#robin buckley x fem!black!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eiightysixbaby · 7 months ago

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the lacy black pair with the little bows

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

robin’s thoughts run wild when she catches a glimpse of your panties in class… (1.4k)

cw: 18+ only — SMUT. i guess you could argue that this is perv!robin bc she’s fantasizing about reader???, fingering, v v brief blood mention. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i hope y’all like this!! i’d really like to do a part 2, let me know your thoughts… 👀

There’s a muddied hum in Robin’s ears; the droning voice of the teacher that has melted into nothing but incomprehensible mush. Focusing on Mrs. Click’s ramblings was a near impossible task even under normal circumstances, and the present circumstances were far from that.

See, Robin’s a good student. Maybe easily distractible at times, but she tries her best to stay focused and take her notes and do well. It’s just that today you’re making it really hard to concentrate.

You sit in front of her, diagonally to the right. And she’s always been respectfully appreciative of having such a beautiful girl in such close proximity to her, if even for a 50 minute class-period.

She knows you, but she doesn’t know know you. She knows she’s seen you roaming the halls with Nancy Wheeler, she’s spotted your name on articles in the Hawkins High school paper, but she hasn’t exchanged a single word with you aside from the time you asked her to borrow a pencil. (She had, in her nervousness, given you her only pencil and was left unable to take notes the entire class.)

It would be a lie for her to claim that she wasn’t crushing on you. I mean, how could she not be? There’s no possible way anyone could expect her not to have a crush on someone like you. It’s been pretty tame, however, just little daydreams here and there.

But today. Dear God, today was testing her limits.

The thing is, Robin didn’t mean to look. She really, really didn’t. But it’s kind of hard not to when you’re in a natural line of sight and she already has a reason to look your direction because even the back of your head is pretty.

Today, you’re showing off a little more skin than usual.

It’s a simple fashion mishap. Your jeans rode down a bit too low once you sat in your seat. It happens to everyone, right? It’s just that you’re wearing these underwear, and they’re peeking out above your pants, and it’s like you’re personally taunting her.

They’re black with lace, and holy shit Robin was a goner the instant she noticed them.

Again, she didn’t mean to look. She’s trying really, really hard not to objectify you. But what the hell.

She might as well be drooling, her head propped up by her right hand, her gaze locked on you and that scandalous little garment. Uninterested in the topic at hand, she easily tunes out the teacher’s monologue. Her mind wanders; as much as she’s trying to be good and polite and respectful, her thoughts are turning out to be anything but.

Because it’s so, so fucking easy to imagine herself unbuttoning your jeans. Tugging down the zipper, hands eager to cop a feel. She can picture the way you’d shiver when her nimble fingers cupped your heat over the fabric of those pretty black panties. She can nearly hear the gasp you’d let out when the pad of her index finger teased your hole. Her mouth nearly tingles with the imaginary softness of your lips against hers, the pretty gloss you wear rubbing off on her own smirk.

She’s in too deep, because she’s imagining hooking her fingers through those panties and slowly working them down your thighs; teasing you. Locking eyes with you as she strips your bottom half bare, letting her fingers caress you carefully. The image is so clear in her brain; sliding a digit through your folds, already soaking wet for her. Your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back, exposing the column of your neck to her teeth and tongue. She can feel the warmth of your skin on her tongue as she sucks on a section of it, only pulling away when you’re mewling in a satisfied sort of pain.

You’d make the cutest sounds, there’s no doubt about it, your high-pitched little moans ringing in her ears as she imagines pushing one finger fully inside of you. She’s testing the waters, slowly pumping her index finger in and out, feeling the warmth of your inner walls engulfing it.

And when you start to buck your hips, because you just can’t take it and you need more, she’ll throw her middle finger into the mix, too. Two fingers fucking you, slowly at first then gradually picking up speed and intensity. You let her name fall from your lips, and it makes goosebumps erupt on her skin with how pretty she guesses it sounds in your mouth.

She thinks it would be fun to taunt you a little bit, get you even more riled up.

“What, pretty girl?” she can hear herself asking you after the second moan of her name.

“Feel so good,” is your reply, your voice taking on a breathy quality.

Your body is pliant under her control, arching into her touch and encouraging her actions. She knows she wouldn’t be able to take it, letting her composure slip a little as she fucks you harder with her fingers. Your cunt makes the filthiest sounds, your wetness sloshing and squelching with each pump of her palm against your sex. It only eggs her on; if she had a tail, it would surely be wagging.

She’d start kissing your neck as she fingers you, dipping down to the junction where it meets your shoulder. Maybe she’d bite down, see how you react to it. Maybe she’d let her teeth draw blood, only to lap it up with her tongue.

In real time, you shift in your seat at your desk, and it makes Robin’s whole body feel warm. A tiny bit more of your panties poke out, your ass just centimeters out of view.

In her head, her free hand grabs your ass, squeezing the doughy flesh until you mewl into her mouth.

“Don’t stop, Robin,” you’d cry, muffled by her sloppy kisses to your mouth. Her fingers curl mercilessly inside you, and if your words are anything to go by, you’re getting close to release.

She’d keep up her pace, listening to you moan and whine with each press of her fingers to that sweet spot inside of you. She can feel the ghostly press of your fingertips to her shoulder, nails digging in to brace yourself.

“Are you gonna cum for me, gorgeous girl?” is what she would ask, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Mhm,” your whimpered response reverberates inside her brain, your bottom lip sucked beneath your teeth in concentration.

She knows it would be earth-shattering, watching you cum. She knows it would be even better feeling it happen, around her fingers.

Her fantasy reaches the perfect peak, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls squeeze her fingers, clenching in an erratic pattern. Your head is tipped toward the ceiling, her name slipping past your lips.

“Robin,” you nearly scream.

It’s the prettiest sound she’s ever heard.

“Robin.”

It’s a plea, a chant, a prayer all in one.

“Robin!” her name comes for the third time, but this time the voice doesn’t sound so much like yours. It sounds like—

“Ms. Buckley, are you paying attention?”

