not the first time this happened, and definitely not the last. you really need to get better friends, you thought.

you decided it was time to get some high ground so you worked your way up to the second floor of the club and scanned your eyes across the room. no sign of them, and not a single idea where they could’ve ended up. usually there was a clue, but this time there wasn’t.

“all alone princess?” a low voice questioned from behind you.

princess?

“excuse me?” you turned yourself around and made eye contact with likely one of the most attractive women you’d ever seen. the dim lighting carved out her toned muscles and made her stare even that more piercing, making your knees a little weak. you pretend you haven’t noticed that feeling as you wait for her response.

“did someone leave you alone? ‘ya look like you’re lookin’ for someone. hm?” the woman leaned against the railing on her back with her elbows holding her up, beer in hand. you examined her face more: the gorgeous freckles sprawled out across her face, her button nose, her full (and kissable) lips, and her hair, tied back half-up-half-down. her outfit was less than underwhelming, but she found a way to make it sexy as all hell: a black hoodie, some black cargo pants, and shoes you couldn’t quite make out under the dark lighting. you did notice the rings on her fingers though, which made your knees even weaker.

“you checkin’ me out?”

you hadn’t realized you were in such a daze. “hm?” you snap out of it, and realize you were shamelessly looking at her hands.

“where are your people, baby?”

you shake your head in anger, honestly livid enough to start crying. “i have no fucking clue. but at this point i don’t care. fuck ‘em.” you roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair.

“just like that, huh? what’s your name mama?” the woman looks you over, examining your tight black tube dress and your silver heels. your silver jewelry accented you beautifully in the blue light, and everything added together was enough to make her swoon. not to mention your scent.

you sighed. “y/n. you?”

she smiles. “that’s a real pretty name, but i’m still gonna call you mama, yeah? i’m ellie.” you try to hide your smile at her shameless flirting.

“promise you won’t ditch me like my asshole friends?”

ellie leans down and in so close to your ear, her lips could brush against you. “i would never mama. now let’s get you a beer, hm? or are you classier than that?” she leans back and smirks.

you two make your way through the crowd to the bar and order two new beers, one for each of you, since she finished hers on your way back downstairs. you sat down on the barstools and began to tell little things about yourselves.

she learned you were a sophomore in college, hoping to make it to the big leagues as a film director. you have a cat named simon, you love lily flowers, and you especially love women.

you learned she’s also a sophomore, a full-time astrophysics student (hello? fuck me already). her dad died about two years back, she’s a stoner, and also, evidentially, loves women.

ellie leaned down to your ear again, this time almost kissing it as she spoke, “why don’t we go downstairs to the lounge? there’s bound to be less people there, yeah?” she leans back and raises an eyebrow, you can only nod because of the rush washing over you.

down at the lounge, surprisingly, there was only two other people there, and they were on the other side of the room. you could only imagine what activities they were up to over there. ellie grabs your hand, “c’mon mama.”

she sits you two down on a round booth and sets your beers down for you two, which she willingly carried downstairs herself. you two sit next to each other, and for just a moment stare into each others’ eyes drunkenly.

“i’m so glad my friends ditched me, ellie.”

“yeah? why’s that, hm?” she smiled and began to rub your thigh, draped over her lap, with her warm hand. the frigidness of her rings made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“‘cause i wouldn’t be able to do this.” you climbed on top of her lap and almost immediately her hands grasped your waist, like it was where they were meant to be all along.

she smirked at this little game you started. “and i wouldn’t be able to do this.” she whispers before latching her lips to your neck. you gasp and flip your hair over to one side so that the area is free for her to work with. you let little breathy moans out and they lead straight to her eardrums, which make her suck on your skin harder.

“i know, y/n. let it out quietly.”

her words of comfort made you weaker on top of her. her hands around your waist went from just touching you because she wanted to to having to hold you steady. she pulled away and finally latched her lips to yours.

she tasted like vanilla chapstick, and her lips were soft and warm. you had missed making out with someone, but this time it was different. it felt right.

both of your breathing both picked up as the making out became sloppier and sloppier, her hands exploring your body. her crotch pushed up against your pussy, which was now only covered by your thin layer of panties under your dress. you pulled back to look around for a second.

“we should go to a bathroom.”

“nah, let’s stay right here mama. is everyone else gone?”

you looked down at her, out of breath, and hummed yes in response. she admired the bruising beginning to form on your neck before answering back to you.

“okay, we can stay here then. yeah?”

“yeah.” your answer was breathy, and you noticed the way you squirmed under her hands, which were pushing you down on to her pants even more. “ellie…”

she immediately kissed your lips again but quickly trailed kisses down your neck and to your chest. she pulled your tube dress down a little to expose your breasts and sucked on your nipples.

she swirled her tongue around each one, taking her time. she pinched the other while very gently nibbling on you, making you moan softly into her ear. her other hand trailed down to in between your legs and up your dress, rubbing your pussy slowly.

“mm..” was all you could get out as she slowly drew circles around your clothed clit.

“i wanna hear you say my name baby.” you could again, only moan in response.

she finally pulls back and says, “here, mama. climb off for a sec.” you climb off of her in confusion, thinking you did something wrong. slowly, ellie crawled and made her way under the table. “c’mere baby.” she waved her fingers for you to move up.

she pulled your legs apart and slowly moved your panties to the side. she quietly moaned at the sight of your bare pussy right in front of her face. it was perfect, every inch of it, and she couldn’t be more excited to make it pulse on her tongue.

without warning, she dove in. she swirled her tongue and sucked on your sensitive bud, causing you to have to hold a hand over your mouth, knowing someone could walk in at any second. you used your other hand to pull your dress up just in case, and then let it find its way down to ellie’s hair.

ellie sucked and licked and flicked her tongue on you like you were her final meal. “i know baby, you like that, hm?” she would say as her tongue slipped in and out of your hole. using the other hand that wasn’t holding your panties to the side, she inserted a finger and began to pump in and out of your pussy.

“oh, god. ellie!” you threw your head back and ground your pussy against her tongue as she sucked harder and harder. once she threw in her second finger, it was over for you. you began to hyperventilate over all of the sensations at once and moaned under the loud music. “please!”

finally, into her mouth, your juices spilled. your body shook as she had to use both hands to hold your legs down. you were a squirming and whining mess over her. she licked your pussy clean, put your panties back into place, and climbed back up next to you, wiping her mouth with the inside of her hoodie sleeve.

“still thinking about your friends?” you giggled at her cheeky question, and kissed her one more time.

“friends? what friends?” there’s only ellie now.

-

a/n

ermmm this is my first time writing like this on tumblr… i hope it isn’t too bad! i’m definitely gonna write more than just smut though

[caberzatto]

rafe thoughts stay plaguing my mind :(

you stood in front of your mirror looking over the outfit you had picked out for your date with rafe. plain navy blue baby tee, white air forces, and a dainty white lacy mini skirt.

mini would be an understatement to how short the garment actually is. the frilly hem of the skirt sat just high enough on your thighs that if you crouched over - well let's just say you'd receive a plentiful amount of gawks and hushed comments over it.

regardless, all that matters is that you felt cute in it and the fact that it shows off your legs - one of rafe's countless weaknesses when it comes to you. which luckily, was precisely the plan.

rafe never shies away from praising you, whether it's letting you know how pretty your hair looks one day, or complimenting your radiant smile, or how sexy you look in the clothes he bought for you - least of all your body. every curve. every inch. he loves it all.

just as you made the final adjustments to your clothing you heard your boyfriend's voice call out from downstairs. "hey, kid, m'here. you ready to go?"

"hey baby, yeah i'm ready. be right down!"

spinning on your heel you headed to your bedroom door, grabbing your phone off the vanity and one of your shoulder bags off the handle before heading downstairs to greet rafe.

"hiii," you chimed chipperly as you met rafe's gaze, his head instantly raising from whatever had him distracted on his phone, meeting your eyes with a soft smile as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

"hi, kiddo," his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, yours around his neck, giving you a whiff of the musky cologne you had gifted him a while ago. your heart warmed as you smiled to yourself, realizing that it's the only one he's worn since.

"you ready to go?" you asked him, pulling back, eager to finally get out of the house and spend a relaxing day with your boyfriend - hopefully somewhere where you can have a nice cold not-so-virgin drink in your hand.

the perky smile you had on quickly faded once you noticed rafe staring at you - at your outfit, a blank expression plastered on his face. "what? 's'there something wrong with my outfit - ugh, is there a stain somewhere?" your manicured fingers brushed over your skirt as you twisted sideways in an attempt to search the back for stains, causing the hem to raise slightly - but just enough to give rafe a perfect view of the pretty lace panties you had on.

all of a sudden you were being backed into a wall, rafe's hands held firmly on your waist. you gripped his sculpted shoulders to keep yourself from falling backwards flat on your ass.

"change of plans kiddo, we're staying home today."

"rafe what-"

"think you can put on that tube top of a skirt and not expect a reaction from me, hmm kid?" a hand slithered down from your waist to grab a handful of your ass, scrunching the white lace fabric in the process, "half your ass out for the world to see huh?"

just as planned.

"rafe, i have no idea what you're talking about."

lie.

you absolutely knew that your rather skimpy outfit would warrant a reaction from your boyfriend. and even though you had hopes of actually going out today, the idea of having rafe's hand between your legs was far better than having an ice-cold drink in yours.

"'s'that right? cause'm pretty sure this is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?" his hand snaked lower from your ass, making sure to run his fingertips leisurely over your soft skin, further and further down until they were tracing over the textured fabric of your lace underwear.

your pretty tinted lips parted slightly releasing a shaky, breathy exhale as you felt rafe's fingers press down on your clad clit. your panties were practically soaked now, a desperate plea for him to grace you with the sweet release you needed so bad.

"rafe-"

"if you wanted me so bad you coulda just said so, kid. but don't worry, kiddo...gonna fuck a confession outta you. n' the skirt stays on."

taglist: @minhoshotharness @lovelysturnioloos

[superblysubpar]

We Got Love:

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve picks you up from the bar after your night out with Robin and he realizes he's overwhelmingly in love. | masterlist | Title/fic inspiration song always at the bottom - steve's music | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is - please respect this

WC Range: 5-10k

Warnings: reader consumes alcohol with descriptions of being tipsy / fluffy gooey hopelessly in love with each other kissing and flirting

A/N: A night out with @loveshotzz in Chicago had us thinking about Steve picking us up and bringing us to McDonald's and then a sweet anon sent a thought about Steve helping our tipsy selves and thus this fic was born. I hope you love it!💛

Steve was in too deep. He wasn’t supposed to fall this hard or this quickly. Sure, he’s known for giving his heart away too easily, but he knew this was different. He knew you were different. He was going to take it slow this time - he had a whole plan. 

He’s never been a good planner.  

