#welcome back you gorgeous asshole

[mwahbabe]

reverse cowgirl tribbing with vi <3

pairing: vi x fem!reader

mdni, smut, tribbing, TRIBBING!!, reverse cowgirl, top!reader sub!vi, little sprinkle of ass stimulation(r!recieving)

a/n: this position feels so good fuck.

your pussy was dribbling onto vis, a string of arousal connected to her as you moved you hips up and down, back and forth, your ass and pussy on perfect display, back arched perfectly.

you looked back at her, and what you saw made you throb and your cunt flow more wetness. her lips were parted, her eyes pouty as she stared at you, fixated on your form, one of her hands on your ass as you moved, the other one behind her head, she was completely naked, her breasts moving rhythmically as you moved, her abdomen muscles flexing beautifully. she was so gorgeous.

“nngh.. fuck yeah baby.. just like that..” her voice was strained, her breathing laboured. “yeah, right on my clit, right- there.” she had to suck in a breath mid sentence as you backed it up on her clit creating the perfect friction. you took pride in the fact that you reduced someone so strong and someone who had taken down men twice, three times her size, and now she was reduced to a mess under you, her pussy slick and her clit throbbing against yours. your cunt gliding across hers, god you two were so wet both of your juices was dribbling down her ass onto the sheets.

“ah yeah..” you breathed as you kept your eyes on her, moving your hips, vis hand traveled up your spine and back down again, half guiding you.

“so fuckin perfect, love you like this..” she said thorough gritted teeth. “c’mon.. just a little more princess.”

with that, you began to sped up, now bouncing on her clit, making sure to get the perfect angle, vi gave a louder shaky moan at the change in pace, her hand stayed on your ass, her thumb slyly circling your asshole. the added stimulation was welcomed, you moved your hand to grip her calf muscle, your moans getting more higher in octave and more frequent. “fuu-uck ye-es..” her moans broken as you moved faster, “m’gonna fuckin cum.. ” “uh huh…” you coaxed “agh!” her head whipped back, her eyes squeezed shut, before she looked back up, trying her best to keep her eyes on you. “fuck.. fuck.. ah shit–!” with that final cry, vis cunt clenched around nothing, her walls pulsing and white creamy fluid leaking from her hole.

her orgasming made you follow straight after, both of your pretty moans filling the room as you came hard on her pussy, still bouncing on her chasing that high. “yes yes … fuck..” you babbled, after your moans die down and the intensity wears off you ride it out to the end, still rolling your hips drawing more moans from her.

“mmmh..” you hum, before wiping the sweat from your forehead and turning your body around, your legs a bit unsteady. you admired the mess you two had made. both your pussys shiny and slick with cum and arousal. vi finally got her bearings, flinching a little from sensitivity as you crawl on her, your knee bumping into her clit softly.

“shit princess… ” her hand came up to caress your back as you lay on her upwards now. “good job baby. you did so fuckin good.” you smile at the praise, feeling all warm inside. partly from your cum still leaking from your pussy.

as you snuggled, your leg was draped over her hip, you two enjoying the afterglow before getting cleaned up, vis sneaky hand moved down your back and then past your lower back and settled between your asscheeks, her fingers rubbed at your pussy, “mm.. round two?” you giggle. “and three.” she murmured against your ear, “and four.” you moaned between giggles as her fingers trace around your hole, “c’mere princess. can’t get enough of this perfect fuckin pussy.”

[southernimpala]

sunny side up

sam winchester x waitress!reader

summary ↬ you serve the winchesters breakfast at some shitty run down diner

notice ↬ fluff ! some cutesy lil flirting, i promised a new fic tn and can't believe i delivered cus i feel like shit but enjoy !, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 1.4k

the old wooden clock mounted on the wall above the front door ticks teasingly toward the middle of your shift, the break you’ve been craving for the past four hours drawing closer as the seconds jolt in a circle. there’s already coffee staining your apron, leaving a big black blotch right on the pretty lace, there’s crumbs in your hair, and you’re sure the lipstick you put on this morning to look more put together than you really are is already smudged across your face. 

you pay no mind to your appearance as you lazily flip through your order notebook to a blank page while making your way to your new table. 

“hello, welcome to porky’s, what can i get started—” 

two boys catch your eye when you look up, one with short, dark hair almost sputtering dark roast out of his mouth, while the other—shaggier, darker hair with big, piercing hazel eyes—parts his lips at the sight of you. 

“u-um, would you like to see our specials?” you choke out, awkwardly pointing your pen behind you to the big chalkboard above the coffee bar, almost like second nature. you aren’t sure what else to do with your hands. 

the one with the odd necklace wipes the drink from his chin and clears his throat, “ahem—yes, yes we would, right, sammy?” 

the other—sammy—doesn’t seem to hear, his eyes still held solid on your face as it drifts across every feature. it’s not until you hear a shuffle, then a knee hit the underside of their table— “right, sammy?”—when he shakes out of it, nodding aimlessly. 

“sorry,” not sammy says, chuckling stiffly, “my brother here, uh… had a rough night.” 

you can’t help but eye sammy, looking his figure up and down as your brain runs through a million different ways this seemingly innocent, soft, person had a rough night. your heart jumps when he catches you, “o–okay, let me get you some menus.” 

“that would be wonderful,” his brother smiles, hard and plastered.

you twist to fetch the menus and feel the sigh of relief lifting a weight off your crushed body. those are two of the most gorgeous men that have ever walked into your shit diner in some nowhere town off an interstate, and suddenly the clock doesn’t seem so loud. instead, your heart thumps in your ears as your shaky hands grab two menus from the back.

“dean, what the hell was that?” you hear sammy harshly whisper across the table, being met with a response from dean that was too low for your ears to catch.

it takes you a minute to reach composure, remind yourself that their probably asshole drifters looking for some eight am fun, and hand them their menus with a straighter posture and higher head. 

“okay, porky’s recommends the country omelet with extra bacon or the five stack.” you inform, the rehearsed speech ingrained in your memory from training flowing easily as you avoid sammy’s eyes.

dean flashes you a shimmery smile, “well what does—” his eyes glance down to the nametag clipped to the cream colored waitress uniform, your name falling off his tongue like syrup on pancakes, “what does she recommend?” 

sammy’s lips purse. your stomach knots. 

“u-um,” you’d never had anyone ask you before, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t recommend any of the greasy diner food here, but you swallow down a warning and sputter, “i like the french toast with eggs.” 

“eggs how?” he asks, skimming the menu with eyebrows furrowed. 

at the same instant, you and sammy blurt, “sunny side up.” 

your heads shoot up, eyes attracted to the other like moths to flames, bright and burning in your pupils. the rosy blush that paints across his cheeks infectiously spreads to yours, mouth catching flies as it opens and closes, desperate to find something professional to say, when dean slams his menu closed, holding it out for you to take. 

“well, i guess i know what i’m having then,” he says, a tinge of—what was it—defeat in his tone. 

you send him a tight lipped smile, turning to look at sammy as he tries to shield his eyes from your stare, which you just can’t help. the seven thirty sun is shining against his soft, wavy wisps and smooth skin like it only burned for him, his fingers stretching against his forehead, long and slender, as his jaw flexes under the tension of him trying equally as hard not to look at you. your knees almost give out. 

“what are you thinkin?” you ask him, trying to fix your definitely frizzy hair behind your ear. 

his teeth catch his bottom lip, “the same,” he answers, voice cracking, making dean run his palm across his mouth to hide a smirk, “with another coffee, if you don’t mind.” 

“not at all,” you say sweetly, gently taking his menu, “eggs sunny side up?” 

his eyes twinkle in the sun’s warmth soaking through the large window, “you read my mind.” 

you give him a wink, hugging the menus to your chest before spinning on your heel. you can almost feel their attention drawn to you as you walk away to put the orders in, a weird, butterfly feeling settling deep in your stomach. 

it’s a game of cat and mouse as you and sammy play a staring contest across the diner while their breakfasts cook—whether it be with your pen between your teeth as you lean against the counter, or with a bunch of plates balancing on your hip belonging to another table, catching him watching out of the corner of your eye. 

the snicker you see him try to hide when you find his eyes on your figure has you crumbling, like your skin melts and blood goes cold. 

by the time their foods done, you’ve passed by their table close to four times asking if they need another refill, or maybe more napkins, or if there’s a spot on your utensils i can get you another—

the timer dings. order #44 gets called. their plates are hot under your palms as you carry one in each hand, the sunny side up eggs having you biting your lip hard to keep a smile down. 

“okay, two french toasts with eggs, sunny side up,” you announce, delicately placing down their breakfast, the smell of butter and rich maple filling your nose as it wafts in steam, “anything else i can get for you boys?” 

you catch dean nudge sammy’s knee again under the table, coughing loudly like he’s signalling something. 

sammy’s face flushes, which inadvertently causes you to do the same as you switch between the brothers. 

“u-um,” he clears his throat, pokes his fork into his sunny side eggs, “what time do you get off?” 

your body burns with satisfaction, but you won’t let him think that you're that easy, “what time do you skip out on this small town?” 

dean laughs obnoxiously with a mouthful of french toast. sam chuckles like he’s fallen in love. 

“not for a few days at most,” he answers, confidence finally laced in his tone, slick yet still soft, with a smile that kills any hard to get attitude left in you. 

you nod, accepting cruelly that he’s won you over, “i get off at one.” 

“listen,” he starts teasingly, raising his hands against his chest defensively, “don’t feel obligated.” 

a sickly sweet laugh that wipes the smirk right off his pretty face leaves you like the butter dripping down the crust of his french toast, “i think it’s out of my control now.” 

dean leans back in the ripped leather booth, rolling his eyes and sighing in a that should be me way. sammy doesn’t even bother giving him a second look, and you’ve noticed he hasn’t touched his food once since you’ve started to lean closer over the table, hovering over the half-drunk cups of coffee and unused napkins.

“sorry about that,” he responds smoothly. your elbows wobble as you hold yourself up, leaning closer and closer— 

another timer dings. you suddenly remember you’re on the clock, and it hasn’t stopped ticking well after your break that you’ve certainly missed with all the flirting. 

you clear your throat, removing yourself from over their breakfast and fixing the collar of your uniform that’s now crooked against your collarbones, “y’all let me know if i can get you anything else.”

“will do,” dean drags, halfway into the sunny side up eggs smudged in orange across his plate. 

you get out a last wink, fingers softly smudging the red lipstick painting your mouth, “see you at one, sammy.” 

dean’s fork drops in his eggs. 

sam, well, sam’s in love. 

“we aren’t leaving after this case, are we?” dean mumbles. 

sam watches as you walk behind the counter with his heart slamming against his ribcage, begging him to maybe never leave your side. 

“nope.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tags ↬ @h8aaz , @sacr1ficialang3l <33

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[shawtylex09]

Just wanted to put this out there.

Izuku, loves chubby girls.

🌸

Masterlist

Entering middle school, Izuku would always be teasingly askwd what his type was, where the assholes in question would say things like “he’s definitely gay.” And “he’s into blind girls cause they’re the only ones who’d date him!”

He always just rolled his eyes at these comments and questions, but as he got a little older, and his hormones started to shift him from a boy to a young man, he started to actually wonder what his type was.

Izuku would often find himself on the internet, scrolling through different modeling sites, looking at the different girls showing off hero merch or other clothing. He knew it was a bit perverted, but he blamed it on his curiosity.

However, none of them ever caught his eye.

It wasn’t that they were ugly, they were gorgeous women, but none of them really set him off.

Fast forward to UA, and our green eyes king is meeting some new people, making friends, busting his ass to become a hero.

About one semester of school in, and Aizawa announces the school’s transfer student program.

Awesome! Another student to add to the amazinf list of quirks and personalities? Izuku can’t wait to meet them!

The day eventually rolls around when this mystery student is supposed to be moving into the dorms; the class had made dinner and set up some fun games to get to know each other. It was going to be fun!

Izuku and the rest of the class had waited, Izuku excitedly rambling to Iida and Uraraka about potential quirks, nationalities and really anything he could think of.

However, when he sees you walking next to Aizawa with a few bags, his heart drops.

You were..gorgeous.

His eyes were instantly drawn to your thick thighs, with no gap between them as they filled out your jeans, the slight pudge of your stomach that made you look so soft and warm, how your arms filled out your sleeves, and your round, baby face with chubby cheeks.

Izuku had no idea what to say as the rest of the students welcomed you to their class. He felt a bit bad for blatantly staring at your plush body, but god-damn he couldn’t help it.

He managed to choke out a greeting after everyone else, making your eyes land on him.

You noticed his eyes stuck on your body, and you smiled a bit, his bright red blush not lost on you.

Fast forward to graduation, you’d gotten pretty close with Izuku.

He was the boy you’d consider your best friend, sweet, affectionate, shy, and everything you could ask for in a friend; you trusted him, and he trusted you.

At the graduation party, Kaminari and Mineta had spiked the drinks there, a cliche thing do to, especially for fresh out of high school graduates.

You had a single cup from the start of the party, but after Mina had a few cups and ended up getting drunk, you decided to stick to water instead.

Poor Izuku on the other hand, was probably a few cups deep himself, and he was wasted.

When you found him, he was drunkenly crying, clinging onto Bakugou and whining about how much he loved you.

When you finally got over your shock, you walked over to Izuku, who lit up when he saw you.

“Baby!” He slurred out as he stumbled over to you, hugging you tightly “h-how is my gorgeous girl?” He mumbled into your neck as his hands rested on the rolls of your back.

You flushed bright red, stammering out some syllables.

Izuku giggled and cupped your cheeks with his calloused and scarred hands “look at your cute face~” he slurred out with a dopey grin, “s-so prettyy..”

You melted into his touch and looked up at him with hooded eyes..damn him and his stupidly adorable features. Damn him.

You don’t even know how you got here, laying in your bed with Izuku on top of you. Your shirt was nowhere to be found, and his hands were traveling your torso so softly and slowly as he pressed little kisses to your soft stomach.

You gently combed your fingers through his hair, watching as he gently kneaded the soft, warm pudge of your stomach, the way he smiled and rested his cheek on your chubby belly making you both vulnerable and incredibly shy feeling.

“Y-you’re so..pretty..” he said as he placed a kiss on one of the stretch marks on your stomach. “These are so c-cool..like..like lightning..”

You laughed a little at his dopey grin, seeing him so enamored with something you’d previously been insecure about, and he was lavishing your body with kisses.

When Izuku eventually did fall asleep, his cheek on your stomach and hands holding your sides, you simply pulled up the blanket over his shoulders and looked up at your ceiling, smiling a little and feeling weirdly appreciated by your drunken best friend.

My point is, Izuku has a thing for chubby girls. He loves the cellulite covering your thighs, your stretch marks over your stomach and thighs and arms, the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled- he couldn’t get enough of your soft body.

Izuku loves you for who you are, but it helps that you happen to be his ideal body type.

~~

Felt like writing this randomly, I started it yesterday when my mom and I were watching MHA word Heroes’ mission, but finally finished it today. Wanted to write some fluff for all of my fellow chubby girls out there. <3

[no-144444]

pale blue- o.piastri

your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Baku. If you won this weekend, you’d be ahead of Max in the standings.

Quali came around much too quick, and it was only your first time on the circuit. Everyone seemed to forget the fact that you were a rookie, just because you were winning. You were on your final push lap, it was going well, but all it had to do was get you out of the bottom 5 (which you were in right now). 

“Yellow flags!” Oscar called over the radio, causing you to instinctively slow down. 

“What happened?” you panicked, radioing in. 

“I’m not sure, but… we’re P15 and time is over. Sorry Y/n.” 

“Fuck,” you whispered, hitting your steering wheel. “Where’s Norris?”

“He’s through.” 

“The team can get a win this weekend, sorry about this guys,” you sighed, driving your car back into the pits and getting out of the car to get weighed and do your interviews. The time passed, and the debrief was clear, Lando was up in P2, ready to take the win tomorrow as you were once again, put on the back foot. 

As you walked out of the room, pretty ready for a night of watching movies on your lonesome (you could finally look at screens again), Oscar came up to you. 

“My family is here,” he told you. “If you’d like to meet them, we’re getting dinner. You’re more than welcome to join-”

“I wouldn’t want to impose-” you started.

“Please,” he begged. “My sisters really want to meet you.”

You smiled. “I’ll head back to the hotel and get changed.”

He smiled. “I’ll pick you up.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He was shitting bricks when he knocked on your hotel room door. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and linen pants, something his mum had gifted him, and all he wanted was to see you have a night of being relaxed. He knew his family could be quite crazy, but he thought his mum’s sarcastic humor, Hattie’s easy conversation, Eddie’s laid back nature, Mae’s endless stories, his dad’s kind nature, and Tim’s easy charisma, it would all go well. They could do most of the talking, and you could just watch and enjoy it, even if you didn’t feel like talking. 

You opened the door, a beautiful pale blue dress on your body, finalising your outfit with a pair of earrings. He stood there, stunned. 

You were gorgeous. That was a fact he had been made acutely aware of months ago, but you were really beautiful tonight. He didn’t speak, and your cheeks heated as you let out an awkward laugh. 

“I’m ready, sorry it took so long,” you smiled, stepping out from your room. “Let me just grab my jacket,” you said before turning and walking back into your room. His jaw actually dropped seeing the backless dress that went down to the end of your back. Thankfully, he picked his jaw back up before you turned around.

“These are for you,” he said, handing over the bouquet that had been clutched in his hand for a few moments, also pale blue lilies. 

“They’re beautiful,” you smiled, surprised by the gesture. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

He frowned again, but smiled before you caught him. “I’m glad I could be the first one.”

You smiled, placed the flowers in your room, and joined him in the hallway. “So where are we going?”

“My mum found this really nice restaurant just a few minutes walk from here, if that’s alright?” 

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed. As you two walked to the restaurant, you chatted about the weekend ahead, ideas for strategies, and at some point, he’d linked his arm with yours. You didn’t really mind.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

The Piastri family were hilarious. Mae had told you so many stories by the time the appetisers rolled around, that you actually had to brace yourself against Oscar to stop yourself from falling off your chair. You were sat across from Mae, with Oscar to your left and Tim to your right. Their easy banter was amusing to say the least, and the conversations you had with Hattie about music, and with Eddie about her college courses were truly enjoyable. You loved hearing about their lives, such stark contrast to yours. Nicole and you ended up speaking about pilates and Oscar’s affinity for not doing his own laundry (you’d lived with him for two weeks, she apologised). By the end of the night, they’d all become your friends, and you’d barely seen Oscar, but he’d been watching you all night. He’d seen the way your eyes lit up every time Hattie mentioned a band or song you liked, how you listened so intently to Mae’s stories, how you cared about the topics his mum spoke about, how you threw jokes back and forth with his dad and stepdad, how you asked such good questions about Eddie’s studies. 

He loved it. He loved seeing you be free. He loved seeing you smile. He loved seeing you happy. 

“I love gardening actually,” you answered when Nicole asked if you had any hobbies. 

“She has a beautiful garden in Monaco,” Oscar explained, getting his phone out to show pictures. You felt yourself beam with pride. Pride wasn’t an emotion you allowed yourself to feel very often, but Oscar’s unashamed pride on your behalf must’ve been rubbing off on you, because you went through your entire garden in detail and gave Tim some advice on his garden. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You walked out of the restaurant feeling lighter than you had in a long time. You weren’t thinking about racing, you weren’t thinking about McLaren, you weren’t thinking about the tall order that tomorrow would bring, you were thinking about Oscar. He was busy saying good night to his family, wishing them well and telling them he’d see them tomorrow, and you stood and watched. He was so… Oscar. So calm, so loving, so caring. It made you feel… good. He made you feel good. Being near him made you feel good. 

He turned to you and linked your arms, both of you starting the walk back to the hotel. “What did you think? Too much?”

You smiled. “They’re perfect. Very kind, very intelligent, very nice people, just like you. I see where you get it from.”

He beamed with pride. The night was a success. You had enjoyed yourself, and his family had met one of the most important people in his life. “I’m glad.”

“I’m really happy I came, thank you for inviting me, Osc,” you smiled.

“No problem,” he whispered. 