Robin’s head snaps up, her posture straightening, suddenly alert. The fantasy slips out of her brain, the images going cloudy as the classroom comes back into focus.

Mrs. Click stares disapprovingly from the front of the room, tapping a pen against her palm in waiting.

Her face goes crimson, embarrassment flooding her body. She’d been completely laser-focused on you, and she finds herself suddenly taking up faith and praying to every god that no one realized she was staring so hard. Staring so hard at your ass, to be specific.

“Y-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” Robin replies, voice hoarse. Of course she hadn’t been paying attention. She doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on.

“As I was saying,” the teacher huffs. “You’ll be partnered with Y/N for the project.”

Robin feels herself nod, even give a weak smile, but she suddenly feels like there’s cotton in her ears. The last thing she thinks she needs right now is to have to work in close proximity to you, on a project she knows nothing about because she was too busy fantasizing about finger-fucking you.

She chances a glance at you, only to be met by your gaze staring right back, over your shoulder. You give her a sweet little smile, fingers waggling in a subtle wave, oblivious to the things you’re doing to her.

She waves back, swallowing hard.

The universe might just have it out for her.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #divider by cafekitsune

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loveshotzz · 2 years ago

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Hi hi babes 🖤🦇

May I pretty please request ☆ { licking } their neck to make them gasp with our Stevie?

Thank you 🥰

Hi my sweet sweet Drac 🖤 I would love nothing more than to give you what you want.

steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ Co workers to lovers, Mentions of drinking at a party, dry humping, hickey giving, uh-oh did you make Steve cum in his pants? :(

You weren’t supposed to give into Steve Harrington, you promised yourself you wouldn’t after your first day at Family Video when he laid it on thick with the kind of flirting that would have gotten him anything he wanted in high school but you knew better now and his own confidence had gotten knocked down a few pegs over the years. The problem was he could tell you liked it, because as much as you hated to admit it, you did. Steve caught the twist of your lips that you were always trying to hide when he’d tell you how cute you looked every time you walked into work even on the days it was just a t-shirt and jeans. You never told him to stop, even when he’d ‘jokingly’ ask you out to dinner after every close. It was always a shy smile and a roll of your eyes with a ‘shut up Steve’.

So how’d you end up straddling his lap in the basement at one of Rick’s parties that you didn’t even want to go to with his bottom lip between your teeth? You blame Robin Buckley and her incessant need to take multiple shots in a row to ‘get it over with’, and then abandoning you as soon as Nancy arrived leaving you with the boy you’ve been trying not to relent to and his reaction to your skirt all night.

Steve’s fingers dig bruising indentations into the soft dough of your hips when you let his lip go with a wet pop, watching it snap back into place even more swollen and pink than before from under your lashes. The mossy forest of his eyes is taken over black, pupils blown wide half hidden by heavy lids as he looks up at you with hair even messier than its normal disarray with your hands as the culprits. Your skirt sits rucked up just enough for him to see the blush pink lace of your panties underneath that match the dusting on his cheeks, and the wet patch that you know will leave a mark on the light wash denim of his jeans the more you grind against him. He lifts his hips up as he pulls you forward, gliding you over the inseam of his zipper with just the right amount of pressure against your clit to have you gasp. He feels even bigger than you imagined, bigger than all the stories you’d heard from other girls.

A cocky lopsided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth pushing up the cheek with the two moles that look like a vampire bit the apple of it, traces of pink from your gloss still linger on them and the glitter coating shimmers in the low light. He tilts his head back to look up at you, the thick expanse of his neck exposed along with the sharpness of his jaw. The new angle reveals a mess of freckles you’d only dared to let yourself look at from afar. Glitterless and bruisless, a blank canvas that taunts you.

Leaning forward your hands find a home on his chest, while his fingers spread wide over the curve of your ass. The tips of them daring to slide along the bottoms of your panties. His pecs twitch against your palms from under the thick fabric of his navy polo that fits snug over his broad shoulders, almost like it's a size too small just like his jeans and just like his vest at work. Steve Harrington knew what he was doing. Of course he did.

Tequila and pineapple are sweet on your breath, mixing with the peach of your gloss in a way that makes him impatient to collect them in a kiss again when the tip of your nose traces up the straight bridge of his. It leaves your lips just a chin tilt away from him if he really wanted but his dark eyes flick down to the growing wet patch between your thighs instead, grabbing handfuls of the soft fat of your ass to encourage you to grind harder.

“S’pretty you know that?” He groans bucking up when your hips oblige him, the tip of his cock fighting with the inseam of his jeans, pushing into the silk of your underwear making an even bigger mess of you. “Too damn pretty, honey. Could stare at you all day, fuck - I do.”

“Steve!” The way you giggle his name makes his teeth flash in the kind of smile that has you feeling like the flustered girls you see leave the counter at work.

“What? It’s true, can’t keep my eyes off you.” He sits up, straightening his back with big hands that pull you up with him.

The new position has your chests pressed, the length of him rubbing along your clit with enough pressure to make you whine and god does he need you to do it again. Grunting he starts his hunt for another with lips that find the hollow of your throat, smirking against your skin when your fingers tangle in his hair. You wanted to give it to him.

“I didn’t think you were gonna give me a chance,” His babbling doesn’t stop, especially when your hips start to circle, “you were playin’ so hard to get baby, but I’m patient when I really want something.”

“We work together Steve -“ You try to argue with a shaky breath, lashes fluttering closed as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. The springs of the couch starting to squeak under your movements, too close to care about holding back any more. “It could get messy, you know? - Shit.”

He hums like he understands with your earlobe sucked into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a pop before his eyes meet your heavy gaze with a mischievous glint that only stokes the flames he’s lit across your body, licking every inch of your skin.

“I don’t know,” The corners of his mouth twist up in a grin snapping the elastic band of your panties “seems pretty messy now.”