You’re sweet and soft, but you’re not afraid to bite back. You’ve got an energy about you, and sometimes he feels a little like you’re the sun. He can’t help but be drawn to you, like you’ve got a gravitational pull just for him, but if he gets too close too fast he’s gonna get burned like he always does. 

But Jesus Christ, you’re not making it easy for him. You’re so sweet and perfect already, but you have to be gorgeous too? Cause you’re always pretty, but tonight…wow. And your ass in those jeans. His hands form fists at his sides, planting his heels into the floor so he doesn’t just start making out with you in front of Robin. He’s going a little insane - like he feels like he needs to keep his hands on you at all times or he’ll literally stop breathing, he’ll die if he doesn’t get to kiss you and -

He’s so fucked. 

Hair curled and bouncing across your shoulders as Robin and you dance and headbang to the early 2000s playlist she insisted would pump you up for your girls night out. His bathroom counter is littered with lipsticks and various tubes of things you hold up to him in the store for his opinion on. He just nods and asks ‘Do you like it?’ before you drop it into the red cart with a smile and leave a kiss on his cheek. 

A laugh that has the ability to actually crawl into his chest and burrow inside of his heart leaves you as Robin gives you shit for being high maintenance. He hides a smile from his spot leaning in the doorway as you insist that the tequila shot is going to be better with the orange, “Trust me, Robs. When have I steered you wrong?”

Robin starts to list several times you’ve done just that and your face scrunches as you stick your tongue out at her. Steve watches you both lick salt from your wrists and as you make eye contact with him he clears his throat and looks down, cheeks flushing pink at the thought of your tongue like he’s thirteen again.  

Yup, totally fucked. 

The clink of your glasses on the counter draws his eyes up once more, your face squished in amusing pain as you suck on the orange slice, eyes fluttering open and removing it with a wide smile directed at him over Robin’s shoulder. Body wiggling and hands clapping together as the alcohol enters your body and another laugh leaves it as Robin begrudgingly admits to liking the orange.  

A pink stain left on the rim of the glass and one on his cheek after you skip over to him, arms wrapping around his neck. Steve’s hands find their favorite spot on your hips, fingers slipping seamlessly into the belt loops and trying not to think about how your hips and ass are gonna look dancing out at the bar without him. How you naturally sway easily to the beat, and smile around the skinny neon straw between your teeth as someone tells a story. How in between turns at an arcade game or a round of pool you use the stick or someone’s open fist to sing along to the songs playing because your walls come down a little from just a few drinks. 

You lean back to peer at him with a smile that makes his heart stutter, sure he’ll need to seek actual medical attention to get it restarted as you tap your nose to his chin. God, you’re so fucking pretty. 

“You gonna be okay all by yourself tonight handsome?”

Handsome. 

He can’t help but sigh a little when you call him that. Can’t help the way his hand moves to push a piece of your hair behind your ear like he’s a leading man in a rom com you’ve made him watch. 

He wants to tell you the truth. That no, as a matter of fact, he will not be okay alone and he needs you to stay. And it freaks him out a little bit that he wants you to stay forever and it’s not even for sex. He wants to debate about the best candy to have with popcorn, for you to shove your cold hands under his shirt and press your nose into his neck. To banter about what to watch only for you to fall asleep five minutes into it. Words on the tip of his tongue that he doesn’t want you to leave ever. Because you’re going to go out tonight and go back to your place and he feels crazy because he wants you to just move in and that’s not in the plan. That’s not taking it slow at all, Harrington. 

Raising your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response, his hands now push your hair from your shoulders gently. Swallowing harshly as his fingertips graze over the straps of your black tank top hiding under a jacket, trailing up your neck and back down relishing a little in the goosebumps that rise in their wake. A non committal hum leaves his pursed lips before he sighs, “You know, I really don't know. I think you should stay, just to be safe.” 

It’s not the words that cause the feeling of a box of bouncy balls being dropped in your stomach, but the way Steve says them with that look. Tone and eyes warm like honey dripping over every inch of you, sealing your body in a sweet and sticky heaviness. Convinced you’d melt into an actual pile of goo if he let go of you, ready to shout how you’re feeling from every open window at every tallest peak in the world. Tequila and citrus mingle with the words that dance on your tongue, making it all a little harder to keep inside. You’re far too tempted to tell Robin that there’s a change of plans and you’ll have to stay curled up next to your boyfriend for the rest of your life. 

You don’t say those things though, but you pretend to play along with his game - to see how much of his heart he’s willing to give away before you give all of yours to him. 

“Well, safety is my middle name…”

Steve’s smile widens, lopsided and rising on the right and you want to reach out and trace over his lips and memorize the smile you’re able to pull out of him - just for you. Body filling with heat at the thought as his hands squeeze at your shoulders. 

Thumbs brushing across your neck as he takes the smallest step to fully close the distance between your bodies, “Right, so really, it’s your duty to-”

“Oh god, I need another shot!” Robin smacks her head against the counter several times, “Please, for my sake, would you just kiss and say goodbye so we can go already?”

Stepping onto your toes, your nose brushes Steve’s and he sighs as your lips hover over his, “Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?”

A clink of Robin’s shot glass hitting the counter makes your lips twitch. 

“Fun? Without you? Just misery with no company here.” Steve huffs and taps the tip of your shoes with his socked foot. Pouting his lips out dramatically in one last feeble attempt to get you to stay. You catch his bottom lip with yours, pressing a soft and over too quick kiss there. 

Robin bangs her head on the counter again as his fingers slip into your hair, cradling the back of your head. His tongue pokes out to lick across his top lip, citrus and salt lingering on it. 

Warm eyes dancing between yours as he whispers a plea, “One more?”

Desperate for a pillow to scream into, to kick your legs and giggle like the lovesick fool that you are, you just bite back a grin as he tilts your head further. Lips molding around yours, soft and lazy and making you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Noses squished together, thumbs buzzing across your cheeks, Steve sighs into you and your foot practically pops like you’re in a black and white movie and the end credits song is going to start playing. 

The tap of Robin’s foot in impatience and a loud clearing of her throat makes the smile you were biting back win as you pull away reluctantly. Unable to help yourself, one more quick peck to his top lip before you untangle your heart and hands from his. 

Tugging Robin towards the door, you glance over your shoulder to find Steve with his hands running through his hair, eyes blinking open as you smile widely. A sing song lilt to your voice as you call back through the closing door, “Have fun with your misery!”

Robin’s voice echoes down the hallway, “You’re both disgusting!”

Your voice louder and exasperated, “You told me to kiss him goodbye!”

Steve’s forehead hits the now closed door as he groans, palms dragging over the wood before they form fists. He already misses you. He’s a chump. He’s in love. He’s pretty sure you’re the one. 

So, so, so fucked. 

He tries not to wallow, cause that would be pathetic. 

He’s pathetic.

Alone in his apartment trying not to think of you, except you’re everywhere. He cleans up your pregame shenanigans, despite you insisting you’d do it earlier before leaving - he was happy to do it so you could have more time with Robin. There’s a blanket you bought for his couch, your favorite coffee mug fresh out of the dishwasher and hung on a hook. The scent of your perfume and body wash in his bathroom and a toothbrush next to his. Clothes returned to half of a drawer that was basically just entirely yours now. 

Eventually, he’s tired of his own co-dependent self pitying and crawls into bed, curling into the pillow that now smells like you. Thoughts of you lull him into a restless sleep. Tossing and turning and desperate to reach out and feel your body clinging to his, legs tangled together and cheek pressed to his chest. 

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t love the fact he woke up at almost 2am to his phone ringing loudly, your face filling the screen. A picture he’d recently caught of you, holding a giant burrito in your hands and staring lovingly at it like it was your child. 

Just the sight of it makes his chest ache and he takes maybe a second longer to answer since he’s caught up in staring at it. Clearing his throat before he answers, “Hello?”

“Oh, fuck, you sound…I…” your voice wobbles and a barely audible sigh falls into the speaker, not expecting the heavy sound of his voice. Not prepared for the deep gruff from his chest and sleep coated word to make your thighs push together like they do. 

He sits up straighter and flicks on his lamp, “Hey, everything okay?”

“Ye-yeah,” you hiccup and giggle and then continue, “Yes. You just sound so sexy, I’m - well he does!” You’re shouting to Robin who he hears grumbling in the background and his bottom lip pulls in, tugged between his teeth as he fights a smile. 

“Called just to tell me that, huh?” Purposely whispering so his voice sounds a little raspier, practically able to see you melting on the other side of the phone. 

“Fuck…no?” His smile breaks through at the sound of your sentence ending in a question before you keep going, “I…I called because….oh! Uber! There’s like no Uber’s around and well okay there was one but we’d have to share it with these guys and…”

Steve is already pulling on sweats and the black sweatshirt you were always stealing. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he slips on the first pair of shoes he can find. Locking the front door and spinning his keys on a finger as you continue on. Somehow your story turns from Uber to Robin having a rum and coke come out of her nose because of a joke you told and how you totally crushed her at ski-ball.

He could listen to you talk about nothing and everything, just enjoying the sound of your voice and the way you light up when you tell a story. It can’t be crazy to be so in love with you already. You have to feel this way too, right? 

“Anyways, I’m talking a lot and Robin is tapping her wrist.” You laugh and a snort comes out and somehow he falls even harder. “Like she’s ever worn a watch and been on time in her life - oh really? Name one time! Uh-huh, that’s what I thought, Buckley!”

“Babe,” Steve interrupts, rubbing his jaw to fight the aching smile he’s had on his face for the past few minutes. It’s a new name still, sticky in his throat and makes his heart speed up a little at the risk of saying it every time, but he loves the way you react.

“Yeah?” A little breathless, he can hear you smile through the phone. Easily able to picture the piece of hair twirling around your finger as you quietly tack on, “I like when you call me babe, Stevie.”

He breathes deeply through his nose, forehead pressing to the steering wheel. It feels like he’s drawing each word out of his brain painfully slowly because all that wants to come out is ‘I love you’ and he needs to say, “I’m in the car, where are you?”

“Oh! I’ll drop a pin! Thanks Steve I lo-” your voice cracks as it falls off before you quickly shout, “See you soon!” and then silence. 

The entire drive to you is unbearably long and filled with Steve telling himself you weren’t about to say what he thinks you were. 

Not that it would be a bad thing if you had said it, but he wants to be first. And he knows he feels that way about you, he just thought it was all too soon. Saying those three little words out loud has burned him before, but for some reason he knows it’s nothing like the pain he’ll feel if he says them to you and you don’t say them back. 

As snowflakes hit his windshield and disappear just as quickly, he comes to a stop at a red light, the barcade just on the other side of the intersection and he smiles. You’re out on the sidewalk with Robin who appears like she’s trying not to look amused as you cabbage patch and disco to a song that must be playing. Stopping suddenly, he can tell you shout that it’s snowing and Robin must say something sarcastic back because you wave her off and start to spin a little. Head thrown back with a wide smile, tongue sticking out to catch a snowflake. He pulls up to the curb and hops out of the car. 