The rest of the walk back to the hotel was quiet, but he noticed how you held him closer than before, up until you finally got outside your room. You leant against the door, a bashful smile on your face. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “I really had fun, for the first time in a while. Thank you, Osc.”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The prettiest girl in the whole world had a nickname for him. “I’m really glad you came, I had a lot of fun too,” he admitted. He took a step closer. 

Was he going to kiss you? Did you want him to?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smirked, close enough to kiss you, but all he did was hug you, tucking your head into his neck. “You’ll do great tomorrow.”

“If I win it can I meet your family again?” you asked in a small, nervous voice. He chuckled. 

“You can. But you also could probably see them whenever you want, you have all of their phone numbers,” he reminded you. 

You shook your head. “I want you there too.”

“I’ll be there,” he whispered. “I’m always here for you, you know that, right?” 

You nodded gently. So small, he almost didn’t feel it. 

But he did. It was there. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, then retreated into your bedroom. 

You fell against your bed, so many questions swirling around your head as you pondered your growing feelings for your race engineer. He did the same thing. He sat at the end of his bed, wondering what he would do. He thought back to what his mother told him. 

She held him close, hugging him as the night ended. 

“She’s happier,” she smiled, talking about you. 

“Yeah?” he asked. “What did you think of her?”

“I think she’s wonderful,” Nicole smiled. “The girls love her too. And I suspect you do too.”

He sighed, nodding. His mum always found out. She smirked. 

“How do I-?” he questioned but she stopped him. 

“It’ll happen, with time,m” she assured him. “She likes you too, she’s just not there yet. Don’t worry about it too much. Just be there for her. She needs someone.”

“I am here for her,” he assured her. “She wanted to meet you guys so badly,” he chuckled. 

“She’s alone, isn’t she?” she asked. He knew better than to lie to his mum and nodded. 

“I’m glad she has you Osc,” she smiled. “She’s good for you. You’re good for her.” 

“I hope so,” he chuckled. 

“It will be, with time,” she reminded him with a kiss to the cheek. “We’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you too mum,” he smiled. 

He just needed to wait. He was good at that. He was a patient man, and if waiting meant seeing the real you with your real smile in that damned pale blue dress again, he’d wait a million lifetimes just to make you happy. 

God, that was a little bit pathetic, wasn’t it? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Baku was one of your favourite circuits, you decided when you sat on the grid, waiting for the lights to go out. You had a good start, gaining places. Up in the points in one corner. After overtaking a while, a few laps of shouting at Oscar over the radio about pitting, you came into the pits, went back out, and somehow, got to the lead. 

And you crossed the line first. Again. 

“I guess we’re getting dinner again tonight,” you chuckled, a smile on your face. 

“I guess we are,” Oscar nodded. “Stellar drive,” he commented. “Well done.”

7 time Grand Prix winner. You stepped up on the top of the podium, and you enjoyed it. You were the Champion, as of that day. Oscar took his celebratory selfie with some more of the team, and dinner was set for 8pm. 

You liked Baku quite a lot.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[starsewl]

Weekend Getaway

pairing: BestfriendModel!Mingyu & Dancer!Hoshi & Athlete!Dokyeom x Novelist!Reader

rating: 18+ | word count: 4.1k

summary: You join your longtime friend Mingyu and his two equally irresistible friends, Hoshi and Dokyeom on a quiet weekend getaway to a secluded villa. What begins as an innocent escape quickly turns into a night of unleashed lust. When the men discover your writing inspired by them, they decide to help your “research”—taking you through a wild, unrelenting night of overstimulation.

tw/cw: explicit sexual content, 4some, overstimulation, squirting, cigarette, piercing, harsh words

That weekend means nothing. No birthdays. No events. Just another two days in the calendar when Mingyu suddenly invites me to a getaway with him and his two friends. I say yes right away—I mean, who says no to spending a weekend with three stupidly attractive men?

Mingyu is a model. Not just “IG pretty”—he’s billboard, magazine cover, can-make-anything-look-luxury kind of gorgeous. The camera worships him. Every pose is deliberate, every angle flawless.

Hoshi’s energy hits different. He’s a dancer, owns a studio, and his body moves like it’s speaking a language only muscles and rhythm can understand. There’s power in every step, and joy in every spin.

Then there’s Dokyeom. A national swimmer. Tan lines, muscle lines, the kind of sunny smile that makes you think maybe the world isn’t all that bad. He’s friendly, comforting, and ridiculously built. He glows.

“You need healing,” Mingyu tells me, his deep voice wrapping around my bones like velvet. “I invited Hoshi and Dokyeom too.”

“They’re coming?” I sip my iced coffee, glancing over at Mingyu sprawled on my couch. His white t-shirt stretches across his chest like a second skin, and the shorts? They show off those lean legs way too easily. I swallow.

“Scared?” he teases, lips curving. He toys with my hoodie string, slow, seductive, like he knows.

“So confident.” I try to hide behind my coffee glass. “Why would I be scared?”

“Good.” He chuckles low. “We all need a break.”

I’ve known Mingyu since we were kids, growing up on the same street, fighting over swings and comic books. But this Mingyu? The man with the body, the voice, the look—he’s dangerous now. And still my best friend. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Maybe I’ll get some writing inspiration,” I shrug, though my last novel was already a thinly disguised fantasy involving these three men. They don’t know. Only they know I write adult romance. Everyone else just thinks I’m a writer.

“Bring your laptop,” Mingyu says as he stands and walks closer. Each step is slow, like he’s stalking something. “You might get new ideas.”

He stops beside me, towering. I tilt my head to meet his eyes. He smells like cologne, cedar, and something warmer—his skin maybe? My mouth goes dry.

“This weekend, okay?” he murmurs, eyes locked to mine. “Don’t forget.”

***

Two days later, Mingyu's car drove slowly along a narrow path framed by tall pine trees. The rows of sturdy trunks formed a kind of green tunnel, wrapping the road in natural shadows that made this place feel like another world. After the last bend was passed, a two-story wooden villa appeared in front of our eyes—looking like a house from a romcom movie: a spacious terrace with wooden chairs, large windows welcoming light, and a backyard directly bordered by dense forest. Fresh air. The sound of birds and wind whispers through the leaves.

“Wow, this is so cool!” Hoshi bursts out first, running toward the front door with arms stretched like a kid.

“It’s way too close to the forest,” I mutter. “What if someone tries to kidnap us?”

“They’d give you back for being too loud,” Dokyeom laughs, pulling bags from the trunk.

“Asshole,” Hoshi fires back, still grinning.

Inside? Oh god. Wooden walls. Dark floors that creak just right. A stone fireplace. A soft L-shaped sofa facing the forest view. Kitchen gleaming with marble and metal. A huge table in the middle—thick wood, perfect for late dinners... or something else.

“There are three bedrooms,” Mingyu says, tapping the door code. “One downstairs, two up.”

“Perfect,” Hoshi says, flopping onto the sofa. “So how are we splitting?”

“Room with me,” Dokyeom answers instantly.

“Okay!!” Hoshi chirps, no hesitation.

***

Night settles in like a blanket. Hoshi insists on cooking—claims he makes “god-level ramyeon,” even though he’s clearly never touched a kitchen in his life. We don’t argue.

The result? Surprisingly good. Spicy, hot, with soft-boiled eggs and dumplings Dokyeom makes from scratch. We sit around the massive wooden table, laughter echoing through the room, stories tossed around like old shoes.

“You never talk about your novel,” Hoshi says suddenly, giving me a sly look over his chopsticks. “Mingyu said you write hot scenes.”

I choke on broth. “I didn’t say that!”

“But you did,” Mingyu smirks, handing me a tissue. “Over lunch. Last month.”

“What genre is it exactly?” Dokyeom asks, tone too innocent.

“Romance,” I reply quickly. “Just… normal romance.”

“What kind of romance?” Hoshi leans forward, elbow on the table, mischief in his eyes. “Vanilla? Or with a little spice?”

My face burns. They can’t know the truth. Can’t know my last draft is basically them—but naked and tangled in sheets.

“A little spicy,” I mumble, heart thudding.

“A little?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me it made you hot while writing it?”

Fuck. Did I really say that?

“I want to read it!” Hoshi perks up.

“You brought your laptop, right? C’mon, share it!”

“No,” I protest fast. “It’s not done. Still a mess.”

“So when it’s finished?” Dokyeom smiles. “You’ll let us read it, right?”

My chair scrapes back. “Anyone want dessert? I saw ice cream.”

“She’s running away…” Hoshi whispers to Dokyeom, just loud enough for me to hear.

***

After dinner, everyone returns to their rooms except for me. I am alone in the living room. The atmosphere is calm. I sit on the long sofa in the living room, laptop on my lap, a glass of wine on the side table. Only a small lamp in the corner of the room is on, creating a dim atmosphere perfect for writing. Outside, the sound of wind and night birds can sometimes be heard, interspersed with the creaking of wood.

I continue my pending novel draft. This chapter is really difficult to write, not because I don't know what to write, but because it is too... intense. The main female character in my novel is trapped in a situation similar to mine now—in a remote place with three guys who make her breathless.

"Five minutes passes in torturous silence. She can feel their gazes like physical touches on her skin. His hand slips in, his breath heavy in my ear. Amid the beating, I can only surrender. Surrender to their bodies drawing closer—three men, three scents, three tongues, three sins."

I stop typing. Take a deep breath. Somehow my fingers move uncertainly over the keyboard. I sip the wine slowly, trying to calm myself. But the images are already clear in my head—three pairs of hands, three pairs of eyes, three...

"So this is how you write your steamy scenes?

A familiar deep voice. I turn, and there—Mingyu, standing half-leaning against the wall near the kitchen, wearing a thin, slightly wrinkled t-shirt, loose boxer shorts. His hair is messy and his eyes half-sleepy.

"Shit," I hurriedly close the laptop. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not spying. You're sitting in the middle of the room, how could I not see?" he says casually, sitting at the end of the sofa, near my feet. "I'm just curious. Who's that about?"

"It's not about anyone, it's fiction." I answer quickly.

"But the inspiration must come from somewhere."

He leans back, his large shoulder almost touching my bare leg. "You're writing a scene with three guys, one girl, in the middle of the night. Coincidence?"

I open my mouth to answer, but a sound from the direction of the stairs cuts off our conversation.

"Oh, you're both still up?" Hoshi appears walking casually, but his eyes immediately go to the laptop on my lap.

"You're writing?" He walks closer and immediately sits on the sofa back behind me, bending down from above, his chin very close to my head. "Can I read it?"

"No," I answer quickly.

"Then you must be writing a steamy scene, huh," he replies with a laugh. "You're really... it's always the innocent one."

Before I can hit him with a pillow, one more person appears from the room hallway, Dokyeom. His hair is messy, his voice hoarse typical of someone who just woke up.

"Why is it noisy here? I thought someone was fighting."

“Our little writer here’s working on a threesome,” Mingyu says, poking my leg.

“Insane,” I mutter, pinching his thigh.

Dokyeom just grins and sinks to the carpet in front of me. “Tell us what it’s about.”

Three pairs of eyes on me. I freeze.

Mingyu leans in, voice low. “If you don’t want to tell us…”

His fingers brush my thigh.

“…maybe show us instead.”

 I don’t know when the laptop slides under the table. Maybe it’s when Hoshi’s fingers tug at the back of my shirt, making that slow, drawn-out creeeek sound, like old wood cracking under pressure. Too suggestive. Too real. Or maybe it’s Dokyeom—now sitting on the sofa beside me, one hand curled around my calf, the other gliding up the inside of my thigh. Those fingers? Big. Warm. Deliberate.

My thoughts are gone.

Mingyu’s hand finds my cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. “Do you write like this every night?”

His voice drips with something darker now. Closer. He already knows the answer.

“No…” I whisper, breath catching. “Only when I’m… needy.”

He leans in, lips grazing my ear. “Are you needy now?”

I don’t answer with words. I kiss him.

Soft. Slow. Wet. His lips crush mine like he’s been waiting years. His tongue slides over mine, coaxing, tasting, controlling. The wine on his mouth mixes with the heat in my blood.

“Mmhh…”

My moan is the spark.

Behind me, Hoshi chuckles. “I want my turn too.”

He dips down, mouth meeting the side of my neck. His lips are warm, tongue bold, tracing fire along my skin. Then—Dokyeom. His hand is no longer idle. It slides under my shirt, palms my breast through the fabric, thumb brushing my nipple until I shudder. He kisses my shoulder. I gasp.

They lift me.

I don’t resist. Don’t question.

Mingyu and Dokyeom each take a side, lifting me like I weigh nothing. They carry me toward the thick wooden dining table. Hoshi follows, steps silent but intent sharp in his gaze. They set me on the edge, the cool wood shocking against the backs of my thighs. My shirt is half off already, crumpled around my arms. Hands strip the rest—tugging, sliding, exposing me fully. I’m left in nothing but thin black panties. Breathless. Goosebumps everywhere.

“You guys…” My voice trembles. “…I’ve never—ahh…”

Hoshi steps forward, eyes flicking down. His tongue peeks out—and that’s when I see it. The piercing. Silver. Gleaming on the tip of his tongue.

“You like what you see?” he teases, licking his lips. “Wanna know how it feels… on your pretty pussy?”

His hand wraps around my throat. Gentle, firm. Seeking permission. When I nod, barely—he moves.

His tongue trails from my collarbone to my chest. Slow. Deliciously slow. He doesn’t suck. Not yet. He teases. The cold metal of his piercing circles my nipple, sending shocks through me. I arch, hips bucking.

“H-hoshi…” I moan, louder now.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Dokyeom whispers, behind me. His voice rumbles like thunder. “I want to hear you.”

Mingyu kisses my stomach. His hands rest on my thighs, spreading me wider. The kiss lowers. Each one more unbearable than the last. Behind, Dokyeom unclasps my bra. He doesn’t kiss. He blows. The cold air hits wet skin—Hoshi’s tongue still dancing—and I nearly break.

“S-shit…” I cry out. “Feels good…”

“Do you know…” Hoshi murmurs, still licking, “…I’ve imagined painting your body with my tongue… one line… all the way down…”

I’m writhing. Moving without meaning to.

Then Mingyu’s fingers slide inside my panties.

They don’t move at first. They just… rest. Pressing against soaked heat. Then—he starts. A slow rhythm. Deep strokes. His knuckles graze the soft lips between my thighs and I lose it.

“Ahh—fuck… Gyu…” I choke on the moan.

“Damn,” he grunts. “You’re leaking.”

He kisses below my navel, tongue dipping down, lower. Dokyeom’s hands are everywhere—palming my ass, guiding my back into his chest, whispering filth into my ear.

“You've been thinking about this, huh? Getting ruined by all three of us?”

“No—I—fuck—”

I didn't finish the sentence. Hoshi’s still sucking, piercing grinding my nipple. Dokyeom now on his knees behind, kissing the small of my back. Mingyu lowers, mouth nearing the place where his fingers just were. He peels the panties down—slowly. So slowly. Until I’m exposed. He doesn’t hesitate. He eats. Tongue first. Broad. Heavy. Licking up every drop. His lips seal over my clit, sucking hard.

“Akh—fuck!”

My whole body arches. I grab the edge of the table, the wood creaking beneath my grip.

“Time to make some material for a new chapter,” Mingyu growls between licks.

I moan. Loud. Unrestrained.

Hoshi’s hands work my chest. Dokyeom kisses the shell of my ear, still whispering.

I lose track of time. My orgasm crashes through me like a wave. Legs trembling. Breath gone. My panties hang off one foot. The table is a mess of sweat and slick.

And they’re not done.

Dokyeom had already returned to sit on the previous sofa. He leaned back casually but full of dominant aura. Legs spread wide, his hoodie already gone. His body was already completely naked, one hand patting his left thigh, signaling me to climb up and sit on his lap.

"Come on," he said slowly. But his voice was sharp.

"I want to feel you on my thigh."

"Thigh?" I was still panting.

"Practice everything you write."

And somehow, my body immediately responded to that command. Without asking. Without thinking. I got down from the table, walked slowly toward him. My legs were trembling, not because I was afraid. Rather... because I was curious. Because I imagined the hardness of his thigh—just looking at it, the muscles were as sharp as carvings. Especially when he sat like that, the position of his legs was very enticing. Big. Hard. Solid. Like covered in concrete.

I climb up. Slowly. One of my legs passed over his thigh and landed right on top of Dokyeom's left thigh. I leaned against his chest, hands resting on his shoulders for balance.

And when I moved a little... "Ah, fuck." I immediately moans loudly. I felt the hardness of his muscles parting between my legs. The friction immediately hit the most sensitive point.

"Enjoy it." Dokyeom leaned back, his eyes half-closed. But his hands went up to my waist, holding, directing the movement. "Move slowly first."

I start to move. A little. Up and down. Rubbing back and forth. "Mmmh... unghh..." my moans got louder, more uncontrollable.

Every time I rubbed forward, he deliberately hardened his thigh muscles. When I moved backward, the wet feeling from my own fluids made the friction even more slippery. My hands start to tremble, my nails pressing into his shoulders.

"Feels good... Dok-yeom... ahh... so good...shit!" I moaned in his ear, making him squeeze my hips harder.

When I looked behind, Mingyu and Hoshi were sitting not far away, in chairs across from us. They were busy watching the movement of my hips while stroking their own.

"Do you see her hips, Gyu?" muttered Hoshi to Mingyu, eyes not leaving me. "Fuck... I'm so hard."

Mingyu didn't answer. But his hand was clearly licking the tip of his finger, then stroking himself. His eyes focus, sharp, shifting to look from my lips, to my chest, to my hip movements that were getting wilder up and down. Dokyeom grins, tightening his thigh, making the pressure brutal. “Faster,” he whispers, slapping my ass. “Cum for me.”

I whimper. I grind harder. Loud. Wet. The sound of skin and slick fills the room. Just as I’m about to explode—

“Not yet,” Mingyu growls.

I cry out in frustration. He stands in front of me. Hard. Thick. His cock hovers near my lips.

“Open,” he orders.

I do.

He slides in. My lips wrap around the head. His taste is salty, hot. His hand grips my hair while Dokyeom moves behind me. His hand still grabs my waist. I feel him shift slightly—then I hear it.

A soft click. I glance back. A lit match glows between his fingers. A cigarette rests between his lips. My breath catches.

“Do you mind?” he asks, the flame dancing near his face. Calm. Controlled.

Fuck. That’s so fucking sexy of him.

I shake my head, slow. No way in hell I’d stop him. He smiles—lazy, sinful—and lights it. The tobacco scent fills the air, thick and expensive with a hint of mint. He exhales upward, smoke curling around the soft lamp light, casting shadows on the ceiling.

Then Hoshi moves in front too. Replaces Mingyu. He pushes in deep. His piercing scrapes my lip as he moans, the smell of mint and smoke filling my lungs as I gag around Hoshi’s cock. Then he pulls back, smirking. “Time to show you what this tongue ring can really do.”

He drops down, squatting in front of me. Dokyeom’s hand flies to my back, steadying me so I don't fall from the shift. Hoshi's face is now right in front of my cunt, his eyes gleaming mischief.

“Pull her legs wider,” Hoshi tells Dokyeom. “I want to see everything.”

Dokyeom obeys immediately, his large hands hooking behind my knees and spreading me open, obscenely wide. I have no shame anymore—it's gone. Completely. Too good to care. Hoshi starts kissing my thighs, soft, barely there. Moving up, inch by inch, taking his time. He pauses at my center, blowing softly. My entire body jolts.

“You want to feel it?” he whispers, flicking out his tongue to flash the metal glint. “Been thinking about this since I met you.”

Before I can answer, his tongue touches down. Oh fuck— the cold metal meeting the heat of my cunt punches a moan from my throat that I can't swallow. That tiny barbell moves with wicked precision, gliding, pressing, circling all the right places, stealing the air from my lungs.

My head falls back against Dokyeom’s chest. He’s still smoking, still impossibly calm, his fingers threading through my hair. “Feel good?” he whispers, blowing warm smoke into my ear.

“Nnghh…” That's all I can manage. Because Hoshi’s piercing is dancing up and down, cold in the middle of all that hot wet.

Mingyu’s still standing nearby, eyes dark and locked on me. His hand’s moving on its own, stroking, his breath short and shallow.

“Want to switch?” Dokyeom offers, exhaling a lazy stream of smoke.

