#maybe another one of the hair flip but this might be last

[awearywritersworld]

my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Thinking about playfighting with Rafayel

+ brief sexual content, play fighting, subby rafayel

Your sweet, dramatic friend of a man. Your fights with him normally stay in the verbal arena, where he excels at throwing playful jabs, sassy remarks, the quick teasing nickname, and occasional cocky comment. When he’s smart-mouthed one too many times, oh, that’s when you have to drag him into your arena. It never hurts to teach your Lemurian charge who’s the real boss from time to time.

It never goes far; you think he might be a little too delicate for your full strength. So, you stick to a quick tackle, some torturous tickles, and silly pokes, all in attempts to make his face go a lovely shade of red and hear him beg for mercy. You love when he’d whine your name and plead for forgiveness while the angry pout and glare after would always be the icing on a very much deserved cake.

Sometimes, when he’s in a cheerful mood, he fights back, determined to give you a taste of your own medicine.

It always ends up with you two on the ground in front of his couch. You pin him on his stomach to punish him for defying you, and he tries his best to regain dominance. Even with all his squiggling and wiggling like an octopus out of water, he won’t be able to get you off.

Forcing yourself to lie on top of him and pressing your chest into his back, you ignore his demands for you to let him up, not until he apologizes. Ah, but he never wants to give in right away, and you up your force a little as he tries to flip you over.

Then, there’s a tug.

It’s an accident.

You weren’t entirely paying attention to where your hand was until there’s already wavy purple strands tangled around your fingers and the loud moan that filled the room was already beginning to fade away. It leaves you frozen with Rafayel whose hair is clutched in your hands and whose ears and face are very, very deep red.

This is certainly a first.

“Did you just—” you ask.

“No,” he groans out, but his denial is short lived because you just can’t resist teasing him and seeing that blushing face of his, so obviously, you have to experiment by giving another light tug. It yields the same result: a whine held deep in his throat and the tensing of his legs under you.

“Stop,” he says. “You’re gonna—”

You cut him off with a grunt, already knowing where he was going.

“Turn you on?” You finish for him. “Don't tell me you have a hard on.”

The pout he gives is adorable, his face brightly decorated like a bucket of vermillion paint was dumped on him. He lifts his arm to his face, trying to hide the blush behind his hand, which you take that to mean as a ‘yes’.

“What else do you expect to happen when you do that?” he comments between heavy breathes, and the absolute embarrassment laced in his voice makes a tingle go down your spine as he sputters out lame excuse after excuse – it was reflex, random timing, the rubbing, to try not to get too full of yourself—like he was an inexperienced young man dealing with his first rush of hormones.

All you could hear was your own thoughts whirling faster and faster and the adorably flustered sounds of his voice straining as you repositioned on top of him.

“Round 2,” you whisper then blow against the back of his heated neck, causing him to shudder.

A lightly grumbled “shameless as always,” puffs from behind his trembling hand. But when have you ever led him to believe that you weren’t especially in situations like these?

You squeeze your hand between his stomach and the floor, slowly drawing it down and stopping at his belt. He doesn't fight it, doesn't move even, maybe is silently anticipating this even more than you. Still, you’re not “shameless” enough to not give him a choice in the matter.

“Last chance to tap out, fishie. Apologize,” you warn.

It takes him time to respond, but when he does you can’t resist smirking. He finally asks, “Do you really think I’d give in so easily? Do your worst.”

You nearly laugh. That’s what you thought.

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut #lads x reader #lnd x reader #love and deepspace #lds x reader #notsfw #adelssmut #gender neutral reader

[sytoran]

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #natasha x reader #natasha x reader smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #hozier #arsonist's lullabye #arsonist's lullaby #natasha romanoff x fem reader #fem reader #natasha x fem!reader #fem!reader #sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[luveline]

oooh! just had an idea!!! bombshell reader x spencer where he comes over to her apartment one day on the weekend to suprise her with breakfast/flowers bc they just started dating. however, bombshell is in sweats/no makeup/messy hair when she answers but when she sees its spencer, she FLIPS out/slams the door bc she doesnt want him to see her in that state. spencer, however, is confused ofc because he genuinely doesnt notice her outfit/lack of makeup and thinks she is gorgeous no matter what.

hope this is ok ♡ fem, 1.1k

The song starts slow and ends slower. You could picture Spencer listening to it, his head on your shoulder or yours on his, wired earphones shared between you. 

You grab a pencil to jot a quick post-it note so you'll remember, one knee on your desk chair. You don't want to sit down with the shower running in case you get distracted by your new photo frame.

You and Spencer took a photo to commemorate finally getting together. Or rather, Hotch did, standing behind the camera with an impossible mixture of fondness and disapproval. You look like a true couple with matching graphic t-shirts and beaming smiles, Spencer's arm over your shoulders and yours behind his back. You can't see it without staring; you use all your strength to ignore the photo, pulling your post-it from its pad and tacking the yellow square to your vanity. Tell Spencer about love song from Ocean Boulavard. 

The door to your apartment rings with a knock. If you weren't distracted in your losing don't-think-about-Spencer battle, you'd recognise the timid pattern of it. 

You've been expecting a parcel all weekend. 

"Coming!" you call, tugging a sweater over your vest top, plaid pyjama pants dragging against the floor as you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main living area. "Two seconds!" 

You give yourself a precursory glance in the mirror next to the door before you answer it. You'd never go out like this, but the delivery driver won't see you long. You're mostly clean and fully dressed, though your socks don't match. 

That's another thing to tell Spencer. He must be rubbing off on you. 

"Hello," you say cheerily, pulling the door open with a smile. 

"Hi," Spencer says, big brown eyes aglow at the sight of you, his hands full to bursting. There are enough things in his hands to hide his chest completely. 

You don't have a chance to decipher exactly what he's brought as you flinch behind the cover of the door, not cruel enough to close it in his face, but wanting to. "Spencer! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, you live here." 

His hand comes up tentatively near yours on the door. He doesn't push it further in or attempt to come inside. He might have, if you hadn't squeaked in warning, biting down on the soft inside of your cheek. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Everything is fine!" You squeeze your eyes closed, your pulse a hummingbird hammering between them. 

"Really?" Spencer asks, taking back his hand. "Can I–"

There's a shuffling sound like he might step forward, and that's the last straw, you're fully panicking as you slam it closed.

A too long silence. Your breath comes unnaturally quickly, your thoughts racing to match. I can't believe I just did that. Why did I do that? 

What do I do? 

"Spencer, I'm naked," you say. 

"You were definitely wearing clothes. What's wrong? I brought breakfast, I thought I'd surprise you. I texted you. When you didn't answer I figured maybe you were still sleeping after last night, but… now I'm thinking maybe I read that wrong."

"You didn't read it wrong! You can always come over!" you insist, looking around behind you as if you might suddenly find a full face of makeup hiding in your sideboard, or a fresh change of clothes hanging on the coat hooks. 

"Okay, so, can I come in?" 

You poke at the sore bit of skin in your cheek with a wince. "Spence, I'm not dressed. Like, I'm not ready. I look like a mess." 

"You looked beautiful. For the two seconds that I could see your face, at least." You breathe in uselessly. An answer doesn't present itself. Spencer offers some wisdom while you panic, but you aren't sure you want to hear it. "We're dating, right? So as much as you clearly don't want me to see you like this, it's gonna happen. Hopefully regularly?" He laughs lightly on the other side of the door. "Can I please come in?" 

Nerves gnaw at your fingers, uncomfortable pins and needles. "What if you don't like it as much?" you ask quietly. You're surprised he can hear you. 

"Do you trust me?"

What sort of question is that? This isn't about trust. This is about you, an image of yourself you hold and that you want others to share, it's why you dress as you do, why you wear your intricate hairstyles, and spend hours upon hours priming and primping.

You want to be pretty deeply, especially in Spencer's eyes. Do you trust him to find you pretty still, without all the extra effort? Pretty from the moment you wake up? 

You wait for the verdict as you open the door again. The handle clicks and lugs, the hinge whining as it swings inward. You step backward to allow him space, meeting Spencer's eyes with an insecurity that doesn't suit you.

He doesn't react at first. His hand tightens around the neck of a sprawling bouquet, wildflowers like a burst of colour against his chest, the long white body of a lily of the valley kissing the curve of his neck. He smells like powdered sugar donuts and the food truck they came from, the story of his obsession a remembered delight. I think of you every time I cross the square to the train station by my place. The warm vanilla smell reminds me of your perfume. But I'm usually already thinking of you. He's been bringing you donuts intermittently for months now. 

He finally smiles at you, all manner of morning warmth flooding the room with him. The sun at his heels, the silky brown colour of his hair, you look up as he steps close, as light silhouettes him, turns the silk to fluff. You can see every detail this close down to the baby flyaways, and he can see the same. 

"How could you think I wouldn't like this?" he asks. His words are hushed with earnestness but yards from hesitant. Spencer is unabashedly, genuinely enamoured with you. "You're so pretty. You always are." 

You beg him silently to hold your face, taking the flowers from his hand. He can read you from that small action alone, raising a deft hand to your cheek. 

You lean into his palm. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[uvobreakmylegs]

Lamp of the Body

first part of a fic long in the making based on some stuff @hypnoswrites and I were discussing about Chrollo :D

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2

Warnings: mentions of accidents, injury, isolation, mentions of strangulation

Word count: 6.3k

You were struggling to breathe.

You couldn't see anything.

Your heart was pounding hard against the inside of your chest.

You were scared.

Scared of what? You weren't sure. All you knew was that the adrenaline was rushing through your system while you panicked. And what furthered that panic was the fact that you couldn't move. You were stuck, laying on your back and frozen in place while all of your senses told you that you were in danger.

Then you noticed the figure sitting next to you.

It was too dark to make them out, but you saw their general shape and the way they leaned over you.

Once they realized that you had seen them, they moved.

A hand reached out, turning your face towards them before caressing your cheek in slow motions. An act that should have been comforting, but instead the panic in you worsened and you began to cry.

The figure did nothing to comfort you; they only wiped away the tears that fell. Despite that action that to most would have indicated some amount of care, you didn't feel anything like that when their skin brushed against yours.

They didn't care.

In such a vulnerable state, you were at the mercy of such a person, one who had no concern over your distress.

As if you were simply a spectacle to them.

They wiped away another tear in a robotic manner, and still said nothing when those tears continued.

It didn't seem real.

That was your first thought when you woke up in the morning, your eyes going over details in the bedroom: the thin bits of light showing through the cracks in the blinds, the soft rug that lay on the floor that you had picked out when you'd first moved here, and the door to the walk-in closet that was currently closed. If it had been open you would've seen both your own and Chrollo's clothes hanging inside of it.

At the thought of Chrollo, you looked to the other side of the bed, finding that your boyfriend was still there beside you. You took in the sight of his face, how peaceful his expression was and the way his bangs partially covered the tattoo on his forehead, only allowing little bits of the design to be seen through the black locks. It looked as though he was still fast asleep based on the way his eyes remained closed and how steadily his chest rose and fell with each breath. As much as you felt compelled to scoot over closer and cuddle up against him, in the past your boyfriend had proven to be an incredibly light sleeper and you worried that the action might wake him up.

With all that Chrollo had done for you, the man deserved to get as much sleep as he wanted.

As quietly as you could, you got out of bed and made your way over to the bathroom, periodically looking back over to Chrollo and finding him to still be asleep each time you did. But as you looked back at him one last time before entering the bathroom, you were once again struck by how it still didn't feel completely real, that you were able to look at the image of your sleeping boyfriend.

That you were able to look at anything at all.

The lights came on when you flipped the switch, and instinct had you closing your eyes as they adjusted to the light. When it no longer hurt to have your eyes open, you made your way over to the sink, covering your mouth to yawn before you looked at yourself in the mirror. The gray eyes of your reflection stared back at you, briefly flitting about as you took in the messy state of your hair and wrinkled sleep clothes before you went back to staring at your eyes.

Maybe some might find it weird to be referring to them as being “yours” considering that they were definitely not the eyes you'd been born with and had come from an unknown donor, but seeing that they'd been placed inside your skull, it seemed silly to say otherwise.

Still, to think that just a few months ago you hadn't been able to see at all, your original eyes permanently damaged because of that car accident.

You'd lived that way for almost a year, and after getting used to the world being in total darkness with only the images in your memory to go off of, it didn't seem real that you were able to see again.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, watching as your reflection did the same and lightly brush beneath the area under and around your eye, your fingers briefly lingering on the small bits of scarring on your skin.

It didn't seem real, but clearly it was.

“Is everything alright?”

Hearing Chrollo's voice surprised you, and you looked over to find him entering the bathroom, smiling at you when you made eye contact.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you answered, adding “sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't,” he said, “I woke up on my own a moment ago.”

You were about to reply when another yawn came on that you couldn't suppress, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

His eyebrow raised as he asked “are you sure you don't need more sleep?”

“I'm fine,” you said, “I don't think I'd be able to sleep anymore, anyway.”

He nodded.

Then Chrollo walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your form and holding you close to him. You reached up and grabbed at one of his hands, to which he responded by taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing.

“You came in to admire yourself, I see,” he said.

You laughed a little.

“Don't know if there's much to admire here at the moment,” you answered.

“I disagree,” he said, “there's quite a lot to admire about you.”

“Well, you're biased, so I don't know how much I can trust you on that,” you said.

He chuckled, taking the hand that he held and lifting it so he could place a kiss on your skin. As he did that your gaze went back to the mirror.

It was a nice image, you thought to yourself. You and your boyfriend, both of you with hair that needed to be brushed and looking rather disheveled after getting out of bed, standing together and holding one another in a moment of peaceful quiet.

A definite contrast to what life had been during the last nine months where the days had been filled with anxiety despite how hard you tried to adjust to a new way of living. Unsurprisingly, having one of your senses be unexpectedly taken away was a difficult thing to cope with.

Despite what had happened, you spent a relatively short amount of time in the hospital as Chrollo had been insistent on you returning home with him as soon as possible. You hadn't minded that too much. Even though you hadn't stayed there long, the loss of your eyesight had made your other senses get stronger. As such, you'd grown to truly hate the smell of hospitals, the feeling of needles poking into your skin and the never-ending beeping of the machines you'd be hooked up to.