Your head falls forward and his name leaves your lips behind the widening smile, the ‘E’ at the end trailing off and wrapping around his heart. 

Steve’s hair is a mess, carmel and honey, lazily askew and you ache to card your fingers through it. Can you do that yet? Is jumping into his arms and running your hands through his hair after only a few hours away from each other too needy? Your buzzed brain and body are toeing the line of not really caring if it is. Especially with his glasses falling down the slope of his nose, hands in his sweatshirt pocket and a smile on his lips. Gray sweats sitting low on his hips and you bite back a smile at the loafers he probably quickly grabbed. Lit up in oranges and yellows from the streetlight and neon green of the bar sign flashing overhead. You could jump his bones right there against the car. 

Falling into his arms with a low and content sigh, your fingers lock around his neck and toy with the ends of his hair in a sort of compromise with yourself. Nose pressing into his jaw, inhaling the familiar scent you’d missed in just a few short hours. Woodsy, maybe a little leather, and Steve and you could dare to call it home already. Swallowing the thought down, you whine a little and reveal a different thought, “Fuck, you are so handsome.”

Steve’s breath catches like you haven’t called him that before, taking in the way you blink and flutter your eyelashes, wet from snowflakes melting on your skin. Arms wrapping around your waist to keep you up right - or at least that’s his excuse. 

“I’m sure you say that to all the guys,” his voice still scratchy with sleep. He clears his throat, thumb rubbing against your skin just under the hem of your shirt. He’s lost in the feeling of you relaxing into his hold completely, like there isn’t any other place you’d rather be. Realizing that he can be a little needy with you, because you are with him. 

The warm pads of his fingers on the exposed skin of your sides threaten to draw all of your attention. Forgetting what you said, what he said, or why you were even there. All information gone from your brain other than the fact that his lips are right there and looking far too kissable. 

Pulling slightly away so you can stare into his eyes, you grin, touching your nose to his quickly, “Only you, Goose.”

Steve risks sliding his hands up your sides more, your shirt rising ever so slightly and his fingers buzzing over your skin. You love the way his lips quirk up at the nickname and he loves the shiver that runs through you and the way your breath hits his cheek sharply as he touches his forehead to yours and whispers, “Flattery will get you everywhere, Maverick.”

Rising onto the tips of your chucks, fingers finally pushing up and finding a home in Steve’s hair and you sigh. The neon lights could dim, a pop song could start playing and script scrawling across the screen announcing they lived happily ever after could all happen and you wouldn’t even be remotely surprised. It all feels a little like a dream, this thing with you and Steve, and you really hope you don’t ever wake up from it. 

Mouth hovering over his, the mint of toothpaste on his breath begging to mix with the alcohol on yours, but leave it to your mutual best friend to ruin the moment yet again. 

“Get a room!” Robin’s hands tap the side of the back car door, her plea echoing down the quickly emptying sidewalk. 

Steve turns to glare at her, her body half out the window and a wide grin on her face. The two old friends in a staring contest and silent conversation when your stomach growls and a giggle slips out of your lips. Tugging on Steve’s shirt as you request, “Hey, can we get chicken nuggets?”

Robin snaps her fingers and points to you, “Yes! Now that’s more like it! Oh! And fries!”

“And a shake!” You jump up and down and Steve rolls his eyes at both of you, his hands still on your hips giving a light squeeze though. 

He fights his amusement at your tipsy state and sighs dramatically, “Any more requests?”

“Nope!” spinning past him, he opens the car door and helps you in as Robin grumbles about her not receiving any help to get into her seat. 

Steve begins to stand and your fingers tug him down by the collar, “Wait! I thought of one more thing I want.”

Snow turning to rain on the back of his neck as you lean in closer and he whispers, “Yeah? What’ll it be, honey?”

“A kiss,” smiling as your lips hover over his. 

Steve’s cheeks turn pink and you’re so totally and completely in love with him it physically hurts when he whispers, “As you wish,” and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s not a sweet and quick kiss like he intended, you’re a little greedy with it. Fingers clutching his sweatshirt, mouth parting over his and he can’t help but hold your cheeks and pull you in deeper. 

“I’m seriously going to puke in your car Steven, and it’s not from the alcoholic beverages I’ve consumed tonight.”

Robin’s annoyed tone sends a giggle ripping through you, breaking the kiss and your hands release him and Steve takes a moment to take you in longer. Lips a little redder and glossier, eyes shimmering under fluttering eyelashes and his thumbs brush over your cheeks and he sighs, “You’re trouble, you know that?”

A grin and a kiss to his palm as your eyes look up at him innocently but your mouth forms a smirk tells him you definitely know. 

He releases you reluctantly and closes the door carefully before jogging around the front of the car. Absolutely worth the flick to his ear he receives from Robin as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before letting his hand rest on your thigh. 

The drive to McDonald’s is not long, just down a few blocks, but it feels like years to your tipsy state. Steve’s fingers brush your thigh back and forth, setting your skin on fire despite the layer of fabric between them. Aimlessly playing with his fingers, brushing over his wrist before a song on the radio catches your attention. 

Steve watches as you light up, turning the dial and proceed to belt out almost every lyric wrong, but somehow manage to try to sing along to the guitar and the drums at the same time. You end up leaning across the console, fingers playing with his hair, his ear, his jaw and it takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on the road. 

“Keep your hands to yourself until I’m out of the car please, I’m begging you,” Robin moans from her totally horizontal position in the backseat, eyes glaring at you. 

Your frown is amusing, like a kid told they can’t have their cookie until after they eat their vegetables and you pout. Your fingers trail back to Steve’s on your thigh as he orders for you all at the drive thru. Perking up as you tug on his sleeve. “Stevie, don’t forget-”

“Oh, can I get extra sweet and sour please?”

Your smile is brighter than the neon light from the yellow arches illuminating the car and he knows he really is a goner after you do a little dance in the seat as the fries and nuggets hit your lips. Peeking up at him as you sip your shake, wiping your lips before asking, “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, you’re just really cute.”

You duck your head down and hide your smile in your last nugget as Robin sighs around her fries. She leans forward as Steve pulls up to the curb outside of her place and wraps her arms around you from behind and squeezes, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

You start to turn, “What are you talking about, I’m staying the-”

Robin kisses your temple and starts to get out, “No you’re not. Have a good night lovebirds!” She calls loudly, saluting with fries in her hand before entering her apartment building. 

Snow that’s turned to rain fully and hitting the roof of the car mingles with the music playing softly and you smile at him. Voice suddenly shy and quiet as you ask, “Your place?”

Steve can't get you home fast enough. You’re all cherries and chocolate ice cream and salt - stolen kisses at every stop sign. Giggling as he tells you that you gotta stop or he’s gonna get a ticket, placating you with more fries and asking about your night. 

He’s driving himself a little crazy as he finally pulls to a stop in front of his place, fingers gathering yours and pulling you out of the car and up the front steps. Steve wants to let your hands wander, to keep that smile on your face, but he can see the food turned your tipsiness to sleep and it tugs on you, making your limbs heavier and your eyelids flutter more. He knows that as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re going to be out. The responsible thing to do is to get you to bed. 

As the door closes, you lean in to kiss Steve like you’ve been wanting to all night. Desperate to disappear into each other without the impatient and annoyed eyes of Robin next to you any longer. Fingers tugging at the strings of his hoodie, pulling Steve’s body against yours. Your lips attach to his with no intent of ever letting them go. 

“Missed you,” a breathless pant against his lips as you continue your assault on them, hands sliding into his hair and scratching at his scalp. Smiling around his lips as he groans at the feeling, his hands landing on either side of your head to catch himself. 

Pulling away despite your whine of protest, he kisses your neck, nibbling a little before pressing more kisses into your skin. Your back arches and he sighs, this is definitely going to be harder than he anticipated. Words lost in your skin between kisses up and down your neck, “Missed you too.”

Steve can’t believe the words he’s about to say, especially when you’re looking at him like that. Kiss swollen lip tucked between your teeth, skin flushed - glitter and sweat kissed, curls of your hair falling loose and framing eyes that seem to be reading his thoughts and hungry with an equal amount of want. 

Steve’s eyes warm, cinnamon and moss melting and climbing over you and you want to let him take every inch, want to tell him it’s all his. The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he swallows harshly. He pulls at it, letting it pop out in a pout that he kisses slower and sweeter than before. Steve sighs into your lips as you part further for him, fingers trailing down to his jaw to hold him closer to you. 

His forehead pressed to yours, his words are a breath against your lips, “Come on, time for bed, trouble.”

Is it the alcohol or is it Steve’s lips and words that make everything feel a little off kilter? He makes you dizzy, and giddy and he’s the one who’s trouble because you weren’t supposed to fall this hard for a boy like him. He can’t possibly want a girl like you. 

As your eyes flutter open, he’s pulling at your hands, thumb brushing over your knuckles and leading you down the hallway. Not stopping at the bedroom, but continuing on to the bathroom. Steve hands you your toothbrush, kissing your temple with the promise of a change of clothes. Leaving you to stare at your reflection and wonder why Steve saying ‘time for bed’ and actually meaning to go to sleep has your stomach alive with more butterflies than before. 

Steve cares about you. He’s not trying to sleep with you, he doesn’t care that you woke him up or made him get you McDonald’s at two in the morning. He let you leave and he cleaned up yours and Robin’s mess. Steve cares about you. 

He returns, setting you on the lip of the tub as he rummages in the medicine cabinet. 

“Aha! Found em,” he mumbles, pulling makeup remover wipes down and crouching in front of you. 

Instead of handing you one, Steve gently wipes at your skin whispering something about how you really didn’t need all of this stuff, you know that right? Every word and every pass of his thumb with the cloth over your skin knocks a stone loose in your resolve. A paper thin wall between your heart and his now. It aches, your heart pounds loudly in your chest, filling your ears. Palms sweating, fingertips itching, breath catching like you’re about to take a jump off of a cliff. 

Mouth dry as the words that yearn to come out sit ready on your tongue. Instead, your fingers catch his chin and you kiss him. Chaste and quick, eyebrows raised at him, “Why are you so sweet to me? What d’ya like me or something Steve?” 

Steve tosses the wipe covered in makeup, kissing your wrist before tugging at the same hand and pulling you up to stand. Heart hammering, denting and breaking the armor he keeps around it. He could say it. He wants to say it. 

But he doesn’t. 

He lifts your arms and you giggle as he pulls your shirt from you and slips one of his own over your head instead. Kissing each of your cheeks as your jeans drop to the floor and he helps you step out of them. He sighs, catching your jaw like you had just caught his. “Yeah, something like that.”