Mingyu nods, taking a seat. I’m shifted, lifted from Dokyeom’s lap to Mingyu’s thighs. Hoshi doesn’t stop—his head still buried, tongue still working, god, that fucking piercing. Dokyeom stands, approaching. His eyes low, hungry. He unzips, cigarette hanging loose between his lips. The smoke swirls, thickening the air, choking it with tension.

“Open your mouth again,” he says, standing before me.

I do it without hesitation. Not because I’m scared—but because I want it. Desperately. His cock pushes past my lips, and the taste of mint and tobacco from his breath set me on fire.

Below, Hoshi goes feral. His tongue presses, swirls, that piercing spinning like a toy built for my destruction. My hips jerk on their own. I’m drowning in sensation.

“She’s about to cum,” Hoshi mutters, watching my thighs quiver. “Look at her tremble.”

“Don’t hold back,” Mingyu whispers, his hand tightening around my waist. “We want to see you lose control.”

Dokyeom removes his cigarette, blowing smoke up, lazy. “Show us,” he whispers, thrusting deeper into my throat.

And I break. Hoshi’s cold tongue, Mingyu’s warm hands, Dokyeom’s deep thrust and smoke curling through the room—it blends, it explodes, and my body shakes violently. Moans trapped in my stuffed mouth, tears leaking from my eyes as my orgasm rips through me.

Dokyeom collapses onto the sofa, his cigarette spent. Hoshi’s head rests against my thigh, that damn gleaming metal catching the light. Mingyu is still behind me, steady hands holding my shoulders.

My body’s wrecked. I’m trembling on the table, limbs limp, cunt soaked and twitching. I’ve lost count—Mingyu’s tongue, Hoshi’s piercing, Dokyeom’s fingers—it’s all just a blur of brutal pleasure. My lungs can’t keep up. My hair’s stuck to my face, sweat-slicked, my skin humming.

Then Mingyu leans close, breath brushing my ear, voice deep, cruel, so fucking composed.

“You look done, baby,” he says. “But we haven’t even fucking started.”

My stomach tightens. I try to move—protest? beg?—but my body’s shot. I don’t even notice until he grabs my hips, yanking me to the edge of the table, legs forced wide again.

Hoshi’s voice cuts in, thick with amusement. “She looks ruined.”

“She’s not ruined,” Dokyeom says behind him, voice like thunder. “Not yet.”

Mingyu’s cock presses to my entrance, thick, hard, slick with my own cum—and then he slams in. No warning. My scream tears loose, hoarse and raw. My whole body jolts, fingernails clawing at the table, grasping for anything. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause. Just pounds into me, merciless.

“Still fucking tight,” he groans, dragging out, slamming back in to the hilt. “Even after soaking the whole table.”

Then—fuck. Hoshi’s there again, sliding beneath me, mouth open, tongue already out.

“No! no, fuck—don’t—” I gasp, too sensitive, too much—

But he dives in, licking where Mingyu’s cock’s plunging in and out, flat tongue, cold metal tapping my clit. I scream again. My body’s spasming, unable to escape, unable to breathe. Mingyu grips tighter, using me like a fuckdoll, cock pounding.

“She’s already shaking,” Hoshi laughs, face glossy with my slick. “Sensitive little thing.”

“Make her cum again,” Dokyeom growls, lazily stroking himself in the shadows. “I want to see her break.”

Mingyu’s rhythm intensifies. The sound is filthy—wet, deep, messy. The stretch is brutal. Every thrust slams into something that makes me cry out. And that piercing—fuck—it flicks, circles, devastates my clit without pause.

And then I lose it.

My hips seize, my body jerks, and a burst of liquid sprays out, soaking them both. I scream into the wood, legs twitching, my pussy clamping around Mingyu’s cock so hard he groans. He pulls out. Cock twitching. Still not done.

“Clean it,” he commands.

Hoshi obeys instantly. Mouth open, licking up Mingyu’s shaft, dragging his tongue through the slick mess. I’m barely conscious. Then I feel breath—warm and heavy—by my ear. “Our turn.”

It’s a blur. Everything is soaked, ruined, twitching. My brain’s melting, cunt leaking, but I’m not empty for long. Hands find my hips—two pairs. One set is Hoshi’s—playful, familiar. The other? Big, rough, possessive. Dokyeom.

“Please…” I whisper, no clue who I’m begging. “More…”

Hoshi bends over my back, chest to mine, whispering in my ear. “Think you can take both of us, slut?”

I don’t answer. Just arch, spread my legs wider, that fluttering hole inviting them in. Dokyeom groans, low and hungry. “She’s still fucking leaking.”

They both press in. Hoshi first—curved, smooth. Then Dokyeom, thicker, his head nudging the same soaked entrance. They slide in together, side by side, stretching me impossibly.

“Oh god—oh fuckfuckfuck—” I can’t speak. The stretch is overwhelming. My pussy fights it, then yields, takes them both in like it’s what I was made for.

“Look at her,” Hoshi whispers. “Taking both of us. So fucking greedy.”

“She was made for this,” Dokyeom growls, gripping my hips. “She’s sucking us in.”

Once they’re both balls-deep, they start to move. Slow. Together. Fucking me like one monster cock.

I scream. Loud. Raw. Mingyu watches lazily, stroking himself. “You wanted inspiration, right?”

No answer. I’m too far gone.

The pace picks up. The wet slap of hips, the obscene sound of their cocks rubbing inside me, the feeling of being stretched to my limit—it rips me open. Juices pouring, thighs shaking, everything soaked. I’m clamping down on them, trying to trap them inside.

“Gonna cum,” Hoshi pants. “Gonna cum inside her—”

“Not yet,” Dokyeom growls. “Make her squirt first.”

They fuck me harder. My body locks up. Nerve endings burning. And then—boom. Another jet sprays out, harder than the last. Splattering everything. My scream’s already half dead, but I make some sound. I can’t even tell what. They don’t stop. They hold me down. Ride me through it, through the aftershocks, until I feel their own groans building.

“Fuck fuck fuck—cumming—”

“Me too—take it—take all of it—”

They slam in together one last time. Their cocks pulse, spilling thick, hot cum inside me, so much it leaks out immediately, white rivulets dripping down my legs. They stay buried for a moment, twitching, before they finally pull out. I collapse, limp, stretched open, cum pouring out.

And then—Mingyu leans close, presses a kiss to my cheek, and murmurs with a smirk—

“Ready for round two?”

[inksoakedparchment]

WHEN THE WALLS FALL

pairing: cm punk x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, angst

trope: frenemies to lovers

word cunt: 2,329k

tw: age gap (you're in your twenties and he's in his forties), smut - spanking, dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: motivation is back i guess, he’s my new muse<33

song: take me down by hazel

masterlist

Your relationship with Phil is, well, quite odd to say at least. You and Phil became friends when you joined WWE and he just approached and welcomed you warmly. It was strange at first because when you watched WWE and him on TV, he was a damn asshole - but still he was your favourite. Then within a few months, you started hang out as friends, then on a night when you were drunk, - he was drinking Pepsi - leaned in and captured his lips in a soft kiss. When you leaned back he was staring at you with widened eyes and totally shocked by your actions. The next day you met at work and he asked you out but you laughed and said the previous night’s kiss was a mistake and you were drunk. He pressed his lips together and just nodded and from then you’ve been in a frenemy status. Not friends anymore, not enemies but something is off and this hatred is still between you. He’s angry because you rejected him after you kissed him, you’re furious because he’s avoiding you like it’s his full-time job.

Before your biggest match tonight against Rhea Ripley - for the Women’s World Championship title -, he approaches you with a serious expression.

“Good luck tonight, Angel,” his face softens with a smile.

“Thank you,” you look into his gorgeous green eyes which are full of support.

You turn around as your entrance song ‘Rein Raus’ by Rammstein starts playing after Rhea gets in the ring and you start walking in confidently.

You’re mouthing the lyrics, it’s one of your favourite songs so it was obvious this gonna be your entrance song, it’s powerful with dirty meaning. Perfect.

The match is still going after twenty minutes when you finally drop your bomb; ‘Flames’. Your finisher move. With a fierce rush, you execute a powerful double underhook DDT, spinning her in midair before slamming her headfirst to the mat. The impact is so intense, that the crowd collectively gasps, holding their breath. You don’t stop there. You quickly climb on the top rope and spring off into a Phoenix Splash, landing perfectly on Ripley. You pin her down, the referee starts counting and then the bell rings. You stand up in disbelief, she couldn’t kick out your pin. A smile spreads across your face as you close your eyes and in a moment the title is in your hands. You climb on the top rope holding the belt in the air and the crowd chants your name like it’s a pray.

After you change into comfy clothes in the locker room, ready to leave, he leans on the doorframe.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” he smirks and nods proudly.

“My body is screaming in pain, Mami is reckless,” you laugh “But thanks, it means a lot actually.”

“You’re the Women’s World Champion, Angel. You should be proud,” his eyes soften and you feel your stomach flip.

Angel. The nickname he gave you when he first saw you in all-white gear with extreme white makeup. Punk complimented you before, then after the match, he said you look like an angel and a goddess at the same time. But your angelic eyes made him stuck with Angel.

“I’m proud to be honest. I earned my title and I fought for it a lot,” you smile at him.

“You sure did,” he laughs softly “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Phil.”

When he turns around a piece of paper falls out of his back pocket but he doesn’t notice. Punk disappears behind the corner as he makes his way out. You pick up the paper and fold it out, revealing words. Lots of words. It’s a damn letter. You look around and when you make sure you’re alone you sit down on the bench and start reading it.

‘Dear Angel,

I’ve written a hundred letters to you, and I never had the guts to give you a single one. This one’s no different. I don’t even know why I’m writing it now, but here I am. I don’t think I’ll ever give it to you, but I guess sometimes you have to get things off your chest, even if they never see the light of day.

I’ve been standing here, watching you win tonight, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you. You’ve worked so damn hard for this, Angel. I’ve always known you had it in you, but watching you finally take that belt? That’s something else.

It’s funny, though. I’ve been thinking about that night two years ago more than I’d like to admit. We hung out, you got drunk, and yeah, you kissed me. You were stumbling, and I was just there—doing my best to keep it together while you had your fun. I didn’t drink, I don’t do any of that, but I couldn’t help but feel… something. And the next day, I asked you out. I’m sure you remember it. You rejected me. Said it was a mistake, that you were drunk and it didn’t mean anything.

I wasn’t pissed off. Hell, I was probably more disappointed in myself for even thinking there could be something there. Maybe you didn’t want someone like me. Maybe I’m just too damn old, grumpy, and set in my ways for someone like you. I mean, maybe that’s why you rejected me, right? I’ve got this edge about me, and the age gap—hell, it’s probably just another thing to add to the list of reasons why I’m not what you’re looking for.

But here’s the thing, Angel. I’ve been lying to myself ever since. I’ve been acting like I don’t care, like it doesn’t matter, but it does. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this now—maybe it’s because tonight, watching you with that championship, I can’t pretend anymore. I’m proud of you. I respect you. I don’t care if you never feel the same way, but I can’t keep pretending I’m not still a little hung up on you.

I’m not asking for anything, Angel. Don’t worry, I’m not about to lay all of this at your feet. I’m not going to make things complicated. I’m straight edge, I’ve always kept my distance, and I’ll keep doing that. But I needed to write this, for myself. To stop pretending I don’t feel this way.

You’re a champion. You always have been. I guess I’ve just been too scared to admit how much you mean to me.

Anyway, this letter probably won’t ever see the light of day. You won’t ever know it exists, and that’s okay. Maybe it’s for the best. But just know, somewhere out there, I’m still cheering you on.

Punk’

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks, regretting these two years you avoided your feelings for him. God, you’ve been in love with him since you first talked to him and he made you become his friend. You still can’t forget that kiss, his soft lips on yours, kissing you back. The surprise in his eyes being slowly replaced by desire but he took you home and tucked you in bed.

You stand up still crying, the letter in your coat’s inner pocket and you start running like you do it for your life. Actually, you are. Because it’s your life and you want him to be in your damn life as a lover. As a partner.

When you reach his house, soaking wet because of the rain, you lie on the bell. He opens the door only in grey sweatpants clearly confused.

“What are you doing here, Angel? Did you run? Jesus, you’re soaked,” he sighs and pulls you in.

“What is this?” you take out the letter from your pocket and push it on his chest.

The air stuck in Punk’s lungs and slides his hand on the letter, staring into your soul.

“Did you read it?” he asks with fear.

“That’s why I'm here, dumbass,” you laugh bittersweet as you take off your coat and kick your boots off.

“How did you—”

“—It fell out of your pocket. And you disappeared before I could take it after you,” you wipe away a tear “Do you really feel this way?”

“I do,” he mutters under his breath.

“Oh my god,” you laugh and grab the back of his neck, crashing your lips to his.

He kisses you back but in a second he gently pushes you away.

“Angel, what was this?” he lets the letter fall on the ground and cups your cheeks in his hands.

“I don’t know why I rejected you two years ago. I was afraid that I’d be a young toy for you. I was afraid I’d fall for you damn hard. But I did anyway,” you swallow nervously.

“So you say we’ve been feeling the same thing for two years now? And neither of us did anything?” he laughs bitterly.

“Looks like,” you shut your eyes.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he lifts your chin and you open your eyes.

He leans in and kisses you deeply with hunger and frustration. The situation quickly turns heated and your hands slide on his naked chest, he grabs your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you into his bedroom and throws you on the bed.

“You thought I only wanted you as a toy back then?” he grabs your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the bed “I’m going to play with you. You’re my dirty little slut, my nasty toy from now on. And I’m going to make sure you will never forget this night, and me,” he whispers in your ear and shivers go down your spine “Got it?”

“Mhm,” you hum. The heat which radiates from his body makes you weak. His words make you feel you’re going to cum right now.

“Good girl,” he smirks and takes off your jeans with your thong and throws it away “You’re so damn wet for me, Angel,” he mutters on your inner thigh and presses sloppy kisses on it. In a second he buries his head in your pussy, and a loud moan escapes your lips. His tongue - oh my holy fuck - fucks you. Licking and eating you out like you’re his last dinner, sucking on your clit while looking into your eyes.

“Phil,” you moan his name “I’m gonna cum,” you grip his hair and press his face more into your pussy.

“Not yet, Angel,” he leans back grinning with your juices on his chin.

You groan impatiently. He grabs you and puts you on middle of the bed, then takes off your t-shirt.

“No bra? You filthy slut,” he sucks on your nipples, while you arch your back for him.

He kisses your body everywhere he can, and then he takes off his sweatpants, kneeling on the bed naked.

“How is that gonna fit in me?” you look at his penis then into his eyes.

“Oh, Angel. I’ll make it fit,” he smirks and he climbs on top of you, positioning himself between your legs.

Without hesitation, he pushes his dick inside you, with one, long thrust. You cry out his name loudly, making sure his neighbours going to know who’s living in this house.

“Jesus Angel, you’re so damn tight,” he sucks in a sharp breath.

He starts thrusting first slowly and when you start moaning in pleasure, he picks up a rough pace. Your hips meet with loud sounds which makes you feel more desired. His hunger is apparent in his groans and whimpers. Before you could cum, he slides out of you and he turns you on your stomach and pulls your ass up.

“Count to ten. This is your punishment for making me wait this long for your delicious pussy and your perfect heart,” and he slaps your ass light.

“One,” you hum. The second slap is way stronger than the first.

“Two,” you moan softly. The third? Ruthless. Finally, you reach ten, and your ass cheeks are burning, and your pleasure is dripping down on your inner thigh.

He positions himself behind you and slams into your pussy and starts fucking you like a damn animal. He turns you on your back and grabs your throat tightly while rocking his hips to yours.

“My little, kinky slut. I feel your pussy squeeze around my dick as I apply pressure on your perfect throat. Like your new necklace, Angel?” he pants as he throws his head back. He looks like a fucking god.

“Yeah,” you force out the answer. You can’t think just feel. You feel everything. He grabs your hips and you already feel the marks of his hands are going to be there tomorrow.

He doesn't slow down, if it’s possible he just fastens his pace.

“Cum for me, Angel,” he groans.

And this pushes you over the edge. You scream his name, tightening around him and his dick twitches, cumming inside you.

He leans down and kisses your jawline then your lips with affection and care. And with love.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers on your lips, staring into your soul.

“I love you too, Phil,” you smile at him softly.

He slowly pulls out of you and goes for a warm, wet towel and takes care of you. Wiping away your and his mixed cum which is dripping out of you, then he gives you one of his boxers and t-shirt, but he sees how exhausted are you and dresses you up. He puts on sweatpants too then climbs next to you, pulling you close to his body.

“Please be here when I wake up,” he whispers, begging with his eyes.

“I would never leave,” you shake your head and snuggle to his chest “I love you,” you close your eyes and immediately drift off to sleep.

“My Angel,” he presses a kiss on your temple and slowly falls asleep too.

taglist: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @siriusblackslefttoenail

[cherrycranes]

The Arrangement (Robert Fischer x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Fem!Reader Summary: You're a flight attendant for billionaire heir Robert Fischer and you have quite an interesting arrangement with him... Word count: 3,692 Contents: (Minors DNI). Ass eating (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), spitting, cum eating, fetish, dominant Robert (but he’s not an asshole) Author's notes: Collabing again with my darling @fuckiingloser. We're back to our usual universal fem reader posting after those two beautiful christmas fics! This new fic has been awaiting for over a month now and I'm so glad to have it out. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. There's a pinterest board link at the end so you visualize this fic. Enjoy!

Your pristine, well manicured hands smoothened your short skirt out and adjusted your brand new tights to near perfection. Your eyes fixated on the reflection of your polishedness in search of anything uneven, undone or unflattering, finding a single issue with your hair that was easily fixed with a touch. One last coat of lipgloss and you were set. The confines of the plane bathroom were replaced by the big cabin of the private jet that you now knew like the palm of your hand. Aware of what was coming, you poured a flute of expensive champagne that would await very little for your very special guest.

Timely as ever, you heard his fine italian leather shoes coming up the steps. The first thing you saw was a very pleased smirk upon his plump lips. The second thing was his pale blue eyes that immediately raked over your uniform and then noted the complimentary champagne that you always welcomed him with.

“Hello, gorgeous...” That perfect million dollar smile of his would always make your knees feel weak and your body heat up, and that day wasn’t the exception. Slick arousal already dampened your pussy and he hadn’t even taken a seat yet.

“Hello, Mr. Fischer.” Your voice came out sweet, quite adoring. His eyes kept devouring your figure, parts of you tightly embraced by your special uniform that he requested you to wear for his flights.

“Looking perfect, as always.” The scent of his luxurious cologne caressed the tip of your nose as he leaned in to whisper to you, his voice already husky. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, unable to resist the temptations of what boiled between you.

For nearly a year, you had been his flight attendant. Nothing out of the ordinary for the first few months. Usual duties of a stewardess like pouring drinks, pre-flight checks, showing the safety exits and many more things you had prepared for, filled his constant flight schedule with you. It wasn’t until a few months of working for him and taking his subtle flirting rather well, when he decided to offer you an arrangement that you definitely did not study for but you were so willing to do… 

Quite uncommon, a stewardess with benefits… Really good benefits you both enjoyed.

Fischer was a particular man, he knew exactly what he liked and wanted, and you fit that criteria perfectly. Your face, your eyes, your lips, your gorgeous body wearing that tiny mini skirt, high heels and a perfect pair of sheer tights. He couldn’t get enough of your thick soft thighs and round behind in the tight uniform he requested you to wear the moment the arrangement first started.

Carefully, you helped him take off his expensive suit coat and hung it up for him, exercising the same normality routine of two people who don’t fuck when the plane is on the air. Fischer took his usual seat, sipping on the champagne and checking all his messages and emails before shutting his phone off for the duration of the flight, playing the patient man who was not dying to touch you. In the meantime, you did your job: cross checked the doors, secured the baggage, listened to the pilots and their explanations of the weather conditions and the flight time. Once the captain and the co-pilot entered the cockpit, the flirtations were back on.

Your pantyhose clad legs caught his eye again when you strutted towards him with the calculated slowness of a hunter. 