Being in the comfort of your home while you recovered was preferable.

And hopefully it would be a while before you needed to go back for any doctor's appointment, though when you did, the staff at the hospital would definitely be surprised to find that you were able to see again.

Chrollo seemed to notice that your thoughts had drifted elsewhere as he asked “what is it, love?”

“Nothing too important, I guess,” you said, “just thinking about what'll happen if I ever end up back at that hospital. They'd be surprised if they saw me with how adamant they were that there wasn't anything that could be done for me.”

You looked back at him while asking “why wouldn't they have mentioned the guy in Padokea?”

“I don't know,” he answered, shrugging as he added “perhaps they were worried what might happen if they recommended an experimental surgery and then something went wrong.”

“What do you think could've gone wrong?”

“I'm sure there's a number of things, though I can't say what exactly they might be.”

“I thought you knew everything,” you said teasingly.

He smiled as he answered “I'm afraid I must concede that I only have a basic knowledge when it comes to the world of modern medicine. That's why I usually go to Machi if I have any questions.”

You hummed, looking back to the reflections in the mirror.

You could lose that. In a mere moment your eyesight could be taken away and your world would become dark again.

Remembering the way things had been caused the anxiety to swell inside of you, and this time you voiced your concerns.

“Things will stay this way, right?” you asked him, “nothing's going to happen where the eyes won't work out and I'll need to go back to not being able to see, right?”

Chrollo's hand went to rest on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly as he asked “is that what you're worried about?”

You nodded.

“It'd be sad to get back my eyesight and then have it taken away again,” you added.

Chrollo pulled you around so you were no longer facing the mirror. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your lips before holding you against himself.

He spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he told you, “nothing's gone wrong since we came back, and if we were to call up that professional, he'd tell you that everything is fine.”

“You're sure he'd say that?” you asked.

“I'm sure.”

His hand was on your head stroking your hair. That alone was able to quell the anxiety that had begun to grow in your chest.

“After all,” he continued, “I promised that you'd be fine, didn't I?”

You nodded, remembering what he said to you almost a year ago.

You still remembered the way he'd grasped your hand and the feel of the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat sleeves brushing against your skin. You remembered the cast that your leg had been trapped in and the constant beeping of the monitors beside your bed. You remembered the darkness.

And you remembered how easily your spirits were lifted when Chrollo spoke to you.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

At the time you thought he was only saying that so you would feel a bit better about your situation, that he was simply doing his best to be a supportive boyfriend as he navigated through the results of this accident with you. While the future may not have been completely bleak, it was without a doubt going to be different than what you could have ever imagined and you and Chrollo were going to need to find a new version of your “normal”.

At the time you never would have thought he'd find a way to make things go back to the way they'd been before the accident.

Yet he had.

And now you were here.

Still not completely recovered as the trauma that had come with being in such a nasty accident remained with you and would likely stay with you for a long time to come, but you were still in a much better place than you had been in the previous months.

And Chrollo had been by your side every step of the way.

He pulled away, cupping your cheek and moving your head up to look at him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling after.

He kissed you again before saying “we may as well start getting ready for the day.”

He let you go after that, moving over to his side of the sink.

“Are you working today?” you asked.

“No, not today. My schedule is free.”

“Do we have anything planned?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered, “although I suppose I should figure out something fast, otherwise you'll be insistent on watching horror movies all day.”

You pouted a little as you asked “what's wrong with that?”

“Ordinarily there would be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, you never seem to be able to pick any good movies,” he replied.

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

“Even if it is, you aren't supposed to say that.”

“So I'm supposed to lie to you?”

“When it comes to my taste in movies, yeah.”

“Interesting.”

There wasn't any malice behind either of your words during that bit of banter, and you couldn't help giggling a little bit after. Chrollo also had a soft smile on his face, though the somewhat distant gaze his gray eyes made it seem as though he was thinking about something.

His eyes…

… Huh. You hadn't really thought about it before.

“We almost match now,” you said.

“Hm?”

He glanced over to you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Our eyes,” you explained, pointing to your own as you continued with “we almost have the same eye color now. It's off by just a few shades.”

Chrollo's hummed as he smiled again.

“So we do.”

Was that a dumb thing to point out? If it was he wouldn't say anything like that. And with the amount of time the two of you had been together, he was probably used to hearing such things from you. How a man like him wanted to be with someone like you, you would never know. But after the events of the past few months, you could say with one hundred percent certainty that he deeply cared about you.

Really, you didn't deserve him.

“I'll do whatever you want to do today, Chrollo,” you said, smiling at him again.

He smiled back at you as he said “I'll need to make sure I come up with something good, then.”

The accident happened when Chrollo was away on business, during one of his trips that he took every few months that lasted up to a few weeks on average. You never quite knew what those trips were about; Chrollo said he couldn't tell you and communication with him during those times was shoddy at best, so you didn't even have much to go off of to figure out on your own what he was doing. There was a constant curiosity burning in you about what he was doing exactly, but since he told you that you didn't need to know, you stopped pressing the issue.

If Chrollo said so, then you trusted him.

Not that your trust helped at all in how lonely those weeks would be while he was gone. With communication being almost non-existent while he was away and no one else around to hang out with or even really talk to, the feeling of isolation would take over fast. For that reason, you figured that things would be more interesting if you were to step out of your routine. That day you headed out to attend a convention that was taking place not too far from where you lived in the hopes you could browse around, perhaps make a few new friends, but mostly to do something different.

When you were on your way was when a careless driver slammed headfirst into the taxi you'd been riding in.

Your leg and collarbone had both been broken, and one of your wrists and a few of your ribs had been fractured. Terrible injuries, to be sure, but those were things that you could recover from.

The loss of your eyesight was a different story, and the doctor who'd treated your injuries had informed you that there was no way to bring that back.

Hearing that had been hard.

It was made harder still when your attempts to reach Chrollo failed.

Even after giving them his number, the hospital had been unable to contact Chrollo as every single call they made failed to go through. With you stuck in bed with all of your injuries and not having anyone else you could contact, it was a devastating few days.

But on the afternoon of your third day in the hospital he showed up unexpectedly, heading straight to your room and calling out to you once he saw you. Relief filled you in the moment where you heard his voice, but the gravity of the situation brought you back down not long after. His hands grasped yours, and you felt the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat brush against your skin as you tearfully told him that you couldn't see anymore.

It seemed to take him a moment to process that information as he remained silent at first.

After a few moments, he pulled your hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss to your skin.

And then he spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

The words had been spoken with conviction.

And he was right.

Everything had seemingly gone back to the way it was before, and that fact in of itself was better than you could've hoped for.

It was hard to breathe, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through you while you lay frozen in place. You couldn't move. No matter how many times your brain ordered your limbs to break free of their state of stasis, they wouldn't comply, and you were stuck, laying as though rigor mortis had set in.

The figure was there. Though you still couldn't see them clearly, you felt them watching you.

Why wouldn't they help you? Why did they only ever watch?

Your jaw refused to open so you could ask those questions, and you were left to harshly breathe through your nose while the figure continued to observe you.

The next morning, while you fought with the eggs that didn't want to be unstuck from the pan, a thought came to you.

“What sort of things does Kortopi like?” you asked, looking back to where Chrollo sat at the table.

“Kortopi? He likes books. He also enjoys making miniatures.”

“Miniatures?”

“Those sets you can get from hobby stores,” Chrollo clarified before adding, “what makes you ask?”

You turned back to the pan as you answered “I wanted to do something for him since he helped us out. I thought maybe I could get him something nice; like I could put together a basket of stuff he'd like as a way to say 'thank you'. Same with Pakunoda and Machi.”

You paused before adding “and Shalnark.”

“Why the hesitation in naming Shalnark?”

Of course he picked up on that.

“… I don't want to say anything bad about your friend,” you replied.

You glanced back to find that his eyebrow had raised slightly.

“Oh? What did he do?”

You were hesitant to answer, because while Shalnark had been rather intrusive when he'd been here with you, he had been helping you and Chrollo out. Still, you knew from past experiences that Chrollo wasn't going to let this go.

“…. Some of the questions he asked me were a little invasive,” you admitted, “and I think he might have been going through our stuff.”

Chrollo didn't seem surprised.

“Shalnark does have a bad habit of being a bit too nosy,” he said, “but I doubt he meant any actual harm in anything he said or did.”

“Why didn't you bring this up back then?” he then asked.

“He was doing us a favor,” you said, “and you said that I could trust him. Just… Maybe if he ever comes back, we should make sure you're around to keep him in line.”

You heard him let out a chuckle as you went back to your cooking.

“He usually listens to me, so that shouldn't be an issue,” Chrollo said, “and if you'd like, I can take care of getting him something.”

“Nah, I'll still get him a gift as thanks. It'd be rude if I didn't,” you said, “hopefully I won't need him or any of your other friends to babysit me again.”

The eggs managed to not be burned when you pushed them out of the pan and onto your plate, and after months of being out of practice when it came to cooking, it felt good that you'd managed to do that much.

“I still don't think you needed to call on them as much as you did,” you added, “I would've been fine on my own for a few hours those times you were gone.”

“It was better for you to have not needed them than be in a situation where you were having an emergency and couldn't get help,” he answered.

“I'm not sure how much trouble I could've gotten into on my own, honestly,” you said.

“You never know.”

“I guess. I feel bad for taking up their time like that, though.”

“They were happy to help,” he told you, “but I do think your idea of gifts as a way of thanking them is a good one.”

Setting the plate of eggs down at the table, you sat down as you asked “where are you heading out today?”

He was already dressed to go out, and he'd finished up his coffee just as you took your seat.

“Nowhere special. I just need to take care of a few things in relation to my last job,” he answered.

“How long will you be out?”

“Not long. I should be back after lunch.”

“So not long enough that I need someone to look after me,” you said.

He smiled as he said “not this time, no.”

A beat of silence passed, and though you suspected you knew what his response would be, you decided to make a request anyway.

“If I finish this really fast, can I come with you?” you asked.

Though his smile didn't falter, Chrollo shook his head.

“It's not the sort of trip where I can bring you along,” he said.

“Not even if I stay in the car while you go do whatever?”

“Do you really want to be stuck in a car for hours?”

“No,” you admitted, “but it'd be nice to get out for a little bit.”

He nodded while reaching over so he could grasp your hand.

“I know that you're feeling closed off from the rest of the world, love,” Chrollo said, “but I'd much rather you stay in here while you continue your recovery.”

“I feel fine, though. Better than I have in a while,” you replied, “I could start going out a little, right?”

“Perhaps. But not on a trip like this.”

“What then?”

“We can figure that out when I get back.”

He stood up then, and there was a sense of finality in the conversation as he pushed his chair back in place, though he kept his cheerful demeanor when he smiled at you again.

“No need to get up,” he said to you, “I'll see myself out. Don't stress yourself and stay inside.”

That last part was definitely tacked on because of what you'd said.

“Even if I feel fine?” you asked.

“Do it for me, love.”

He finished that off by placing a kiss to your forehead.

Well damn. How could you refuse when he asked you like that?

He smiled at you, and you smiled back at him. Everything was fine.

You were fine when he walked out of the room, gathering his things before making his way to the door. You were fine even when you heard the jingling of his keys and the sound of the door opening. You were fine when you called out one last “goodbye”, to which he responded in kind.

But the instant you heard the front door lock behind him and you could no longer hear his footsteps, your mood fell.

Life got lonely when Chrollo wasn't around. Largely due to how small your world had become as you were lacking when it came to other people you could be around. And while the accident had made things smaller, it had been getting to be that way even before the crash. Friends and family didn't contact you anymore and you didn't know anyone outside of Chrollo's social circle, of whom you very rarely saw. The most time you had spent with anyone aside from your boyfriend was a few hours at a time during those months of recovery when he got his friends to look after you when you were bedridden.

Did your old friends or any of your family even know about the crash?

You had no clue, but since Chrollo said you didn't need to worry about them, you didn't think about them most days.

Though it didn't help how the apartment felt incredibly empty whenever he was gone.

But it was okay.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you finished up your breakfast. Chrollo wouldn't be gone long. His lack of packing an overnight bag or getting one of his friends to stay with you was proof of that. He'd be back before the day was out and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine as long as Chrollo was with you.

After all, he'd said so.You had your eyesight back.

Though it had taken a while to get to that point. Months of staying put in bed so as to not strain yourself, and then getting used to walking on your own again after your broken bones had healed up. Despite having no vision, muscle memory had kicked in when you were feeling well enough to walk without assistance, and you didn't have much issue navigating the layout of the apartment once your leg had fully healed.

That was when Chrollo came to you with a proposal.

The medical professionals told you there was nothing that could be done about your sight, yet Chrollo had found a way around it, telling you of an experimental new surgery being done somewhere within the Dentora Region of Padokea. Under normal circumstances, you might have been skeptical, and just hearing the word “experimental” made you nervous. But Chrollo managed to convince you to give it a shot. All it took was a single conversation and he had gotten you to agree.

You were glad that he did, otherwise you might not be here like this right now. Back to what your normal had been before the accident, at least for the most part. Being able to be on your own and not needing to worry if you were becoming a burden to your boyfriend. Going back to waiting for him to return from his work and eagerly greeting him when he walked in the door.

Chrollo had done a good job of keeping up a positive attitude while you recovered, but now you were feeling better mentally, his happiness seemed a bit more genuine.

Maybe at some point soon, you could start to go out again like you had before the accident.

That would be something to discuss once he was back.

You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard as you sat up in bed, your arms shaking as you struggled to support yourself.

Another nightmare. The same as the others where you couldn't move and someone sat by and stared at you. But this time had been different.

You could still feel their hands around your throat as your air was cut off completely.

A quick check by placing one of your hands to your neck confirmed that it had been a dream; no one was trying to choke the life out of you.

That only brought minimal relief, however. Even if it was only a nightmare, the images were still fresh in your mind, and it had left you shaken. The thought of being unable to fight back or even cry out while someone sat on top of you and tried to kill you was one that made you feel incredibly helpless.

And you were so, so tired of feeling helpless.

Glancing next to you, you were able to make out Chrollo's form on the bed. He was still asleep, otherwise he no doubt would've asked you what was wrong.