Rising onto your toes, hands on each side of his face, you whisper through a smile, “How embarrassing. You like me? Do you like really like me like me or-”

Steve presses his lips to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and you sigh, hands falling to rest flat against his chest. His lips move over yours languidly. Lazy and sweet kissing that has you melting into his body. He knows he needs to stop kissing you, that you should go to bed. But he can’t stop, like your lips have a love potion in them and he’s under your spell. 

Steve lifts you, carrying you to the bedroom and your kissing becomes a little sloppy, your smile forcing you to break apart for a breath. He lays you on the bed, arms on either side of your head as he hovers over you. You giggle into his lips as he pesters you with quick kisses over your face, “What’s,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “Funny?”

He nibbles on your bottom lip and pulls away and you’re eager to chase his lips, hands looping around his neck. Laughing into his smile and kiss as you sing, “You like me so much. You want to kiss me, you want to date me, you want to -”

Steve kisses your teasing away again, this time a little more passionately - like he’s trying to say all of the words he wants to with just a kiss. Stealing your breath from you, but then again he can’t really steal something you’re willing to give. 

He pulls away, cradling your jaw and relishing in the dazed look on your face. He whispers into your lips as he kisses you again, “I’m gonna go get you some water, Gracie Lou.”

Smiling to himself down the hall as you finally find your voice and shout, “I knew you liked that movie!”

Steve can’t be gone for more than a minute, but when he returns, your chest rises and falls evenly, puffs of breath leaving your slightly parted lips and your face relaxed. Water to your side of the bed, he lifts the covers and slips you under them, flicking off the lamp and sliding in next to you. 

Half asleep, you roll immediately. Leg slipping and tangling between his, hand on his stomach and cheek pressed to his chest. Steve lets his fingers glide over your spine, gently rubbing back and forth until his own eyes start to flutter closed. He’s going to tell you in the morning. He’ll make breakfast and coffee and he’ll finally tell you-

“I love you.”

It’s a breath against his skin, the words making goosebumps rise on it and his stomach flip. He feels you shift, your breathing heavy and your eyes still closed as far as he can tell. 

“What?” he whispers to you and you don’t respond. Raising his head to peek at you, making sure you really are asleep, daring to ask again, “Y/N, baby,” he licks his lips, fingers sweating, “What did you just say?”

Nothing but a soft snore comes from you and Steve smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. He pulls you closer, practically on top of him and kisses your temple. 

You love him. Arms wrapping around you tightly, he decides he’ll never tell you that you said it because he was going to be first. 

Steve Harrington is in love with you too. 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

Steve Tag List: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @aftermidnightwriting

[rocknroll7575]

Jaune's Mom...

*RWBY+NPR eating lunch*

Ruby: Hey... Where's Jaune?

*Jaune bursting through the doors and running over to his friends*

Jaune: No! No! No! No! No!!! *Quickly hides amongst his friends*

Pyrrha: Jaune? What's wrong?

Jaune: M-My Mom's here in Vale and she wants to visit!

Weiss: How is that a bad thing?

Ruby: Yeah! What's wrong with your mom coming to visit?

Jaune: *looking at them terrified* You guys don't get it! Mom is the scariest woman on the planet! You think Goodwitch is terrifying!? Wait till you meet my mom! Oh I hope she doesn't bring them here as well!

Yang: *chuckles* Your mom's scarier then goodwitch? I ain't buying it VB

PA System: CODE RED! CODE RED! I REPEAT! CODE RED!

Jaune: Oh god she's here!

*Suddenly, the doors of the Cafeteria burst open and everyone turns to see a woman who had a grey military coat draped over her shoulders, underneath the coat was a red business suit with a tube skirt, see through leggings, and black high heels. On the right side of her face and neck was a large scar that covered a large portion of visage. Held in her mouth was a cigar that he took a large puff on before removing it from her mouth and letting out a large puff of smoke*

?: Jaune... I know you're here... Stand up so I can see you.

Jaune: *remains sitting down as he's sweating bullets*

?: I SAID STAND UP!!!

Jaune: *Stands up* YES MA'AM!!!

*The Woman, who was no doubt Jaune's mother looks in his direction and and walks toward him, arriving behind her was a large man, who looked like the typical bodyguard with a scar going across his face, and behind him were four other people, who looked like an odd bunch*

?: *looks Jaune up and down* You seem to be doing well here... tell me, how's this place been treating you?

Jaune: Just fine!

?: Good, Ozpin hasn't done anything has he? Or what abut Glynda?

Jaune: *Shook his head* N-No! They've been really kind m-mom!

?: *smokes again* Good, now then... I think Revy has something to say to you *smirks*

Jaune: Oh god please-

*Jaune get's punched by a woman who who has dark red hair in a ponytail, wore a black tanktop and very short shorts*

Revy: Leave without saying goodbye huh!? Didn't even take those guns I bought for ya here! Ungrateful little shit!

Jaune: I-I'm sorry Aunt Revy!

Revy: You better! None of these little fucks better be a better shot then you, ya hear!?

Jaune: *nods rapidly*

Revy: Good!

Rock: *Sighs* Well at least that's over *Steps forward* How are you doing, Jaune?

Jaune: *Smiles at Rock* Doing great! Glad to see you again Uncle Rock!

Revy: Oh, you're happier to see me than him huh?

Jaune: *Nervous*

Dutch: Let the kid be, Revy, he's already having a heart attack as it is

Pyrrha: Um... excuse me? Who... are you?

?: *Looks at Pyrrha* You must be Pyrrha Nikos *Turns to Nora and Ren* That makes you Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren

Pyrrha: Yes Ma'am

Nora: Right-o scary lady!

Ren: Nora...

Balalaika: *Smirks* A pleasure, you can address me as Ms. Balalaika, I'm Jaune's mother, as for the man with me, he's my bodyguard, and those four are Revy, Rock, Dutch, and Benny, members of the Black Lagoon company.

[anystalker707]

dark red lipstick

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gn, amab] Reader Summary: Being handled by the hottest cook ever while he wears a tight red dress and wears bold lipstick Tags: sanji in a dress / top sanji / bottom reader / dominant sanji

Requested by anon ["Hey so uhm for a request, what about Sanji in a tight dress, high heels (maybe even lipstick?) and male reader (amab) who is down bad and completely flustered about it 👀👀 (I don't mind who tops/bottoms)"]

MASTERLIST

          Sanji was intoxicating. He wore a deep red tube dress that went until the middle of his thighs, clinging tightly to his skin. His stiletto high heels and bold lipstick matched the tone of his dress, and it was practically impossible to look away from his lips while they closed around the cigarette like that. Fuck.

Sanji had eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow on, maybe mascara or fake eyelashes, which suited him so well. The jewelry, even—pearl necklace, golden bracelet, rings… Your face burnt hot just from watching him stand there smoking, with a hand on his hip, weight just on one of his legs…

“Did you lose something on my face?” Sanji was looking at you—more like glaring—, holding his stained cigarette away from his dark red lips, his nails painted the same color. Keeping your eyes on his face was hard, ironically, you still held eye contact when he spoke to you.

“…No. There’s nothing,” you muttered, trying to feign disinterest as you looked ahead of yourself again with a sigh. Not looking at him felt like a sacrifice or a trial. Why did you feel all like that, though? For how long would you be able to keep yourself off Sanji?

          Sanji’s lips were on yours the moment everyone had left, swiftly cupping the sides of your neck to bring you for a kiss. The kiss was firm, and Sanji made you follow the slow rhythm he imposed to make out with you. He nipped on your bottom lip before his tongue slipped into your mouth again, gliding along your own until he finally managed to snatch a stifled sound from you.

The kisses went from your lips to your neck, leaving behind stains of red lipstick over love bites. Your mind was still fuzzy despite the moans that escaped your lips, struggling to process anything that wasn’t the kisses he gave you. They were more than enough to make your brain malfunction and take your breath away, making it barely possible to return his affection, despite how much you wanted to. His hands slowly trailed your torso before he took your shirt off, not minding how your mushy brain just went along with whatever he did.

A groan escaped your lips when Sanji pulled away, pressing his hand to your chest until you had to lean back against the desk behind you, propped up on your elbows. Sanji didn’t meet your eyes, and you could swear he muttered something like ‘pathetic’ while working on taking your pants off. If anything, it only turned you on even more. The way he was practically using you. It wasn’t new that you’d been lusting over him for a while now, but being taken by him like this was something that even your mind couldn’t summon during lonely nights with your thoughts.

“Sanji,” you breathed, and your cock twitched when his eyes met yours, that look making all the words fade away from your mind—all you could do was groan, earning yourself a pleased smirk from him with it.

Your clothes were on the ground, but Sanji was still fully dressed up, eyeing you as if you were a meal, and he was starving. It made you feel somewhat vulnerable, though you wouldn’t object to Sanji’s actions—absolutely not. He nudged your legs open; it didn’t take him much for you to comply.

The arousal pooled down in your lower stomach heavily, and you wondered how long you would last when Sanji actually touched you. Maybe you wouldn’t have to wonder for a lot longer, as he stroked your inner thigh, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb, so close, but not quite. Your cock twitched when his finger dove further, and Sanji suppressed a chuckle when you whimpered, your hands clenching into fists. You needed it so badly.

Sanji’s hand moved to your cock but betrayed you, finding its way up your torso instead, but you didn’t have space to complain when he pinched your nipple. It was experimental, testing your reaction, with his free hand resting on your thigh, squeezing it a little.

The pleasure from the simple action was more than you expected, making your skin rise in shivers. Your eyes were glued to his hand, watching the way his thumb pressed against your nipple, but what really made you lose it was how he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, leaving another lipstick mark, right around it. It felt like a prize. Your mind was all fuzzy, and your heart was beating like crazy just from that.

Cold air replaced Sanji’s warm breathing against your skin, and you had to hold back a sound of disappointment, but was there anything to be disappointed in? Sanji held your gaze as he took a tube of lipstick from the drawer and ran it along his bottom lip before he rubbed his lips together, retouching his makeup to leave new, fresh marks down your torso as he kissed it.

You were marked from your lips to your crotch. The sight almost made you go crazy. How could he have such power? He hadn’t even touched your cock yet, but you were already falling apart under his pampering. It must’ve amused him so much.

Sanji took a bottle of lube from the desk’s drawer this time, making you wonder what else he kept in there, and what for. The thoughts faded away from your mind as the cold liquid poured down your cock and your crotch, making you gasp softly at the contrast to your hot skin. You barely had the time to catch your breath before Sanji’s finger pressed into our hole, and you didn’t know whether to hate or love it.

As much as the sensation of finally receiving a proper touch was good, you couldn’t help but want more from Sanji. Still, he insisted on taking it slow and torturing you, holding your gaze in a hard expression that only turned into a pleased one when you gasped, gripping the edges of the table. He’d found the exact spot to avoid, keeping the motions of his fingers too shallow while spreading the lube inside you, making you curse.