“Time to buckle up, Mr. Fischer… Safety first…” You purred, sensually bending over and giving him a good view of your cleavage. You buckled his seatbelt for him, just to have more excuses to touch him before take off. He groaned a little, gaze dipping in the inviting warmth of your cleavage and jumping right into your eyes when his belt was tightened. 

“You look good enough to eat…” He husked, bringing a little smile to you. 

“And I'm sure you will… After take off…” You reminded him, winking.

Understanding, he nodded. The plane started to move towards the runway. You sat down and buckled yourself into the seat across from him. Flaming blue eyes didn’t stop roaming over you the whole time, scorching your skin and tightening your cunt around nothing.

The plane turned onto the runway and gained speed before finally taking off, making your ascent into the sky. Complete, utter silence took over. Both altitude and tension increased between you in what seemed to be hours. The seatbelt light blinked off upon reaching cruising altitude, his smirk returned. It was “go” time. 

He watched intently, the way your gentle hands unbuckled your seatbelt, how your knees flexed and unflexed beneath the sheer fabric when you stood up, the simple yet sensual touch against your skirt when you smoothed it out. When you turned around and bent over right in front of him to ”fix” your heel, he groaned. The tiny skirt rode up and left nothing to the imagination, and your lack of panties certainly did not help. Your bare pussy was perfectly visible beneath the pantyhose, the seams pressing gently against your wet folds.

“Fuck me…” He groaned, commanded almost. You stood up like you didn’t hear it, instead focusing on undoing his belt for him.

“You are free to move about the cabin, sir.” You purred through a cheeky little smirk, eyes on his lap tracing the shape of his hard on forming in his expensive dress pants. Quickly, his hands found your hips and his gaze met yours.

“Short flight today, doll… We better get to it.” His sensual raspy voice sent shivers down your spine and right to your cunt. Fischer didn’t wait for an answer he already knew you would say, right away he pulled you towards him so you straddled him and finally kissed him. Your tongue swirled together with his in a hot, wet mess. You moaned into his mouth and he devoured it. Big greedy hands squeezed both of your ass cheeks and you fed him another moan.

The taste of champagne, the smell of cologne, the feeling of his hands… Intoxicating as always. Capable of making your head reel and your body burn. Fischer bit your lower lip with a need impossible to hold back.

“I'm feeling a little hungry…” He whispered to the soft flesh of your lips, coaxing a smirk from you.

“Well, we can’t have that… Can we?… What would you like, sir?” You used that professional yet cutesy voice of yours that fed onto his fantasies, a game that kept him addicted and with his hands roaming up your thighs and pushing your skirt over your hips.

“I want you…  Bent over that seat… Ass out for me, kitten..” 

“Anything for you…” One of the things you liked the most about Fischer was just how direct he was. No bullshit, no guessing. When he wanted something, he said it. And, just like anything else in this world that was laid out for him to just take, you delivered. 

You traveled the small distance from his lap to the seat in front of him, knees on the cushion and chest against the backrest. Arching sensually, you poked your ass out, showing him everything he wanted.

A sexy glance back at him allowed you to see something not everybody would ever see. Robert Fischer, the billionaire heir of a powerful corporate empire kneeling in front of you like a peasant before his God, his beautiful face right in front of your ass. He moaned at the sight, sheer black fabric barely covering your bare pussy and asshole.

“Mmm, there she is…” He groaned in pure delight, a tentative thumb slowly pushed between your folds over the tights and rubbed you so tortuously slow. 

“Someone’s wet…” He cooed to you, your arousal dampening your tights and his fingertip too. “All for me...” He loved this, he needed this. You, in tights, nothing else beneath. The exact materialization of nearly every fantasy he had involving his fetish.

With reverence, he leaned in to kiss your pussy over the thin tights, his lungs filling with the mouthwatering scent. Nothing was enough for either of you, no matter the passage of time and the frequency of your encounters. Your heart still beat as hard as the first time, your cunt was just as wet. Robert still was just as starving.

With a loud cry, the intricate seams of your tights gave out to the force of Fischer’s hands, ripping open for him and granting him full undeniable access. A soft gasp escaped from your lips, both holes presented to him. 

“Mmm, that’s more like it…” He groaned hungrily.

With the shortness of the flight in mind, he dived in. You could only moan at the greedy feeling of his hot tongue parting your slippery folds and his firm hands spreading your asscheeks even farther, making a perfect burial site for his gorgeous face. His tongue worked you and slided in so needily, almost making out with your dripping cunt. Your inner whore came out in that instant, making the nastiest, prettiest sounds for him.

Humming in approval against the sensitive flesh, he devoured every inch of you,  nearly animalistic and completely starved. His tongue flicked skillfully in all the right ways, over and over, swallowing your arousal straight from its sweet source. Quickly, he lowered his head, going from your entrance and never breaking the licking path until his tongue was at your clit, swiping it and painting it with his spit before sucking on it with a calculated gentleness. You saw stars.

His needy tongue fucked your sweet little cunt more and more, to alternate, his plump lips sucked at your clit, harder and harder each time until the desperation for air pulled him back. 

“Fuck…” He groaned, sucking some air into his lungs. “Your cunt tastes like heaven... You know that?” With his voice husky, he returned to your beautiful flesh, making it impossible for you to even form a coherent sentence. Desperately, you moaned in response.

Back to you, he licked a few fat stripes from your needy clit all the way over to your ass, a hum of delight and pure addiction making your sensitive skin vibrate. Fischer was enamoured with your cunt, that was true, but your ass had him completely chained forever.

“Now, for my real treat… This perfect little asshole… I swear you’ve got the tightest, sweetest ass…” He praised it directly, prepared to show it just how sincere his words were. Flattening his tongue against your puckered hole, he sucked it a little, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet.

“Oh, fuck…” You breathed out in a whiny moan for him and his flicking, hardworking tongue that was making its way in.

“Open up for me, pretty girl…” And how could you not? He purred onto your skin and you moaned a sweet sound that he couldn’t get enough of. He was determined, his tongue licked your ass open, again and again, deeper and deeper, all for him to have a taste. 

Lost in the feeling, you reached back, finding the softness of his brown hair and gripping it gently. He moaned needily when his face was pushed against you harder, deeper in the sweetness of your ass. A complete utter heaven for him.

Aroused and lubricated, your ass relaxed, his tongue slided in a little deeper. In between fluttering eyelashes you could only see the color of the expensive plane seat leather your face was pressed upon, the only sounds your ears could perceive were the filthy smacks of his saliva as his swirling tongue rimmed you. He had taken you to the same heaven you had sent him to and all you could do now was whine loudly.

“So fucking good…” Three words and your supply of air was gone, he hummed in a satisfied response, not planning for a second to take his hungry tongue out of you to talk. Pulling back, he planted nice, wet kisses on your ass, then slipped back in, swirling all over your asshole and moaning. 

You had never let anyone eat your ass before, but now, after months of it, the desire had grown and rooted deep inside you, craving it just as much as he did. 

His talented tongue slipped inside you again, praises of how much he loved your taste and how tight and perfect your ass was overflowing his mouth. Incredible to think about, one of the richest men in the country and the most elegant bachelor billionaire had an obsession with you and your ass.

Tongue fucking you a bit more, he then stopped, finally puling away with a serious need for air in his burning lungs. Your gazes met from over your shoulder, your form shaky and well opened.

“If i keep eating that tasty ass, I’m gonna come in my fucking pants…” He confessed with a cheeky smirk, catching his breath.

“Let me finish you off with my mouth… Can’t let all that cum go to waste…” You purred so sensually, you could see the glint in his eyes forming. Right away, Fischer moved back to his seat and got rid of his expensive belt, his rock hard, aching cock pulled out from his pants and ready for you.

Carefully, you slided off your seat down to your hands and knees, crawling to him like the animal in heat you were, with those eyes that begged him to let you have a taste. His blue irises stayed glued to you through his motions of spitting in his hand and pumping himself slowly, not missing a single movement you made.

“You know what I love about you, doll?” He asked, watching you settle on your knees between his parted legs.

You looked up, hands on his thighs rubbing slowly and patiently waiting for your turn with his cock. He touched himself lazily, speaking again.

“You’re the perfect slut just for me…” He growled, blunt but very true. You were, and you loved every minute of it.

With his free hand, he reached up to grab your chin.

“Open up…” He purred, you obeyed, sticking your tongue out for his leaning form. Your eyelashes fluttered when a trickle of his warm spit fell on your tongue, you immediately swallowed gladly.

Smirking, Fischer sat back with his hands behind his head and his eyes looking from you to his twitching cock, shamelessly unsubtle. You scooted closer to him, leaning in and swirling your tongue over his tip, recreating the motions had just done to you ass. Salty precum filled your tastebuds and he sighed out in perfect relief.

Through your eyelashes, you caught a glimpse of the pleasure etched onto his refined features, his mouth hanging open and his chest rising and falling fast, his rosy lips wetted with a lick. Fischer’s head fell back onto the seat with a moan, your mouth welcomed him happily.

You bobbed your head on him, your tongue exploring the texture of the underside of his shaft.

“Fuuuck.” He groaned deeply, his hand coming to rest on the back of your hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. You sucked his cock masterfully, guided by him firmly but not forcefully.

You worked your way down to his cock, servicing him well, aware of his need of being pleased and your need to please. He loved it, every bit of your sinful warm mouth and your perfect throat that allowed him inch by inch. You didn’t notice when your nose started to tickle his well groomed pubes, or when his leaking tip was hitting the depths of your throat. A needy, spoiled groan came from him, urging you on.

Eventually, you pulled back, the tip becoming the target for your mouth and his eyes the target for your own. In a rather tender but still greedy motion, his hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, loosened up somewhere along your service. No obstacle should block him away from seeing you taking him in.

“You look so pretty sucking my cock… You always look so fucking pretty.” He breathed out, lost in you already. If you hadn't been so busy blowing him, you would have smiled and blushed. But you had a mission to complete. By the looks of it, he was not lasting long, his breathing was ragged and his gaze was softened into two pools of begging blue. You pulled your mouth off him, allowing your hand to help you out with the shaft while your tongue took over his leaking slit.

Fischer moaned loudly through a little satisfied smirk. The tip of your warm tongue dragged from the head down his veiny shaft, taking you to his balls. With care, you sucked one into your mouth, causing his breath to hitch.

“Jesus Christ…” He groaned, no more cocky smirks. His eyelids hung heavy just like his jaw did, but even in this state he couldn’t stop watching you.

Your hand pumped him, your mouth sucked on his balls, switching from one to another when the time felt right. And right it was, you could have killed him.

“F-fuck… I’m not gonna last…” He nearly whined, with mercy and a loud wet pop, you let one of his balls out of your mouth, but your hand was still wrapped around his cock, rubbing it so thoroughly. 

“Come for me, baby…” You cooed, his vulnerability allowing this sweetness back. You smiled, adoring the noticeable fuss that took over his brain from your words and your actions. He was tip-toeing on the edge of an abyss and all you had to do was give him one last push.

He nodded after he managed to process everything fully, his lust-clouded mind not allowing for much more as his answer was just a set of little groans. Any moment now. 

You stuck your tongue out, your warmth looming over his sensitive tip as you jerked him off, your hand pumping faster and bringing his cock to you so you could tap it with your tongue.

And that’s what did it for billionaire heir Robert Fischer. His cock pulsed in your grasp, the ever so powerful man nothing but a mush of desire in the palm of your hand.

“Oh shit- fuck me- I’m coming…” He stuttered with a pounding heart, gripping the arm of the leather seat for dear life and flexing his thighs. Your hand moved faster and pulled his needed orgasm out of him.

A rope of hot cum landed on your tongue, your hand slowed around his twitching cock, milking him for all he has right onto your awaiting mouth. He watched in awe and need, embedding the feeling to his memory.

When he finished, you pulled back, sitting back on your heels and proudly showing him your cum covered mouth, swallowing it for his viewing pleasure. There was that million dollar grin again.

“That's my girl…” Through his husky voice, there was pride in it. You put his tired cock back into his briefs like it was another part of the in flight procedure.

“Anything for you…” You spoke sensually, winking at him before getting up on your knees. By this point, the routine was well practiced: you headed to the plane bathroom to change into a new pair of tights —which you kept in stock for obvious reasons—, fixed your uniform and hair in the mirror and resumed all the activities of a normal, non-fucked stewardess before you landed.

Fischer fixed himself too, zipping up his trousers and buckling his belt. After a few minutes the pilots made their expected announcement, you were close to the airport and had to prepare to land. You sauntered over to him, buckling his seatbelt on one last time with a playful wink before taking the seat across from him and strapping in.

Quiet again, you let the pilots do their thing. Your descent and land on the runway with him was never awkward. Just… Routinary. As the wheels touched down and the plane slowly rolled to a stop, you got up, gathering his belongings first then getting his coat out for him.

Then, you grabbed your bag, getting ready to head to your hotel for the week until you had to fly home again next saturday. Fischer got up, the expected envelope with cash in hand for your flight payment and extra perks.

You took in the beautiful blue of his eyes again as you accepted it, the gentle touch of his hand found your hip.

“Service was impeccable today, doll…” he started, making you smirk. Before you could thank him, a proposal left those rosy lips of his.

“Why don’t you come to mine and stay with me this week?” Your heart skipped a beat. “I've got a beautiful home in the mountains… More than enough room for the two of us… Better than any hotel…” his beautiful smile was on, his hand now caressed your cheek and fed the butterflies in your stomach.

Never, in the year you had been working for him, had he ever offered something like that. Flirtations with him and your physical relationship only existed while up in the air. But there was always something more, something that was meant to persist on the solid land.

“What do you say, doll?” Fischer cooed. “You and me… A relaxing vacation, a couple nice bottles of wine tonight? In my hot tub?” his hand still cupped your cheek. The look of his eyes was wishful, completely aware that something like that, somebody like you, was so unique he had to take the chance.

Inside, you argued with yourself. The idea tempted you but the fact that he was technically your boss tried to hold you back. He was only a handful years older than you, and yes, you had broken the ethical and traditional employer/employee relationship quite a long time ago... Before your mind could come up with more arguments, you went along with your heart.

“I’d love to…” You said back with no hesitation. 

Pinterest board so you can visualize this fic!

[hazbinshusk]

huskerdust x gn!reader. after a particularly rough day recruiting for the hotel, you limp back to your room to find your two favourite boys waiting for you. anon request. 1.7k

featuring: some blood, physical hurt/comfort, cuddles. really, it's just pure fluff.

Hell can seriously suck a dick sometimes.

You shove the door to the Hotel open with tired arms, for once actually finding yourself wishing that the wall had once again been blown up, if it meant less effort getting home. Charlie had had you pounding pavement all day, trying and failing to enlist new guests to the hotel. Even after the failed extermination, most of the sinners in Pride were less than welcoming to the idea of improving themselves. You spent half the day being told to fuck off and having doors slammed in your face, and the other half actively avoiding being the victim of some asshole’s wrath or lust.

You wipe sweat and ash from your brow with the brow with a sleeve, pausing by the bar to take the weight of your knee. You’d managed to trip while trying to escape a sudden firefight in the Doomsday District, and every step back to the hotel had sent pain shooting up your leg. Your pants were torn and blood has dried in itchy streaks down your calf.

The bartender is nowhere in sight, and you fish your phone out of your pocket to text Angel, sighing when you notice the screen now has a crack spiderwebbing up from the corner of it. Still, a small smile twitches at your lips briefly when you notice he texted you an hour earlier. It’s short and sweet, and your smile widens tiredly.

It was a habit the two of you had picked up since you’d fallen into this relationship with him and Husk; when two of you had turned in for the night, one of you would text to let their other partner know which room they had ended up in. Usually, it was you texting Angel when a shoot ran long, but it had been a rare day off for the porn star and apparently the lack of clientele had meant Husk had been able to clock off early, too.

The lack of a cat emoji said they were spending quality time with Fat Nuggets in Angel’s room, and you thanked Lucifer silently that he’d installed an elevator during the remodel.

You sigh at the idea of having to keep moving rather than just collapsing onto the nearest horizontal surface, limping around the bar to wrap a handful of ice in a towel before making your way to the elevator.

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

“Hey, gorgeous, ‘bout time you got—” Angel sits up from where he was lounging across his bed, concern creasing his brow as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. The sudden movement unsettles the two curled up on top of him – while Fat Nuggets snuffles in a mix of both protest and greeting as he waddles across the comforter, Husk looks up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’. He had been stretched out alongside Angel, his arms wrapped around the spider’s midsection and his chin resting against his chest. Angel’s hand still lingers where it had been stroking through the fur between the bartender’s ears, and you feel a small pang of regret for interrupting the tableau. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

“Hell happened,” you reply dryly, wincing as you put a little too much pressure on your knee. Husk blinks sleep out of his eyes and his expression immediately becomes marred with worry. He pushes himself up of Angel just as you move to collapse onto the stool in front of Angel’s vanity, ignoring the ache that protests in the small of his back as he comes to your side. You grimace as you stretch out your leg in front of you, and Angel rolls over to fish the first aid kit out from under his bed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Husk points out gruffly, kneeling beside you. He carefully hooks a claw in the tear in your pants and tears it wider, his brow furrowing further as he reveals the dried blood staining your calf.

“Am I?” you say, sarcasm weak. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Husk fixes you with a dry, exasperated look from under his feather brows as Angel joins the two of you. “Who did it?”

“No one.” You hiss as Angel begins to clean you up, the saline stinging at the abrasion on your knee.

A low growl rumbles warningly through Husk. “Doll…”

You reach out, cupping his face in your hand. You stroke your thumb through the fur of his cheek soothingly. His frown doesn’t ease, but his eyes close for a moment at the touch. “I’m serious. I fell, that’s all.”

“Jesus, toots.” Angel says through an exhale, carefully scrubbing away the blood streaked over your calf. His other hands rummage through the kit for disinfectant and a bandage. “Was it down a flight of stairs by any chance?”

You shake your head, smirking lightly. “Doomsday District; the ground there is like, ninety percent broken glass. Pretty sure I got it all out.”

“The Princess shouldn’t be sendin’ you out there alone,” Husk grumbles, using a piece of saline-soaked gauze to wipe away the remaining ash on your face. You wrinkle your nose as the material tickles at your nose. “It ain’t your job to—”

“Husk, I’m fine.” you assure him. You lean forward to press a kiss to his nose, and Husk’s shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I’m home.”

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

“Better?”

You smile, running your fingers rhythmically through Angel’s hair. “Much.”

The three of you are curled up on Angel’s bed, ice melting against your knee and all three of you cradled amongst his many, many pillows and blankets. Husk is propped up against the pillows by the headboard, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You’re tucked up against him, your shoulder against his chest, and your face tilted up to tuck up against his jaw. His purring vibrates through his back, but some of his earlier frustration still lingers in the twitching of his tail. His lips brush against your forehead gently.

Angel is curled up against your side, his head on your chest and two arms wrapped around you. Another reaches up to stroke through the fur of Husk’s side, the fourth resting on the back of the little hell-piglet curled in a ball on Husk’s thigh beside your hip. His legs are bent to tuck up under yours, hooking your knees over his thighs to keep your injury elevated. Every part of you seems to be pressed against soft, soft fur, and you arch your neck further to press your lips to the underside of Husk’s jaw. His purring grows louder.

“Plus side?” Angel comments, looking up at the two of you without raising his cheek from your chest. “Charlie is gonna feel so bad ‘bout sendin’ ya out there—”

“She fuckin’ should,” Husk interjects in a grumble. You sooth him by reaching down to card fingers through his fur, and when your fingers find Angel’s hand, the spider entangles them with his and squeezes. He might be talking more lightly about your current state than Husk, but you knew he was worried, too. You squeeze it back.

“—that there is no way ya gonna be on recruitment duty for, like, a month.” Angel continues. “Ya can jus’ live the high life here. Ya milk that knee jus’ right an’ she probably won’t even make ya go to group. Lucky bitch.”

You hum a laugh, shivering at the way Husk’s claws skim pleasantly against the bare skin of your arm. “And does this ‘high life’ by any chance involve some serious naked time?”

Angel giggles, reaching releasing your waist to reach down and run teasing fingers over the front of Husk’s pants. “Depends. Think the old man here can keep up?”