Maybe you should tell him.

They'd started weeks after getting back from Padokea, and the first few times you hadn't thought much of them. And even when they continued, you decided to keep it to yourself. They were simply been the result of stress, likely in relation to the accident, and that at some point they would stop on their own. You didn't want to bring it up because you didn't want to saddle him with anymore of your issues. After all, you weren't a child and Chrollo deserved better than for you to go crying to him whenever something mildly inconvenient happened.

If the nightmares had stopped quickly you wouldn't have considered talking to him.

But if anything, they were only increasing in frequency. Not only were they leaving you emotionally exhausted, but you felt that you were being drained physically as well. Your nights were becoming restless and you spent almost all of the next day tired as you tried to recuperate.

No wonder Chrollo didn't want you going out; he could easily see that you were tired and took that to mean that you still weren't well enough for the outside.

It still seemed strange that they would continue as long as they did, though. Especially when you were considerably less stressed than you'd been before the surgery. Why were they happening when things were going well?

… You didn't know. You just wanted them to stop so you wouldn't need to deal with them anymore.

For now just rest, you told yourself.

With that, you settled back down onto the bed, though your gaze went to Chrollo, still asleep and with his back turned to you. After a moment, you scooted over to be closer to him, resting against his back and placing a hand on his arm. Chrollo didn't wake.

A little unusual given how often he awoke to even the slightest of movement on the bed. He must have been more tired than usual. Part of you was sad because of that; it would've been nice to feel him hold you back, to give you some form of reassurance, even if it was one small piece of physical affection.

But waking him up would be selfish.

So you stayed still, not moving any further, keeping your hand on his arm and your face against his back while you took in his scent.

You can deal with this much on your own, you told yourself.

Just rest for now.

“How would you feel about moving?”

You looked up from where you sat on the couch over to where Chrollo stood on the other end of the room. Moments ago you'd both been reading separately, and he'd gotten up when his cellphone had gone off so he could take the call in another room. He had just come back in and that was the first thing he said, and it managed to catch you so off-guard that it took you a bit to process what he just said.

“Moving?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

“Out of the city,” he said, “somewhere in the country. That would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“…. Huh.”

He seemed surprised at your reaction, as he asked “you don't want to?”

“I don't know,” you said, “I was really looking forward to walking around here again when it's okay for me to go out.”

Shutting your book and placing it to the side, you asked “where exactly are you thinking?”

“Somewhere near the mountains would be nice.”

“…. Wouldn't somewhere near the mountains be several hours away from here?”

“It would.”

“Won't that interfere with your job?”

He shrugged.

“Relocating won't effect me much,” he said, “my work already requires me to travel. Adding a few more hours to my trips is hardly a sacrifice.”

“Besides,” he added, “I think a new environment would be better for you, especially one that kept you away from the stresses outside here.”

That made sense. Everything he said made sense, as it always did.

But still.

“I really like it here, though,” you said, “there are specific places I haven't been to since the accident that I want to visit again, and I won't be able to do that if we move. Not easily, at least.”

“I understand, but you shouldn't be sacrificing your health just to see certain places again.”

“I'm not sacrificing anything.”

At that, Chrollo leaned against the door frame before he sighed.

“You haven't been doing well, love,” he told you.

You frowned.

“I thought I was doing pretty good, all things considered,” you said.

“You spend most of your days exhausted.”

“I'm not that exhausted.”

To that, Chrollo gave you a pointed look. One that clearly told you that he didn't believe you and you knew you couldn't continue to insist that he was wrong.

“Okay, maybe I'm not doing as great as I'd like, but I'm still getting used to things. It doesn't mean we need to completely leave the lives we have here,” you insisted.

Should you mention the nightmares, that those were probably part of the issue? No…. He might use those as another reason as to why what he was suggesting was the correct decision, and therefore, the decision that you needed to go with. Like most things when it came to your life.

Not that there were any bad decisions that Chrollo had forced on you, but you generally had little input on them as he expected you to go with what he wanted. Like the eyes. He had basically told you that it was happening and you had been in such a depressive state that you didn't offer much resistance.

But it was different now. You liked it here and you wanted to stay. Plus he'd had this place even before meeting you, and the thought of forcing him to move out of his longtime home made you feel guilty. Even if he was the one who wanted it.

“Moving somewhere else just feels like a really extreme reaction,” you continued.

“Trying to keep your health in mind is extreme?” he asked.

“…. Maybe just a little bit, this time.”

Your voice was a bit more hushed when you answered.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the door frame and began to walk towards where you sat.

Chrollo would get his way again. You could already tell: he was going to talk to you, explain all of the reasons as to why he was right and shoot down every argument you had until you were forced to agree that there was no point in doing it in anyway other than his. Then by the end of the week he'd have found some home away from here, if he didn't have his eye on something already, and you'd find yourself packing up everything before the end of the month.

You loved your boyfriend. You really did.

But you didn't want to leave your home.

Maybe you could find some sort of compromise, figure out something to say that would get him to back down temporarily.

So before he could speak, you asked “what if we just held off on that for a few months? Wait and see how I'm doing after a longer period and come back to the topic of moving?”

“It's been some time already and you haven't gotten better,” he countered.

Sitting down next to you, Chrollo reached out and took your hand in his.

“I understand why you don't want to leave,” he continued, “but we do need to consider what is best for you. And I think staying so close to where that crash happened is having a negative affect on you.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, he asked “don't you agree?”

You surprised him again when you shook your head.

“I get what you're saying,” you then told him, “but I don't think I'm going to get anywhere if I keep running from my problems. Yeah, I'm tired, but I really want things to go back to how they were. I really want to move past what happened.”

“So I'd feel a lot better if I could at least try to tough it out for a little while longer,” you continued, adding “and maybe you're right, that a change in environment is better for me. So maybe in a few months, if we find that I'm still in the same place, we can look into leaving.”

You stayed quiet a moment before adding “if that sounds good to you.”

It didn't seem like he felt that way. Or did it? You couldn't quite read him at the moment, his expression rather stone-faced as he presumably thought over what you said.

At least he was taking your argument into consideration. At least that was something.

“Alright then, love.”

You sat up straighter when he said that and stayed quiet so he could continue with “we'll hold off on it and come back to this discussion at a later date. However, if it seems like you're getting worse, we will be looking into moving.”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand again as he then asked “you will tell me if you aren't doing well, won't you?”

“Of course.”

Chrollo stared at you for a moment.

Then he finally conceded, pulling your hand up to his lips so he could kiss it.

You responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, which he couldn't help but smile at.

It wasn't good to lie to him. You knew that.

But you were going to get through your issues without bothering him.

You weren't going to burden him anymore.

#reader insert #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter

[folkloresthings]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: nope

INSTAGRAM.

liked by fernandoalo_official, scuderiaferrari, and 720,553 others

charles_leclerc starting P3 in abu dhabi for the final race of the season! fingers crossed for a good result

view all 267,394 comments

carlossainz55 a good result in the race or somewhere else

⤷ charles_leclerc shut it

user 2022 season almost over :(

landonorris bring it on 😏😏😏

scuderiaferrari let’s race!!

INSTAGRAM.

liked by charles_leclerc, badgirlriri, and 943,600 others

yourusername MY NEW ALBUM “emails i can’t send” OUT AUGUST 14. this year has been a whirlwind of emotions but it’s given me a lot of very dear songs. thank you for your patience 💌

view all 510,305 comments

user NEW MUSIC ALERT

gracieabrams squealing with excitement

arianagrande SO excited 🤍

user a whole album inspired by austin AND charles???? yes please

landonorris preordered and presaved can you send me a signed copy

taylorswift EEK!

it was finally here. the weekend of the final grand prix in abu dhabi, the end of another season of racing. you’d had your flight booked for weeks, but you hadn’t decided what you were going to do with it. all of your contemplating had made you late to the airport, having to rush through the terminal just in time to make the flight. and even then, thousands of miles in the air, you kept wanting to turn back.

you wanted charles, that much you knew. but you didn’t want to get hurt again, you were sure your heart was running out of bandaids.

no one knew you were here, besides lewis. he had helped you sneak in and out of the hotel, and into the paddock, without being caught. you didn’t want to let anyone know you were here, considering you might still change your mind at the last second.

but then it was sunday, before you knew it, and you were donning a red ferrari cap as you waited the race prep out in lewis’ driver’s room. every so often, you got the sudden urge to get up and run away, far far away. your heart was racing — maybe charles had changed his mind since you last spoke. three months was a long time, long enough to find someone else.

the race began and you watched it intently on the screens, biting at your fingernails every time charles rounded another corner. come the final lap, your feet were carrying you out to the paddock, away from the mercedes hut and towards ferrari. the crowd erupted nearby, charles crossing the finish line in P2. your heart swelled with a thrill, happiness for him filling you. a podium on the last race, something he’d spoken of time and time again.

you squeezed yourself through the celebrating ferrari employees, right to the front of the fence, watching as charles’ car pulled into it’s space after the cool down lap. you pulled the hat off, hoping your hair on show would catch his attention better. his fist pumped as he clambered out of the car, pulling off of his helmet and beaming at the crowds.

by instinct he moved to run towards the group all in red, the usual celebrations waiting to follow. but the monegasque driver stopped, his eyes stuck in the middle of the group. on you. you had come — you had actually come. charles could have pinched himself, sure he could never have gotten so lucky.

you felt your mouth run dry, unable to read his expression from where he was standing. everyone around you carried on celebrating, but the two of you were frozen. you smiled a little, shoulder shrugging with a slight chuckle. and when he smiled back at you, you knew.

you knew this was where you were meant to be.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by danielricciardo, nicohulkenberg, and 762,401 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc possibly the best race of my life, i won the greatest prize of all ❤️❤️❤️ oh and i got P2

view all 511,024 comments

user SCREAMING

landonorris i cried seeing that on the screen after the race

carlossainz55 they grow up so fast 🥲

user i never thought i’d live to see this day

scuderiaferrari OUR FAVS!!!!!!

yourusername my one and only ❤️‍🔥

⤷ yourusername pls ignore all the times i curse u out in the new album thanks 👍

writers note: i was THIS 🤏 close to her not getting on the plane

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 instagram au #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x reader #fernando alonso x reader #lance stroll x reader #max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #oscar piastri x reader

[graybby]

The F1 driver's Streamer sister

Lando Norris X Twitch streamer Russell!reader

Part 1 - ongoing series ! 820 words

Hi ! this is my first time writing anything on tumblr - I used to make fics on wattpad like years ago so I'm a bit rusty, hopefully you guys will like my content enough for me to keep up with it - graybby <3

Faceclaim - Nihachu

She's his sister?!

The door cracks open as Max rushes into Lando’s room giggling to himself. 

“Mate guess what-” Lando’s head snaps up at the intrusion to what he was watching on his phone “what?” tilting his head questionably. 

“You know that twitch streamer you watch Y/N?” - he definitely had his full attention now. 

“SHE'S GEORGE'S SISTER!” Lando juts his lip out and tilts his head, confusion setting in. 

Max laughs “George... George freaking Russell -you know?” 

Lando’s face drops, jaw swinging open - “No fucking way… you-you’re lying to me, you have to be” 

Max shakes his head, deadpanned trying to stifle another laugh. “How did you even find out?” the brunette says - shock written all over his face. 

“George just posted on his private insta and it was a pic of them with HER private account tagged - last name RUSSELL”. Lando jumps to his feet running to snatch Max’s phone to see for himself still in disbelief. 

His eyes scan the page immediately acknowledging the familiar last name she appears to share with the fellow driver he shares his races with. 

“How the hell have they both kept this a secret? Does she even support him at the races? No one has ever spotted her at one " he remarks "Oh yeah - trust you to know that mate” Max pipes up earning a slap to the shoulder as Lando turns away grumbling. 

Max laughs again “Maybe she hides away in the Mercedes garage, at least you might have a chance to be introduced to her now” Lando reddens at the thought of meeting his internet crush “Please shut up Max” he pleads trying to hide his blush behind his hands. 

Max edges towards the door “Anyway, I’m going to bed - I’ll leave you to stalk her - night!”, “Whatever, night Max” he groans out as his friend shuts his bedroom door. He rolls over in his bed, reaching out he grabs his phone and wastes no time in searching for her account. Immediately finding said post on George’s page, he taps the tagged account - without a single thought he follows her. Turning his phone off his heart raced at the anticipation of whether she would even accept his request, him being an absolute stranger to her. 

Ding! 

He feels his stomach flip. She accepted! And followed me back! He feels his palms sweating. Rushing to his notifications he taps on her account and begins browsing through her posts, seeing a vast amount of aesthetic images - that give his .JPG account a run for its money- dating back a few years of her life, a sea of different hair colours and styles of clothing she has adorned over the years and still to his surprise a couple of candid shots of herself and George - a goofy smile worn on both their faces during a water fight on a beach holiday, his memeable pose in ski suits at a resort and most recently few shots from around the paddocks in Saudi Arabia from the last grand prix he had raced with George and the others only last week. Suddenly her change of streaming schedule and lack of main social media presence adds up - she’s been hiding in plain sight - supporting her brother while trying to maintain her distance from the Russell last name, probably knowing the craziness that would ensure if both the Formula 1 and her own twitch fanbase discovered who she was related to. He can’t help the smile gracing his face as he scrolls through her posts, staring at the smile that reaches her eyes in her pictures - capturing her beauty and personality oh so well. He wonders if she spent hours specially cultivating this flow of aesthetic images and if she had anyone in mind when she posted them as he ponders what else she might be hiding from her fanbase. Stop it Lando, he grunts to himself, a hundred thoughts clouding his mind she never mentioned in any stream that she had a boyfriend so calm down - but then again she literally hid her own brother and who he is. He continues doom scrolling her account much to his relief when he realises there's no evidence of a boyfriend in any of her posts - his thumb slips. Fuck! 

His heart drops to his stomach as he realises he's liked one of her pics from two years ago. He immediately closes the app, quick to chuck the phone to the end of his bed as if it were physically hurting him to hold it any longer. He sighs and brings a hand up to rub his temples and tired eyes, glancing at his bedside table at the clock that reads two thirty AM, he decides he needs to try and sleep - hopefully she won't even notice. 