“Sanji,” you breathed, trying to hook a leg around his waist to bring him closer, but he shook his head and stepped back, chuckling at your frustration when his fingers left you, too. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” you chanted under your breath as your cock twitched, aching with the sudden interruption of the pleasure that you craved so much, making it uncomfortably fizzle away. “You fucking suck.”

“You wish I did, actually,” Sanji said, and you found yourself without a proper answer, giving him a look of frustration—if anything, it humored him.

Sanji sighed as he shook his head a little to get the hair away from his face before he lifted his dress, and the sight of his flushed, hard cock made something stir inside you. Your breath hitched as your walls clenched around nothing, more pre-cum escaping your cock, all just from watching Sanji lube himself up for you. Having Sanji see and handle you like that was pathetic, but you wouldn’t have it any other way right now.

Sanji ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed together in a small smile that he tried to suppress while he held the base of his cock, his free hand holding your thigh up a little. His tip pressed to your hole, warm and slick, and Sanji’s blue irises were but thin blue rings around blown pupils, taking in every single detail of how desperate you were, melting under practically every touch of his. He enjoyed the mess you were in, making sure to worsen it as he pushed just the tip of his cock in before pulling back, smiling wider when you whimpered involuntarily, thighs quivering.

Another shaky breath escaped your lips as you wrapped your hands into fists, silencing a curse. Maybe Sanji would extend this torture even more if you kept giving him the desperate reactions he wanted. You bit your lip, keeping your eyes closed for a moment.

“You’re not as good as you think you are,” Sanji reminded, taking away your opportunity to answer by pushing his cock in properly, snatching a gasp from you. The feeling sent a sparkle of pleasure up your spine, drowning the discomfort and pain of the new intrusion, stretching you out.

It was just what you craved, compelling you to melt when Sanji’s cock bottomed out inside you, pressing to all the right spots, just the way you’d been fantasizing about him to do once you lay your eyes on him. An embarrassingly loud moan escaped your lips once his cock drew back and pushed in again, the tentative thrusts compelling your thighs to quiver. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder and firmed his arm around your thigh as his free hand kept around your hip, holding you exactly where he wanted.

The thoughts started to escape your grasp and slip behind a fuzzy fog that took over your mind with pleasure, in a hazy state that Sanji appreciated so much, while finally setting up a pace. It wasn’t too fast, but it was intense, drawing moans from your lips whenever he thrust in and the tip of his cock brushed the spot inside you that made you squirm.

“More,” you managed to choke out. Your leg locked around Sanji’s waist, not wanting the waves of pleasure to stop. It felt so fucking good that it was almost unbelievable, almost making you embarrassed about it if you weren’t so lost, so turned on just by the fact that Sanji was looking extra hot today. How did he even manage to have such a fucking grasp on you…?

Sanji grumbled something that you couldn’t understand, but you could catch the sound of pleasure that escaped his lips when he adjusted his grip around your leg, and fuck, your eyes rolled back when his thrusts started picking up pace. Sanji’s eyes were fixed on your face when you opened your eyes again, and his lips parted in a grin before he kissed your calf, leaving more lipstick marks along your skin.

“Oh, my,” Sanji muttered with a groan as he squeezed your hip before he trailed his hand up your torso and squeezed your pec. His thumb trailed around your nipple before he gave it a pinch, trying to find more ways to make you squirm and clench nice and good around his cock. It took you some considerable effort not to buck your hips, though you were almost sure it wouldn’t be so easy to do it anyway, in the given position.

Sanji’s hand only left your thigh so that it would hold your cock instead, and just the fact he held it already made you gasp, clenching down around him at the same time your cock twitched in his hand. Being filled by him, having his hand around your cock, all while he played with your nipple… Keeping up with everything was hard.

“You’re really pitiful,” Sanji muttered. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, tugging on it a little before slipping into your mouth. “You like this, don’t you? I bet I could fucking step on you, and you’d still enjoy it,” he muttered without much surprise, his voice becoming restrained when you clenched around him, clearly aroused by his words, much to his pleasure.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, words messy around Sanji’s finger. You arched your back in an attempt to get Sanji to continue hitting that spot that made your legs weak and your balls tighten, trying your best to ignore how the hard surface of the desk dug into your skin and how your lower back hurt. It eventually got unbearable, so you had no choice but to relax back against the table with a sound that embarrassingly reminded to a whimper, muffled around Sanji’s thumb as it pressed down to your tongue.

“Gonna cum, my love?” Sanji said in a soft tone with a mocking edge, but if anything, it only contributed to the feeling building up in your lower stomach. “C’mon, cum for me, yeah?” He mumbled, his thumb pressing to your tongue again, the insistent touch only becoming gentler when you closed your lips around his finger.

Sanji’s sweet words while his cock was buried inside you, his finger pressed to your tongue, his other hand pumped your cock… Your mind got fuzzier each time before it blanked out, tingles running up your thighs as your balls tightened, and you fucking came with a muffled moan, the string of soft whimpers escaping your throat. Your thighs quivered, your arms giving up under you as your back met the desk’s surface, but you only came back to reality when Sanji’s cum painted your thighs, some of it reaching up to your lower stomach. Shit. Way too good.

“Baby? You’re okay?” Sanji’s hand patted your cheeks a couple of times, and you didn’t know whether a moment or two had passed by, not sure of your grip on reality.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” you groaned, squirming a little. “Y’know, maybe I should enjoy you a little bit more before you take those clothes and makeup off. It must’ve taken some effort, so I better enjoy it…”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Under the City Lights in the Shade of your Kiss.

Namami with a Tall! Girlfriend

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

This man is 6 ft. So there's not a lot of people taller than him to be honest so the first time he sees you he's awestruck. Jaw hanging open like a buffoon before it's physically closed shut by Gojo of all people.

Man is mesmerised. He remembers everything about you so clearly. Your hair bouncing as you're laughing and chatting with your friends, head turning animatedly. The pretty pink gloss on your lips glinting in the flashing lights of the club. Your gorgeous body hugged by the black tube dress you wore only complimented by the intricately embroidered bomber jacket on top. You towered above your friends. Your shoes adding a couple inches but there was no doubt about it. You were taller than him.

You caught him staring and smiled shyly before winking amd turning back to your friends who had finished their shots and were now dragging you to the dance floor.

Your wink and the whiskey in him gave Nanami the courage he needed to go up to you and dance. His hands gently learning the curves of your body and all he could think of was how you would look underneath him. And you, fresh out of your situationship were ready to have a bit of fun so it wasn't really surprising when he was fumbling with the keys to his apartment with you against the locked door desperately kissing at him. Lips moulded to his. Grinding on him.

You stumble in and the clothes are coming off. Inbetween kisses. The jackets (both his and yours), his tie, your heels. He paused to look up at you. "God, how tall are you gorgeous?"

You can't help but giggle. "I'm 6'2"... Is that an issue?"

"Good god no!" He breathes, eyes darkening with lust.

He's scrambling at your dress's zipper and you're tearing at his shirt buttons as he lifts you and carries you to his bed. It's large and soft, enough that he drops you down and immediately pulls off the dress from your body to bury his face in your cunt. The heat from your pussy and the wet patch forming on your panties spurring him on. He licks and sucks, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside like a man lost in a dessert and you are a life saving oasis. He peels off your soaked panties soon enough and continues licking and sucking with renewed vigour. The lewd slurping sounds turn you on even more and you feel yourself getting close to your climax.

"Fuck, don't stop please!" You mewl out. A sound that not many men have coaxed from you. Nanami smiles against your cunt but continues in the same way. Licking. Sucking. Prodding. Slurping. Your hands reach down to his blonde locks fisting them as you get close. Your hips involuntarily grind against his face over and over. He generously pushes one thick finger into your wet cunt then another, still keeping his pace. One more flick to your clit and you explode. Your pussy gushes and you push your hips into his face thankful for his strong arms pinning you down otherwise.

Nanami helps you ride out your high on his face and resurfaced grinning. His eyes twinkling. "I thought you were a goddess when I first saw you, but that just proved you're divine."

You felt your cheeks heat up and leaned in to kiss him. You could smell your arousal on his face. But it didn't embarass you. It turned you on even more. Here was man who loved pleasuring you so much that he got hard from it. You could feel the offending appendage poking at your thigh and giggled.

"My turn then?" You asked Nanami. "Can I suck your cock?" You smirked at him. While tugging at his slacks and boxers.

"Not this time." The blonde groaned, "I need to be inside you." He quickly reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom.

"Let me."

You took the foil square from his hands and tore open the wrapping as he kicked off the trousers he wore. Then gently placing the disk on his already hard cock younrolled it all the way down, and placed a tiny kiss on the top. His cock twitched in your hand.

"Fuck please let me put in in gorgeous" he begged feeling like if he didn't fuck you now he might just come in your hands like a school boy. You smile and lay back letting him get on top of you. As he lines up his cock with your entrance you can't help but feel a thrum of excitement.

Nanami slowly pushes his cock into your greedy pussy. His cock is big enough for you to feel a delicious stretch while not so large as to hurt you. You feel him filling you nicely inch by inch, eyes trained on your face to make sure you were comfortable. A few shallow thrusts have you moaning and grinding your hips against him again.

"Fuck me, please Nanami-san! Please!" The desperation to feel him fully inside you evident in your voice. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and complies.

Nanami pushed into you fully. While kissing and licking the skin of your neck.

"Yea? Do I feel good for you gorgeous? Is it good?" He growls in your ear. You can't do anything but nod, his cock making you feel so full.

Slowly, Nanami starts to rock into you gently and then hard, picking up the pace. His mouth finds yours and your lips crash , teeth grazing and hands grabbing he fucks into you. All the noises coming from you sound like the prettiest siren song he's ever heard making you irresistible. He fucks your pussy kissing down your cheek to your jawline and then your collarbone. His thrusts getting faster and more and more erratic.

You put your hands on his shoulders and rock your hips into his cock further and further, harder, faster. Your lips not leaving his.

Nanami grunts a quick "I'm gonna come!" before ejaculating inside you.

He pulls out, making quick work of the condom and hops out to the toilet to clean up. He brings back. A warm damp towel and helps you wipe up your slick as well and then returns to the bed in all his gorgeous naked glory. You cant help but feel your eyes close.

"C'mere." Nanami mumbled to you. He wraps , arms around you cuddling you and nuzzling against your ear leaving the two of you to slowly drift away into a comfortable slumber....