Husk swats his hand away, and you catch the amused smile that touches his lips for a moment before he remembers to scowl. “Never heard you complain.”

“Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up,” Angel suggests tauntingly, and you choke on a laugh when Husk reaches over you and shoves him off the bed. “Hey! Ow!”

Husk grins, winking at you as Angel stands, all four hands on his hips and a pout on his face. Careful not to jostle you, Husk leans over and grabs a hold of the front of the spider’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Angel wraps two arms around his neck, the other two smoothing over the bartender’s chest. He finds a nipple and pinches, hard, and Husk breaks away with a surprised growl.

“Fuck!”

“Hey!” you object as the movement jostles you further. You rescue Nuggets from the fray, setting him down on the end of the bed. “Watch the invalid, would you? Some of us are injured here!”

Husk immediately stops, his expression apologetic. He catches your cheek, dusting kisses over your face before he presses his lips to yours. You hum happily, feel Angel climb into the bed beside you. He curls up behind you, pressing himself up against your back. Husk kisses you for a few moments more before he pulls away, touching his lips to the skin between your brows. “Sorry, doll.”

“He’s a goddamn brute,” Angel says, tucking his head over your shoulder. “You should totally kick his ass.”

You giggle, and Husk silences him by kissing him again. When they break apart, Husk pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. His wing curves to cover the three of you, and you bury your face contentedly in the soft fur of his chest.

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - IX - BETTER WATCH HOW YOU THINK OUT LOUD, IF IT'S 'BOUT ME THOUGH 📜

🖼️ moodboard

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➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Note: We made the magic number 🎊, sorry to post so late but I know you guys dont like to wait a moment longer than necessary.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.7K

Warning: The usual apply. Trigger warning for all the toxicity that comes with Narc abuse.

Summary: This chapter is sunshine and a storm. Rio and the Reader enjoy a day out together in Mexico. Their last day abroad together only makes their bond stronger. The rest you'll have to read and see 😉

IX - BETTER WATCH HOW YOU THINK OUT LOUD, IF IT'S 'BOUT ME THOUGH 📜

Sitting relaxed Rio watches the sun cast golden hues on you as it prepares to set. The ocean sprays along the boat as dolphins lead the charge ahead of the boat ushering you back to the resort. The day had been incredible. The two of you had shared several moments of firsts. Your connection could not be denied. It was way too strong so much so that you felt like you were in sync. Turning around you find Rio watching as you hold over the edge of the boat to watch the dolphins. Your eyes find each other and he nods giving you an encouraging smile. He admired how much you enjoyed every bit of effort he put into the trip. It makes him want to do even more to keep a smile on your face. He made a mental note to tip the member of the hotel staff well for recommending the set of excursions that he had. Rio had asked what were the bestsellers for couples and women and then booked accordingly. The day started ziplining which was rough considering the night's festivities but after a nap during the ride to swim with dolphins you were ready for the day. He’d been around you long enough to detect any personality defects, and found none. Building a business meant great people management skills. He couldn't think of any sensible reason for James’ cheating. Instead, he understood why James was being such an asshole about letting you go. Smiling Rio takes a video of you looking at the dolphins happily. Wearing a cheeky bikini bottom and short sarong, the video would only be for him but he would keep the memory nonetheless. 

“Rio, come see!” you call him over. He obliges despite not giving a single fuck about the dolphins, fish and everything else exciting you at the moment. He smiles mostly at your excitement. “It’s so gorgeous, thank you for this” you smile looking up at him.

“You’re welcome” Rio nods.

You sit enjoying the sunset as the boat takes a scenic way to the doc by the resort. Rio settles feeling you next to him, his mind is on what will happen when you return home. There were a couple of properties he was managing, he would schedule some showings and do his best to respect your need for space if that's what you needed. Only he’d already started shifting his schedule to be around most nights, he would have to find someone to keep eyes on James too just in case the entitled fuck decided to do anything sneaky. 

“Did you have fun?” you ask, interrupting Rio's thoughts. He smiles nodding, he did but not for the same reasons as you.

Rio nods, “I enjoyed myself.”

“I don't think you did” You respond both amused and appreciative that he’d taken the time to make today all about you and your enjoyment.

“I enjoyed seeing you enjoy yourself. I like making money and taking care of my people.” Rio says, a simple man. Looking him over you realise he’d revealed no vices during the entire trip. He didn’t drink too much and there were no frequent smoke breaks. His eyes never lingered on the assortment of scantily clad women scattered around the resort. No flirting, or whispering on the phone and he seemed too proud to lie. He’d also managed to make you feel considered every step of the way. 

“Well I had an incredible time, I’m really really really happy you invited me out here and made it so special.” you smile smothering him with quick kisses in your giddiness.

“I know,” Rio nods, pecking your forehead.

Getting off the boat you walk hand in hand with him through the resort and towards your room. You pass by a group of his family eating and the smirk on Nick’s face is unsettling. Marisol looks apologetic but it’s Tia’s eyes that catch yours. She stands coming over and pulling both you and Rio away.

“Rio, can I talk to Y/N quickly?” she asks.

“No” Rio interjects holding your hand tighter. “What is it?” He asks.

“Come here sweetie” Marisol says standing and reaching for you only for Rio to grab your wrist.

“She ain’t going nowhere, what the fuck is up?” Rio snaps getting upset.

“She's married” Nick mocks glaring at Rio. Everyone tenses but Rio who relaxes much to everyone's shock.

“See, I told you there was more to the story!” Marisol says to Nick reading Rio’s body language and Tia rolls her neck at Nick with folded arms.

“What happened?” you ask.

“James, whoever the fuck that is messaged all of us.” Tia signs and Rio loosens his grip.

“What did it say?” you ask as your anger surges. She hands you her phone allowing you to read it.

Hello Tia, I regret to inform you that I have discovered an ongoing affair between your cousin and my wife. This situation has caused immense pain and distress to our family. I am reaching out to you in hopes that you can address this matter with your cousin directly. It is crucial that this affair ends immediately for the well-being of all parties involved. My wife and I have a loving relationship, and this indiscretion is merely a result of her current state of boredom and emotional instability. Continuing this affair will only lead to more hurt and damage. I implore you to intervene and help put an end to this destructive behaviour. Your cousin risks significant emotional harm if this continues. Please, for the sake of both our families, help bring this to an end.

Looking up from the phone embarrassed isn’t the word. You flush overheating as you become nauseated. Your eyes water looking at the lies.

“He sent this to all of you?” Rio asks, having read the message too.

“Everyone tagged me on my story last night, got one” Tia explains.

“Christopher” Marisol interjects as Rio’s anger reaches a ten.

“You okay?” Rio asks, taking your chin. Blinking you close your eyes and tears run down. “Hey, he’s lying don't cry” Rio says trying to calm you down.

“I need some time alone” you swallow turning away from the crowd as the walls close in around you. Your hands and face are hot. Emotionally unstable?! You feel it now as you head to the room feeling crazy. Heading into the room you try to regulate your breathing and manage to dial James number from memory. It goes to voicemail but youre so angry you call five more times until he picks up.

“Who is this?”James’ voice says grating your nerves.

“You piece of shit!” you shout.

“Mexico really!?” he shouts back. “And youre so fucking messy youre there with another man, and you have the audacity to post him and be kissing him at the airport while being married-”

“You're so beyond unbelievable JAMES!” You scream. “YOU’RE FUCKING A BIMBO FOR MONTHS AND I DON’T CALL HER, I DON’E MESSAGE HER I LEAVE YOU TO ALONE! YET YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO DIVORCE ME AND LET ME BE IN PEACE. YOU ALWAYS TOLD ME KEEP PEOPLE OUT OF OUR RELATIONSHIP AND YOU MESSAGE HIS FAMILY WITH BULLSHIT ABOUT US BEING IN LOVE. I WAS EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE WHEN I SAID I DO AT THAT ALTER, I’VE BEEN EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP TO LET YOU TREAT ME LIKE AN AFTERTHOUGHT AND A PERSONAL ASSISTANT BUT I’M DONE WITH THAT. I’M DONE WITH YOU! DON’T CALL ME OR MY MOTHER OR ANY OF THE PEOPLE I ASSOCIATE WITH.”

“Calm down” he responds, gaslighting you further. You nearly blow a gasket. There's a knock at the door and you swallow trying to remain calm as you head to the door. Marisol’s sympathetic expression awaits outside the door. Overwhelmed, you step back to let her in. If you could disappear you would. 

“Baby, where are you? I’ll book a flight and be there as soon as you need me to be” James continues driving you crazy.

“James, I don't want you and after what you did today I never want to see you again, don’t call me, don't write me, don't call my mom, my friends or my family!” you snap.

“Then stop posting! If you wouldn't have posted for everyone to see I wouldn't have had to intervene you're taking this too far. This guy whoever he is doesn't mean well, you're vulnerable he's taking advantage” James’ words are just more manipulation.

“Speak for yourself” you scoff. “I’ve never done anything to deserve what you did and what you’ve done to me today” you snap.

“I’m not sorry, at least it made you call,” he says, making your ears ring. It’s Marisol that hangs up the phone on your behalf. You take deep breaths as her eyes hold yours. She looks horrified.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your wedding trip” You apologise, feeling horrible.

“The fact that you're even apologising after that tells me everything I need to know” she swallows, shaking her head at James' abounding audacity. “I’m sorry about Nick, he thinks you're too good for Rio and it would be a funny aha moment if you were playing him. It was just a shocking message you know” she apologises.

“Marisol, there’d be no apologies if it weren't for my drama on your wedding vacation.” You apologise.

“Girl, there’s always drama. I don't care about a party more than I care about a human being. James will pay for this mess I promise you that. Nick owes us big time for that stunt back there, I can imagine your divorce hearing will be expedited and after those messages. We’ll explore an injunction for both a gag and restraining order. Besides, his actions will do wonders for pain and suffering - extra alimony. We can talk and I can report on emotional abuse.” Marisol says in full therapist, problem solver mode.

“Really?” you can't contain your surprise.

“Really sweetie, now that you're okay I’ve got to make sure Rio doesn’t kill the guy or Nick first” she says.

“Please, James isn't worth it the drama” you mutter.

“I will try, just decompress and relax unless you want me to call him here?” Marisol asks.

“It’s alright, just please apologise to everyone for me” you repeat and she smiles.

“Fuck that asshole James” She says and theres a knock on the door. You open it and Tia walks in with a tray of treats. Marisol leaves and Tia stays sitting with you in the cozy living room. It’s the venting session you’ve missed out on. You video call your mother too and the three of you talk everything out. It ends letting you feel lighter. You order room service and eat with Tia once your mom ends the call. You tell her about your day trying your hardest not to let James ruin all of Rio’s planning. It’s how he finds you when he comes in smelling like weed. His energy is tense as he nods heading in the bathroom.

“You think he’s mad at me?” you ask Tia as she checks her phone.

“Nope” she smiles showing you a video of you and the dolphins today. There’s no caption, only the business is tagged as well as you. You smile too. “Your James might be used to winning, but nobody beats Rio” she says getting up.

“It’s dark Tia, let me walk you back to your villa” Rio says emerging from the bathroom.

“I was leaving, asshole, you don’t have to be like that and rush me out” she stands fanning him off.

“Keep playing with me and I’ll tell Granny what you be doing with her zucchini loaf” Rio warns. Tia deadpans pretending to zip her lips.

“Y/N say you have an allergy. It’s dis-gus-ting!” Tia warns, making you laugh.

“Can I come with you guys?” you ask.

“You don't need permission, you're grown” Tia smiles, linking arms in yours. The walk to Tia’s side of the resort is about ten minutes and full of her colourful personality. Once she’s settled you take Rio’s hand he hasn’t said much to you since James stunt. He takes your hands and kisses them before pulling you in.

“Don’t apologise” he says before you can.

“I made you look bad to your family” you say.

“Nah, you made Nick look terrible. Everyone sat there ripping him a new one. I don’t owe them explanations but I told them about James and it’s settled” Rio says and you smile feeling overwhelmed by his support.

“I’m happy he cheated. If he didnt I wouldnt be here with you. Today was amazing and you’ve been a godsend through all of this. I know you tell me not to thank you but I really appreciate everything” your words are from the heart.

“You deserve it, people always get what they deserve. James will too for making you cry” he says and you nod trusting him with a smile. Ready for war you post more pictures from today to fan the flames. Rio’s family members along with yours rally in the comments hyping you up. You ignore any DM’s from James' family and smile when you see Tia addressing the chaos in your comments, airing out the truth to James. You watch attentively, refreshing until the comments from disgruntled family members of James’ start disappearing and make a mental note to take Tia to dinner.

Rio sits on the couch watching it too from his personal phone getting more and more pissed. Having had it with showing restraint he calls his people, as much as he wants to personally make James pay there’s no way to from here. He gets a two for one special on James taking both of his women out of the picture. His instructions are as follows. Make Japan an offer she won’t refuse to leave town and end communication with James. Scare her real bad. It’s the least of what she deserves for being complicit in your harassment. It has to be done tonight. Rio wants absolutely nothing to allow James to feel safe or content in his life. No woman to slide into, no one to listen to him, no one to call. James couldn’t play with you, not anymore. His mental health accusation would ultimately come back to bite him in the ass when Rio was through. Rio’s second set of instructions were for the cheating bastard James himself. He knew James would be at a bar tonight. He was the type. First Rio’s boys would be friendly while James drank. After James started talking too much they’d start to taunt him quietly. With the liquor in his system it wouldn't be long until a fight started. Only James wouldn't win this one getting the brakes beat out of him. He’d tried restraint but it was clear now more than ever that James needed to be broken and put out of commission. Nothing else would stop him from messing with you.

Pausing from the instruction Rio ponders if there’s anything else. Hearing the bedroom door open he ends the call after giving his people the green light.

“You alright?” he asks, eyeing the third of your lingerie sets. He makes a mental note to check the tags and buy out the store. When you sit in his lap instead of the free seat beside him he relaxes instantly.

“Yeah, you?” you ask him as he adjusts you for his own comfort.

“Better now” he nods.

“I’m exhausted from today baby, can you come to bed so we can sleep?” you ask him and he sees it in your eyes. He had a romantic dinner planned to commemorate the last night. He’d planned to ask you to be his properly, officially to clear any confusion but of course James fucked that up.

“My ego isn't so fragile you gotta tip toe around being tired mama.” Rio smiles reading between the lines. Though his appetite for you felt insatiable he didn’t view you as his personal sex-slave regardless of any jokes he’d made in the past.

“It’s not about your ego Rio, I know what it’s like to be unappreciated and I don't want to be that person” you yawn. Rio leads the both of you to the bedroom. Pulling the sheets back he watches you get under the covers first before settling in himself. You fall asleep in no time but Rio’s slower to go. He watches you sleep, each breath quells his anger until he drifts off too knowing ain’t shit sweet or peaceful for James tonight.

Author's note: Whew, chile this one was a rollercoaster. I feel like thats how it goes sometimes, unfortunately. Can we believe the ish James pulled? Like the audacity of him to send that mass message. At least Rio has some real ones in his family. Let me know what your favourite part was?

» next part

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads

[cosycryptid]

Preparing for Battle - Part 3

Steve goes to Eddie's trailer. Also on A03: [Here] Part: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

“So,” Robin says from the staff room doorway the second Eddie disappears. “You wanna explain, or should I start guessing?”

“Explain what, Buckley?” Steve replies, already sounding defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Robin says, stepping into the room. “Maybe the fact that I just watched Eddie Munson fawn over you for five straight minutes, and not only did you not stop him, you asked me to leave so you could be alone with him.”

“He did not fawn over me,” Steve scoffs.

Robin rolls her eyes and launches into a dramatic reenactment, pitching her voice to mimic them both:

“Oh my God, Eddie. You came back.” “You asked me to, Steve. How could I deny you anything? Also, have I ever told you your hair is gorgeous?” “No, Eddie. Your hair is gorgeous.” “Steve, stop it, you’re making me blush.” “You know how pretty you are, Munson. You stop it. Okay Robin, you’re gonna have to give us a moment. Alone.”

She finishes with a smug look; arms crossed like a lawyer resting her case.

Steve stares at her, unimpressed. “You seriously need a hobby.”

Robin shrugs. “I have one. It’s watching you spiral. Now, care to plead your case?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve mutters. “You majorly embellished.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Robin reaches for the post-it note by the till and holds it up like it’s Exhibit A. “Then what’s this? If I still had the scoreboard, this would be your first tally under ‘You Rule.’”

Steve snatches the note and tucks it into his pocket. “It’s just his number. We’re hanging out Thursday. He wants help with something he’s working on.”

Robin raises an eyebrow.

“I said yes because…” Steve hesitates, then sighs. “Because I’m hoping he’ll see I’m not a total loser now. And maybe we can be friends. I haven’t had a guy friend my age in a long time, Rob. And I don’t think I’ve ever had one who wasn’t kind of an asshole.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Well, that’s heartbreakingly honest.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

“You don’t even know Eddie Munson that well,” Robin points out. “Can we really be sure he’s not an asshole?”

“Dustin likes him,” Steve says. “Don’t ever tell him I said this—he does not need the ego boost—but I trust the kid’s judgment. Sometimes. About some things. If he says Eddie’s cool, that’s a point in his favor.” Steve shrugs. “Besides, he seemed nice enough just now.”

“Oh, he seemed very nice,” Robin says with a smirk—but it fades when she sees the look on Steve’s face. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?” she asks, softer now.

Steve nods. “Yeah. I think so. I don’t know why, but... yeah. Weirdly enough.”

Robin studies him for a beat, then sighs. “Okay. I’ll lay off. It’s no fun if the teasing actually hurts your feelings.”

Steve gives her a grateful look.

“And listen,” she adds, “if Munson ever hurts your feelings—even by accident—you tell me right away. I will have words for him. Sharp, pointy ones.”

“Wow, Robin. That’s terrifying,” Steve says, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Shut up and let me defend your honor,” she replies, sticking her tongue out at him.

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

Somehow—by some absolute miracle—Steve might actually be about to have a male friend who isn’t years his junior.

He knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer at 5 p.m. sharp. There’s the sound of quick footsteps, a bit of muffled mumbling, and then the door swings open with a dramatic flourish. Eddie stands there, bowing low in the warm light spilling out behind him. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and a band t-shirt, and his hair looks soft, like it’s been freshly washed and towel dried.

Steve wonders what it would feel like under his fingers, then mentally slaps himself for being weird and staring. Again.

“Good evening, Sir Steve,” Eddie says grandly. “Welcome to my humble abode. Feel free to keep your shoes on or leave them at the door. The world is your oyster.”

“So, it’s ‘Sir Steve’ now?” Steve grins, stepping inside and immediately removing his shoes—etiquette drilled into him since before he could walk. Eddie closes the door behind him and heads toward the kitchen.

“Felt more fitting,” Eddie calls over his shoulder. “Seeing as you’ll be Corroded Coffin’s knight in shining armor if you agree to help us.” He grabs two glasses. “Want anything to drink?”

“I like it a lot more than ‘King Steve,’ that’s for sure,” Steve replies. “Water’s fine.”

“Our finest tap water, coming right up,” Eddie says with a smirk. “Only the best for former royalty.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he takes in the space around him. It’s like stepping into another world, one completely unlike the open-plan, perfectly curated showrooms of the Harrington house. There’s clutter everywhere, and the small table in front of the couch is covered in enough coffee rings to make his mother faint on sight.

But it’s cozy. Lived in. Loved.

And that’s something Steve’s never been able to say about his own home.

Here, he feels like he can breathe. Like he doesn’t have to worry about breaking something just by existing too close to it. His house may have two stories and a pool, but it doesn’t have a fraction of the warmth this place holds in every corner.

Steve really, really likes it here.

Eddie clears his throat and hands Steve a glass. “It’s probably not much to look at compared to your place, but it works for me and my uncle Wayne.”

“No, I like this way better than my place,” Steve says honestly. “It feels like people actually live here. It’s nice.” He glances around. “Also, the mug collection? Really cool.”

“Please don’t let Wayne hear you say that,” Eddie groans. “He can and will talk your ear off for four hours straight about the origin story of each one if you give him the chance.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he says, and he means it.