As his eyes are fluttering shut he hears the dooming sound of an instagram notification. 

Ding ! 

Oh fuck. 

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

Thank you for reading <3

#lando x reader #lando norris #ln4 #x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #george russel x reader #george russel imagine #charles leclerc x reader

[keerysfreckles]

time after time — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve's longing glance to y/n makes him decide to stay at the hawkin's middle school snow ball.

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve being a goofball, STEVE FLUFF!!!!!!

a/n: thanks cindy lauper for writing time after time and for my pookie wifey @keerysbrowneyes <3

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

steve harrington had a very interesting fall of 1984. he never thought he'd fight off inter-dimentional monsters again, and especially didn't see himself becoming friends with five middle schoolers.

so he wasn't too surprised while driving dustin henderson to his eight grade winter formal.

"you're gonna go in there," steve starts a pep-talk, "looking like a million bucks."

dustin nods in agreement, before flipping the passenger side visor down, examining his hair once more.

steve grunts while flipping the visor back up. he continues his pep-talk quickly, and makes sure to remind dustin to keep the lion purr out of tonight's vocabulary.

just as steve was about to pull out of the school's parking lot, a figure caught his eye. y/n l/n's figure to be exact. her light purple dress with slightly ruffle sleeves made steve's heart swoon. of course she was wearing her very worn out chuck taylor's to chaperone the dance. steve couldn't remember the last time he saw the girl wearing heels.

he watched for another moment as y/n handed two drinks to two younger girls. steve smiled when y/n did, and he knew he had to do something about it.

the whole time as he was parking his car and walking towards the gym entrance, he made a pro and con list of the decision.

pros; y/n might actually want to see him after he ignored her for a whole week, maybe he'll get to kiss her, and he just wanted to see how pretty she looked up close.

cons; she'd punch him in the face (again), she might not be ready to be face-to-face with the brunette, or she'll simply laugh once steve walks in the double doors.

what could go wrong? he thought, just as he opened the door and walked by mr. clarke.

an upbeat song was playing over the speakers while steve walked under the blue and white arched balloons. to his left, jonathan was taking pictures. in the middle were all the students, either milling around the sides, or dancing in more crowded area. and to his right, was y/n standing at the punch table.

steve felt his heart skip a beat before his feet drug him over to the poorly decorated refreshment table.

he looked over y/n's appearance once again before he was fully in front of her. her purple dress stopped just above her knees, and her hair was pulled back out of her face with a few pieces framing her soft features.

"steve!" y/n smiles once he walks up to the table, "where have you been? i haven't heard from you in a couple of days."

steve chuckles while hiding the truth, "yeah, it's just been pretty busy with senior year."

y/n nods in agreement before steve speaks again.

"how's the drink table going? anybody try and spike the punch yet?"

y/n lets out a laugh, "it's going, and i haven't seen anyone with a hidden flask yet."

a moment of comfortable silence passes before a slower song blares over the speakers and into the gym. most students grab a partner and start slowing swaying back and forth. a lightblub appeared above steve's brown hair.

"do you want to dance?"

the question immediately caught y/n off gaurd. the steve harrington, the boy who she has liked since third grade was asking if she wanted to dance with him.

"i- uh- what about the drink station?" y/n's face grows hot as she stammers out an answer.

"nancy's got it," steve gestures his head behind y/n, making her turn to see nancy walking up behind her.

"go have fun," nancy talks softly after patting y/n away from the table and towards steve.

she lets out another laugh as steve simply holds out his hand. she gladly takes it, and her heart skips at the feeling of his skin on hers. his warm hand encasing her cold one.

steve leads y/n out to the crowd of seventh and eighth graders. she can't help but laugh at how out of place she seems in the middle school gymnasium, but she couldn't care. because she was with steve harrington.

"cmon don't go all stiff on me l/n," steve teases after putting his hands on her waist. the girl's face only grows a darker shade of red while placing her hands on his firm, broad shoulders.

at the same time, the pair subtly look over each other. steve looks over y/n's simple makeup, just blush and mascara. he didn't know how she looked even more beautiful than before. y/n chuckled slightly at his attire, consisting of a red longsleeve, jeans, and of course his red nike's.

"i'm sorry i haven't reached out this past week," steve admits.

y/n shakes her head, while the two were now slowing swaying in circles as the song continued.

"it's okay steve, really. i get it, senior year has been stressful for everyone."

steve wishes he could tell y/n the truth. but he doubts she'd believe him if he said he fought of monsters the past two years, got his ass beat by billy hargrove, and became close to dustin henderson.

steve and y/n both got lost in each other's eyes. she could look into his chocolate brown eyes for hours on end and not get bored. her eyes drifted to his other features. the small creases around his eyebrows while he seemed focused on something, she wanted to run her fingers over the skin to smooth it out. the freckles on his cheeks and moving down his neck, she needed to kiss every single one. the slight smirk he always had adorning his lips, she wished she could just kiss the smirk off his face.

y/n got lost in her daydreaming, she could've sworn steve was leaning closer to her than before.

she didn't want to believe it, but she was leaning in closer as well.

"steve," y/n's voice is quiet, she fears no sound even came out of her mouth.

steve's lips were now centimeters away from y/n's. their foreheads were almost touching, and the thought of steve kissing her only made her dizzy.

however, she knew steve would catch her, feeling as his grip hardened on her waist. he leaned even closer, touching his lips to hers.

his lips were softer than y/n ever imagined. her hands move to the back of his neck, running her fingertips over the soft curls while her thumbs were on his cheeks. steve's hands held y/n so tightly, even if she did fall, she wouldn't have noticed. he held her close, deepening the kiss slightly before pulling away.

both of their lips were a darker shade now, and both teens were slightly out of breath.

to try and seem cool about the whole ordeal, y/n leans forward to place her head on steve's chest. she could hear his heartbeat, as it seemed to pick up slightly at her action.

steve smiled to himself. he actually kissed her. y/n l/n, the girl he's adored since the fifth grade formal actually kissed him back.

steve kissed the top of y/n's head, and internally thanked his younger self for the growth spurt, now making him at least seven inches taller than the girl in his arms.

the song was coming to a close, but steve didn't want this moment to end.

"do you want to get milkshakes?"

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #steve harrington st #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #stranger things headcanons #stranger things netflix

[sunshinescribes]

Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.  

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.  

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.  

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.  

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours. 

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

PART 2

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x y/n #x reader

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 5

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x OC!reader, cursing, maybe. Self-doubt and insecurities.

Words: 3165

The One I Want Masterlist

---

You are stirred by a knock at your door and you flip over in bed, eyes widening when you find the sun too high in the sky for the hour you were expected to wake. 

“Shit! I’m gonna be late.” 

Throwing back the covers you hop out of the warmth of your mattress into the chill of the room, and rush toward the bathroom. But there’s another knock. Glancing between the door and the bathroom, you debate which is more important, but you know Jake is on the other side. And you know he won’t stop. So, quickly as you can, you make your way to the opposite side of the room and yank the door open. 

“Hey,” Jake says with a smile. “I was, uh…I–”

Your brow raises in question, but then you realize where the two-second glance of his eyes landed before they returned to your face. The speedy transition from comfy bed to cold air caused your nipples to bud and press through the thin fabric of your tight tank top. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, and ignoring the blush you can’t will away, you say, “What’s up?”

“You weren’t up for work, so I thought you might be sick or something.”

“Nope, not sick,” you reply, stepping back to ease the door closed. You really need to get ready. You’re already calculating how long each of your morning routine tasks will take if you operate at max speed. 

“Wait,” Jake says, his palm flattening against the door. It’s not forceful, you could slam it closed if you really wanted to, but the look on Jake’s face makes you pause for him. “When I pick you up, any chance you want to go to a bonfire? Just friends from work and a couple of locals. It’s not going to be anything crazy.”

“Yea, sure,” you rush out, not soaking in his words. You’re going to be late, he’s going to be late, and you need to get rid of him. 

Jake smiles again as he says, “Really?” and you nod, not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to. But it works to move him along. 

He wishes you a good day and begins to head for the front door when, suddenly, he pauses halfway on his path. You think he’s about to ask you something else that you won’t comprehend with the anxiety of being late to work consuming your thoughts, but he simply stands there with his back to you, blows out a breath, and rests one hand on his hip while the other runs through his hair.

“Calm the fuck down,” you hear him mutter before he collects himself and resumes his move toward the door and out of the apartment. 

Thankful that he’s finally gone, you shower as fast as humanly possible, dress, and run into the kitchen to grab a water bottle to shove into your bag and the first piece of food you can find, a banana, to devour before you leave. At this rate, you’ll only be fifteen minutes late, but considering you’ve not once been tardy in the week and a half you’ve worked at the shop, you hope the owner will go easy on you. No one buys souvenirs at nine a.m. on a Friday, anyway. Hopefully. 

But fifteen minutes late turns into twenty. 

With the last bite of banana chewed, you toss the peel into the garbage can, but before the automatic lid fully closes, you catch a glimpse of an all too familiar item with all too familiar writing. Your foot presses on the pedal to shoot the lid back open. Reaching inside, you smack the banana peel out of the way and wrap your hand around the mug. 

My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator. You know those words. You know this mug. You sold this mug, to a busty blonde with an attitude problem. 

Though Jake’s been gone for more than ten minutes, your line of vision meets the front door to the apartment as if he had shut it behind him only moments ago. 

—

Jake’s hand casually rests on top of the steering wheel, guiding his truck steadily with the heel of his palm, and you wonder if he’s handled everything in his life with such ease; if he’s faced a single hardship or if a beautiful fate shined down upon him from the very beginning. 

From the moment you met Jake, you could tell he’d grown up well. He walks with the confidence of a man who has years of praise straightening his spine and holding his shoulders back. He speaks without the fear of being scolded, though being in the military, you’re positive he’s been barked at enough for a lifetime. He’s smart and clean and put together as if there was never the possibility for him to be anything else. And here you are, not remembering the last time you weren’t tense walking out your front door. 

“I’m really glad you’re coming with me,” Jake says. 

It jolts you out of your thoughts. 

Jake hadn’t given you much of an explanation for how the night would unfold, and you were too embarrassed to ask, having not really listened to him that morning when he was asking you to join him. In fact, you’d forgotten your commitment to any activity after your shift until he showed up at the gift shop to pick you up with your sweater draped over the passenger seat claiming it gets a little chilly at night.

“It’s no problem,” you say in response, knowing that this event could absolutely be a problem. 

You don’t know these people well. You don’t know this location. You don’t know how to handle being around Jake for an entire night after finding that mug in the trash and feeling the tiniest of pangs in your chest. You don’t want to think about the woman who bought it, what she meant, or possibly still means, to him. 

Jake puts the truck in park and turns to you with a grin that brightens his eyes even in the dim light of the nearby street lamp. “Ready?”

“Sure,” you answer, a wobble in your voice. 

He hops out of the car and hurries to your side, opening the door and reaching out to you. You stare at his hand for a beat before you decide to slip yours into his grasp so he can help you make the short leap from your seat to the sand. 

“Thanks.”

He gives you a nod, but he doesn’t release your hand as he guides you to the glowing light in the distance and the many silhouettes surrounding it. 

It feels odd when the small group smiles at you as you close the distance to the bonfire—an immediate acceptance from Jake’s friends and team. A few from the team you’d only met once, briefly, but you wouldn’t have assumed you made enough of an impression for them to be so welcoming now. 

Javy rises from one of the unfoldable chairs and rushes to you with his arms spread wide. He greets you with a “Hello Sweetness” and what you’re sure would’ve been a lung-crushing squeeze if Jake hadn’t put his free hand against his friend's chest to stop him before he could get to you. 

“Hands to yourself,” Jake warns. 

Javy’s arms slap down to his sides with the same dramaticism of his lips falling into a pout. He glances down. “You don’t keep your hands to yourself,” he whines, but there’s a subtle tease to it, a little quirk of his mouth that has your eyes going wide and your hand jerking free from Jake’s.

His eyes dart to the loss of weight between his fingers, then over to you, and you can detect the disappointment on his face despite not looking his way to confirm it. He turns back to Javy, who becomes the line leader toward the rest of the group. 

“She’s here!” Javy announces to your embarrassment, then in a dull tone says, “Jake’s here, too, but that’s less important.”

One by one, each of Jake’s friends greet you with nods and more smiles and questions of “How are you?” and “How was your day?” and you do your best to answer. You meet four others. The Bob you’ve heard plenty about who instantly gives up his seat for you; Rooster’s girlfriend, Millie—a petite red-head with a southern twang to her voice and a laugh that echoes across the waves of the ocean; and Mav and Penny, a couple that seems to operate as the parental figures of their younger friends. 

For the most part, you keep quiet as the night goes on, and from that decision, learn plenty. After two hours of experiencing them all in one place, your previous belief that these people solely operate as friends and teammates is quickly tossed away. They are family, held together by far more powerful sources than blood. Their lives are interwoven. They’re protectors of one another on land as much as they are at sea and in the sky. But it’s the teasing and story-telling, genuine pride, and support of each other that stings your nose and blurs the edges of your vision from springing tears. 

You’ve never seen people exist like this. People damage, people rip apart, and then people leave. No one sticks around to aid in healing others’ wounds—you thought. But you could pick any one of those in front of you now—electively sitting around a pit of fire with bottles of beer in their hands as they enjoy one another's company—and know that they have healed someone to their left or right. In their living, breathing unit, each person is vital for continuing on, and for whatever reason, for the time being, you’ve been invited into them.

Jake, in the midst of retelling a crowd-pleasing story, doesn’t sense you slip away to nestle in the sand. His voice fades to the waves that slide over the damp and heavy grains to touch your toes, retreat, and reliably reach for you again. One of few things that comes back, you think. The waves, and Jake you suppose. Both of which you’re finding are masters of the rebound. There is no pushing away either without preparing yourself for their return. The waves aren’t going anywhere, and with how your fingertips still tingle from Jake’s hand in yours, you’re starting to believe neither is he. 

You can’t say how much time has passed when you’re joined by another.

“He noticed, ya know,” you hear just as the little redhead plops down beside you. “That you’re not next to him.”