His tongue traces your top lip, while his fingers find purchase wrapped around your hips. Tan skin pulls taut over his knuckles using his strength to bring your hips down on him harder, a deep groan rumbling from his chest when you tug at the thick locks of his auburn hair from the roots.

“That’s not what I - “ Your lips connect for a moment, tongues meeting briefly before you pull away with a huff, “that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The tip of his nose bumps with yours, his breath fanning across your face in a mixture of leftover peach gloss and the whiskey he opted for instead upstairs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” He asks with another roll of his hips relishing in the way it makes your jaw go slack with a smirk, “We get paid to have sex? Big woop.”

“Is that how you think it’s gonna be?” Your bottom lip meets his top when the question comes out, your eyes meeting his from down the slope of your nose.

“Maybe,” He wiggles his eyebrows with a chuckle that hits hot against your throat, “If you want, after I take you out on a date of course.”

“Oh we’re going on dates now too?” Grinning with a tilt of your head, you think about stealing a kiss that he’s eager to give.

One of his hands leaves your hip, the warmth of it coming up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates”

He closes the little space between you, finally stealing what you’ve been teasing him with. His mouth moves with yours like he’s sure of himself, tongues meeting in a slow dance instead of a battle for dominance. His other arm wraps around your waist, biceps that are just as strong as they look pulling you closer, caging you in with another buck of his hips. The whine he’s been trying to get out of you starts to tease him from the back of your throat, the beginnings of it making his lips twitch against yours in a cocky way, even when he knows he’s dangerously close to needing a new pair of pants.

He’s not expecting one of your hands to come up and pinch the sharp edges of his jaw between two red painted fingers, or the way you start to control the kiss and Steve starts being the one to writhe underneath you at whatever mercy you want to give him. Truly, he doesn’t want any.

Now it’s him who whines when you pull away, your kiss swollen sticky lips finding the familiar path to his cheek. Another glittering trail of pink that leads down under his jaw where you nip just like he did to you.

“Honey,”

The pet name comes out like a warning when your tongue swipes across sweat slick skin. The tip of your nose nudging behind his ear with a smirk. Your hips circle with purpose now, not the wild abandon from before, feeling the way it makes him twitch in his jeans. He shudders when you lick the length of his neck, teeth scraping along the protruding vein as his arm tightens its hold, the palm of his hand curling around the back of your neck.You hum in approval, lips wrapping around where your teeth just were before sucking hard.

He groans your name loud enough you’re sure someone upstairs heard him, eyes rolling in the back of his head and toes curling in his sneakers as his hips buck up meeting the roll of yours. You know it’s going to be enough to leave his sun kissed skin lilac and blush when you’re done, but he doesn’t seem to care when the hard tip of him that threatens to bust through the seam of his jeans keeps hitting your bundle of nerves over and over again.

Steve’s head falls against the back of the couch, eyes pinching shut opening himself up more for you while his hips stutter. You feel the warmth of him flood between your legs. A string of curse words spilling from his lips, when your own release has your body freezing on top of him, thighs closing tight around his and an open mouth to his neck in a silent scream.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath with the bass of the music that vibrates the walls from upstairs. A content hum from your lips breaks the silence when he rubs his hand down your spine, nails scratching softly as he goes.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates.” He finally huffs out in a laugh, earning the giggle that he liked so much as his ‘yes.’

#my writing #requests #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fic

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vapekingg · 8 months ago

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Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader Fluff/angst 18+ for suggestive mentions WK - 4.3k TW for homophobic slurs Closeted reader and Robin, first kiss, first date, drive in date, Steddie setting up Robin and reader.

The overhead bell at Family Video dinged above you as you pushed your way into the air conditioned storefront.

“Right on time.” Steve said from the checkout counter.

He was glancing down at his watch, boyfriend and best friend huddled around him as usual. You’d made a habit of checking out two or three movies every week just to have an excuse to wander over from your job at the record shop next door.

“I take lunch at two o’clock every day, dingus.” You replied.

Robin couldn’t help but to smile. She’d noticed you’d picked up that nickname for Steve after hearing her call him it a time or two.

But she couldn’t smile for too long. Couldn’t let her eyes linger too heavily on the fray of your denim shorts — or more accurately, the flawless skin that sat just beneath it like a colliding estuary. Couldn’t let you know that she adored you in that way.

Robin took a step back when you approached the counter. Sometimes she felt scared to even be around you, like you could smell the fag shedding off of her. As if she was sickly. Contagious. That’s what people would say behind her back if they knew.

“Got anything new in?” You asked while sliding Steve the VHS you’d barely had for twenty-four hours.

“Since you came in yesterday?” He cocked an eyebrow, “No.”

“New release at the drive-in tonight though. Elm Street 4.” Eddie mentioned from your side of the desk. It was so miserable out that even he’d shed the leather jacket you typically saw him wearing, settling for a simple all black get up with that telling bandana hanging out the back of his jeans.

“Eh, let me know when it comes in. Last time I went to the drive-in alone some high schooler tried to hop in my passenger seat and cop a feel.” You mentioned.

You were content with watching re-runs on television late into the night while curled up on your sofa, you supposed. But a part of you wished you could just ask Robin to accompany you to that fucking movie.

“No goddamn way she’s not into chicks,” your co-workers told you to every time you came back from leaning over that fucking service desk during your half hour lunch. “She hangs out with Steve and Eddie all day, for fuck’s sake!”

Fuck, how you wished you could believe it as easily as they did. Even if you did believe it, it was easier just to protect your ego.

What if you made a move and she wasn’t into it? Would she recoil like she’d been shocked by a live wire? Maybe she’d use one of those hurtful words that you’d only heard while kissing girls outside of bars in the city. It was less painful to not take the chance. At least this way you could admire her from afar — on your lunch break, while she was dressed in that adorable uniform that fit her so well.

“Why don’t you go with her, Robin?” Steve said, ripping you out of your daydream and forcing fear up your spine like the knived fingers of Krueger himself. “You love the Elm Street movies.”