He can’t imagine what it’s like to have a parental figure who talks about anything other than work or expectations. If someone asked, Steve isn’t sure he could name a single fact about his father that doesn’t involve his job. The idea of someone like Wayne—someone who wants to share his interests, who wants to be known—feels almost unreal.

Eddie’s eyes widen slightly, but then the corner of his mouth lifts into a small, surprised smile.

“Well then,” he says, voice lighter, “it’s a good thing he’s working tonight. I can’t have someone else stealing your valuable time and attention when we’ve got important work to do.”

He leans into Steve’s space with a casual grin, like it’s nothing. But it isn’t nothing—not to Steve. A familiar rush of adrenaline sparks in his chest. Eddie leans in even closer, and Steve’s eyes, without permission, zero in on his mouth.

“Follow me, Big Boy,” Eddie says, patting Steve on the shoulder before turning and walking away.

It takes Steve a few seconds to snap out of it. He’s still staring at the spot Eddie just vacated, the words Big Boy echoing in his ears like a fire alarm. His brows furrow. He shakes his head, like that’ll help.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he says blankly, forcing his feet to move—clumsy in a way he never usually is.

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

Big Boy? Where the hell had that come from? What the fuck was Eddie thinking?

He’d known this was probably a bad idea the second the words “You should come over” left his mouth at Family Video. The plan had been innocent enough. He wanted to give Steve a chance to get comfortable singing in front of someone before throwing him to the wolves. And by wolves, he meant his three brutally honest bandmates, who could sniff out nerves like sharks scenting blood in the water.

What hadn’t occurred to him—until it was far too late—was that this meant Steve would be in his trailer. Alone. With him. For hours.

Steve, who had recently proven to be surprisingly chill about Eddie’s teasing. Steve, who was dangerously easy to talk to. Steve, who was very much Eddie’s type.

It was a recipe for disaster. Eddie’s brain-to-mouth filter had a long history of catastrophic failure, and tonight was no exception. One slip—one stupid pet name—and he could end up with a black eye.

Maybe he could make a black eye look metal. Wear it like a badge of honor while shredding on stage.

But then Steve had walked in and looked around like the trailer was a palace. Like it was better than the mini-mansion he lived in. He’d said he liked it. Said Wayne’s ridiculous mug collection was cool. Said he wouldn’t mind hearing the story behind every single one.

And Eddie had leaned in. Instinctively. Too far.

And then—Big Boy. Jesus Christ.

He’d turned away fast, hoping Steve wouldn’t register it. Half-expecting to hear the front door slam and find himself alone again. But Steve had followed him. Into the bedroom. Calm as anything, placing his glass next to Eddie’s on the nightstand, eyes curious and open.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” Eddie said, twisting his rings.

“No, it’s cool, man. It’s your space. I’m not gonna judge,” Steve replied, eyes scanning the posters before landing on Eddie’s guitar.

He stepped toward it, and Eddie tensed—but didn’t stop him.

Steve didn’t touch it. Just looked. Admired. “This is amazing. The design’s really detailed,” he said, smiling like he got it. Like he understood how important it was. Like he respected it.

Then he turned back to Eddie. “This whole room is so you, dude. It’s really cool.”

Eddie laughed. “Well, yeah, Steve. I do live in it.”

Steve frowned, and Eddie—of course—couldn’t leave it alone. “Do you not have stuff you like in your room?”

“Not really,” Steve shrugged. “It’s just a room.”

Eddie blinked. “Huh.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was kind of sad, the idea of Steve not having a space that felt like his. A room should be a reflection of who you are. A place where you can just be.

Steve deserved that.

“So,” Steve says, clearly trying to shift the mood. “You’re the lead guitarist, I’m guessing?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” Eddie replies. “What gave it away, Sweetheart?”

Oh. Oh no. Big Boy was one thing, but Sweetheart?

Eddie may as well start bracing for impact now. He clenches his fists at his sides, waiting for the inevitable punch.

But instead, Steve laughs. A real, full laugh that bursts from his chest—and then he gently pushes Eddie’s arm, not a fist to the face.

“Shut up,” Steve grins. “I was trying to show genuine interest in your part in the band, jerk. I picked up some tapes from the record store after work yesterday. I’ve never really listened to this kind of music before, but the solo guitar parts sounded so complicated and impressive. Like that must take a lot of skill. Can you do that?”

Eddie’s brain short-circuits.

He really needs to stop having expectations when it comes to Steve Harrington. Every time he thinks he’s figured the guy out, Steve does something that makes Eddie feel like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Wait a minute,” Eddie says slowly. “You—Steve Harrington—mean to tell me that you went to the record store, bought metal, and listened to it? Unprompted?”

Steve blinks. “Yeah?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were body-snatched,” Eddie mutters. “Who?”

“Who?” Steve echoes, confused.

“Yeah, who did you listen to?”

“Oh. Uh, well, I didn’t know any band names, and Robin just gave me a weird look when I asked her,” Steve admits. “So, I went with the one I saw on the back of that jacket you were wearing the other day.”

“Dio?” Eddie’s voice cracks a little. He folds one arm across his chest and tugs a lock of hair toward his mouth with the other. He tries not to notice the way Steve’s eyes follow the movement. “You listened to Dio?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

Eddie swallows. “Thoughts?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away. He’s thinking—really thinking—and Eddie can practically hear the gears turning. The silence stretches just long enough to make Eddie’s stomach twist. He braces himself for disappointment.

But he waits. Because Steve has surprised him all night, and maybe—just maybe—he’ll do it again.

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking between Eddie and the guitar again. He’s quiet for a few more seconds, then finally says:

“I thought it was... kind of awesome, actually.”

Eddie blinks.

“I mean, I didn’t know what to expect,” Steve continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured it’d just be loud and angry, but it wasn’t. It was intense, yeah, but also kind of theatrical? Like, dramatic in a cool way. And the guitar solos—dude, they were insane. I don’t even know how someone’s fingers move that fast.”

He pauses, then adds, a little sheepishly, “I liked it more than I thought I would. A lot more.”

Eddie stares at him like he’s trying to figure out if this is a prank. Steve can practically see the disbelief written all over his face.

“I’m serious,” Steve says, holding his hands up. “I even rewound one of the solos a few times just to hear it again. I think it was from a song called ‘Rainbow in the Dark’? That one was sick.”

Eddie makes a noise that might be a laugh or a choked sob—it’s hard to tell.

Steve smiles. “So yeah. I mean, I’ve always been into rock, but metal is cool. I can see why you like it.” He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of something earnest in his eyes. “I just wanted to understand what you’re into. Felt important. Especially if it’s the kind of music your band will want me to sing if I decide to join you.”

Steve sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed, looking a little unsure of himself. Eddie joins him without hesitation, still reeling a little.

“Can I tell you something kind of embarrassing?” Steve asks.

“Anything,” Eddie says, and winces at the slight shake in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool but come on, Steve likes Dio. Steve complimented metal. Eddie’s barely holding it together.

“You won’t judge?” Steve asks again, quieter this time.

Eddie’s chest tightens at the uncertainty in his voice. “Of course not,” he says. “You’re talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. Judging people isn’t really my thing.”

Steve gives a small, crooked smile. “I don’t think you’re a freak.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that, so he just waits.

“You’re probably gonna think it’s dumb that I’m even embarrassed about this.”

“Try me.”

Steve looks down at the floor. “I just really love music. Like, all kinds. I think it’s amazing that there’s always something out there that fits whatever you’re feeling. And the fact that people can write something that connects with so many others? That’s wild to me. Like, a song can make someone feel understood—or even save their life.”

He pauses, then keeps going, voice picking up a little. “And sometimes I’ll be listening to something I’ve heard a hundred times, and suddenly I’ll notice a new sound in the background—a guitar riff, a harmony, something small—and it’s weirdly satisfying.”

Eddie watches him, heart thudding.

“And when a band I like drops a new song and it’s actually good?” Steve laughs softly. “It feels like my team just won a championship or something. I get this rush. I don’t know. It probably sounds dumb.”

Eddie shakes his head, gently placing a hand on Steve’s knee before he can stop himself. Steve glances down at it but doesn’t pull away.

“Steve,” Eddie says, voice low. “None of that’s dumb. That’s exactly how I feel about music. Well, minus the sports metaphor. For me, it’s more like when a D&D campaign I’ve been planning for months actually works and everyone’s into it.”

Steve looks up at him. “You really think it’s not weird?”

“I think it’s awesome,” Eddie says. “Honestly? It makes you way more interesting than half the people you used to hang out with.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Thanks. I guess I’ve just never really talked about it before. Didn’t think anyone would get it.”

“Well, I do,” Eddie says. “And for the record, it’s not weird to care about stuff. It’s actually kind of great.”

Steve meets his eyes and smiles—soft, genuine. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” Eddie says, sliding his hand away from Steve’s leg, “let’s talk about the singing.”

“The singing,” Steve echoes, shrinking into himself a little. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever sung in front of someone before?” Eddie asks gently.

“Not that I know of,” Steve says. “Unless you count someone accidentally hearing me in the shower.” He lets out a small laugh. “I never thought I was good enough to sing for people. I just like how it makes me feel. It’s... comforting. Freeing, I guess.”

Eddie very valiantly does not think about Steve in the shower. He definitely doesn’t dwell on how cute Steve looks when he talks about this stuff. He’s cool. Totally cool. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

“Okay,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “So, I know I said I’d show you some of our songs, but I think we should start by getting you comfortable singing in front of someone first.”

He stands and crosses the room, grabbing a mic and stand from the corner and setting it up in the middle of the room.

“I’ve filled in as lead singer before—kind of am right now while we’re figuring things out—and I’m decent. But I’d rather focus on guitar and then support with backing vocals and maybe some ad libs. The good news is I know a lot of the warmups and techniques, and I can teach you those. But for today, I thought we’d keep it simple.”

Steve watches him, nodding slowly, though his eyes flick to the mic with a hint of apprehension.

“I figured you could just sing something—anything you want—and I’ll be your audience,” Eddie says. “No pressure, no new songs, no band yet. Just you and me. That way, you can build some confidence without getting overwhelmed.”

Steve hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. That sounds doable.”

“Okay. Then come on over here, pretty boy,” Eddie says, gesturing to the mic stand. “Might need to adjust it for your height, but we’re probably close enough.”

Steve doesn’t move right away, so Eddie reaches out and grabs his hand, gently tugging him to his feet. Steve’s face turns a very intriguing shade of pink, but he doesn’t protest the nickname—or the touch. Eddie counts that as a win and mentally gives himself permission to keep the pet names coming.

He’s very fond of them, after all.

As Eddie adjusts the mic and flips on the speakers, he notices Steve eyeing the setup like it might bite him.

“Okay, first things first,” Eddie says, grinning. “I promise the microphone won’t hurt you. You can stand a little closer to it. Just don’t, like, put it in your mouth and you’ll be golden.”

Steve blinks. “Why would I put the microphone in my mouth?” he asks—then jumps slightly when his voice echoes through the speakers.

“You’d be surprised,” Eddie says, laughing. “We’ve had people try out for the band who did exactly that.”

Steve squints at the mic, then at Eddie. “How? Like... how did they even fit their mouths around it?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer, then immediately regrets it. His brain goes somewhere it definitely shouldn’t.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says instead, waggling his eyebrows.

The laugh that bursts out of Steve is bright and unguarded, and Eddie knows—knows—he’s going to hear it in his dreams tonight.

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

Steve tries to stop his chest from tightening. It’s just a microphone—an inanimate object. So why does it feel like it’s staring him down? Eddie’s been nothing but kind, and the last thing Steve wants is to let him down. But right now, the idea of singing out loud makes his heart feel like it’s trying to escape through his throat.

“Right,” Eddie says, adjusting the mic one last time. “I think we’re all set. Got a song in mind?”

“Uh...” Steve’s mind goes completely blank. His throat suddenly feels like sandpaper. Something must show on his face, because Eddie steps in without missing a beat.

“Okay, last time you were singing Fleetwood Mac, right?” he prompts. Then he chuckles. “That’s actually kind of funny—you’re Steve, and you were singing a song by a band with a Stevie.”

Steve huffs a laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, well... maybe if you play your cards right, your band will have a Stevie too.”

“Hopefully,” Eddie smiles. “So, which one of their songs would you say you know best?”

“Probably Dreams,” Steve says, leaving out the part about how it’s the one he listens to on his more emotional days.

“Think you could sing a bit of it for me? Even just the chorus?”

Steve looks at the microphone, and suddenly his breath catches. The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in. His chest tightens, like there’s a belt wrapped around it, cinching tighter with every breath. He feels exposed—like he’s facing a Demogorgon with no weapon.

“I don’t know about this, Eddie,” he admits, voice tight. “What if the other day was a fluke? What if I’m not actually any good? I—”

“Hey,” Eddie says gently. “Look at me.”

A warm hand settles on Steve’s shoulder, grounding him. Steve lifts his gaze and finds Eddie’s eyes—kind, steady, safe.

“You don’t have to worry,” Eddie says. “It’s just me. If it helps, you can close your eyes and pretend you’re alone. This isn’t about being perfect. It’s just about trying. Seeing how it feels.”

“I don’t have to be perfect?” Steve echoes.

No one’s ever said that to him before.

Usually, it’s the opposite. He has to be perfect—because if he isn’t, he might lose the game, lose his job, lose his parents’ approval. Or worse, someone he cares about might get hurt. There’s never been room for mistakes. Not without consequences.

“Of course not. Hell, when I first started learning guitar, it took me days just to figure out how to hold the thing properly,” Eddie says, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He’s looking at Steve like he’s someone worth protecting for once, not like he’s the one who should be doing the protecting. Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’ve messed up on stage before. So have the other guys. No one’s gonna give you trouble for it. You’re human, Steve. Mistakes are human.”

Steve’s eyes sting. There’s a tightness in his throat that has nothing to do with singing. He suddenly realizes there’s a very real chance he might cry and embarrass himself completely. Eddie’s never going to want to invite him over again.

“Eddie,” he says, “if I decided I couldn’t do this would you still want to hang out sometime?”

Eddie blinks, stunned. “You want to hang out with me?” he asks, pointing to himself like he thinks Steve must’ve meant someone else.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “I know we don’t really know each other, and there’s no reason we have to spend time together outside of this, but... I don’t know. You’re really cool, Eddie. I like talking to you. Most of my friends are the kids I babysit and Robin. It’s nice to talk to another guy my age without all the macho, popularity crap getting in the way.”

He hesitates, then adds, “So, I don’t want to let you down, but if I did, would you still want to hang out? Watch a movie or something?”

It’s too much. Steve knows it. His brain is screaming at him to take it back, to laugh it off. But it’s out there now. No hiding it.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says softly.

There it is again—that strange, fluttery feeling Steve gets every time Eddie calls him something like that. It’s warm and thrilling, like a spark under his skin.

“You couldn’t let me down even if you opened your mouth right now and it sounded like absolute garbage.”

Eddie’s hand tightens on Steve’s shoulder, grounding him. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles against the fabric of Steve’s shirt. It’s the kind of gentle care Steve’s only ever gotten from Robin and even then, not like this.

“You’ve already impressed me, Steve. I never thought I’d enjoy your company, but you’re not what I expected. In a good way. I like talking to you too.”

He smiles, earnest and a little shy. “So, if you really don’t want to do this, it’s fine. I’ll tell the guys to back off, and we can hang out whenever. But I think this could be something really good for all of us. So, I think you should give it a shot. What do you say?”

The tight grip around Steve’s chest loosens. The microphone no longer looks like a threat. The walls stop closing in.

He takes a deep, centering breath and nods. “I think I can try.”

“Good,” Eddie says, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before hopping up onto the bed and settling cross-legged on top of the duvet. Steve tries not to think about how empty his shoulder feels now. “I know it probably feels awkward without any backing music, so if you want me to grab my guitar and play backup, just say the word. I’m yours to command, Sir Steve.”

Steve chooses to ignore that last part for the sake of his sanity. Yep. Not thinking about the implications of that.

“Right,” he says. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You got this,” Eddie agrees. “Look at the floor if you need to—we’ll work on stage presence later.”

Steve thinks that if Eddie had been at his basketball games or swim meets, he probably would’ve won every time. Eddie has enough confidence in him for both of them. That thought is what finally pushes the first few lines out of his mouth.

It starts off quiet, a little awkward. He’s staring at the carpet like Eddie suggested, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. It’s a familiar feeling from sports, but never from singing. That’s going to take some getting used to.

But then it happens—that spark. That feeling of freedom. His voice fills the room, clear and steady, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It’s comforting. Empowering. The fact that he is making this sound, that it’s his voice reaching every corner of the room, leaves him in awe.

He starts to relax. His posture straightens. His eyes lift—and find Eddie.

Eddie is beaming, eyes wide with delight, and Steve’s next line comes out with a laugh. He feels elated knowing he caused that expression. Something soars in his chest, and for a moment, he feels invincible. He starts to project more, leaning into the feeling.

By the time he finishes the song, Eddie is already on his feet, pulling him into a tight hug. Steve barely has time to react before he’s hugging back just as tightly, laughing into Eddie’s shoulder.

“You did amazing, Stevie,” Eddie whispers.

And just like that, Steve knows.

He’s going to say yes to Corroded Coffin.

Because he kind of wants to feel like this forever.

Previous / Next

[r0tt3nfever]

Jealousy jealousy! Ft choso!

Choso kamo x fem reader ♡

Warnings!: mdni. Nsfw. Fully smut little to no story. Mirror sex. Semi public. Slightly possessive behaviour. Not proof read. So on and so forth.

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“Mmm!” You cover your mouth with your hand, attempting to stifle a moan. You’re in the bathroom of the house party your at, loud music vibrates the floor you stand on. Choso has you bent over the basin, his lust filled eyes stare at you through the mirror from where he stands behind you. He fucks his fingers into you with one hand, the other wrapped in front of you rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Don’t do that pretty girl, gonna need you to let those noises out.” His voice is husky, barely holding back his desire. His two fingers scissor into your tight heat, curling just right.

The night had started out innocent, you and him dancing and drinking. He decided to go get himself another drink, and when he returned how did he find you? Being hit on by some asshole. After giving the man some words of advice and sending him on his way, Choso practically dragged you to the bathroom. Muttering under his breath as he did so, wasting no time to get you where you are now.

“Ah!…Cho…but someone will…hear…” you mumble between pants, face flushed as His fingers continue their brutal pace. “That’s the idea sweetheart. Need everyone…including you…to remember who makes you feel the best” Choso says, a small smirk plastered on his face as he watches you in the mirror. His fingers on your clit continue to rub sloppy circles. You lower your head, pressing your forehead against the cool tile as his fingers work their magic. “Awww baby no, I’m gonna need you to look up for me. need you to see how fucking pretty you look….atta girl…see look at you, so fucking gorgeous…you love my fingers don’t you baby?” His tone makes you moan, the sweetness in his voice, mixed with the savagery of his pace makes you see stars. His fingers curl and fuck into you harder, the arm wrapped around you squeezing you tighter as it rubs your clit. “Choooo, fuck i can’t…ughh…mmmnn” you whine and squirm, still watching yourself like he had instructed. Your walls clench around his fingers, heat travels down your spine and pools in your stomach as your release fast approaches.

“Baby I need you to tell me what you see in the mirror. Who’s making you squirm y/n?” His voice is almost whiney now, arousal fogs his features “you…Choso…fuck it’s you…” you whine back, on the brink of release. “That’s right sweet thing, your close aren’t you? Can feel you squeezing my fucking fingers. God I love you so much, my pretty girl. You’re gonna cum for me aren’t you?” His words make the heat in your stomach erupt, sending you over the edge “fuck! Chosooo…ahhugh..” you whine and squirm, eyes on your reflection and the man that stands behind it. His pace slows down as he eases you down from your high “you’re such a fucking good girl, so sweet n loud. I love you so much baby” he presses kisses to your back as he mumbles sweet praises. Carefully removing his fingers from you and bringing them to his lips “you taste so fucking good y/n…I love you so much…you’re all mine…so pretty”

“Love you too cho” you mumble, still coming down from your high. You hear him fiddling with his belt and wip your head around. “ you didn’t think we were done did you sweetheart?” He says with a smirk.