With knees bent, you wrap your arms around your thighs and hum, daring yourself not to glance over your shoulder. You can’t figure out what you want. For his eyes to search in the hope of meeting yours, or not. Instead, you focus on the newcomer. 

Millie is tiny, that’s for sure. She makes you feel like a city-destroying giant in this proximity, but unlike with most other women, your insecurity from being around her stops at the height difference. While there are probably a hundred differences between you, many of which can be spotted with a single look, you find comfort in one confirmed similarity: her shape. 

Her chest is heavy. She’s full in the hips and thick in the thighs, and when she’s perched on Rooster’s lap, a couple of rolls form where her tummy is. Rolls that she doesn’t care are obvious through her snug shirt. Rolls that don’t stop Rooster from running his hands over her body, fingers occasionally drifting to dangerous areas when he thinks no one else is watching. Most people aren’t watching. You are. 

Whenever a couple like them is shoved in your face, you picture loads of things that you probably shouldn’t be picturing considering this couple in particular could be in your life for a while. But you can’t help it. You picture them together, wrapped around one another, Rooster holding Millie close, sucking on her full breasts, kissing her stretch-marked skin, burying his head between thighs he would gladly permit to suffocate him. There are smiles and giggles and genuine moans of pleasure. You picture love meeting sex.

To your defense, it isn’t about Rooster or Millie. When you picture these scenarios, the people themselves lose their meaning to you, if they ever had meaning at all. They become Perfect Man and Imperfect Woman. Perfect Man who falls on his knees for Imperfect Woman. Perfect Man who worships Imperfect Woman despite her imperfections. Every duo like Rooster and Millie you’ve come across in your stopping points around the country worms their way into your daydreams. You’ve never quite had the Perfect/Imperfect couple so close, though, and as much as you try to ignore it, it plants a seed of hope.  

“He didn’t want to bother you if you wanted a second to be alone,” Millie says to your shock, because since when doesn’t Jake Seresin squeeze himself into your space uninvited? That’s shown to be one of his top ten skills. 

“Were you sent over?”

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘P’. “I just happen to enjoy your company. You, me, and Penny gotta stick together. We’re the only gals in this crew who don’t get to fly without a chaperone.” Her head quirks to the side. “Well, there’s Payback’s girl as well. They’re overseas for a few more months—Fanboy, too.”

Jake mentioned them. Another set of best friends whose seats at this family table could not be occupied by outsiders. 

Millie leans back on her palms, tucking her toes into the sand. “I know they can be overwhelmin’,” she says. “They’re loud—well, with the exception of Bobby—and they’re all annoyingly attractive, right?”

Especially annoying is one particular pilot. 

“I never thought in a million years a guy like Bradley would develop a thing for me.”

“How’d you meet him?” you ask Millie, who instantly grins at the memory.

“I've got an uncle in the Navy,” she says, and if you closed your eyes, her southern accent would take you right to Alabama. You didn’t do well in Alabama. But Millie is far from a representation of the population you’d found yourself within. “Came to visit for the summer, met Bradley, and that was that.”

“You never went back home?”

She lets out a laugh that almost has her rolling onto her side. “Oh no, Honey, I did,” she finally gets out. “But I gave that dope my phone number. He kept callin’ and textin’. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to come back.” 

Giving her an amused look at the image of that burly pilot a few yards away being so desperate, Millie giggles and pats your knee. 

“I know, what a creep. But he won me over before I left, so I was lenient,” she says. “We spent more time together, and when he asked me to be his girl and move in with him, I said yes. Actually, I got here not long before you arrived.”

You take a moment to think over what she’s shared over the course of the night. Millie is young, at least a decade separating her and her boyfriend, and, from what you understand after her earlier telling of her story for you, she had a whole life on the other side of the country. A mother, a grandmother, a brother, a father who is less than thrilled his baby girl lives with a man much older than herself. A job lined up at her family’s small business. A good country boy everyone expected her to start dating soon. Yet, it appears with no reservations, she picked up, left her family, her business, and that country boy to settle in with Rooster. 

You can’t help but question what it would take for you to pick a place and stay in it. Neither can you remember the last town you lived in for more than four months. 

“Do you like it here?” you ask.

“Oh, it's lovely. Different, absolutely. But it’s not about here,” she shakes her head. “It’s about him. I’ll go where he goes.” Turning her head, she looks back to the group and smiles. A blush spreads across her cheeks from whatever charming, flirty gesture you guarantee Rooster just directed her way. “Datin’ a pilot,” she continues, her gaze back on the ocean, “is certainly…somethin’. It’s got its challenges, for sure, but Bradley is worth it.”

You nod because, on a level, you understand. Rooster is as kind as he is good-looking, and it takes about three breaths in their presence to see that he’s head over heels in love with his girlfriend. He’s gentle with her in a way you’ve never known—sweet—and when he looks at her, you see in his eyes that he is looking at his future. His wife. The mother of his children. Whether she knows of his plans or not, it makes sense that she stays by his side. No one with their head on straight would let that go if they could get away with it. 

“Jake’s a good guy, ya know,” Millie suddenly states, her honey-toned eyes meeting the plane of your profile. “He’d be worth it, too.”

Eyes widening, your head snaps to her so fast you feel a muscle tweak in your neck. 

She smiles softly, almost motherly though she’s younger than you, then she stands and dusts the sand off the back of her cutoffs. “Just somethin’ to think about, Honey,” she says. “I’ll let him know you’re alright.”

With Millie gone, you take extra minutes to collect yourself; take your deep breaths and try to wrap your head around her words. You’re not so sure you can. They’re as hard to push aside as the words and names directed at you in the past—the reasons you abandoned the places you’ve been to end up here. But for the first time, you don’t taste that sourness on your tongue or feel the swell and ache of nausea in your gut. There’s a wiggliness to your nerves from anxiety, but they accompany an intense pounding of your heart you’ve not experienced in so long you’d almost forgotten what it’s like. 

Standing, you brush away the sand that had snuck its way into the folds of your clothes and you turn. At some point, Jake switched seats with Bradley for the one that faces the ocean, faces you, and your stare instantly meets his. 

His knee is bouncing. He gives you a smile laced with concern, but it has enough power behind it to encourage you closer. So you step forward, one foot before the other until you see the movement of a bobbing head in your peripherals. Breaking your connected stare, your eyes flick to the right of Jake’s head and onto a figure in the distance.

And much like that mug from this morning, you think you know this figure. 

---

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[ghostxrose]

Dance With a Demon | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary ~ You thought it would be just another night at work until your eyes met the crimson ones of Pro Hero Dynamight..

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW 18+ Content, Charaters are in their 20s, FemStripper!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, porn with some plot, oral sex, face riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, WC 9k, idk what else to tag

Note ~ Hello Lovelies! I hope you all enjoy this spicy lil fic i've got for ya here! I'm still not all that good at writing smut stuff so don't expect too much of me, haha. I do want to give a quick thank you for all of the hype I got for this fic from my Sneak Peek post, so thank you Lovelies! Anyway, I'll let all you fiends get to reading! <3

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the back door to the nightclub you work at from the driver’s seat of your car. You weigh the pros and cons of going inside and clocking in for your shift while you sip on your first Red Bull of the night. It’s not that you hate your job or your coworkers, it’s just that feeling that everyone gets before walking into work. That feeling of “ugh, I wanna go back home and be lazy” that settles over you until you shove it away and force yourself to get out of your car. With your bag slung lazily over one shoulder you lock your car, then head for the door that you’ve been dead-eyeing on and off for the last 30-ish minutes.

Once inside the nightclub, you make your way to your dressing room. The bass from whatever song whoever is on stage right now has chosen thumps through your eardrums and chest. You absentmindedly nod your head to the beat as you enter your dressing room. You close the door behind you and lock it, then walk over to the vanity. Setting your bag down, you grab the tablet sitting at the corner of the vanity countertop from its charging port and sit down. You log into the nightclub’s app and clock in before clicking the “songs” tab within the app.

Once it loads up you scroll through the list of suggested songs but none of them really call out to you or feel right for the vibe you create when you get on stage. You tap the search function then get to typing and looking up songs to add to your list for your sets tonight. As soon as you’ve lined up a pretty nice selection of six songs you submit the list, then shut the tablet off and begin prepping yourself for your first set.

You touch up your makeup and loosely curl your hair. After laying out both outfits you brought for tonight, you decide to flip a coin to see which one you should wear first. Heads is for the lacy dark purple bra and thong set with a pair of black open-toed stilettos - simple but still a favorite amongst crowds. Tails is for the slightly more intricately designed deep wine colored bralette and g-string set with dark red cross strap, heeled sandals - another crowd favorite because of the way it’s slightly more.. sheer as far as materials go.

You toss the coin into the air with a small but knowing smirk because you know that it really doesn’t matter what outfit you wear. What people really show up for are the feelings of dark attraction that the physical traits of your Quirk stirs up inside them. Attraction that makes them feel as if it’s taboo or maybe even dangerous to tamper with, but they enjoy the thrill either way.

Your Quirk is called Hellspawn, but you’ve never viewed it in a negative light. Your Quirk is the product of generations of similar Quirks possessed by both sides of your family. You’ve been taught your whole life to be proud of your Quirk and its traits, no matter what people might say or think. You confidently show off your demon-like horns, wings, fangs, and tail every day.

The coin lands on heads so you put on the dark purple outfit and stilettos, taking your time to make sure everything goes on just right. With one final glance in the full length mirror in your dressing room you smile at your reflection, then turn to leave and head backstage. As you walk through the back hallways of the nightclub you begin to feel excitement and adrenaline thrum through your veins. Just because this is a job doesn’t mean that you don’t have fun when you’re up on stage.

“There’s my girl! How’re ya doin’ tonight, Luci?” Sakura, the nightclub’s manager and owner, cheerfully greets you when you get backstage.

“Ask me that after my set,” you say jokingly. “Better yet, when you see me raking in tons of bills just assume that I’m feeling pretty good!” You add on with a smirk.

“Mmm, always love your confidence, Babes! Alright, now get out there and kill it like you always do!” Sakura says with a wink, then focuses back on whatever she was working on her tablet.

You smile to yourself, amped up by the vibes within the club and your rising confidence, and begin stretching to warm your muscles up for your first set of the night. More adrenaline, and the caffeine from your energy drink, hits your veins when you hear the ending of the last song for whoever is on stage and you wait for your stage name to be called.

“Alright everyone, can I get a round of cheers for our lovely Siren?! Don’t worry, they’ll be back a little later!!” Hikari, tonight’s DJ, says after hopping on the mic.

“You all are in for a real treat now, though! Please help me in summoning our resident hot demon-babe to the stage; Lucifer!!” A wild smile pulls at your lips as you take in the crowds hyped up cheers from the other side of the curtain. “Get your sexy ass out here, Luci!!” Hikari excitedly calls for you and you let out a giggle before taking a step forward.

Pulling back the curtain you slowly walk further onto the stage, emerging from a cloud of smoke and into the dark-neon lights shining onto the stage. You smile and wink over at Hikari in the DJ’s booth and she blows you a kiss making you giggle a bit. Looking back towards the crowd you sway your hips as you walk, your eyes half lidded and a sultry, fanged smile on your face. Your body getting into the flow of the music from the first song of this set. The bass produced from Obsolete Ritual makes you vibrate when it hits and it’s a rush that fuels the amped up fire within you that you’ll never get over.

Getting up to the pole at the end of the catwalk, you wrap your hands around it and walk in a slow, teasing circle despite the song’s tempo having sped up. Your eyes scan over the crowd, running across the familiar faces of regulars and lingering for mere seconds over new faces. For reasons unbeknownst to you, your gaze gets stuck on one new face in particular.

Sharp, crimson eyes connect with yours, the stranger’s handsome face set in a scowl. ‘The hell is he scowling in a stripclub for? If he didn’t want to be here, then why did he come? Or maybe he’s just mad that Siren’s set ended? Whatever, buddy, try to enjoy the show.’ You think to yourself as you pull your gaze from Grumpy Hot Guy and officially begin your routine.

As you bend, twist, and dance your way through Obsolete Ritual, Veins, and Descending you find that Grumpy Hot Guy’s eyes never seem to leave you. His scowl remained but his eyes seemed to burn more with every movement of your body. When you finish your set you have to force yourself not to look at him as you spread your wings and bow to the crowd.

The weight of his eyes on you grows heavy as you help the club’s “Money Grabbers” rake in your earnings. Purposefully ignoring him you smile, giggle, and thank customers as they stuff more bills into your lingerie as you work to grab cash from the floor of the stage. You move to head offstage once all of the money has been gathered when you’re stopped by a tug on your tail. You let out a yelp, then quickly turn around to hiss at whoever the perv is that committed the action. A security guard is already handling the guy but he still has the nerve to shoot you an unsettling and creepy smirk. You hiss anyway, then roll your eyes as you stand and quickly leave the stage.

“Christ, are you okay, Luci?? Fucking hate pervs like that bastard! He’s being thrown out as we speak, so don’t worry! How’s your tail??” Sakura frantically asks, immediately mother-henning you as soon as you’re backstage.

You let out a soft giggle and give her an appreciative smile, “I’m fine and so is my tail, but thank you. Handsy people are very annoying but I can handle it and I’m fine.” You say reassuringly and Sakura lets out a relieved breath, then looks you in the eye with a smirk.

“Ugh, what’s with the look, Sakura? Did I really make that much from the set?” You question with a slightly bored look.

“Way off base with the guess there, Babes! Seems like we may have a few heroes in the house tonight, literally! I was watching the cameras when that creep grabbed your tail and I saw a few customers try to get to you, one in particular seemed especially pissed. Any guesses as to who they could be before I tell you?!” Sakura explains with a playful glint in her eyes.

“You know I hate guessing games,” you say in a forced bored tone that hopefully masks your itching curiosity.

“Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Luci! Anyways, Pro Heroes Cellophane, Chargebolt, Pinky, Red Riot, and Dynamight were rushing to be your knights in shining armor! How crazy and exciting is it that a few Top Ten Pros are here at my nightclub?! Wild, right?!” Sakura reveals and you mentally kick yourself for not piecing together that Grumpy Hot Guy with the crimson eyes and spiky blonde hair is Pro Hero Dynamight.