Robin’s baby blues widened from sudden anxiety. She used them to stare at Steve frantically, as if he hadn’t been the one to just thrust her into this situation in the first place. Instead, all she received from him was raised eyebrows and a humored smile while her own mouth failed to produce words.

“I, uh—” Robin stuttered, “I think I close tonight, actually!”

“Negative. Harrington closes tonight.” Eddie replied with cheek. Of course he had his own boyfriend’s work schedule down pat. God only knows how they defiled that check-out counter once Robin left those two alone in the evenings.

You cocked an eyebrow at her. The way your bubblegum peeked out from between your teeth when your lips parted into a smile had her wondering how sugary sweet it tasted — how sugary sweet you tasted.

“Don’t wanna be seen in my hatchback, Buckley? I’ll let you play DJ on the way there.”

Robin could feel the blood pumping through her veins. Every beat of her heart became so increasingly violent she could hear it in her ears. Of course she wanted to sit shotgun to you while you toted her around, but even the occupation of passenger princess came with its anxieties. What music to play, directions to give, do you hold a conversation or is that too distracting?

“Yes.” She burped out, and it sounded much like a bubble popping or a bullfrog croaking late in the night. All three of you looked at her with confusion.

“Yes, what?” You asked. “Yes, we’re going?”

“Ye—yeah, that. Let’s go!” She continued after flitting her eyes to Steve and then immediately away. “I get off at six, movie starts at seven. Pick me up at my house?”

She followed the question with that nervous, adorable half-smile you often saw — and adored — right after she did something embarrassing, but there was no excuse to be embarrassed here.

“Okay.” You said with disbelief. “Okay, yeah. You live off of Rosewood, right?”

She nodded through a broken grin and you began backing up toward the door. There was still plenty of time left on your lunch break, but suddenly Family Video felt even hotter than late August in Indiana and you needed air. Why was there no air in this goddamn building?

“Great,” you said in time with the bell above the front door. “Cool. I’ll be there.”

**********

“Cool, you finally asked her on a date!”

“I didn’t ask her on a date,” you told Mitch, your coworker, for the fifth time. “And I don’t even think it’s a date! Harrington kinda just set us up on some weird playdate like moms do with their socially awkward kids so they can get some alone time.”

You’d been trying for the past two hours to sort through the boxes of new inventory, but with your brain so scrambled, Blondie and Bowie read the exact same. Besides, you couldn’t get that adorable pout out of your head. The way Robin had looked so pitiful when she’d realized you were making an abrupt escape from such a sticky situation.

Sticky, because sometimes being queer felt like a glue trap sitting on your skin. Like you were a little mouse frantically trying to pull yourself free, or a fly hanging midair on a strip of paper. Sometimes you thought it might kill you.

“What’re you gonna wear?” Tiffany asked from behind the register.

You looked down at your sprawled out form, comfortable and covered in records on the floor of the shop.

“This?”

“That?” She asked again. “You look like fucking Munson.”

It was true that you and Eddie shared a few qualities, at least when it came to style. The frayed hem of your shorts tickled your thighs and was mostly chosen for aesthetic purposes, but the cut off sleeves of your Iron Maiden t-shirt were purely practical. It was too goddamn hot to not show a little skin.

“Robin dresses like a fucking dad. I’m wearing this, Tiff.” You reiterated.

Tiffany shrugged and went back to her counting, as if to say something along the lines of, “It’s your funeral.”

You stood in front of your mirror after your shift that afternoon.

Would it be your funeral if you wore the same outfit you’d been seen in earlier that evening? Maybe Robin didn’t like the way you dressed. If she didn’t like your cut offs, this very well could be the death of something that hadn’t even started yet.

You held up top after top in front of your chest, shorts after shorts before your waist and nothing seemed perfect. You wouldn’t wear a dress to the movies with a straight girl �� which is all that you could assume Robin was, and all she could assume you were as well. So you remained in your cut off shorts and Iron Maiden tank top while sliding your sunglasses off of your forehead to face the blinding late afternoon rays. Grabbing your keys off of the counter seems like a battle in and of itself, as if holding them in your hand meant that you had to get in your car and make a fool of yourself, but you combated that thought by snatching them up quickly. Hardly giving yourself enough time to talk yourself out of the date that you’d been set up on.

But calling it that was dangerous. Presumptions got people killed. That’s what Steve and Eddie and Tiffany and Mitch failed to understand.

You’d heard the stories in the city. They were talked about loudly while you flirted with girls at gay bars in Indianapolis — how another queer teenager had been killed, a casualty of the growing “gay panic” that seemed to be the excuse of every homophobic, bloodthirsty meathead that was looking for an excuse to rough someone up.

Those thoughts faded away with the roar of your engine, and soon you were heading down Peony Circle, then Dahlia Street, and then Rosewood Drive. You recognized her house from the many birthday parties your mother had forced you to go to as a kid, until birthday parties became uncool — or at least until Robin stopped handing out invitations.

She was waiting outside for you. And Jesus Christ, the way she knocked her knees together while sitting on the front steps of her porch caused you to pump the brake just a little bit harder.

You liked Robin’s freckles the most. You liked how they didn’t stop at her cheeks, rather decorated her body in constellations. Even her shins and arms. Now that she was out of her Family Video uniform and adorned in a more comfortable pair of shorts and tank top, you could see the spots splattered across her chest, too, and that alone made heat fill your face.

“I think I prefer your uniform.” You teased as she plopped herself down into your passenger seat.

“Oh, shut up.” Robin spat with no malice, but the rasp of her voice never failed to make your heart swell. “I can’t believe you don’t have one. How long do we have?”

You glanced at the clock on your dashboard and signaled a three and then a zero with your free hand while popping a cigarette between your lips with the other.

“Want one?” You asked.

And to your soul crushing dismay, Robin visibly recoiled.

“Gross.”

Immediately, back into the pack it went.