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If there’s any spelling mistakes no there’s not! Mdni you will be blocked. Feedback is welcome, negative or positive. I love Choso sm I cantttt!!

Hope you enjoyed! Have a great day 😻😻

[moon1833]

SHORT-CIRCUIT - DENKI KAMINARI

“Am I going to have to kiss you or are you going to?”

The first time Denki Kaminari short-circuited in front of you had been the first time you spared with him.

It was your first day of hand-to-hand combat training, and Mr. Aizawa had paired you two up. Since you had joined a little later in the semester, he had decided not to tell any of your classmates your quirk. He figured it would be better training for them.

He stood in front of you confidently, eager to speak. “Hey! My names Denki Kaminari. You’re really pretty, what’s your name?”

You had been in classes for less than a week, but still, you had not been expecting that from him. You flushed, a little embarrassed with how loud he was. You introduced yourself, not revealing your quirk like Mr. Aizawa had said, and told him your name a little less enthusiastically before getting into your stance.

You decided to go easy on him the first time. Your quirk was strong, and while Kaminarai had already told you about his on your first dah, yours was still a mystery to most.

Eager to impress you, he jumped into action, throwing a powerful shock wave at you. Rather simply, you jumped back, turning your torso in the air to dodge. Before you could calculate your next move, a loud POP rang out, and you stopped your movement.

Brain fried, a stupid smile and thoughtless eyes followed your concerned gaze. You had dropped your stance, unaware of his ‘side effects.’

“Kaminari, are you okay?” You jogged over, placing your hand on his shoulder. You looked over at your teacher in concern. He wasn’t even turned in your direction, helping Midoriya on the other side of the room.

Kaminari is mumbling incoherently, but he’s desperately trying to tell you something. You lean closer, worry flushing your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” His words are loopy, and you hope they’re disoriented enough that no one else can hear him. “Wow. So gorgeous.”

You can hear Kirishima snickering behind you as your face turns red. Your eyes widen, and your mouth parts in shock.

“Um, does he need to see recovery girl?” You ask, turning to see most of the attention on you. You feel him playing with the ends of your hair.

“Nah, usually he just sleeps it off or walks around like an idiot for a little while.” Sero added, not attempting to hide his laughter at all.

“Oh, okay.” You say awkwardly. “Should I knock him out?”

“Woah.” Mina giggles. “I didn’t think he annoyed you that bad.”

“No, no.” You hold your hands up in defense, trying to shrug off Kaminari who was now trying to wrap his arms around you.

“It’s a part of my quirk, see?” Gently, you tap his temple, and he falls forward. You catch him, propping his arm over your shoulder so you could fireman carry him.

“Wow, you’re pretty strong!” Mina says.

“So manly.” Kirishima mumbles in agreement.

“Can we use that whenever Bakugo is being an asshole?” Sero chimes in.

“HEY, I’LL KILL YOU!”

“I think I’m just gonna bring him to his dorm.” You duck out before Bakugo can charge in your direction.

-

The next day, you expected a quiet morning. You were on the shyer side, and you were yet to call any of your classmates your friends. People were more than friendly to you, Mina in particular was very welcoming, but as you took your seat, you didn’t expect anyone to talk to you until after homeroom.

The door slams open a minute to the bell, and Sero, Mina, Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima walked in together. For a moment, you wondered how Kaminari was doing, but you bit your tongue.

You had half expected for Kaminari to not speak to you, he seemed like the type to always get distracted by whatever was in front of him. However, when he shuffled into the room, his eyes immediately found yours, his grin widening and shouting a ‘good morning!’ to you.

From that point on, he took a liking to you. It was half flirting, but you learned to not take it seriously since you saw him do that to almost everyone.

He was extroverted, embarrassingly so at times. He’d talk your ear off at lunch and text you at 1am asking for homework answers. But still, you found yourself enjoying his humor and his effort, not to mention he wasn’t bad to look at.

Regardless of your classes teasing, you shook off Kaminari’s short-circuiting incident as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were sure that if any other girl had been in your place, he would’ve had the same reaction.

And then it happened again. And every time after that. Six months went by, and he barely uttered a word to anyone else when he was brain-fried.

Even when you weren’t in his immediate line of sight, he would leave from wherever he was standing to flirt with you. If you weren’t around, he’d babble about you until whoever was with him got tired of it and dropped him off to you.

It had gotten to the point when whenever he’d use his quirk, you would be on speed dial just in case.

You may answer with an exhausted sigh or an eye roll, but you never turned him away. Kaminarai barely even remembered whatever he said when he woke up, so it was never really a problem.

Until you found yourself falling for him.

It was stupid, really. He was so different from you, it was crazy to think he’d be genuinely attracted to you. But, you couldn’t help how your heart jumped when he said your name, or how he’d always leave his friends to talk with you.

Now, his short-circuited brain was a bit more of an issue. You knew how it worked by now, right away, he would barely be able to speak, just sounds strung together and loopy hand motions. Then, he’d go back to his chatter box self, but his thoughts were always jumbled, more than usual. Usually after that, he’d pass out for an hour and forget the entire thing.

“I think I love you.” He’s drooling a little, sprawled out on your bed while you’re desperately trying to focus on your review sheet.

“Okay.” You choke. “You should get some rest, you trained hard.”

“I can’t. Cuddle me.” He says dumbly, almost falling off your bed as he twists around, tangled in your comforter.

“Just close your eyes, Kami.” Your grip on your pen is leaving a red indent in your fingers.

For a moment, he’s silent, and you think he’s actually listened to you for once. You force your focus to your work, before a loud bang behind you makes you turn your head.

Blanket stuck between his legs, Kaminari was face down on your carpet, his shirt rolled up exposing most of his back. You ignored how his muscles flex as he tries to (and fails) to get up.

“Kaminari…” You sigh loudly, rubbing your face as you stand. He flips over to lay on his back, and his hair is sticking in a few different directions.

“Why don’t you ever call me by my first name?” He pouts as he looks up at you. He was actually stringing together proper sentences, which was almost surprising.

“You’ve never asked me to.” You try to pull him up, but he’s completely dead weight.

“Please.” He drags out the word, grabbing both your hands.

“Okay.” You flush at the contact.

“Say it.” He pouts again, and for a moment you think he’s going to cry.

“Okay, Denki.” His lips change dramatically, flipping into a grin that’s annoying contagious.

“Yay!” He pulls you down with a little too much force, and you land harshly on top of him. You’re a little dazed with how quickly you collide with his chest, and you almost don’t realize he’s wrapping his arms around your waist until he nuzzles his face into your neck.

You try to stand, but he holds you tighter with a whine. You feel the blood rush to your face, and you cannot fathom that this is happening on your dorm floor.

“You smell good.” His lips graze your neck.

“Denki.” You manage to get out. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the bed?”

“Hm.” He thinks. “No.”

You groan in exasperation.

Eventually, he rests his head on the floor and somehow falls asleep, the rise and fall of his chest becoming slower. It almost pulls you into sleep, but your brain is speed railing through thoughts.

He had always been a bit of a handful with flirting, even when his brain wasn’t completely shocked. This, however, was a whole new level of it. You weren’t sure if you could survive it.

Even asleep, you couldn’t escape his grip. He let you fall to his side, his body turning with you. Now, he had an arm holding your back, while the other went past the crook of your neck, pulling you even closer to him.

His lips were aligned with your forehead, and you were sure you could feel him exhale if you moved any closer.

A stray hair fell onto his forehead, hitting the space between where his eyelids met. His nose scrunches in reaction, and you barely hesitate in brushing it off of his face.

Tentatively, you pat it down, running a few strands through your fingers. Somehow, his hair barely had any tangles, and he let out a soft sigh at the feeling.

You didn’t know what was going on, and you didn’t know what was going to happen when he woke up, but even still, there was an odd sense of peace with being so close to him.

Denki was warm, and he smelt like clean laundry. For a moment, you remembered earlier in the year when he would wear a sickening amount of cologne until you told him you couldn’t go near him without sneezing. You smiled softly at the memory.

Against your better judgment, you fall asleep quickly, feel a bit too safe in his arms.

When you woke up in your bed an hour later, you promised yourself you wouldn’t do that again.

Instead, it became a fast habit. If you refused to cuddle with him, Denki literally threw himself off of your bed and whined until you did. (One instance he sprawled out across the table you were using to study and rolled onto your lap).

Mina had suggested to just talk to him about it, since all he knew when he woke up was that he was with you. But, if you spoke to him, there was a chance you wouldn’t hold him again.

The longer it went on though, the worse you felt, like you were taking advantage of his state. You never went any further than playing with his hair occasionally, but you couldn’t shake the guilt.

It spiraled even more out of control the closer you became. Denki was touchy. He grabbed your hand at random and stood as close as possible to you. During movie nights with your friends, he’d go out of his way to sit next to you, his thigh always meeting yours.

One particular night, half of the 1-A class decided to have a sleepover in Mina’s room, due to her suggestion. The idea was better than it in practice, and most of your friends were sitting on her floor while Bakugo insisted he got the one chair in the room.

Midoriya, Uraraka and Mina were cramped on her twin bed, the pink haired girl doing whatever she could to squish them even closer together. You would’ve found amusement in Midoriya’s expression, but you were in the exact same situation.

Kirishima was next to Denki, who was next to you. You had found the most comfortable spot you could, next to a wall while sitting on Mina’s fuzzy pink rug. As expected, Denki sat right next to you, crossing his legs and greeting you loudly. When Kirishima sat down next to him with a smirk, you should’ve known.

By the time Jirou had shown up with the snacks, Denki was squished into you so tightly he was almost on your lap. You kept glaring at Kirishima, who pretended not to notice.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Mina gushed, almost knocking Midoriya off the bed with how she jumped.

“No way, you always make me eat something that makes me throw up.” Kirishima pouted.

“Dude, you can just pick truth.” Denki says.

“No way, that’s so un-manly.” He shakes his head in disapproval.

“Uhg, whatever.” Bakugo groans. “This is getting lame, just play.”

Quickly, Mina went first, putting her plan in getting Uraraka and Midoriya together by asking the wide-eyed girl who her crush was. She insisted she didn’t have one while flushed and staring at the boy next to her.

The game went on, and you were glad to be on the observing side. You barely commented, giggling when someone had to do something embarrassing and whispering in Denki’s ear little remarks that he always leaned a little too close to you to hear.

After any funny comment he’d make, he’d shoot a glance to you to see if he’d succeed in making you laugh, swelling with pride when you were already looking at him.

You’d been able to escape the first round, shuffling deeper in your corner when everyone had been asked but you. You had almost avoided it completely when Denki spoke.

“Guys you forgot her turn!” He grins, hiding a giggle while pushing you in front of him.

“Aw, I’m sorry!” Mina cried. “I wanna ask her!”

You grimaced, narrowing your eyes at Denki while mumbling a few insults at him. He only smiled wider.

“Hm.” Mina thinks aloud. “Do you like anyone?”

“Yeah.” You say nonchalantly, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Who?!” Mina shouts, and the intense focus on you feels suffocating. Even Bakugo had stopped complaining for a moment.

“That wasn’t part of the question.” You manage to get out, ignoring Jirou and Mina’s loud booing.

When the attention finally shifts, you sink back, visibly exhaling. When Denki’s turn comes, you try to downplay your interest.

“Okay, truth or dare?” Kirishima nudged him.

“Truth.” He mumbles while shoving chips into his mouth.

“Who do you think the most attractive person in the room is?” Kirishima asks like he already knows the answer.

You’ve been observant from a very early age. Being in the hero course at UA helped that greatly. When the question fell from Kirishima’s lips, you subconsciously studied Denki’s entire body language.

You watch his spine straighten slightly, his normally brash expression tilting into a more shy one, his ears burning red. He tenses up, you feel his arm move away from yours. You focus on his eyes darting around, and they fix on someone across from you.

Jirou. He’s looking at Jirou.

Your entire body feels cold suddenly as it clicks in your mind. He likes Jirou, and you’re practically attached to him. You’re in the way. Fuck.

You can’t think, your head is pounding and you feel like everyone in the room knew this but you. Ungracefully, you stand to your feet and step towards Mina’s door.

Your body doesn’t feel like yours as your hand pulls the doorknob, and you mutter out some excuse before ducking your head down and leaving.

You’re halfway down the hallway when you realize you left your phone in Mina’s dorm, but you don’t even slow your steps, rubbing your face ferociously. God, you’ve never felt this stupid.

You don’t expect for anyone to follow you, especially since it’s after curfew, but you don’t look back at the sound of thudding footsteps.

“Hey, slow down.” Denki pants behind you. “Jesus you’re fast.”

“I don’t feel well, please just go back.” Your voice is quiet.

“Oh.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Can I walk you back to your dorm at least then?”

“Okay.” You agree without thinking. You finally turn to him, not bothering to smile.

You lead the walk in silence, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddle with your pajama shorts. You can feel his eyes on you, firm and unmoving.

When you get to your dorm, you fumble with the key slightly before nodding a goodnight to him, opening your door.

“Wait.” He shoots an arm out, propping open the door and preventing you from moving. “I like you.”

You’ve heard him say it many times before, but his brain is completely normal now, and it fills you with shock. “What?”

“I like you.” He turns you to him, his hands resting on your shoulders. The door closes. “Like, a lot. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you any sooner, I’m kind of a wimp.”

You can’t help it, a sharp laugh leaves your mouth. You realize how terrible of a reaction that is to a confession and cover your mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologize, but Denki’s laughing, too.

“I uh, I like you too.” You say after a moment. “But I thought you liked Jirou?”

“What?” Denki blurts a little too loud. “Nah, she’d just been trying to help me out. Plus, she’s got like a whole thing going on with Yaoyorozu.”

“Shit. I totally called that.” You sigh.

“I know, right.”

You rest your head against the door, smiling at him slightly. You don’t miss how his amused expression drops into a fluster.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you actually like me.” He admits.

“You can’t?” There’s a small twitch of annoyance in your expression as you lift your back from the wall, inching closer to him. “I’ve been blatantly obvious about this for months.”

“Okay, well, I’ve liked you for the past year.” He retorts, subconsciously mimicking your actions until your shoes are touching. “And I’ve been pretty obvious, too.”

“Only when you’re practically brain dead.” You sigh, fingers playing with his hoodie strings. You watch his eyes widen slightly, a teasing grin on your face as you lean even closer. “You really are a wimp.”

His eyes are glued to your lips, entranced by the curve of your amusement. “Yeah.” He finally replies. “I am.”

“Am I going to have to kiss you or are you going to?” Your head cocks to the side.

He flushes, but before another comment can slide from your mouth his hands hold your face, and he kisses you gently.

It’s quick, and he ended up kissing closer to the corner of your lips. You smile nonetheless, chasing his mouth as he pulls away and firmly tracing his lips with yours.

Your hands make their way to his hair, and he kisses you back a little harder at the feeling. Unintentionally, your teeth graze his bottom lip, but before you could pull away and apologize, a sharp ZAP rips through you.

It isn’t harsh, but you’re well aware Denki just shocked you. You go to tease him, but by the look on his face you stop yourself.

“How did you even short-circuit!?”

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Idk thsi sound bit odd but after finding out about the pygmy marmosets monkey I CANNOT STOP thinking about wukong having an tiny s/o like holding into your hand small......

And if any of ya'll think that would be weird want yall to remember these two (they are other examples but this the one i remember the easiest lol)

So like headcanons below cuz I been craving monke content like this ngl:

Tw: height difference, reader's a tiny money, slight blood & gore mention, wukong being the violent protective husband he is <33333

Ok so like.....tiny bitsy monke s/o..........

I'm not sure if I wan reader to be a pygmy marmosets or to be able to transform into one. Think both ideas would be neat so gonna try to include both here (keeping vague)

You on his shoulder most of the time, I can imagen the monkeys/ other people having to double check cuz boy you easy to miss XDDDDDD

honestly you could walk if you wanted butwukong prefers it when your close to him, gets bit pouty if u do decide to hop off and go your own feet

Lol everyone would be looking at him weird cuz my guy why's your lover the size of your palm?????? wukong would just shut them or tell them to mind their own bussiness

WAIT THESE YOU TWO MSJNSJDNSKJNDJSDNKSBDHBSHBSJDDHDBHJBDCSHGVCH

he likes to gently pass his fingers thru your furr when he's in deep thot

either him calling you his little treasure or the one we know the most Peaches (any other names r welcome)

spoils you, makes sure to bring the most gorgeous fabrics so that his monkey's make you custom clothing, honestly he wants you to shine, gotta make sure everyone knows who has stolen the kings heart

him with the joke that you actually took since you would be able to enter his rib cage and grab his heart if u wanted (he jokes but feel like he would let u if u asked tho.....)

OH OH WAIT What if you could like change you size???? like i know i mentioned transforming but I just thot monkey reader who can change her size to the actually size of the pygmy marmoset?????

(feel like you would still be pretty small but gon leave that up to you)

Ya'll fucking up with people by using your height to your advantage, like sneaking up to others or getting into tight spaces for you to hide

Has wukong smashed heads at anyone who talks bad behind your back? Yes and he will fucking do it again

there was once where he was about to break seller's neck cuz the idiot dare to grab you by the tail cuz he thot you were trying to steal his merchandise when you werent even in his shop, the assholes a hater like that smh

you managed to keep wukong from endidng the guy's life in the middle of the crowd but pretty sure the duede had to change his clothes afterwards skskskskskskskk

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Gorgeous - Tim Bradford x Reader - Chapter 3

A/N: I'm loving the attention this little series is getting! My only warnings for this one are as follows...

We also get to hear Tim's POV on things; yay!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of abuse (very slight) someone gets hurt, and LOTS of fluff!

Word Count: 1,542

As always, feedback is welcome! Tag list request is open!

Gorgeous Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

When I saw Tim again, the air was thick. Yesterday he held me, he actually wrapped both his arms around me, pulled me close, and offered himself up as a comfort. I may have imagined the whole thing but I think he kissed me. Well, it was a kiss on my head but it was a kiss nonetheless. My boss kissed me. Was this a normal thing? Did he comfort all his rookies like this?

“Good morning, Sarge,” I say, walking over to the rookie table at the morning briefing. He couldn’t even look at me, just offered me a nod in my general direction. Throughout the briefing, I was in a daze, a million different thoughts running through my head.

“Be safe out there,” Sergeant Gray said, ending briefing like he always did. Everyone got up from their seats but Tim didn’t move so I remained seated. I watched the room empty around us and then we were alone. Once again, he didn’t speak, just grabbed his coffee, his phone, and his war bag and we were back out on the road. Driving around the city was eerily quiet; he still wouldn’t look at me.

“Tim?” I ask in a small, careful voice. Normally, he would get mad at me for not calling him Sergeant Bradford but he kept quiet, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of us. “You can’t even look at me”! I said, exasperated with the man beside me.

“That shouldn’t have happened, yesterday at the hospital, I, I shouldn’t have held you or kissed you. It was unprofessional and it won’t happen again,” he said, finalizing the conversation but I was in no way finished talking.

“Hang on a second, you don’t get to decide when this conversation ends; I have thoughts too. Yesterday meant a lot to me. I never mentioned this to anyone else but I’ve been in Serena’s shoes before; my ex-boyfriend was extremely abusive with me, both physically and mentally, so being in the hospital again, dealing with an abusive situation, hit home for me. You being there for me the way you were, meant everything to me. It proved to me that you aren’t always an asshole, and believe me, I was almost convinced you only had a mean streak. Tim still stayed quiet but he did something I wasn’t expecting. He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached over to grab one of my hands that was in my lap. I looked down and saw him squeeze my hand. I looked over to him but he kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t let go either, just kept driving so I sat in silence, my eyes never leaving our hands. His was much larger than mine, hair lining each of his fingers so I ran mine over each of his; he had freckles sprinkled on his hand too. His skin was soft but there were calluses on the palm, probably from all the times he gripped a gun tight. I turned his hand over so his palm was facing up and I absentmindedly traced shapes onto his skin. It had been years since I was this close to a man but I knew Tim wouldn’t hurt me.

“Alpha 2-3, we have a call of traffic assistance needed on the shoulder off of I-110. Caller states he is trying to change a flat tire but cars are flying too fast and he is worried he is going to get hit.” A dispatcher calls over the radio. Tim takes his hand back places it back onto the wheel and quickly turns the shop around to take us up onto the freeway. Luckily, we weren’t too far away so we were able to get to the driver quickly.