“Uh, yeah, that is pretty crazy.. Uhm, I’m gonna go clean up and get ready for my next set, see you back here in an hour.” You say in a slight daze, the shock from Dynamight not being able to keep his eyes off of you clouding your mind.

“Mhm, gonna go make yourself extra pretty for the Pros, huh?” Sakura says with a devilish smirk.

“Sakura, please, I’m hot enough as it is. If I got any prettier customers would start dropping dead.” You say matter-of-factly after you’ve turned to walk away, hoping that Sakura didn’t see your blush. Sakura bursts out laughing behind you telling you to not kill her sources of income. You wave a playfully dismissive hand in the air before disappearing down the hallway back to your dressing room.

Once you’ve locked your dressing room door you let out a long exhale. You had run into a few of your coworkers on your way back to your dressing room and had to reassure every one of them that you were okay. But not only that, you were reminded again and again that there are Pros out in the crowd tonight via your coworkers gushing over their favorites within the group that came. Apparently a couple of your coworkers are major Dynamight fans and you tried your best to keep your cool when they wouldn’t shut up about how hot he is.

Even now, sitting at your vanity touching up your hair and makeup, you swear that you can still feel his burning gaze on you. Thinking about every time you made eye contact with him during your first set stirs something up inside of you and your reflection shows the blush you can feel heating your cheeks. As you change into your second outfit of the night you can’t tell if you’re nervous or hyped to get back on stage.

As soon as the straps of your heels are tied you make your way towards the mini fridge in your room. You grab the small bottle of Grey Goose and a small can of Red Bull from inside the fridge, then a shot glass from the top of the fridge. Sitting back down at your vanity, you pour yourself a shot and crack open your Red Bull. Downing the shot, you give it a second to settle before you pour a second. After shooting the second shot, you put the Grey Goose back and start drinking your Red Bull.

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of liquid courage, right? It’s just to help me through my next set after that creep touched me.’ You reason with (aka lie to) yourself as you look over yourself in the mirror.

A little over five minutes before you are to be called onto stage again, you make your way backstage. The shots you took earlier have succeeded in helping you feel like the confident and powerful Queen of the Underworld that you are. A cat-calling whistle pulls your attention over to Sakura and she gives you a smirk.

“Thought I told you not to kill my customers, Babes! Gah damn, you look hot! Trying to impress some certain Pro Heroes out there?” Sakura exclaims with a shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Being hot is part of the job, Boss. I don’t need to impress anyone but myself.” You say as you suppress a blush and look at your nails.

“Damn straight, Babes! Preach! Ugh, sometimes I’d really kill for your level of confidence.” Sakura says in all of her dramatic flare.

You giggle and shake your head as you blow her kiss, then turn towards the curtain. You exchange smiles with Siren as they walk through the curtain to head back to their room and wait for your cue.

“Everybody, shh shh, quiet down for a moment,” You hear Hikari say over the club’s speakers and you wonder what she has planned. You stifle an excited giggle and bounce a bit with anticipation.

“Oh, sexy Queen of Darkness, please grace us with your presence!” Hikari half chants, half moans into the mic, and you have to cover your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Lucifer, hear us and show yourself! We’re on our knees, begging! Get out here you little vixen!” Hikari dramatically cries out and you do your best to not laugh your ass off at her antics.

With smoke clouding the view of the curtain you slip through carefully so you don’t disturb it. Suddenly, you flare your wings out and let your eyes glow, your arms held out to your sides a bit as you slowly walk forward. Spotlights slowly crawl towards you and up your body until you’re illuminated and you flash an “evil” grin at the crowd.

“Oh yeah, baby!!” Hikari dramatically moans out as she starts the first song of this set.

A laugh leaves your mouth and a genuine smile pulls at your lips as you walk to the pole at the end of the catwalk. Each of your steps deliberately heavy so that your breasts and ass bounce to the beat of Hot Demon B!Tches Near U as you walk. You briefly lock eyes with Dynamight and in all of your confidence (liquid and natural) you wink at him before grabbing the pole and getting to dancing.

HDBNU and the second song Slayer are full of fast paced moves and ass shaking, money seemingly raining down like confetti. So caught up in keeping time with the song, you had blurred out the crowd. It wasn’t until the first base drop of your last song, Fill The Void, that you noticed something slightly startling.

You had your back against the pole and slowly slid down it. Your arms stretched above you gripping said pole and your legs spreading as you sank to the ground. Your breathing hitched a bit when your eyes connected with burning crimson, the owner of the eyes standing at the front of the crowd at the edge of the stage. You did your best to hide your surprise but of course Dynamight noticed and he sent you a small smirk.

You smirk back at him, accepting an unspoken challenge of sorts, slowly and sensually standing back up. Wrapping your legs around the pole you do a few tricks before you slowly slide down, feet hitting the floor once more. Swaying and moving your body to the music, you get to the front of the pole where you sink to the floor once again, this time getting on your hands and knees.

You bite your lip seductively and slowly crawl towards the crowd, your tail slowly swishing side to side and your eyes glowing. You stare Dynamight right in the eyes as you crawl and mouth the last few words of the song. You stop about half a foot from the edge of the stage and gently roll onto your back, arching it and sensually running your hands down your body. As the song comes to a close, your eyes glow significantly brighter, you let out a puff of blue-colored fire.

When the song finally ends, you stand up and bow, blowing kisses and smiling at the crowd. You cast one last glance at Dynamight and find that he looks slightly stunned. You smirk, then turn to make your way off of the stage, hips swaying the entire time. Getting backstage, your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible and Sakura definitely notices.

“Christ, Luci, I’m gonna have to call every ambulance in Tokyo after that performance! Shit, I think I’m even having heart palpitations! You fucking killed it out there, Babes!” Sakura exclaims, one hand fanning her face and the other on her chest.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush!” You say, feigning embarrassment, but ultimately giggling.

“You know who's blushing? Everyone out there who just jizzed their pants!” Sakura says, sending both of you into a laughing fit.

“But for real, great work! Now go grab a snack, get changed, and help out the other servers on the floor, please!” Sakura loosely orders with a bright smile.

“Yes, ma’am!” You say with a mocking salute and smile, then head to your dressing room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once you’ve changed into the club’s server outfit, aka a top that is basically a bralette paired with what could be the shortest skirt in the world, some cheeky panties underneath, and knee high stiletto boots, you make your way out to the bar.

“There she is; the girl who always makes me regret not bringing an extra pair of underwear!” Ruby, the bartender for the night, playfully exclaims as you walk up to the counter.

“Thought you knew better by now!” You say with a laugh and Ruby rolls their eyes with a smile.

“Alright, Love, here’s a tray of drinks for the group over at VIP table three. I don’t know if Sakura told ya, but the VIP section will be yours tonight.” Ruby says as they carefully slide a serving tray full of drinks towards you.

“C’mon, Rue, of course she didn’t tell me. Do I ever work any other section?” You comment with feigned annoyance and Ruby laughs.

In reality, you love working the VIP section. It’s always full of rich people with too much money to spend and they always tip very generously. It certainly helps that you flirt your ass off whilst serving but everyone does that.

Picking the tray up with the skill and grace you’ve perfected over the years of being in this industry, you send one last smile and wink to Ruby before heading for the VIP section of the lounge. You smile at patrons as you move through the crowd, giggling and thanking them for the compliments they give about your performance. While you truly do love your job, customer service could still be considered a performance and you are flawless at it.. Until you make it past the roped off entrance to the VIP lounge and see the group at table three.

Virtually unnoticeably, your steps falter and you’re thankful that the club's ambience is fairly dim as you take in a steadying breath. Mentally reasserting your confidence, you paint on a cool and flirty smile as you walk over to table three. Your thoughts run through your mind, filling you with the tiniest bit of dread, ‘Of fucking course it’s them.. I mean, they are Pro Heroes, why wouldn’t they be in the VIP lounge.. For fuck sa-’

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Lucifer, or Luci for short, I’ll be one of your servers tonight. I have your drinks here, but let me know if you need anything else.” You say as you set the tray down on the table, your voice coming out impressively even and a bit sultry.

“Yeah, uhm, I’m gunna need your number,” Chargebolt drunkenly slurs out, a dopey smile on his face and hearts practically in his eyes, as he grabs his drink from the tray.

You giggle at his attempt at hitting on you, having to keep from full-on laughing when you notice Dynamight’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye. You smile gently at Chargebolt, “Sorry, babes, but I don’t give my number out to strangers.” You say with a sympathetic pout as you try not to join the rest of the group in their laughter.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m Chargebolt aka Denk- OW! Man, c’mon, you don’t gotta hit me!” Chargebolt whines as he pouts at Dynamight while rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry about him! He hits on anyone who breathes his way! Thanks for the drinks, Luci!” Pinky giggles out over Chargebolt’s whining, said man still on the receiving end of Dynamight’s murderous glare.

“No problem! I’ve got a few other tables to serve but I’ll check back in a little bit!” You say as you pick up the now empty tray and step back from the table.

You hear the rest of the group thank you as you walk away, Dynamight’s grumbled and gravelly ‘thanks’ sending a wave of heat through your body. ‘It should be illegal for someone’s one-worded, grumbled response to sound so sexy, what the fuck?!’ You mentally curse as you walk up to one of the other tables.

The hours fly by quickly as you wait on each of your tables. Every stop at the Pros’ table met with flirty quips from the group, minus Dynamight. In fact, he hasn’t even looked at you the whole time you’ve been off-stage. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t just a little disappointed, but you shove it down to keep your sultry and flirty persona up. You flirtatiously thank the group at VIP table five as you stick the wad of bills that is your tip from them into your bralette and blow them a kiss as you walk towards the bar.

“Hey Ruby, you got the time?” You ask, exhaustion leaking into your tone.

“A little past one. You’re off at 15, right?” Ruby asks as they wipe off a glass. You nod, relief settling over you as well as exhaustion. It was a good shift but you are so ready to go home.

“This tray is for three, right? I’ll take it to them before I head back to my room.” You say, picking the tray up with a bit of a huff.

“Don’t act like you’re doing any favors for anyone, you just wanna see the Pros one last time before you leave.” Ruby teases with a smirk and you feign offense.

“Or I just want to reem them for tips, but go off I guess.” You playfully bite back, then giggle as Ruby raises an eyebrow at you.

Despite your exhaustion setting in more with each minute passing, you quickly make your way to the table of Pros. Pouring the last of your energy into your customer service persona, you set the tray of drinks down on the table and smile at the group.

“Hey Heroes, it has been an extreme pleasure serving and meeting all of you but it is now the end of my shift. One of our other servers will take over for me, I hope that you all enjoy the rest of your night!” The well-rehearsed spiel leaves your mouth with a pleasant tone and warm smile.

“I know I’ll be back if only to watch you dance again,” Pinky says with a flirty smile and wink that makes you giggle.

“Thanks for being so amazing!” Red Riot says with a bright smile as he hands you a fat wad of cash. You feign surprise as you take the cash and thank them all as you shove it in what little space you have left in your bralette. You spare one last glance at Dynamight and suppress a frown when you catch him looking very intently at his phone. You say your goodbyes, then rush to drop the empty tray off at the bar before heading back to your dressing room.

Changing back into the sweatpants and sweater that you arrived to work in, you feel the bone-deep heaviness that comes with being tired. You throw your hair up into a messy bun and slip your shoes on, then clock out from the tablet in your room. Slipping your bag onto your shoulder you leave your room and head for Sakura’s office to pick up your earnings from the night.

“Hey Boss, I’m outta here,” You announce from the doorway of her office.

“Alrighty, Babes! Here’s your check, you made pretty good bank tonight! Might be a little more than usual, awesome job!” Sakura beams as she hands you the envelope with your check in it.

Taking the envelope and putting it into your bag, you smile tiredly at her, “Thanks, Sakura. See ya later.”

“You want an escort to your car? I can call one of the bouncers back.” Sakura offers like she always does.

“Nah, I’m good. You already know that I’m the scary creature that lurks in the shadows.” You joke as you activate your Quirk a bit causing your eyes to glow while you shoot her a fanged smile. She laughs at your antics then bids you goodnight and you begin your walk to the back door of the club.

You step out into the chilly night air and are nearly blinded by a set of headlights coming from a car parked in the spot right in front of the door. You put your hand up to shield your eyes from the bright ass headlights and try to see who may be in the car. Suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and an anxious chill shivers down your spine. From your peripherals you see a hand reaching toward you and you try to move out of the person’s reach. Unfortunately, you’re a tad too late and they are able to grab your wrist and pull you towards them. You come face to face with the creep from earlier and your stomach drops as fear begins to course through you.

“Finally, some alone time with the demon-whore herself. Ya know, I’m a real big fan of yers. Wha’ do ya say we go back to my place and commit some sins, baby?” The creep-ass perv drawls out with a sick smile and your fear quickly turns to anger.

“Fuck off, you corny-ass pervert!” You growl out and you jerk your wrist up to your face, letting out a small breath of blue flames aimed towards the creep’s arm.

“Fucking bitch!” The degenerate of a man roars out as he yanks his hand away, continuing to curse from the pain.

You take the opportunity to whirl around and rush back into the club, locking the back door behind you once you’re inside. The door begins rattling from heavy banging against it and you can hear muffled shouts coming through from the man. You stand there shaking and trying to think of what to do now when you hear the footsteps of someone running towards you. Squinting through the dim lighting you nearly cry at the sight of Sakura and Pinky.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asks, her years of being a Pro making her voice come out steady even though she just ran here, and you nod shakily.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Luci! I should have checked the cams before sending you off! Fuck, I’m so stupid!” Sakura cries into your shoulder after pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s not your fault, Sakura, it’s okay.” You whisper, your voice coming out strained as you try not to cry, and hug her back.

The three of you jump at the sound of an explosion coming from outside the door, and Pinky pushes you both behind her. You all stand there quietly for a few moments until Pinky’s phone goes off. She answers it quickly and you’re only able to catch her end of the call, “Yeah... She’s fine... Ugh, gross, what a bastard… Okay, thanks Red!” She finishes, then hangs up and turns around to you and Sakura.

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You don’t need to be checked out by a doctor or anything?” Pinky questions as her eyes roam over your form to visibly check for any injuries whatsoever.