AN: ok this is NOT EDITED. THIS IS A MIDNIGHT SUDDEN BURST OF INSPIRATION FICLET SO BE GENTELLL

Also I wrote this for 1 person and 1 person only @pseudowho it u. Since you wanted a tall reader and I was like oh yeah I can defo write that!!! (Has never been tall in my adult life) 😭😭😭

This is so sad Alexa play WTTBP

It's literally 12:30 AM and I pulled this out of my ass so if you see grammatical errors or something just KINDLY. KINDLYYY tell me in the comments.

Aight. I love my man Nanami. I'm sorry for any inaccuracies bc my 5'2" ass has never been tall in its life. I'm very tired. Will edit this tomorrow in the daylight.

[trashmouth-richie]

prequel to Honey I’m Home

master list

summary: a peek into the lives of our love birds back in 1985

w/c: 4k

tw: no minors, underage drinking, drug use, party behavior. hinted at: rape

Engine roaring hot with the early dog days of summer, Eddie’s van skids to a stop sliding against black asphalt of Piney Wood Lane.

“Eddie! What the fuck?!” A church mouse voice that resembled nails on a chalkboard shrieks when the van halts to a stop. Peach colored lipstick is smeared in a wavy line across her pale skin, Chrissy glares icy blue daggers into the curly haired metal head.

Stoned and nearly asleep, Eddie forced his tired lips into a grin, pearly whites gleaming against the backdrop of the setting sun through the dirty windshield. “Oh babe you’re so pretty, here let me help.” Grabbing the tube of lipstick Eddie draws a matching line across her other cheek, “all better,” he yawns as she snatches the lipstick tube back and shoves the lid back on slamming it into her purse. Using a dirty t-shirt by her feet that she knew was used to wipe Eddie’s cum off her stomach some time last week after one of his shows, she rotates it to a cleanish spot and works the black cloth gently across her face, muttering to herself.

“Where are these little shits anyway?” She grumbles as she avoids Eddie’s lips on her neck, shoving him away with the heel of her hand.

“Fuck Chris, relax,” Eddie says, arms up in a surrender and lowering slightly to light a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the open warm air through his window, “little Tooty said they have to sneak out of the basement window.”

It had been a full year since Eyeball had left town and graduated without Eddie. His best friend was always smarter than he was, never having to repeat senior year, he left Eddie’s trailer park ass in the dust— never to be heard from again.

A scoff breaks from Chrissy’s pastel pink lips as she swipes more powder blue eyeshadow on her lids in the mirror. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”

The high encompassing Eddie falters for a split second. Chad Cunningham? What the fuck would Tooty want to do with him?

“Damn, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and inhaling from his cigarette, “don’t hold back.”

Chrissy flips the visor up with a thud and crosses her arms, her lips twisted in a sneer, she opens her mouth to speak but Eddie shushes her when five moving figures run across the neatly mowed lawn of the Wheeler’s.

Opening the sliding door is a pimple-faced Mike Wheeler, accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, and you.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Eddie says holding his hands up in protest, “watch the carpet yeah? Won’t be a shaggin’ wagon if the carpet is stomped all to hell you little gremlins.”

“Fuck dude,” Dustin speaks, sliding next to Mike on the floor, “you gonna give us upholstery lessons or are we going to this party?”

Mike and Lucas laugh as Eddie takes off before the door is even shut. Screaming into the night like a bat out of hell. Passing out cigarettes from a crumbled pack you kept in the breast pocket of the same ratty flannel you wore almost daily, everyone leans forward to catch the flame at the same time. Inhaling deep and choking back smoke against baby pink lungs.

Eddie wasn’t your favorite person but if he was one thing: it was reliable. He’d show up in his van, rolling up on the last remnants of weed whenever you called him. Day or night, rain or shine wherever you were— he’d drop whatever he was doing to pick you up.

Like the time Mike had left you at Benny’s after falling asleep in the red cracked booth following a late night movie premiere of Cujo. A quick dial to the Munson trailer, with a worried Benny behind you, after a couple of monotonous dial tones an out of breath Eddie answered grumpily reassuring you he’d be there soon.

Ten minutes later the blaring tunes of DIO were heard faintly as his van roared down the street, foregoing stop signs and swerving all over the place.

Benny raised an eyebrow and gave Eddie a pointed finger grunting: get her home safe.

Eddie greeted you with a stupid smile and deep dimples, threatening Mike’s life and his Hellfire spot for leaving you behind.

“Don’t make this a habit,” he scolded lightly, eyes red and higher than a kite, his boots were untied and his hair was sticking out in every direction, “Eyeball will skin me alive.”

You roll your eyes and put your feet on the dash, “Kev doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

Tapping the brakes Eddie laughs deep when you lunge forward, millimeters from almost smacking your head on your knees. “You know my rule, feet down little T.”

The night was young and you were filled with a naivety that coursed through your veins. With Eyeball at college your parents were rarely home, and you spent every waking minute you could with the boys, Max and El. A group of unruly teens, knobby knees and bad haircuts. The summer was barely at its peak, and you couldn’t wait to live it.

“Alright you little brats,” Eddie joked, pulling into Rick’s driveway, “no humping, no grinding, don’t take anything if you aren’t sure of what it is, and you all owe me $5 for the ride here and supplying you little degenerates with the best weed and warm beer in all of Hawkins.” He goads with a warm smile and jumps out of the van, leaving Chrissy to readjust her hair and makeup for the tenth time in the fifteen minute drive to get out to Lover’s Lake.

Filing out of the van one at a time, everyone slaps an Abe Lincoln into Eddie’s upturned palm. When it’s your turn he quickly closes his hand and you give him an annoyed look.

A look of concern colors his brow as he peers into your face, “Are you seriously dating Chrissy’s brother?”

Turning your lip up in defense, you scowl at the accusation, “so what if I was?” You gonna run and tell Kev about it?”

Eddie didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Eyeball’s fury, having seen for himself how Eyeball could fight the biggest of assholes at the Hideout, and he damn sure as hell didn’t want to see you on that end either. “Nah,” he chides, pocketing the bills into his chain wallet and standing with his hands on his hips, chest out, “what the hell do you think I am some shithead narc? I just didn’t think that you’re old enough to date.”

Snarling a grin and pushing his shoulder you answer sarcastically, “Are you my mother? Stop smoking Munson, you’re turning into a softie.” Traipsing past him you quickly run inside to find your friends, feet crunching on the gravel.

What the hell got into him?

—

The party is buzzing and so are you, two drinks in and a hit from Jonathan’s blunt and you’re dancing with Max, El and Will around the living room.

Tears flood Will’s eyes but he won’t say what’s wrong. Lately when he drank, he always seemed to get a little gloomy and dark. Whatever was bothering you he’d never tell, just going on about how it’s not fair. Only for the next day to claim he didn’t remember.

In a blurring spin from El’s outstretched hand, you can make out Steve Harrington. His tongue was wrapped around some blonde girl’s throat. Hands cupping her ass like she might float away. He wore his sunglasses in the house pretending like he really was fit to be “King”.

King Douche of Hairspray Island

Nancy and Jonathan are whispering close together slow dancing to a song no one can hear but them. Her stylish hair and clothes always fit her like she was straight from a Gap catalog.

Eyeing you, she waves and blows you a kiss. One you pocket and blow back. You’ve come to know Nancy quite well this last school year. Being one of your best friend's older sister’s she was cool and grown up.

Showing Max, El and yourself the proper way to wear makeup without looking like a cheap tramp.

“I don’t care if it is popular, blue is not a shade for anyone’s eyes.” Her makeup lessons earned an eye roll from Max, but you and El took special interest in it.

Collapsing onto the couch after Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ended; Will, Max and El all fall into a fit of giggles, you are breathless and your legs feel like freeze pops before they’re frozen. Being drunk and spinning around wasn’t the best of combinations but it was a blast.

A wayward glance towards the makeshift poker table in the small kitchen has Will wiping his eyes, rushing to the bathroom, excusing himself with a rushed “gotta pee.”

Finishing the last swallows of a lone beer sitting atop the barely standing coffee table, Max tosses the empty can behind her and leans forward, turning her head towards your direction, her eyes squinting into a serious glare, “you really gonna date that weasel dick Chad Cunningham?”

El’s face lights with devilish delight and you roll your eyes. Chad Cunningham was in your grade, and more popular than anyone you hung out with. Exceptionally good at sports and school, he was a dreamboat for any girl to set sail with. A future of wealth and riches lying at your feet. And he had been laying on his advances thick.

Plucking a cigarette from the crumbled pack in your shirt pocket, you offer the redhead a drag after taking a long inhale.

“Jesus,” you breathe through a cloud of smoke, “I swear I’m gonna kill Lucas.”

Max only laughs, poking your ribs with a slight jab of her unpainted fingernail, red from a picked stubborn hangnail, “Lucas couldn’t keep a secret if someone paid him too.”

Lucas and Chad played on the same baseball team, and it was he who said he would put in a good word to you for Chad. Apparently they were talking about more than just batting averages at practice.

Stealing the cigarette from your mouth, Max slots it between her own chapped lips, inhaling and blowing the smoke upwards as she falls back into the couch.

Lighting another cigarette, you listen to Max’s scoffing noises as Eddie runs through the living room, shirt off wearing cutoff denim shorts and boots, a screaming Chrissy over his shoulder as he trots towards the dock. Her high pitched whines are faint as there are two splashes into the lake, one after another.

“We’ve talked on the phone once, maybe twice,” you offer the small information as a gift, waiting for your two best friends to pull the pink satin bow and open it revealing the secret surprise. “Just lucky my mom didn’t get to the phone before I did.”

“No shit,” El hums around a can of Pabst, a wicked smile evident on her lips, “so what did he say?!”

The three of you dive into a giggly drunk conversation about boys, laughing at how awkward they were, how dumb they could be, ending the conversation still unsure whether or not you would give in to Chad’s charm. He was cute after all.

He wasn’t like you, while your family wasn’t poor, Chad’s family was extremely wealthy. They were all matching outfits for family pictures and lately your parents were gone more than they were home. Hushed whispers and teary eyes from your mother.

You didn’t know what was going on, maybe they would be getting a divorce? Maybe you’d be like Max and live in the trailer park after whichever parent decided to stay in Hawkins. Between the choice of living with your mom or dad, you’d rather sleep in a dog kennel.

Of all the girls in the school, Chad had chosen you. The sleepless nights on the phone were nothing but sweet talk. Telling you how pretty you were, calling you honey bun, how he couldn’t get you out of his head. Teasing him and telling him he was crazy, his flirting only deepened. Creating a pocket of desire and questions of what if? burrowed deep into your skin. Warming your heart with each peel of his words cozying inside of it.

He even left flowers on your window sill in the middle of the night so you could wake up to the smell of wildflowers drying in the growing sun of the dewy morning.

He was a charmer. And he’d charmed you right to a fit of heated cheeks and butterfly stomach aches.

When you saw Chrissy’s blonde hair in Eddie’s van you almost expected to see him in the back. Stomach sinking when he wasn’t stuffed into the grungy van.