“(Y/N) grabbed some traffic cones from the back of the shop, I got the lights on so that should alert drivers to slow down. I’m going to see if I can’t help the driver.”

I go around the shop lift the trunk and find several traffic cones. Grabbing as many as I could in my arms, I rush over to where Tim is and try to place the cones around.

“Not too close to together! Spread them out and put them further out from the car!” Tim yells over the sound of the cars rushing by.

I walked slowly to the edge of the car and began placing the cones around the perimeter before I heard my name being screamed out. I didn’t have a chance to react, just looked to my left and I saw a piece of metal come flying towards me.

Tim’s POV

(Y/N) was the most infuriating Rookie I ever taught, well next to Lucy, but there was something about her that made me want to be close to her all the time.

“My ex-boyfriend was extremely abusive with me, both physically and mentally, so being in the hospital again, dealing with an abusive situation, hit home for me. You being there for me the way you were, meant everything to me. It proved to me that you aren’t always an asshole, and believe me, I was almost convinced you only had a mean streak.”

I couldn’t believe she knew exactly what Serena was going through; I wanted to find that man and beat the shit out of him. I barely knew (Y/N) but since I’ve known her, I’ve known her to be the most beautiful and stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Who would want to hurt her? She was smart as a whip, and her instincts were sharp as a tack; I’ll admit she was a good cop. Mostly because I was training her but she had a way with people that can’t be taught. She knew just the right things to say and do to make people comfortable and to open up to her. She was good with the victims; perps, not so much. Granted she hasn’t handled them as much because I step in; I guess I’m rather protective of her. Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone but when I saw her break down last night, it was like I wasn’t in control of my own body. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with her, holding her tight, trying to keep her safe from anything bad happening to her. Then after her confession of being in the same situation as Serena, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She seemed stunned by my action, hell so was I, but it just felt right, especially when she didn’t let go. She kept her eyes on our hands and she began drawing shapes on my palms. I felt my chest tighten a bit at the callouses but she didn’t seem to mind. Her fingers played with the hair on my fingers and she traced the freckles on my skin too; it felt innocent. I was enjoying the touch of her skin against mine and sitting in silence but of course, it didn’t last long.

“Alpha 2-3, we have a call of traffic assistance needed on the shoulder off of I-110. Caller states he is trying to change a flat tire but cars are flying too fast and he is worried he is going to get hit.” A dispatcher calls over the radio. I take my hand back place it back onto the wheel and quickly turn the shop around to take us up onto the freeway.

“(Y/N) grabbed some traffic cones from the back of the shop, I got the lights on so that should alert drivers to slow down. I’m going to see if I can’t help the driver.”

“Hey man, I’m Sergeant Bradford, I’m here to help,” I say to the young driver of the car. He only seemed to be about 17 years old and like he never changed a flat tire before.

“Hey thanks, I’m Logan. I would appreciate someone helping keep that traffic away from me as I do this,” he said, chuckling a bit.

I laughed a bit too and said, “Well my partner is actually working on that, do you need help with the tire?”

“That would be great. My Dad hasn’t had time to teach me yet so I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“No problem, here, let’s find your jack and lift up the car,” I say and do what I said, finding the jack and the spare and started cranking the lever to lift the car off the ground. I looked over and saw (Y/N) placing around the car but she wasn’t doing too good of a job. Oh, sweet girl. I thought to myself.

“Not too close to together! Spread them out and put them further out from the car!” I yell but I don’t know how well I’m heard over the sounds of the cars rushing by on the freeway. I kept watching her for a moment and as I did, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. A car swerved to miss us, crashing into the concrete barrier, and a chunk of the front bumper broke off and flew right toward (Y/N). I screamed her name but it was too late; she was hit.  

@pinkwondersworld @gensweird

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[onceuponastory]

closer - tattooartist!bucky barnes x female!reader

Plot: Y/N's feelings towards her tattoo artist intensify the closer he gets to her. Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of needles - specifically tattoo needles - and the sensation and pain of getting tattooed (specifically when it goes over a bone). If that sort of thing gives you the squick, I wouldn't read. Notes: Welcome to... whatever this is. I just missed tattoo!artist Bucky and I hc him as a flirt and a slight pain in the ass so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Alright.” Bucky grins, loading up his tattoo needle with ink. “You ready to start?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassures. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be any different from the other ones I’ve done for you.” He chuckles.

He’s right, of course. This is not her first tattoo by Bucky Barnes. In fact, by this point, Bucky’s done most of Y/N’s growing collection of tattoos, and claims to be the very reason she was ‘bit by the tattoo bug’. And he’s right. Since she got her first tattoo from him, Y/N’s been itching to get more. She doesn’t see skin on her arms anymore, she sees empty space, a canvas for Bucky to fill with his art. And if she could, she’d have him cover her entire body with it.

Of course, the fact that her favourite tattoo artist (his words, not hers... although she agrees with him) is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen is also why she keeps rushing back whenever she can. And he's also a massive flirt. Yet although it’ll never amount to anything, it never does… that doesn’t mean she can’t spend their sessions hoping for it. That one day he’ll notice her, really notice her, and tell her he’s just as much in love with her as she is with him.

As Bucky gets to work, Y/N turns her head, watching him. Of course, a lot of her sessions are also spent oogling her tattoo artist. Multicoloured tattoos of various designs and sizes cover Bucky's arms, piquing her curiosity. She's always wanted to ask him about them, to tell her the stories behind them, what was going on in his life back then to make him choose that design.

The familiar warm feeling of love begins to pool in her gut again, and Y/N sighs.

There's a lot of things she wants to know about Bucky.

"I can see you staring, you know."

"Just checking you're doing a good job." She lies. Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Oh, please." He looks down at her, trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You use that excuse all the time. You just can't resist me."

Asshole.

Thankfully, Bucky soon drops it, going back to working on her tattoo. Today, he’s doing a piece that snakes up her arm and onto her shoulder, meaning he’s frequently getting up close and personal, more so than she’s used to. However, she doesn’t mind that at all. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Bucky works, Y/N occasionally glances over at him, still watching him curiously. Both because she actually enjoys seeing Bucky at work, and because again, he’s gorgeous. Thankfully, Bucky doesn't seem to have noticed this time. Or if he does, he doesn't call her out on it.

Some of Bucky’s brunette strands escape his man bun, framing his face. Y/N has to stop herself from reaching up and tucking it behind his ear. Despite how close she and Bucky are, that gesture is too intimate, too close for them… even as he moves further up her arm and onto her shoulders.

At one point, she glances over again, not realising he’s a lot closer than expected. So much so that her skin almost brushes against Bucky’s hair. For a split second, a flash of pink crosses Bucky's cheeks, and she frowns. Was he...blushing? Because of her?

“Oh, sorry.” She murmurs, her cheeks burning. How does he even look hotter up close? “Just tell me to move back if you want… or just move me out of the way.” She jokes awkwardly, only adding to her embarrassment. Hopefully, this session will be over before she makes even more of a fool of herself in front of Bucky.

“It’s okay.” Bucky smirks, running a hand through his few strands of hair, a sight that makes Y/N glad she’s laying down to witness. “You’re perfect, actually.” He chuckles. “Don’t tell the others I said this… but you’re my favourite client.” He winks.

She swears this man will be the death of her some day.

As Bucky continues the tattoo, he suddenly goes over a tender area, and she winces in pain. “You okay? You’re doing great, but let me know if you wanna stop, alright?” Bucky says. Gritting her teeth, Y/N nods.

“I’m good.” She gasps. "I just forgot how much that hurts."

It’ll all be worth it. It always is.

At least, getting to see Bucky makes it worth it, anyway.

“Good girl." Bucky smirks. 

Fucker.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The remainder of the session passes in silence, and Y/N’s head swirls. If she told him the truth, laid her heart out on the line… would it be so bad? 

She braces herself, opening her mouth to speak. But Bucky gets there first.

“You know Y/N, we’ve known each other for long enough that I feel like we’re friends. So the trust between us is solid enough.” He chuckles, refilling his ink. 

In actuality, she and Bucky have known each other for almost three years. Not that she’s been counting or anything. And despite Bucky doing most of her tattoos, she’s been at the shop infrequently enough that she wouldn’t consider themselves ‘friends’. But the thought that Bucky considers them friends makes her heart do that funny thing it always does whenever she sees Bucky - when it somehow beats too fast and almost stops. 

God, she wants him so badly.

“Yeah, that’s true. And besides, you’ve been up close and personal with me a lot.” She chuckles, another batch of heat spreading across her cheeks. Bucky laughs brightly, and Y/N grins just as wide.

“You’re right, I have.” He nods. “To be honest, by this point I’m convinced I could say or do anything, and you’d say ‘yeah!’, tattoos or otherwise.”

“Yeah!” she giggles.

“Okay.” Bucky muses, looking up at her with a smirk. “Go on a date with me then.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[ravenna-reid]

Your Demons Know Mine

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Canon typical violence and revisiting some of Jason's trauma

It was safe to say you and Jason got off to a rocky start. Even after all these months of fighting and investigating together, the two of you get along as well as oil and water.

It all began when Batman had interrupted you one night during patrol. The conversation wasn't really a welcome to Gotham and the vigilante life, nor was it a complete interrogation. But over time, he ended up warming up to you. A little. If that's what you could call it. And you got the idea that he wanted you to join him and his 'team.'

Initially, you were confused beyond hell as to why he came to you. But Huntress told you it was probably because Batman didn't like anything he couldn't control or at least keep an eye on in Gotham.

You gave a nod, turning over everything she'd told you about the Dark Knight in your head. "Interesting."

So working with the Bats here and there wasn't so bad, as long as you followed one very important rule. Amongst others. Obviously, you couldn't try and discover anyones secret identity or jeopardise their safety, but more importantly, you were never to take a life. You considered this, then agreed to his terms.

"No murder, got it." He didn't seem completely convinced, but you weren't about to piss off Batman. And so you began helping out the other 'bats.'

Nightwing, the Robins, Orphan, you name it.

And that's when you met the 6 foot something tank of a man that was Red Hood. Tall, intimidating and pretty aloof, the two of you soon clashed.

He was aggressive and rather impulsive at times, and you couldn't understand why he had to make such a mess during patrol. He made it pretty obvious that he didn't enjoy your covert tactics, never giving you the chance to prove your trustworthiness as a partner, which really pissed you off. One day he made a quip about how cunning you were. You scoffed.

"Sorry, let me just go grab a page from your book and buy a semi-automatic."

He gave a humourless laugh before turning to face you.

"What should I do first?" You mocked, hand on chin in thought, "Shoot up a building or just bash the criminals with it?"

Then he was only inches before you, figure looming over yours as he peered down. "Should I be sly like you? At least I don't pull the wool over people's eyes."

The tension was thick. Real. Suffocating. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare behind that insufferable red helmet.

The worst part was, even though you've never seen his face, you just knew he was handsome. He was probably drop dead gorgeous the asshole. Tall, sculpted, there have even been times when you caught him slipping that helmet back on, catching glimpses of his dark hair. And he was awfully protective of everyone, especially the innocent. But he was still a brash asshole.

This continued on, and it was soon pretty obvious to the rest how you two viewed each other. And you were sure the Bats were pulling your leg, because now you were on a mission with Red Hood.

"Are you kidding me." You murmured to yourself. But you nodded along and took in everything Oracle told you guys. Luckily you wouldn't be completely alone with him, given Nightwing would be in the area.

He gave you a nudge before whispering, "Maybe this will help you two to finally get along."

No comment from you.

Once the meeting was finished, you waved goodbye to Red Robin, Nightwing and Orphan and sauntered out of the cave. Hood lifted his leg over his motorbike before watching you head towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He asked, already sounding like he was done with your shit.

"I have a license Red. Meet you there." Then you disappeared into the darkness before an engine roared to life. A single headlight lit up the entrance to the Batcave, and he was a little surprised to see you on your own motorbike. His gaze brushed over your usual braid as it fell down your back. Then you turned and rode off into the distance.

You took off down the backroads and short cuts before you made it to the location Oracle sent you.

A secret lab.

A secret lab the company you work for owned.

For the past few weeks, you'd been picking up the suspicious activity occurring at work between those higher up and began investigating. They were trying to create something illegal. Sell it to big time criminals for a chunk of money. It was some sort of chemical warfare plan and you had to act on it fast. So you were kind relieved to find Batman was onto it now, since you would most defiantly found out what's going on tonight.

Hacking into the system once again, you were able to find tip of the ice berg information, such as the guards time table. There were only two guards on tonight at this odd warehouse, so your plan was simple.

You'd set up your little tear gas traps in front of the breaker box. Once you cut the electricity, they'd head to the box to figure out what the problem was, and then you'd attack.

You couldn't believe how well the plan was working. Thank the Lord you decided to become a Chemist and knew what chemicals to mix and use.

The guard triggered the small bomb, releasing tear gas into the air that began to eat away at his eyes. Quickly slipping your hands into the pouches attached to the side of your belt, you manoeuvred your hands into your chloroform gloves before rushing behind him. With the burning sensation in his eyes, your legs restricting his arm movement and chloroform soaked gloves over his nose and mouth, he was out in seconds.

You slipped away from him and began down the hall towards where the second guard was until you heard a whack. There were sounds of struggles, grunts and heavy thuds. You froze and pressed yourself against the wall, a confused frown on your face. "What on Earth?"

Someone hit the ground hard.

"Scumbag." A voice bellowed.

You immediately rolled your eyes. Turning the corner, you were met with Red Hood with his bloody hands and the guard knocked out on the floor. He took you in; your dripping gloves and that bewildered look in your eyes.

"Sorry princess, was this too much for you?" He asked, gesturing to the guards crumpled form.

"Let's just get on with it." You snapped back, removing your gloves and tossing them back into their pouches. You eyed the guns strapped to his thighs, thankful he hadn't used them...yet.

"You handled the other guard?" He asked, falling into step behind you.

"Mhm. Hence the gloves."

"Right, your little poisons and what not."

You soon came to the door of the lab room Oracle needed you guys to break into. Using the information you'd found whilst investigating, you lifted your goggles from your eyes and went through various passcodes.

You were curious as to what you'd find in there. Jason was curious about how you knew what pins to sift through, watching you from behind as your fingers danced along the key pad. "You only get three attempts you know."

"I know." Third times a charm, because the door suddenly gave a hiss before slowly opening.

You both entered the cold, dark room, but not before something grabbed your arm and pulled you in. You turned on your heel only to find Red right behind you. His hold was a lot softer than you thought it would be. "What are you-"

"How did you know the pins? Oracle didn't even have that information?"

He tried to focus. He really did. But your mask only covered the bottom half of your face, and with your goggles sitting on your forehead, those eyes of yours were sending him into a coma.

"Because I'm familiar with this company." You spat back, a little taken aback. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Like hell I trust you."

At the mere mention of it, Jason felt something heavy in his stomach. Why did that statement effect him? Why didn't he like saying it?

"You're with them, aren't you?" He asked, voice low as he desperately ignored the guilt that began to stir deep down. Because the paranoia was just as strong.

"What?"

"You must know what they're doing. What, are you tryna lure us in?"

"Get the fuck outta here Red. You can't be serious-"

Before you could finish what you're saying, something flashed behind him. A figure. A crow bar.

"Red, move!" Using all your strength, you gripped onto his arms and tried to shove him out the way before the crow bar swung, the end of it just hitting your arm.

You let out a pained yell and quickly tumble away from the attacker, hand gripped around your aching forearm.

Jason didn't hesitate, instantly lunging towards the figure. Ignoring the pain in your arm you got into your fighting stance before someone else caught your eye. Someone to your side. Another man covered in black launched towards you, sword in hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you ducked out of the way. Swiftly, you slipped under one of the tables and came out on the other side. Draws surrounded you and you quickly yanked one open. It was filled with bottles of half used chemicals and jars filled with...alkali metals. Your eyes practically lit up when you saw them. You grabbed the potassium jar, and just as he made his way around the lab table, you turned the tap of the sink on and chucked the plethora of metals inside it. Next thing you knew, an explosion as loud as thunder went off, smoke decorating the air as he ran straight into it.

Your ears began to ring and a coughing attack creeped up on you, but you could only imagine how he was feeling. Slipping your knuckle busters over your fingers, you began to throw hits. It's not really your forte though, so once he was on his knees, you pulled the cloth from one of your pouches and wrapped it around his head, holding it there with all your strength. He went out like a light.

As you disregarded his body, you turned to see Jason was now fighting two men. You caught him quickly looking over at you before realising his guns were somehow tossed across the room during the fight. Now he was relying heavily on his fists, and that might have been even scarier. He was quick and concise, strong with his hits, and it was obvious he wasn't holding back. The second man went down hard, his face bloody and bruised. The first attacker, however, was swinging that crow bar like his life depended on it. And suddenly you noticed the Hood falter. You quickly raced to Red Hood's side.

Already mixed with such sickening anxiety and adrenaline from the use of the crow bar against him, that panic suddenly grew ten fold once he realised you were coming to help him.

"No!" His voice was laced with desperation, completely foreign to the Red Hood you knew. His large arm came up and suddenly pushed you back. And as he did so, the curved end of the crow bar collided with the side of his helmet. The force broke it, separating the bright red so that you could see one of his eyes and half of his domino mask.

Jason was stunned. He was back in that warehouse with the clown.

"I'm gonna beat you until you're unrecognisable."

Those words sent a shiver down Jason's spine. Why, when he was so much taller than the man, was he suddenly feeling so small?

You saw Red's eye, and the fear that flashed across it. You couldn't understand what it was that was getting under his skin, but it hit you hard in the chest. Because you knew that look all too well.

Eager with determination, you slipped your daggers into your hands and got ready to take out this asshole, when suddenly Hood tackled him to the ground. But it wasn't Red's usual tactic or fighting style. No...this was animalistic. In seconds, Jason had the man pinned to the ground and the crow bar in his hand.

You hadn't realised Nightwing was yelling in your ear, that he could hear what was happening through the comms. Shit, you completely blanked out.

"Hood? [Vigilante name]? What's going on??" Nightwing urged.

But you couldn't respond, because Red Hood was now beating the life out of the man before you. It was violent. Confronting. Harrowing. You knew he was violent, weren't we all? But not like this...

This was the product of something deeper. Something horrible imbedded into Red Hood.

"Red..." Your voice was too quiet, travelling right over his head. But each blow was becoming worse as Jason got lost in his thoughts and fears. Got lost in the past. So this time you yelled out.

"Red Hood! That's enough!"

He kept going though. It wasn't until the harrowing echo of a gunshot ringing through the room that he stopped. Jason snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at you. You stood there, grimace evident on your face even with your mask on, with one of his guns in your hold and aimed at the ceiling.

"That's enough! We gotta go!"

A deer in headlights. Jason stared back at you, the one eye you could see glassy and absent. You lowered the hand gripping onto that awful weapon he treasured so much. You never touched a gun, and you hoped you'd never have to touch one again.

Creeping towards him, you surely, gingerly slipped the crow bar out of his hold. He flinched, his muscles tensing as he watched you. Nerves ran through your body as you slowed down your movements. You tossed the crow bar to the side before crouching down to his eyes level.

A part of you felt sickly relatable to him. Like you were staring at an older version of yourself.

"Come on," you urged. "I know where the files are. Let me grab them and we can go."

Jason slowly came to again, giving a nod in response. You left to search for the folder and Jason's eyes trailed down to the man beneath him, his breath slow and laboured. So many emotions were coursing through Jason. Rage, hate, fear. He looked over to you as he got to his feet, thankful that you were here. But also resentful that you were. That you had to see that side of him.

Nightwing and the others talked through the comms, evidently worried about you and Red, and Jason could only imagine the shit show he'd have to face when he got back to the Batcave.

You quickly walked back to him, thick folder in hand.

"Alright, let's go Red." Your heart was still pounding in your ears as you rushed past him. But he didn't follow. You turned to look back at him; a man so vicious and large, and yet all you saw was someone who was broken. "Red, what's wrong?"

His deadset stare was back, the mask was back up, but his voice was soft. "You hate using guns..."

part two ya'll? lmk in the comments <3