“No, no, I’m okay. I just want to go home.” You quietly assure the two; Pinky cautiously believes you but Sakura is still suspicious that you’re hiding any sort of pain. A loud bang on the door makes both you and Sakura jump while Pinky just lets out a sigh.

“Unlock the door, dammit!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door and Pinky takes it upon herself to fulfill the demand.

The door swings open to reveal Dynamight, the dim lights from inside the club and the street lamps from outside the only things illuminating his figure. You can still tell that his face is scrunched up into something angry even with the poor lighting if the way he is grumbling about the “fucking creepy pervert” is anything to go by.

“Good job taking down that creep, Blasty!” Pinky cheers with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Shuddup,” Dynamight says with annoyance laced in his tone, but Pinky just laughs it off as she walks past him.

“Miss Sakura, if you could come with me? The police may want to see the security footage or get a statement from you.” Pinky says from her paused position in the doorway.

“Of course! Text me when you get home, Luci! I mean it, like, as soon as you pull into your driveway!” Sakura demands with a stern look on her face as she moves to catch up with Pinky.

“I will,” You promise with a small smile and send her a wave as she leaves.

A few moments of silence pass as you and Dynamight just stand there, an air of awkwardness beginning to settle in before you speak up, “Thanks for.. arresting that guy.” You say quietly, looking at him with a small smile.

“The guy had a pretty bad burn on his arm when we showed up.. Any idea where it might have come from?” Dynamight asks in a low and even tone, his sharp crimson eyes looking into yours.

Your smile drops and panic churns at your stomach, “I-I.. it was self defense! I-I didn’t know what else to do, h-he wouldn’t let go of me!” You fearfully begin defending yourself, only just now realizing that you used your Quirk unlicensed to harm somebody. Your heart begins to race and your breaths start to stutter, mind racing over the fact that you broke the law.

“Calm down, I was just curious. As far as the cops are concerned they think I did it, so you’re in the clear. Even if they do find out it was you, it’s legal if it’s in self defen- Jesus christ, take a deep breath, it’s okay!” Dynamight’s voice raises a bit when he notices you beginning to hyperventilate.

You turn away from him and make your way towards the wall, leaning against it to steady yourself. You close your eyes and take some deep breaths in hopes of calming down. After a minute, you open your eyes and look at anything except the hero in front of you when you turn back around.

“I’d like to go home now, if that’s okay? Or do I need to speak to the police?” You meekly ask as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“I’ll tell them that you’ll go down to the station tomorrow. The security cam footage should suffice for tonight.” He says and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you nod your head.

“Well, thanks again.. Goodnight, Dynamight.” You mumble as you move toward the door to leave.

“I’ll follow behind you.. to make sure you get home safe.” You hear Dynamight’s rushed and raspy words from behind you making you stop in your tracks.

“That’s not necessary, really.. Should you even be driving? You’ve been drinking all night..” You ramble out after you turn around to face him, your heart thundering in your chest when you find that he’s right there. 

“I only had a couple drinks, plus I’m not weak like Dunc- Chargebolt, I can handle my fucking liquor. I’m gunna go get my car, do not leave this parking lot until I get back here.” Dynamight firmly demands before rushing off toward the front of the building.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you shake yourself out of it and make your way to your car. You get in, hitting the lock button as soon as your door closes, and start it up. You spend a few minutes queuing up songs until you hear a honk from next to you. Nearly pissing yourself, you send a glare to Dynamight for scaring you but he just rolls his eyes and motions for you to go.

With a little bit of hesitancy in your gut, you back out of your parking space and begin your drive home. Looking at the routes on a map, it’s not a very far drive, but traffic always turns short trips into longer ones. Periodic glances at your rear view mirror tells you that you’re not the only one annoyed with the traffic. A small giggle leaves your lips every time you see Dynamight puff his cheeks with a huff or yell at some dick speeding past the both of you.

Finally, you arrive at your house, clicking the button on the gate opener and waiting for it to open fully before pulling up into the drive. Dynamight follows right behind you, pulling up next to you but just sitting in his car. You wonder if he’s going to watch you walk into your house then you wonder why he’s doing this at all. ‘There’s no way the Dynamight does this with even half of the victims he helps rescue..’ You think to yourself as you pull out your phone and tap the call function on Sakura’s contact.

The conversation is short and as soon as you hang up you turn your car off and gather your stuff, then get out. You barely register that Dynamight has gotten out of his car before he’s walking toward you. You look between him and his off car with a confused expression on your face.

“You gunna close the ga-” Dynamight starts but cuts himself off when he sees that the gate to your driveway has automatically started closing, the allotted time you have it set to stay open if you don’t close it yourself having run out.

“I didn’t realize you’d even be getting out of your car..” You comment quietly, and albeit nervously, as you make your way to your front door.

Silently, you take your keys out of your bag, placing the magnetic fob on its spot just above the doorknob. The lock makes a small beep and the keypad above the spot for the fob lights up. You sneak a glance behind you to see if Dynamight is looking but his back is to you as he seemingly surveys the driveway. You quickly type in the code for the lock and a chime rings through the air as the door unlocks. You push the door open a bit before turning around to Dynamight, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uhm, so-”

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” He cuts you off with his question as he turns to face you and his eyes scan over your body as you blink up at him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine..” You say, a little bit shocked by his behavior, and he just nods his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

A moment of silence fills the air between you two before you blurt out, “Why did you do this? Made sure I got home safe, I mean. You.. you barely even acknowledged me after my performance at the club, and it’s a pretty well-known fact that Dynamight doesn’t really follow up with those that he rescues, let alone escorts them home..”

Dynamight’s jaw clenches and irritation fills his handsome features, and you have to remind your body that right now is not a good time to be getting aroused. His eyes meet yours and promptly melt you with their heat, whether it’s from irritation or something else you don’t know.

“Because, dammit..” He starts, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out an exasperated sigh, his eyes flicking to the ground and glaring at the cement.

“Strip joints aren’t my thing. They’re too fucking loud, there’s too many damn people, and I’ve never had any interest in watching people twirl around on a pole.” He continues, but gets interrupted by the scoff you defensively let out.

But he continues on before letting you get a word out, “But it was stupid Pinky’s birthday and that’s what she wanted to do, so I was dragged into going. I sat at that damn table hating every second until.. Until you got onto that fucking stage. And I know, I know, you probably hear this shit all the fucking time but dammit there was just something about you. I couldn’t tear my damn eyes away from you.”

You’re not sure when it happened but suddenly he is so close to you, crimson eyes sending a blazing heat through your body. Your breath hitches when you catch a whiff of his cologne and your panties are starting to feel much more damp.

“There’s some sort of lust factor to your Quirk, right? There has to be because I never feel like this towards anyone right off the bat,” He rasps out, his voice quieter than before and husky.

“Feel like what?” You whisper, playing the dumb-innocence card heavily as you stare into his eyes.

“Like I wanna fuck you until you’re nothing but a drooling mess cumming on my cock,” He rasps out huskily, his face mere centimeters from yours.

You can’t take it anymore, something in you just snaps and you’re smashing your lips onto his. Your moan mingles with his groan as your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands quickly find purchase on your hips and his fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats as he pulls your body impossibly closer to his. The kiss, if one could call it that, is aggressive with sharp canines nipping each others’ lips and tongues fighting for dominance.

In the midst of your devouring of each other, he backs you into your house, kicking the door shut behind him. You absentmindedly hear the chime of your door locking itself over the rush of blood in your ears and Dynamight’s groans. Your bag ends up crashing to the floor and you both somehow manage to haphazardly kick your shoes off.

You both stumble down the hallway as you lead him to your bedroom, pieces of clothing almost literally torn from each other’s bodies littering the floor as you go. By the time you fall back onto your bed, you’re both in nothing but your underwear. Dynamight stands at the edge of your bed seemingly entranced as you drag your hands along your body up to the front clasp of your bra. You slowly and sensually unclip the bra, making a show out of taking it off even though the Hero’s focus is solely on your tits.

His eyes then meet yours and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his voice rough with lust but you hear the slight hesitance.

“I kissed you, didn’t I? Listen, I know I’m a stripper but I don’t usually fuck the patrons, I simply have no interest in it. I want this, I need this, and I’m clean if that makes you feel better. Plus, I’m on birth control, so please Dyn-”

“Katsuki. If we’re gunna fuck then you at least get to call me by my fucking name.” He bites out with fake annoyance, rolling his eyes as he shoves his underwear off.

You smirk up at him, toying with your breasts and moaning his name, just to test it out on your tongue and goddamn is it delicious. His eyes darken yet seem to glow at the same time like a whole new level of lust flowed over him, and you give him your real name.

“So, Katsuki, are you gunna fuck me til I’m a drooling mess cumming on your cock or am I gunna have to call Charg- shit, ahh, fuck-” You try to taunt him but are quickly cut off when Katsuki is suddenly on you, mouthing at one of your breasts while his hand kneads and squeezes the other.

He grinds his hard cock on your clothed pussy, right on your clit, the friction of it all making you pant and moan underneath him. Your hands sink into his hair, your claws scratching against his scalp and pulling more groans from him. He gives both your breasts equal attention, biting and sucking and leaving hickies in the wakes of his lips. His kisses begin to travel down your body until his hot mouth is sucking and licking over your already soaked panties.

It’s a slow kind of torture when he finally decides to drag your panties down your legs and off of your body. Needy whines and breathy begs leave your mouth as he uses one hand to slowly drag your panties down your legs while the thumb of his other hand rubs torturously slow circles into your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.. You that needy for my cock, baby?” He husks out as he settles on his stomach between your legs.

“Y-yes, ah, been wet since, fuck, since my second s-set when, a-ah, wh-when y-you were by th-the stage,” You barely manage to get out between the slow stripes he’s licking up your pussy.

He sends you a cocky smirk before fully diving into your wetness and one of your hands flies to his hair while the other grips the sheets. He drinks you up like a man dying of thirst; going from sucking your clit and flicking his tongue against it to dipping lower and slipping his tongue in and out of your slit. Every ministration pushes you closer to that edge and you can’t stop your body from squirming as moans fall from your lips.

An idea manages to slip into your pleasure-addled mind and you pull at his hair to get his attention. This only results in what could only be described as a growl leaving his mouth and vibrating against your clit, nearly sending you. You fight off your impending orgasm as much as you can manage and try to use your words instead, “K-Katsuki, w-wait! I-I wa-wanna ride your face!” That gets his attention immediately, making him pause mid-lick to lean back a bit and give you a wild smirk.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” His lust-laced voice carries through the room as he shuffles around to get into position.

Once he’s comfortable, his lust-darkened and excited eyes catch yours, a devilish smirk sitting on his lips. You send him your own fanged smirk and carefully climb over his body, the shuffling of limbs resulting in your body facing your headboard as your pussy hovers over his mouth. His hands come up to grip your thighs as you slowly seat yourself onto his hot and waiting mouth. A half moan, half gasp leaves your lips when Katsuki immediately gets back to devouring you and one of your hands buries itself in his hair.

You let yourself drown beneath the waves of pleasure for a moment or two before forcing some clarity into your mind. You smirk down at him and his ministrations falter a bit as you trail the tip of your tail down his torso. He questions your action with his eyes until they widen a bit out of surprise as your tail slowly gets increasingly closer to his cock. His groan vibrates against your clit as you wrap your tail around him and his eyes flutter a bit.

You start jerking his cock slowly, your hips moving in sync, and both of your moans start filling the room. Katsuki becomes more aggressive with his licking and sucking, his tongue delving into you every now and then as you grind against him.

“Hah.. ah.. I-I’m g-gunna f-fucking.. cum..” You pant out between moans, your grip on his hair tightening as the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm begins flooding you once again.

“Fucking hell.. Cum, then, baby. Cum on my fucking tongue.” Katsuki’s muffled command is followed by another groaned out curse, his hips bucking a bit off the bed as you continue to jerk him.

“Aah, Katsuki,” His name comes out as a high-pitched moan as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy clenches around his tongue as you double over, your free hand sinking into the mattress next to his head. He tongue-fucks you through it as your eyes squeeze shut and your nails scrape against his scalp. In your bliss, you hear and feel him let out something between a groan and growl, and you’re not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure.

He continues swiping his tongue against your pussy as whines from overstimulation leave your mouth. Something more begins building in your abdomen and you forcefully lift your hips from his face to keep from potentially drowning the man beneath you.

You're both panting as you stare at each other with the same look of feral lust in your eyes. The moonlight shining in from your window making it look like his eyes are glowing and you feel just a bit envious over how fucking effortlessly attractive this man is. A playful smirk pulls at your lips when you squeeze your tail around his cock and he lets out an unintentional moan. Suddenly, in a blur of motions, you’re flipped onto your back with Katsuki hovering over you, his lips still shiny with your cum.

“Ya know, teasing isn’t nice.” Katsuki comments huskily with a smirk as he grinds his cock against your wet pussy, his tip catching your clit with every stroke.

In an instant his lips are on yours, swallowing your whines and moans. He holds himself up with one arm while the other leaves its position from beside your head. His now free hand runs down your body until he gets to your pussy. His fingers rub at your clit a bit before moving further down where he slips a finger into you. Your moans go up in volume as one finger becomes two and his lips suck hickies into the column of your throat. Your body begins to writhe a bit as his fingers brush over your g-spot and his teeth nip at your hot skin.

Soon enough two fingers turn into three and the tsunami-size waves of your next orgasm crash against the poorly built dam you’ve built. All the while, Katsuki just swallows all of begging and pleading for him to just put his cock in you already. His hot, hard cock that is currently weeping pre-cum all over your thigh.

“I-I think I l-learned my lesson ‘bout teasing, Ka-Katsuki! Oh fuck.. J-just put it in!” You demand when his mouth goes back to sucking more marks into your shoulder.

“Demanding little slut, flip the fuck over.” Katsuki commands after he pulls his fingers from your pussy.

You flip yourself onto your stomach, ass up in the air and tail swishing sensually slowly behind you. You look back at him with a smirk that quickly falters when you meet his gaze dead-on as he licks your cum from his fingers. A cocky smirk pulls at his lips when he finishes and uses that same hand to smack one of your asscheeks making you cry out. Pain and pleasure tingle up your spine and your pussy continues to leak.