Last night he made you promise to call when you were done hanging out with your friends. A promise you weren’t sure if you would keep or not.

El slinked from the couch and joined Mike and the rest of the boys playing their drunken hands at poker. Losing every cent of allowance and weeks worth of mowing yards in Hawkins to Steve and a piss drunk Tommy.

Max and Lucas were wrestling on the floor now, his deep skin turning a violent shade of purple only seen on plums from Max having him in a headlock, making him swear to stop calling her Pippy due to her choice of hairstyle.

The scent of murky lake water infused with green algae and harsh whiskey fogged your brain, tiny droplets of water slid down your cheeks, making you question how many beers you actually had. Putting your head on the cushion and looking back revealed Eddie, standing behind you in all his stupidity and brainless head banging to Heaven and Hell. One hand clutched around a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck, his rings clacking loudly around the glass, the other pinched a fat joint. One wet boot on the back of the couch.

“Trailer Park run out of water again?” you spit, making a show of wiping your face with the back of your hand and sitting farther away from the metal head menace. Kev’s friend or not, Eddie was a special kind of jackass. Loud, ruthless, a real mother fucker, but come hell or high water, he was loyal to his friends. But shit, even an old porch dog is.

Eddie made a voice and chuckled deep, taking a large inhale from the joint, the paper crinkling against the orange burnt end. Blowing big O’s around your face, he merely grins, “you’re too kind to me little T,” he gathers his hair and wrings it out over your head, leaping over the back of the couch landing next to you with a sopping squelch sound of wet denim slapping against polyester, “better ease up on that sweetness or someone might think you’re not made of piss and vinegar.”

Kicking him away from you he only laughs harder ow stop you’re hurting me ow, he breaks out through choked laughs at your attempt to throw him off the couch.

When you have him pinned against the arm rest, your dirty white converse pressed into the slab of graffitied alabaster that makes up his back, he gently grabs your ankle and tosses your feet off of him in a swift throw.

Crossing your arms in a stubborn fashion you deliver one more kick into his side before retreating your legs in a pretzel beneath you, taking the joint from his outstretched hand as a peace offering. Hard to deliver kicks when your feet felt like they were stuck in brownie batter thick mud.

After a few hits, droopy eyes, and Eddie’s dripping curls down his back and onto the woven beige fabric of Rick’s couch, Eddie lets out a loud sigh, taking a pull from the whiskey bottle he still was nursing.

“Thought Eyeball was supposed to come home this summer?”

The question is more of a statement from Eddie as you lazily shrug your shoulders and find intense concentration on the frayed edges of your shorts. Fingers rolling the edges until the fabric is warm and sweaty.

“Dunno, precious Kev hasn’t said much since he went out East, nobody has.”

“Ohh c’mon,” Eddies velvet voice hums deep through his high, eyes barely open, “your rents aren’t that bad.”

Blowing hot breath through your lips you mimic a balloon, giggling at the way your lips feel with each wiggly vibration against your them. “Next. I’m not talking about my feelings with you when you’re higher than Willie fuckin’ Nelson.”

“Rocky Mountain High,” Eddie grins, tipping the neck or the Jack Daniel’s bottle to his lips.

Heckling him you correct, “That’s… John Denver …dumbass— ,” a yawn escapes your mouth, brain functioning on low as the high creeps into your brain, an unannounced nap knocking on your eyelids.

The couch dips with Eddie’s weight as he reaches for a blanket and tosses it to you, “Kid, I don’t know how you and Eyeball are related,” he presses, laughing at the way your eyes heavily blink back at him, “you can’t hang.”

The slowest fuck you rolls of your tongue, the living room fading in your vision you can almost taste the insult rolling around your mouth.

His idle smile falls into a frown, eyebrows pulled inward, eyes looking over your head you train your eyes to follow his gaze.

The noise of Chrissy’s bubbly giggle as she emerges from Rick’s bedroom, catches your attention. She’s wearing a pair of his boxers and a worn heather gray shirt, faded kelly green writing reading, Hawkins Athletic Dept 1980. Her eyes are twinkling with each murmur from Rick’s slack mouth, bent low to her ear, neither of them seeing Eddie sitting on the couch.

Stepping into the low hanging lights in the living room, Rick quickly gestures to Chrissy’s nose and she hastily wipes at it with the back of her hand.

You knew very little of Chrissy other than her family lived on the golf course in a lavish house with a perfectly manicured yard. One boy, one girl, perfect cookie cutter JC Penney catalog assholes.

Last year, you, Dustin and Mike threw three dozen perfectly shaped, white eggs at their front door on Halloween. While Will and Lucas rang the doorbell and Max lit the brown papered sack filled to the brim of Forest Hills Trailer Park’s finest dog shit.

There were wanted ads in the Hawkins Post for weeks about any known whereabouts of the “hoodlums” who defaced private property.

And Joyce Byers stood her ground on not knowing anything when Chief Hopper begrudgingly stomped his way from his police cruiser to the lonely woman’s door. Nevermind her receipt from Bradley’s Big Buys that was identical to what was used in the Halloween crimes of 1984.

It truly was a mystery.

Chrissy didn’t talk to you or any of your friends when you all hung out with Eddie and that was perfectly fine with you, she seemed on edge and would scowl anytime Eddie wasn’t paying her attention or waiting on her hand and foot. At the very least she looked to be in desperate need to fucking relax.

Her wide pupils scan the living room and stop on Eddie. The innocence of Bambi struck the blues in her eyes.

The couch shifts as Eddie stands on firm boots and makes his way to Rick and Chrissy. And before you can crane your neck to hear the conversation, Dustin throws himself down beside you, grabbing the blanket in a yank.

“Pretty sure I’ve figured out the physics of the beer bong,” he says as he flips your legs on his lap.

Before long your eyelids have taken the shape of sandbags and you’re fast asleep. Left on the couch after Dustin’s lengthy explanation of the correct number of breaths taken before the beer bong rendered you to a peaceful dream state.

When you wake by being lightly shaken by a sober-looking Eddie, his warm dark eyes swim with anger and look too wet, and his smile doesn’t match his eyes, “let’s go, kid,” he looks around wildly, on edge, “you’re drunker than a skunk— it’s time to go.”

You’re incoherent as you try to stand, a dizzy spell capturing you in a wave and you feel like you're underwater. Looking around you don’t recognize anyone but Eddie. Rick’s is packed with faces you don’t know.

Not wanting to be there for another second, Eddie grabs your wrist, squats low in front of you and throws your arms around his neck. He wraps the smooth crook of his elbows into the back of your knees, wearing you like a drunk backpack.

A piggy back ride that left your face in the curly, tangled tufts of his drying hair, the tang of weed and lake water stinging your nose as you bury your chin into his shoulder.

A cool blanket is on you when you open your eyes and become a little more alert. You’re in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, a cigarette hangs limply from his lips as he’s muttering something to himself. It’s dark, and no music is playing. An odd thing for him.

A quick glance around and you see that no one else is with you. A street lamp shines through the windows and you can see Eddie’s knuckles are painted with a deepened glossy red substance.

“Eddie?”

He doesn’t hear you immediately so you repeat his name. His head turns sharp towards you and the blazed look of rage emits from his face. If it were a look from anyone else you’d be terrified. He quickly softens his eyes.

“Everyone’s at Steve’s,” he says quickly, “the kids, Nancy, Jonathan.. we’re heading there—that cool?”

Confused but unable to concentrate a single thought on why the fuck Eddie would be taking you to Steve mop head Harrington’s house, you nod in agreeance. Fighting sleep but losing.

“.. okay okay okay! Explain to me again what the hell happened, I was helping Lucas get Max in my car when it went down.”

“Ouch! Jesus Chr—“

“Sorry!”

“.. they were eyeing her man, all of them! — it was— fuck!”

*glass breaks against a wall*

“Who Chrissy?”

“No, Tooty!”

“Oh my God.. Munson. Who were they?!”

“I don’t know man, I’ve— I’ve never seen them before… fuck this I’m going back there— gonna snap their fucking necks!”

“Stop, this needs to get cleaned or it’ll get infected!”

“Henderson, weren't you sitting by her? Where the hell were you?!.”

“I was Steve! fuck— I just had take a piss, I was gone for like 2 minutes and then I heard the yelling…”

“Christ! Did they touch her?!”

“No,” a tearful voice warbles, “Eddie knocked out that big fucker and the rest of them backed off.”

“I fucking swear to God— Harrington, I will slit their throats if I see them again!”

“I know dude I know, me too.”

“She’s asleep. Max and El are staying with her in the guest room upstairs, I think we should all get some sleep it’s fucking 3 in the morning.”

“Nope, all due respect Wheeler— I can’t.”

“Ed—”

“Fuck! I won’t go back there, alright? But I can’t just lay down and go to bed— not after this..”

The weary eyed stubborn watchdog waits til dawn, aching back from the wall he’s propped up against and bruised knuckles sting with tightness. Flipping the steel end of an old pocket knife open and closed.

Steve stayed up with him for a while, a bat with nails protruding from every which way in a death grip in his fist.

Eddie didn’t think he actually was all that bad, underneath all that hairspray he could tell he’s a genuine person— lost on the surface of money, name brand clothes and expensive cologne.

The two of them made a pact that night that the kids would be protected at all costs, two guardians in the halls for them in high school in the fall. The jock dickheads who crashed Rick’s party amongst them, but the threat behind Eddie’s fist evident in the broken jaw of the football captain behemoth. No longer able to to take the Tigers to a state championship or try to have his way with a younger drunk girl at a party.

Both Eddie and Steve decide that in the morning if you didn’t remember what happened— it would die there, a protective secret amongst new friends.

🧡

see you in volume xi

[strwbwoo]

office sex w mingyu, your socks n kitten heels the only clothing in tact, his work tie you picked out for him on the floor by them. your glasses fallen to your nose n foggy as he pounds you from the back, raw bc you both too needy and forgetful to carry them. his matching pants to his suit down enough to free his dick, balls slapping your clit w every thrust, “ fuck babe! your cunt gets tighter everyt- time!” he grunts over your qivering moans. tube top down to your waist, bunching with your skirt. boobs bouncing against the cold wooden table in the brake room, anyone can come in. “g-gyu! im-fuck- m’gonna cum!” gripping your waist leaving small imprints from his nails, “go ahead princess, tell everybody whos making yo- you cum” both your hips stuttering closer to climax, “ming- keep going mingyu! fuck kim- mingyu!” squeezing his dick bringing him his high aswell, filling your insides like a donut. “ did so well baby..” he pants

an : if you dont get cunt office fashion, unt unt shame on you

[buckyalpine]

Peter’s Hamster

Crack fic alert: Imagine Bucky with a pet he never wanted. He’s around the compound more cause he’s taking a break from missions for a while. In the meantime, Peter brought a hamster from the pet store and Tony is not having any of it.