She chose a Joan Jett & the Blackhearts album for the drive, which was to be expected. It wasn’t like you had any Madonna or Bowie albums lying around for her to choose from. And even if it wasn’t exactly her style, Robin put her feet up on your dashboard and tapped her toes along to the beat of Crimson and Clover like she’d been here before. Like you picking her up and toting her around was an everyday occurrence. Like she belonged in your passenger seat.

“I got it.” You told her when she tried to hand you a few crumpled up dollars as you pulled up to the gate, then handed the teller a fiver. Enough to cover the bill for both of you. The drive-in on a Friday night was a lot like a no man’s land. Everyone in Hawkins seemed to flock there for a bit of entertainment and respite from the summer heat once the sun went down. The layout was structured:

In the first set of rows were families with screaming, playing children and nervous first dates. Little boys and girls running around outside of cars with bubble wands and teenage couples who got there earlier enough for a good parking spot, that way there was no pressure to make out or fool around in the back seat once the stars aligned. In the second rows were those that needed the stars to align. The lovestruck couples that couldn’t wait for the lights to dim over Indiana, just so they could get a taste of each other. The second batch or rows meant heated touches and wandering hands, fogged up windows and cries muffled into a cigarette burnt seat cushion. It was sweaty, once in a lifetime summertime teenage love that one looks back on well into their life and reminisces just for a moment before continuing on with their day.

Had you gotten there earlier, maybe you could have been one of those second rowers. God knows you needed the stars to align. You needed Robin to be like you, needed someone in this town besides fucking Steve and Eddie to be queer and not be afraid to show it.

Instead, you parked your hatchback at the very back of the lot, where high schoolers and washed up jocks roamed the gravel like lions during a feeding frenzy.

“You’re sure about this?” Robin asked, nerves settling into her throat and weeping out through her tone of voice. You could see it painted on her face when she glanced past you and noticed Jason Carver leaned against the hood of his car, still sporting his letterman jacket from three years ago.

“We can go grab a movie at work and go back to yours instead?”

“I think we’ll be okay.” You said while flashing her a half-hearted smile, “Just… lock your door.” But the look on Andy’s face when you stole another glance their direction told you that you would make a liar out of yourself by the end of the night, and there was something comforting about knowing that maybe the universe was about to start making decisions on your behalf. Concessions came around shortly before the movie began, and you bought a large popcorn and two sodas. You let the bucket rest between the two of you and were careful to not put your hand anywhere near it when hers was there — as if one touch was all it would take. The simple brushing of a few fingers, and she would begin calling you that ugly “F” word.

“Does Steve do this to you often?” You asked when there was hardly any light left in the sky. Just a few more minutes, and you wouldn’t feel the need to make small talk. You could enjoy the movie in peace and go back to admiring Robin from afar tomorrow, just like you preferred doing.

“Set you up on playdates, I mean.” You continued when she scrunched up her eyebrows in an adorable manner.

“Oh, uh…” She said while glancing down at her hands, and you were afraid then that you might’ve offended her. “He just wants me to make more girlfriends — FRIENDS! Friends, I mean!”

She stuttered, and her baby blues became wide. But she snapped them up to you, and as more words came tumbling out of her mouth, you were just thankful that she was actually looking at you again.

“Friends. I don’t really have any besides Steve and Eddie, but no, they don’t do this often.”

Now you were the one furrowing your brow, along with the cock of your head. You turned sideways in your seat to face her.

“You don’t think we’re friends?” You asked.

Robin shrugged. “Are we? This is the first time we’ve hung out since we were in grade school.”

“I come to see you every day at work.” You slipped.

And with those words slipped your heart.

Little did you know, Robin’s heart slipped, too. Right out of her chest. She would’ve bet money that had she looked down, that still beating organ would’ve been a bloody mess at her feet and she would’ve had to apologize for dirtying up your floorboards.

“You’re visiting me?” She asked quietly, mouth slightly ajar.

“Not Steve?” is what she wanted to follow with, as she was more than used to seeing Steve upsell like a pro daily with the ladies at Family Video — even if they did know that he was dating Eddie.

Even with the truth laid out before her on a silver platter, Robin still refused to believe it.

And by the grace of God, before you were forced to answer with a gut wrenching, moment defining confession, the big screen lit up and A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master began its opening credits.

You turned forward in your seat, and Robin continued to rasp her fingernail against the side of that sweating Coca-Cola cup as the movie played on. Anxiety riddled thoughts played out in her head in rapid fire succession, so quickly that each jump scare didn’t cause hardly a flinch as she stared forward.

You’d been visiting her. In your cut off shorts and tank tops that’s been sliced down the sides. Every day, for months. Had those movies gone unwatched, or had you actually taken all of her recommendations to heart and played them over and over again in the darkness of your living room? Had you invited another girl along to watch them with you? Maybe they hadn’t even made it out of the record store. You’d left them there overnight just as an excuse to bring them back the next morning to see her again. And you were punching yourself for talking so much. Because everything was ruined now, wasn’t it? Robin would know you were a dyke, a fag, and she’d duck into the back of the store every time you came to snag a peek at those constellation-like freckles that darkened with the summer sun.

But all thoughts, yours and Robin’s alike, came to a screeching halt when faced with that damned waterbed scene.

A beautiful blonde, completely nude, hair splayed out around her, breasts pressed against translucent rubber. She was unrealistic. Not perfect, just unattainable, but that was what made Joey — and you — so fixated on her.

You had to move. You could feel your limbs tensing up, as if they were about to creak like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. You slipped your hand to the center console to grab a fistful of popcorn. Even if you weren’t hungry, you had to pretend like you weren’t sweating bullets, right? Had to pretend that you didn’t feel like some undercover agent that was being talked about in the third person. But why did the girl on the screen have to be so pretty? You couldn’t help but to stare, and the warm butter mixed with the stickiness of summer air forced a whole new sensation to befall you. The sensation of everything closing in, of it all coming to a head, to an end. And then, there was skin.