“No”

“C’mon Mr. Stark, you won’t even notice him-

“I can smell him from the lab”

“I’ll invent something to stop the smell”

“Aren’t pets expensive”

“Aren’t you a billionaire?”

“Shut up Romanoff”

“He was like 2 bucks!”

Peter manages to squirrel his way into keeping his newest friend but there’s still the matter of who would care for him when everyone else as away on missions. Anyway, Bucky made it clear he would have no part in hamster sitting. Not one bit. If everyone was away then the hamster would have to fend for himself.

Like today. It had already been a few days since the collective team had left leaving Bucky in perfect solitude with his worn copy of the hobbit and his secret guilty pleasure; peanut butter cups. No one would ever EVER see the former winter soldiers suck off the chocolate left on the wrapper, licking his lips like a cat after every bit between flipping pages.

It was perfect.

Except.

Bucky could hear the sound of the squeaky wheel of the hamster going at full speed, the high pitched squeals piercing through the air.

“For fucks sake, can’t you keep it down” he grumbled before pausing and closing his eyes. “…I’m talking to a hamster”

….

“who can’t hear me”

Eventually the rustling and scurrying gets to him so he reluctantly goes over to Peters room to see what the 3 gram rodent is up to. He notices the pellet bowl is empty and water has almost run dry, though the little fur ball didn’t seem to care just yet, more concerned about cleaning and pawing at his face.

“If you had more than half a brain cell you would’ve escaped and fed yourself” Bucky scoffed, ready to turn on his heel but the tiny beady eyes that look at him make him stop.

“Pathetic” he mumbled before finding the bag of food under a pile of Peter’s clothes “no more wonder he bought a hamster, he lives like one”

The hamster nudges against him when he refills his bowl, using it as an opportunity to escape by climbing up his arm and sitting on his shoulder.

“Seriously”

The small light brown puffball stayed there while Bucky scoffed, plucking him off and plopping him back in, narrowing his eyes at it.

“This was a one time thing. Figure it out”

Is what he said and fully intended on standing by but the squeaky wheels and rustling get to him. At one point, he swears it’s on purpose as the hamsters way of getting his attention for a food refill.

So he takes matters into his own hands

“If you won’t feed yourself, I’ll teach you”

So the late night sessions begin. Rigorous circuits for the thing that was smaller than his palm, learning how to scale the cake, click the lock open and nibble its way into the pellets. 

“I’m training a hamster” 

Bucky caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a few stray pieces of woodchips dusting his clothes while the hamster (who he now called PB....based on an interesting choice...) completed another around in less than 0 seconds. 

“I’m training a fucking hamster” 

“Good Job PB” Bucky petted his head with one finger, stopping when he was about to comment on his ability to climb the cage, 

“And still talking to it” 

Imagine the absolute confusion the team feels when they get back to find random clear tubes running along the walls, each connecting to a different room, most tubes leading to the snack cupboards and counter tops. 

The walk into the living room and no one breathes a word, too entranced by the sight of a very focused Bucky and Peter’s hamster, perched on the super soldier. He sits on Bucky's shoulder, remnants of sunflower seeds left over on the coffee table while Bucky nibbles on a peanut butter cup. 

“What the fuck” 

Bucky turned around to find everyone staring at him with a variety of expressions from shock to amusement to utter confusion. At this point, Bucky couldn’t not care less, shrugging before holding up a seed to his shoulder so PB could grab it in his tiny hands.

“Which episode now, PB”  “Who the fuck is PB” 

Bucky pointed to the furball while scrolling through Netflix, avoiding any animal documentaries, not wanting to traumatize his new tiny friend. 

“You named him PB?”

“Yup”

“Based off of what” Tony cocked and eyebrow while Bucky snorted, feeding him another sunflower seed. 

“We’ll, I originally called him Parker’s balls”

Imagine after this Bucky has PB trained to wreck havoc and steal things he likes from just about anywhere. Peter gets absolute shit from Tony because 1 Bucky was enough chaos and now its Bucky plus this tiny demon. 

[nendo-kyotei]

incognithot (aizawa x student! reader)

♥ pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

♥ wc: 1,448

♥ synopsis: You're Aizawa's problem student. During Halloween, you dress up in a costume that hides your identity and get fucked by him.

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap, reader is 18, daddy kink, choking, unsafe sex, alcohol, dubious consent (alcohol involved), fingering

Just the thought of going out with your girls to celebrate Halloween and getting fucked by your teacher, Aizawa, in the restroom of some bar while you're wearing a costume and he's too drunk to notice it's you.

It's Halloween, and you use the occasion as a chance to dress up as a slut, of course, opting for a tight, black tube dress and high heels that are definitely brought together by the cheap cat ears you stole from your bestie and the shitty nose and whiskers your friend drew on you while half-drunk. You slap on a venetian-styled mask, hoping to maybe elevate your trashy couture a little bit. It doesn't, but it at least hides your identity pretty efficiently when aided by the mirage of night time.

He is the last person you expect to see in the bar, dressed up as Dracula too, and you're glad that your girlfriends aren't part of the hero course, because it would be pretty embarrassing to confess how horny you are for your teacher, and have been for a long time. Usually, you wouldn't even bother saying hi to him in public, already knowing that he would probably just choose to ignore you or just sigh at you for daring to bother him outside of class.

But tonight, you're brave, sexy and most of all, drunk as hell, so you don't think twice of approaching him and hitting him with some random joke about vampires, probably an awful one considering how unimpressed he looks, but it's enough to distract him from the group of people he was hanging out with. You are glad you don't recognize any of them, so you can embarrass yourself with a little bit more freedom. You expect him to sigh when he realizes who you are, maybe entertain your bullshit a little bit and then tell you to go do your homework, but he doesn't. You quickly realize why: He doesn't recognize you. Holy shit.

You don't quite remember what the hell you blab about, and he probably doesn't either, because he spends most of the conversation just looking you up and down, which makes you nervous, as it could either mean that, option A, he is starting to realize who you are, or option B, he is checking you out. You don't know which one makes you dizzier.

You get your answer when he wraps his arm around your waist at some point, pulling you closer, his intoxicating cologne now invading all your senses, as he pretends to laugh at some dumb joke you spouted. He is pretending to laugh. He is pretending, so he can get on your good side. So he can fuck you. It makes electricity go right into your clit, your pussy throbbing around nothing. You look up at him, starry-eyed, absolutely enamored with your handsome teacher, too drunk to realize what you're getting yourself into.

He whispers something in your ear, about wanting to get some privacy with you, talk more quietly. You agree enthusiastically, but are surprised when instead of leading you outside, he drags you into the restroom.

It happens.

Him pinning you against the wall and kissing you desperately, probably thinking you're just some hot slut he picked up at a bar rather than one of his students. You roll your eyes back at feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of whiskey and nicotine quickly flooding your senses as you remember the fact that this is the same man who scolded you for smoking during breaks, who scrunched his nose and told you this was a disappointment coming from you. The same man who grabbed your wrist and made you drop the cigarette when you refused to do so.

The same strong hands now groping you desperately, slapping your ass and making it jiggle. You hug his neck with your arms, standing in your tippy toes as he has fun squeezing you, pinching you, abusing you as much as he wants, because in his mind, you're some whore who is going to let him do whatever he wants.

Him sliding a finger into you and loving the way you arch your back and moan at the intrusion, both in pain and pleasure, a smug smirk trailing on his lips as he sees you struggle to even take a mere finger. Making a nasty comment about how you feel like a virgin, about how he's going to wreck you and stretch you out real good, about how pretty sluts like you are begging for it. It makes your stomach flip, both from shock and arousal, as your mind struggles to process this side of him. You almost feel attacked at the rough treatment, wondering what you did to turn the barely interested man back in the bar into this mean, obscene version of himself, but then you realize it's because you look so fucking hot he can't stop himself. In his eyes, you're some dumb, young bitch he's going to use tonight.

He kisses your neck while he fingers your pussy, struggling to even get halfway in there, having to use the full strength of his arm to bury knuckle deep into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as your lips part open, breathless. He plants wet, sloppy kisses on your neck, and the prickling of his beard against his neck reminds you that you're being fingered by your goddamn teacher, who always refuses to give you the 10% in your final grade because of your "rebellious" behavior. You bite your lip, heart beating wildly, tangling your fingers in his long hair as he sucks a hickey into your throat, and wonder what the fuck is wrong with you.

You know he is very much drunk when he doesn't bother with protection, instead choosing to turn you around, pin you against the wall and bully his raw cock into your tight pussy. You want to object at this, but he slaps a hand on your mouth, and for the first time in the night, you feel a twinge of fear run down your spine. Would it be a bad time to make a joke about how you're disappointed in him? Before you can make the decision, you squeal at the sensation of his fat cock head stretching you painfully, bigger than anything you ever had before. He grunts, frustrated at the tight fit, as he forces the entirety of his thick cock inside you, inch by excruciating inch as you do your best to accommodate your dear teacher. You always imagined him to be big when he would star in your wet dreams, but you never imagined him to be this...overwhelming.

He fucks you slowly at first, enjoying the way your plump ass jiggles when he thrusts into you. You moan sweetly, hypnotized by the way the pain slowly becomes sticky pleasure, as you push your hips back, meeting his thrusts rhythmically, and you realize this is probably the first time you two have ever agreed on anything. He is always too busy scolding you for shit, acting like a disapproving dad. You giggle dumbly, as the words escape your lips before you can calculate them, "Nngh, harder, daddy."

Everything suddenly stops.

You blink, slightly sobered now, wondering if you freaked him out, or even worse, made him realize who you really are. What an unfortunate epiphany to have while being balls deep inside you. You slightly turn around, concerned, but a hand on your head forcefully pins you against the wall again.

Out of nowhere, he picks up the pace, it's brutal enough to make the cubicle shake. His hand viciously wraps around your throat, pressing down on your windpipe hard enough to take away any oxygen going into your lungs. Your eyes widen as he starts fucking you at a brutal pace, shifting your body so he can put your leg on his shoulder and fuck you even deeper. Your other leg dangles on the air, as he now effortlessly uses you as a little sex doll, and the mere thought of you is enough to push you into the hot, white edge. You moan a loud, obscene "Oh fuck, dadddyyyyyy~" as you cum, the waves of pleasure hitting you like a truck.

Your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock, pushing him into his own orgasm, as he finishes with a brutal thrust, and a broken grunt. You feel yourself being filled up your teacher's hot, warm cum, shot inside you one, two, three times, painting your insides white. You almost cum again at the exquisite feeling and the thought of being accidentally knocked up by Aizawa.

Drunk in the post-orgasm haze, and still as stupid as ever, you wonder if this will finally force him to give you that extra 10%.