Robin’s fingers met yours at the center of the popcorn bucket, and she was sure that her heart stopped. It might have minutes ago when that girl had popped up on the screen, but it was nonexistent now.

And you didn’t move your hand away when it met hers, despite it feeling much like a jolt of electricity racing through your entire body. That momentary effervescence, it was enough to get you through the stress of living in a world that didn’t understand.

But it wasn’t long lasting, as a chili dog thrown with the force of a football hit your back windshield full speed. You ripped your hand away from Robin’s, nearly knocking the bucket of popcorn all over her in the process.

“Fuck!” You mumbled to yourself. From the driver’s side mirror, you saw Jason and Andy approaching your window. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It was Andy who tapped against the glass with knuckles calloused from years of playing sports, and you bit the inside of your cheek while rolling the window down.

“First date?” Jason grinned from outside of your car.

“Go fuck yourself, Carver.” You spat with immediate regret.

But then Robin’s elbow seemed to bump yours near the center console, and whether it was on accident or purpose you couldn’t be sure, but that skin to skin contact allowed you to ground yourself a bit this time around.

“Just trying to enjoy our movie.” You continued, and never once did you dare meet eyes with either of them.

Because last time you had, well, they’d seen too much.

You and some redhead tangled up in each other beneath a streetlight in a sparse parking lot. You’d thought you were the last ones out of The Hideout that night, but you’d been wrong, and they’d witnessed it all. Every bit of your mouth on hers, her hands around your waist, and the way you’d ushered her quickly into your car once you caught a glimpse of your audience.

“Right.” Andy drawled, and you saw him lean past you to look at Robin in the passenger seat. “Know what else she enjoys?”

“Andy,” You bargained with a nervous smile covered by your fingers, eyes closed gently so you wouldn’t have to witness the explosion of what could have been.

But Robin was already anticipating his next words, and her heart hurt for you.

“She’s butch.” He said loudly, “A fuckin’ dyke, y’know? Right here in Hawkins.”

There it was, the final nail in your coffin. You could feel the pity shedding off of Robin from the seat over, and perhaps that was the worst part of all.

“Come on.” She whispered. The blood and gore playing out before you was nothing compared to how absolutely gutted you felt inside, and Robin could certainly sense that. “Let’s just go home.”

“Home?” Jason teased.

From what little you could see through your back window, you noticed a third figure blocking your exit.

“So you lesbos can scissor it up in private? That’s what you came here for.” He continued, and your hand slowly made their way toward the keys that sat in the uncranked ignition. “Go on, give us a show. Just like you did at the bar.”

With the roar of your engine, Patrick McKinney scarcely missed getting snagged in the ass with the edge of your bumper. You peeled out of there, dodging roughhousing teenagers and kids that were just heading back to their parents with fresh buckets of popcorn just alike. You could hear your heart thumping like a drum in your ears, could feel the tears prickling the corners of your eyes — but you wouldn’t cry. Not yet.

It wasn’t until you pulled up in front of your apartment and let your knuckles soften around the steering wheel that you realized what you’d done.

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean to bring you back here.” You sighed while shaking away the thoughts in your head like an Etch-A-Sketch. “Like, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to—”

“I don’t think anything.” Robin interrupted.

She hadn’t put her feet up on the dashboard during the drive back. Hell, she hadn’t even put her seatbelt on — which was uncharacteristic of a hypochondriac. Instead, she’d sat there holding her hands in her lap, disbelieving of what she’d just found out to be true.

She wasn’t alone. In this small, backwoods town — there was someone like her.

You washed your hand over your face and contemplated where to go from there, and after a moment, you knew what you wanted to do.

“They weren’t lying, you know.” You laughed, and then looked at her for the first time in what felt like ages.

And the look you saw on Robin’s face, surprisingly, was not that of disgust. But one of hope. A light sheen covered her waterline, as if she’d just been granted her dying wish — kinship.

“I kiss girls.” You said while running your hand through your hair. “Like, a lot. Almost exclusively, actually. I just don’t want you to think that I was trying to bring you home, or that I was trying to pull anything weir—”

But everything past that first sentence was lost on Robin’s ears. The next thing she knew, her mouth was moving without permission from her brain.

“No, I kiss girls, too!” She blurted out, and then squeezed her eyes together with embarrassment.

You smiled, and she spoke quickly to save herself.

“I mean, in theory.” She corrected, “I would love to kiss a girl! I haven’t actually kissed a girl. I mean, it isn’t like there are tons of options in Hawkins. But if I had the chance — I mean, if the right girl came along—”

“Robin,” you interrupted, and her chest deflated with relief.

You reached forward to place a gentle hand on her cheek, and it almost seemed right that all of this was happening under the cover of the night. Like it was made easier for her because of it. You could feel the heat in her cheeks, and she could feel the pulse thumping away in your thumb as you brushed her temple.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” You asked.

And with a sigh, as if she’d been waiting for you to ask since you’d first set foot in Family Video some months ago, she replied.

“Please.”

So you did. You leaned across your center console, and her lips were just as plush and pillow soft against yours as they looked. It was everything that you’d anticipated, everything that those second rowers back at the drive-in were chasing after. Robin tasted like a cotton candy summertime sunset that would soon fade into a cashmere sweater, and there was no better way to explain that other than the cusp of summer and fall was your favorite. She was your favorite.

When you pulled away, you could see by the way her eyes remained closed that perhaps you were her favorite, too.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fanfic #steddie #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #robin buckley angst #robin buckley fluff #stranger things

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blkgirlsreadfanfic2 · 1 year ago

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a little sneak peek...

Jasmine Sinclair closed the door to her parents’ home in Hawkins, Indiana. 15-years-old and the oldest child of Charles and Sue Sinclair, Jasmine (or “Jaz”), carried herself with confidence. Her brown curly hair was pulled into a pineapple updo, and her tattered AC/DC shirt fell loosely over her shoulder. It was a Tuesday night, and while her brother Lucas was playing D&D at Mike Wheeler’s house, she was hosting band practice with her best friends, Amelia Rose and Katherine Brown. (excerpt from "who you gon call?" chapter one: the vanishing of will byers)

this is just a sneak peek of a series i'm working on! it's a Steve Harrington x Black!Fem!Sinclair!OC that's a slow burn with a slight enemies to lovers plotline. it would span across the entire stranger things series with each chapter corresponding to an episode of the show.

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mjlovescm · 1 month ago

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Do you only kiss girls at parties?, Robin Buckley

a/n: I feel like this is bad but a secret soft spot for Robin

Truly, Robin wasn’t sure what she was doing here. When you asked her to come to a party, she wasn't expecting a party party. This was too much for her. And with Steve wanting Robin to experience it with you only. She was without her wingman. But at least she had you.

“Are you having fun ?” you asked robin as you handed her a red solo cup.

She flashes a fake smile to conceal her panic. Unfortunately, it doesn't work well.

“Do you drink ?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Only… Only on holidays, my dad gives me some wine behind my moms back. But she says it makes me wired. Or I guess unwired like my loose screws get more loose.”

She rambles on, not realizing she was doing it. Quickly, Robin took a sip from the red cup to stop herself from speaking. All you could do was smile as you watched the sour taste of the juice alcohol mix hit her. Not wanting her to be alone, you took a sip alongside Robin.

“Don't worry, the taste is worth it in the long run.”

It didn't take long for the alcohol to do its job. But beyond that, there was a natural high in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the party itself or the way you and Robin could freely explore the large home. But right now, for the first time in a long time, Robin was careless, no longer held back or caged by her rampant mind.

Following you down the large staircase connected by intertwined hands, her eyes fell on the living in confusion. Yours in disgust. In the corner of the room, a group of boys were huddled around god's know what. Gawking, oohing and awing. Robin wasn't sure what was worse, their reactions or yours.

The two of you bolted past the party and headed outside.

“Were they kissing?” Robin blurted out.

“Yes.” your response was quick.

Before she could ask one of the million questions rushing her mind. You were already climbing up the three house and waiting for Robin to do the same.

Stopping at the bottom of the wooden staircase, she couldn't help but turn back to the house. Heart beating out of her chest as the warmth of the alcohol set Robin's inside ablaze. But the party didn't hold her attention for long.

“Are you coming?” you asked her from above.

“Y-yea.”

“Watch your step.”

Robin wanted to ask you about it, but truthfully she was scared. Terrified of what you'd say and how she'd act. But in the corner of tree house, she couldn't help but sense your growing distress. The small sound of sniffling filled her ears like an alarm.

“I just don't get it.” you complained, more to yourself than Robin.

“What's wrong ?” she couldn't help but ask.

Hiding your face with your hands, you quickly wipe away those stubborn tears.

“It's… it's nothing.” you tried to push the subject away. “Let's just go back to the hou-”

“You can tell me.” Robin spoke up. “I mean I-I won't tell anybody.”

Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

“It's not like I have anyone to tell anyway.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at Robin's honesty. The alcohol was clearly doing something to the both of you.

“Promise me you won't tell anyone. You can't tell anyone.”

You weren't sure why, but you trusted Robin. But it wasn't just that. It was the heavy guilt and the pain. You needed someone to know, to understand.

“You saw the two girls in the living room, right? The one that were-”

“Kissing.” she finished your sentence without meaning to.

“I was best friends with one of them. She thought I had a crush on some boy she liked and hated me for it. Told everyone I tried to kiss her in the locker room. But two years later we got invited to our first party and she- she kissed me right there. I opened my eyes and they were all watching. I thought she liked me, but she was doing it all for him.”

Keeping your eyes focused on the distance as you spoke, it was bittersweet to say aloud. It was a scary thing to admit. You knew you'd done nothing wrong yet still felt so… guilty. Dirty. Remembering the way she could so easily touch, kiss and toss you aside.

Across from you, Robin was frozen. Unsure what to say, to do.

“I'm sorry.” she apologized, genuinely sorry for what you'd been through.

You cleared your throat and wiped away a stream of runaway tears.

“It's not your fault.”

“Do-do people do that a lot? Like Kiss in front of everyone.”

“Yea, for attention.” you spat. “It's pathetic really. They only kiss at parties for guys.”

“Do you only kiss girls at parties?” Robin asked you without thinking.

“Wha-”

“I mean-” She started to clarify quickly. “Would you kiss me ?”

In the silence of the night, her breaths grew heavy.

“Do you want me to ?”

A beat.

“Yes.” she whispered scared, breathless.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making your body buzz. Or the cool summer wind that blew through the tree house, making your hairs stand up. But you knew for sure it was the feel of Robin's lips. The soft, plump skin that felt like electricity against yours. She met your lips like a secret, firm and quiet. And left them like a promise.

My full masterlist

Mistletoe Mishap

#mjlovescm #black fem reader #black!reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #black girl imagines #black reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #wlw

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fizziedoodle · 11 months ago

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dating robin buckley ఌ︎

#fizz moodboards!#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x black reader #stranger things #stranger things robin #x black fem reader #x black reader

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quickiesgirl · 2 years ago

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Girls Loving Girls - Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham

Paring: Robin Buckley x Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Soft Dom/Sub, Morning After, Threesome FFF, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 13 - Threesome

You were snuggled comfortably beneath soft, grey linen covers, lying between the two undressed women, who were gradually waking up. Last night's confessions had turned into passionate lovemaking.

Robin Buckley invited all the ladies to her place for a movie night, and unfortunately, Nancy was unavailable, leaving just you and Chrissy. The summer temps were dropping in the evening, and poor Chris was practically shivering in those small pieces of clothing when you were all out in the living room.

She lightly pulled at the wool blanket sprawling across the three of you until cuddling for warmth was suggested, bringing the three of you closer than ever with sexual tensions rising. One thing led to another, and next, you were being fucked by Robin while Chrissy's dripping pussy sunk into your mouth.

A delicate sigh left the cheerleader's lips while she shuffled back into your mound, feeling you lean in and push a soft strand of her strawberry blond hair back behind her ear, kissing behind her earlobe, “Morning, pretty girl.”

“Good morning,” Chrissy beamed with that warm, affectionate smile across her curved-shape lips, her cheeks extra rosy when she turned back and kissed you.

Robin was behind, spooning into your body with both arms comfortably wrapped around you, falling asleep with her hand cupping your tit while the other lay flat against your tummy.

With a deep, sleepy groan, she buried her face into the plush pillow you'd been sharing throughout the night.

The sweet aroma of Chrissy and you filled her nose with each breath, reminding her of the two beautiful women in her bed.

She released herself from your body and rolled to her back, laying the palm of her hands over her eyes, rubbing them open with a yawn while her recently polished black nails buried into her shaggy brown bangs.

The two of you both looked over and greeted the sleepy girl.

“Morning,” She murmured in a drawn-out sentence with that gravelly morning voice, making your thighs clench together.

If she dared look across the bedroom floor, she would find discarded garments and other pieces of clothing sprawled across it, painting a pretty picture of the night before.

“Holy shit, I think that was the best sleep I’ve ever had,” Robin said, crossing her arms behind her head, relaxing languidly across her comfortable mattress, watching you inch ever so close with a soft smile.

“You should invite us to bed more often.”

“Oh, trust me, babe, I was planning on it.” She winked.

Chrissy sat up on her elbow and cupped her cheek. Her eyes wandered across the scene, following the trails of hickeys and bite marks, recollecting her lustful, hazy mindset from last night when she kissed down each of your bodies, across tummies, hips, thighs, and especially those gorgeous sets of breasts.

They felt incredible being cupped in her hands, even better when they were pressed against her own. Both were so soft, warm, and well-rounded in her touch. She loved everything about them. The different shapes and sizes for her to enjoy, and the beautiful skin tones that paint the nipples.

Chrissy couldn't help herself. She raised abruptly to her knees and straddled herself between Robin and your spread thighs. Those innocent-looking eyes gazed upon you two and affectionately asked for some morning kisses, which Buckley gladly agreed to, as yet to receive any this morning.

Your pussy gained a sudden pulsation watching her lean down, Robin's hand instantly swooping around, grazing along the back of her neck, and collecting her hair as their lips collided together, moving slowly and sensually with such passion.

Noses brushing against one another with warm breaths on each other's cheeks. Their naked breasts pushed together as Chrissy's hips began to roll ever so slightly.

Robin snaked down your waist and positioned her lengthy, nimble fingers against your clitoris, rubbing in tight, rhythmic circles.

You moaned softly and tossed your head back into the pillow, getting a direct view of Robin’s digital clock on her side table. It would have instantly reminded you of work if it weren't for you being so distracted.

Your sensual sounds catch their attention without realizing it, causing them both to gaze in your direction, faces inches apart, their smirking lips a bright shade of red from kissing.

“Her pussies so fucking wet for us. Wanna taste, baby?” Robin offered, looking towards Chrissy, watching the young, innocent-seeming woman nod happily, feeling her swipe her fingers across your hole, collecting some of your wetness, and bringing them up to her mouth.

She pushed them past her lips as her tongue licked and savored your sweetness before Robin retracted back to get a taste for herself.

You gawk at the two women, lashes fluttering, unable to speak. You couldn’t believe the two hottest women in Hawkins, the two girls you have had deep crushes on, were sharing a taste of your arousal.

Robin's gaze darkened with an urge to satisfy. She suddenly grabbed Chrissy’s hips and rolled her back onto the mattress. Hungry eyes trailing over to your body before separating your thighs and slowly sinking between them.

You looked down at her, watching the way her broad tongue dragged through your silk folds, licking up before placing a wet kiss on your clitoris, repeating this action a few times till you were squirming beneath her.

“Y-you’re so fucking good with your tongue, Robs.” You whine softly, spreading your legs further apart and driving your fingers through her short, brown hair with a light tug, making her groan audibly into your cunt.

She slowly grazed her hand up Chrissy’s thigh to her smooth lips, swiping some arousal from her glistening entrance before giving some attention to her sensitive, pink clit, and continuously massaging her thumb over it.

Your body melted into the mattress as your bosom began to heave, moans falling from your lips the second Robin’s lips suckled gently, creating a warm, wet suction on your sweet spot.

Chrissy’s inner walls engulfed her lengthy fingers when she slid inside her tight hole and began finger fucking her.

You could hear Cunningham’s sweet noises of pleasure, the same ones she was singing last night while she rolled her hips on your face. This time her beautiful body was pressed into yours, and you felt her hips squirm beside you when Robin picked up her speed, and curls against her g-spot with more pressure, turning you on even more.

Within minutes, arousal and sweat were scenting Buckley’s bedroom. Her gray bedsheets were now soaked in a mixture of the two. You and Chrissy had come together, holding hands while your heads tossed back into the pillow, and toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over your bodies.

She used her tongue to clean the two of you before crawling up, covering the both of you in sweet, sensual kisses, making the woman beside you giggle. Robin smiled softly and rose from the mattress.

“Where are you going?” You inquire, brows furrowing and head tilting in curiosity.

“I’m gonna start us some breakfast. You two stay all cute and cozy for me.” She hummed, throwing on her boy short panties and a t-shirt, listening to Chrissy and you whine dramatically as she exited the bedroom with a small chuckle.

Eventually, the two of you crawled out of the warm bed, raiding Robin’s closet for clothes before heading out to the kitchen to make breakfast together.

Robin Buckley Smut Taglist: @acimadetudorubron

Chrissy Cunningham Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @cantthinkofauserlololol

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

#robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley smut #chrissy cunningham smut #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #chrissy cunningham x y/n #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley imagine #chrissy cunningham imagine #robin buckley fanfic #chrissy cunningham fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #quickiesgirl writing

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