“Yeah, kinda figured you were a pain slut by now. Only fitting for someone with a demon Quirk, huh?” Katsuki husks out following another smack to your ass.

Finally, without any further commentation, the fat head of his cock nudges its way between your pussy lips. He enters you slowly, groaning as you pant through the welcomed invasion of every inch of him. When his hips finally meet your asscheeks you understand why he had taken his time fingering you. Of course, you had noticed that his cock is big but you weren’t quite prepared to feel this full. There isn’t a single complaint that runs through your pleasure-melted brain, though. Only praises intermingled with moans fall from your mouth when he gives an experimental thrust.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” Katsuki grits out as he sets a steady pace, moving in and out of you while his hands grip your hips.

“So.. fuckin’.. good.. s-so.. full..” You moan out as you push yourself back on his cock, absentmindedly wrapping your tail around one of his wrists.

The room becomes hot and stuffy, the smell of sex and Katsuki’s cologne on every breath you breathe in. Your eyes are half-lidded, wanting to roll back, and your mouth hangs open as Katsuki begins drilling into you. You nearly cum from the sight of him throwing his head back and groaning at how your pussy squelches and clenches around him.

His cock hits your g-spot over and over, making that overwhelming feeling inside you unbearable. You don’t get anything other than a high-pitched moan out of your mouth as your second orgasm crashes into you. Your eyes roll back as you squirt all over Katsuki’s cock and pelvis. You become a babbling, drooling mess as he fucks your through your orgasm, his pace somehow getting faster. His exhales become grunts and growls as he pounds into you, his hands now gripping you so tightly that you nearly cum again thinking about the bruises they’ll leave.

“Fuck, I’m gunna fucking cum!” Katsuki groans out, his thrusts beginning to falter slightly.

“Ah, please cum, a-ah, pleasepleaseplease,” You mindlessly beg as you cum on his cock again.

“Sh-shit.. I-I.. fuuuuck,” He stutters out as he thrust hard into you one last time before stilling. You moan softly as warmth fills you, your eyes shutting from all of the bliss and pleasure you felt throughout the night.

Katsuki is hunched over you for a moment just trying to catch his breath before he kisses your shoulder and straightens up. He slowly pulls out causing both of you to groan, then he collapses onto the mattress beside you. You lower your hips down to the bed and stretch your body a bit before shuffling over to lay on his chest. With his eyes closed, Katsuki wraps an arm around you and begins lightly rubbing your lower back. It’s a peaceful and calm silence between the both of you, the only sounds being both of you breathing and your house’s A/C kicking on.

“There’s no lust factor,” You say quietly, your chin resting on his pec as you look up at his face.

Katsuki cracks an eye open and tilts his head to peer down at you in confusion, “What?” He rasps out.

“My Quirk, Hellspawn, is just demon traits. I don’t have any succubi traits or powers, so there’s no lust factor to my Quirk.” A teasing smile plays on your lips as you explain.

Katsuki is silent as he glares down at you, his face unamused until his lips twitch and a chuckle escapes him. You let out a few giggles yourself and Katsuki runs a hand down his face.

“Well, shit, there goes that explanation. If you’re telling the truth, that is,” He says as he gives you a look of feigned suspicion.

You gasp with feigned offense as you sit up a little, “I would never lie to a Pro Hero such as yourself! What’s the matter, Mr. Dynamight, you don’t believe in lust at first sight?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at your bad pun.

Katsuki groans as he rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, ‘lust at first sight’? I can’t tell if that's the stripper in you talkin’ or the succubus.”

“I’m not a succubus!” You exclaim as you playfully push him, a laugh leaving your mouth as you stare down at his smirking face.

“Where’s your bathroom, Succubus? We both need a damn shower,” Katsuki asks as he sits up.

His question feels like it’s muffled in your ears as thoughts of not wanting this to end flood your brain. You wonder if he wants this to be a one night stand. If he’ll get dressed, then ask you to not tell anyone about what you two did tonight. If maybe he doesn’t want the fact that he slept with a stripper to get out and ruin his grand reptati-

“Hey, we gunna get this shower over with so we can sleep or what?” Katsuki’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “I’ll help ya change the bedding and shit after we get done ‘cause I’m sure as hell not sleeping in the puddle you made.” He says with a teasing smirk. You blink dumbly for a moment, then move to stand up to lead Katsuki to your bathroom.

‘He’s spending the night? Maybe he doesn’t want this to end just yet, either..’ You think as you step into the warm water of your shower, Katsuki stepping in right behind you. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you back flush against him, being mindful of your wings. He sighs as he kisses the crook of your neck and you lean back into him, closing your eyes and just enjoying the moment.

Note ~ Welp, there we go, Lovelies! This was a fun fic to write even though I'm not familiar with the workings of a strip club. I did recently watch the movie Hustlers and felt a bit more confident about what I was writing, haha. Hope it was a good read and y'all stay tuned for more fics! Love and appreciate all of you, Lovelies! <3

#bakugo brain rot #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut #smut #bakugou smut #smut fic #fem reader #pro hero bakugou

[cookiepie111]

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

       𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him.  Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

#könig x black reader #könig smut #könig x reader smut #könig x reader #cod smut #call of duty x reader #könig x y/n #cod x black reader #call of duty x black reader #call of duty smut #my writing #x black reader #cod x reader #könig imagine #cod x reader smut #cod imagine #cod fanfic #greek gods au #greek mythology #greek au #nymph reader

[nocasdatsgay]

Then There Were Three:

A Neapolitan Bonds Fic

Day One of @polyacotarweek : Beginnings

Summary: You are invited to the Autumn celebrations as an emissary of Dawn. The High Lord’s mate invites you to meet him after the party is over. Alternatively: The night the mating bond snapped.

MasterPost | Poly Week MasterPost| AO3 Link |

Pairing: Azriel/Eris/Reader | Rating: E🌶️ | Word Count: 4962

Warnings: heavy flirtations, slightly rough sex, Reader does panic near the end.

A/N: I did my best to be vague about the reader’s origins. I realized it leaves autumn out of her home court choices but you can pretend she’s from there if you squint and pretend she was raised elsewhere 😅

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @hieragalbatorixdottir @ysmtttty @mybestfriendmademe

You grabbed a flute of champagne off the table in the corner and took a sip. Autumn champagne was so different. The breed of champagne fruit grown in Autumn retained some of the sweetness like those grown in the warmer courts. However, it had a crisp undertone from the chill air. It was one of your favorites and you needed to remind yourself to buy a bottle from the market before leaving the Court.

You looked out at the party taking another sip to steel your nerves. They called you the floating emissary behind your back. Not that you would deny that name. You’d made your home in almost the same amount of courts as your friend Lucien. You were no spy- just versed in law and good at making fair treaties. Thanks to that, you had a good reputation with the High Lords.

At the moment, you were employed by Dawn, sent with a few others to represent the court for the Autumn festival week. It’s been held since Eris Vanserra became High Lord but this was your first time attending it. The ballroom was filled with delegates and courtiers. There were also natives of Autumn, high fae and not, intermingling. The party continued out the door to the courtyard.

The courtyard itself was beautiful. The trees were so vibrant, more than the last time you saw them. You’d been here once before under Beron’s reign. That one visit was enough to have you never come back to Autumn while he lived. Thankfully, you never had an excuse to come back until now.

So much changed in the past few decades.

You decided you’d rejoin the mingling, maybe find a few other courtiers to chat up. You held your glass tight and went to step away when a tall male seemed to stop and turn to you. You immediately recognized him, his black hair and Illyrian wings giving him away.

“Lord Azriel,” you curtsied, free hand fanning out the skirt of the maroon dress you wore for the occasion.

“Just Azriel.” A smile ghosted his lips. His gaze never left your own as he asked, “I don’t believe we’ve met, Lady?”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Just Y/N.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes and across his face.

“And where are you from, Just Y/N?”

You knew in your mind that he was just being polite but your stomach still flipped on itself. If this was the High Lord’s mate and famed shadowsinger being polite you were terrified of what he could do when he was truly flirting.

“Depends. I’m a liaison for the Dawn Court, currently.”

“The Floating Emissary, I’ve heard of you.” His gaze raked over you and you felt your cheeks heat. “You’re much prettier than Lucien.”

“I would hope,” you laughed. “Handsome male that he is, I have to surpass his reputation somehow.”

His laughter rang out like a song. You steeled yourself again. The last thing you needed was the High Lord of Autumn catching you speaking with his mate and assuming you were flirting. Why it worried you, you weren’t certain. Possibly because Azriel was devastatingly handsome and easy to flirt with.

“Was there a reason you were hiding out over here by the drinks?”

“Taking a break. Parties require more small talk than some might suspect.”

He hummed in agreement. “Would you be up for a dance?”

Your mind seemed to stop working, trying to process what was just asked of you. You glance at the throne and the High Lord is gone. Part of you was disappointed at that. You decided to down the rest of your champagne.

“Of course.”

Azriel grinned at you. “I like your style.”

He held out his hand and you took it in yours. Your stomach flipped on itself again and the texture of his hand had heat flaring between your legs. You smiled and mentally shook yourself, trying to keep it together. Some of the crowd parted as he led you to the dance floor, though no one seemed to care.

“An Autumn dance?” Asked, his hand went to your waist and you inhaled sharply. “Or a Night Court dance.”

You told yourself the look in his eyes was just him being impressed. It was not the look of someone who wanted to devour you whole in the middle of the throne room with everyone watching. You watched his shadows swirl around your arms. Like they were studying you.

“Autumn,” he replied as the band started the next song. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

You knew the song and took it as a challenge. Of course the dance he wanted was faster, and involved a lot of footwork and being close to your partner. Thank the mother your skirt slit, though hidden due to volume, was high.

“You must have a lot of practice,” you said as he guided you backwards. “It’s not the easiest dance with wings.”

He twirled you and pulled you back.

“It’s not. Nesta spent two weeks teaching me for my mating ceremony.”

Right. Azriel was mated to the High Lord. You glanced around, letting him guide you again. Your eyes widened when you made eye contact with that very male. He was watching you intensely. And speak of the Weaver and she shall appear. Beside him was Nesta Archeron herself, watching you just as closely until a tall Illyrian male- her mate, walked up beside her.

“Don’t mind them.” His hands didn’t leave your shoulder and waist but it felt like he’d gently tugged your chin. “They’re just enjoying the show.”

He said it as if he wasn’t doing a Fire Waltz with you. Thankfully you two were not the only ones dancing. You’d be mortified if everyone was watching. He twirled you again and pulled you flush to his back. You spent the whole time he walked you around like that focused on not letting your scent get away from you. Another twirl and you were back in front. You were imagining it, you told yourself; the slight sweetness of his own scent.

Thankfully the song ended. There were claps from the crowd for you and the others who danced. The High Lord nor Nesta and Cassian (you believed that was his name) were where you last saw them as you looked around. You thought Azriel would bid you good night, and part from you. Instead he leaned into you, and you held your breath.

He whispered into your ear. “A left from the main hall, three doors on the right. Be there after the party.” You could only nod. “See you then, Y/N.”

You didn’t exhale until he moved away, leaving you slightly dizzy and flushed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the mother, what were you doing? A smart female would go to her room and forget whatever the Shadowsinger said. A smart female would walk in, explain her apologies and how she must go. The irrational part of you saw this as just an unconventional in for negotiations. It’s not bribery to flirt. Nor is it that unethical to speak in private with one of the heads of court.

You arrived at the door and could feel something like a tug in your chest to go in. Your nerves were getting the better of you. You looked down the hallway both ways twice. You could leave and write a note, explaining it’s improper for you to meet him this late. He would have to understand. However before you could make a decision the door opened.

In front of you was not Azriel. It was the High Lord, Eris. You’d never been up close to him before. The front of his long red hair was pulled back into braids, and his whole being glowing in his power. Amber eyes stared back into yours. You scrambled to gain your bearings, still too stunned to explain your presence. He raised a brow at you, expression like steel and your mouth opened and closed. You took a breath.

“High Lord,” you bowed. “Good evening.”

You straightened and you watched his gaze run over you.

“Come in, Y/N.”

You could have swooned with how your name rolled off his tongue. Gods what was wrong with you? He stepped aside and held the door. You forgot what you were thinking, stepping in past him. His scent made your eyes flutter.

You scolded yourself. You were a trained emissary; one of the best. Yet here you were losing your mind over a High Lord and his mate. Which said mate was sprawled out on a chair, wings spread and legs opened like he owned the place. He looked at you smugly when you raked your eyes over him.

“You requested to meet with me Lord Azriel?” Your voice was calmer than you felt.

Lord Eris shut the door, drawing your attention back to him. Even without the power radiating off of him, he was devastatingly handsome. He went past you and sat on the couch. Looking between the two of them; it was night and day almost.

“Just Azriel. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you. I think I had enough at your ball.” You looked at Eris. “It was very lively. Thank you for inviting us.”

Your subtle reminder that you did not come alone caught his attention. You could see it flash in his eyes. That didn’t seem to deter him.

“Have a seat,” he gestured to the chairs behind you.

You brushed the back of your skirt, pulled them forward so you didn’t sit on them awkwardly. You looked between the two males in front of you.

“Thank you for inviting me to meet you.” You used your most polite and naive tone. “Though I am uncertain what has warranted a private meeting.”

The High Lord and Azriel already had their own drinks on the tables beside them. The High Lord picked his drink up and took a sip.

“Azriel was explaining to me what a famous emissary you are,” he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Giving my brother a run for his money.”

“I don’t know about all that,” you replied and straightened the front of your skirt.

“I think I do,” Azriel grinned at you.

The next few minutes encompassed Azriel listing out your achievements- the Summer Court trade route, for one. He brought the peace treaty between Spring and the Night Court. You argued Lucien did more work with that, considering he was mated to the High Lady’s sister. A few laws you overlooked during your brief time in Winter came up as well.

“Should I feel left out that I’ve never received the honor of you working in my court?” Eris asked.

“Are you trying to recruit me to be your emissary, High Lord?” You teased.

“You can rest easy knowing I’m not trying to steal you from Thesan,” he joked back. “However, I might invite you back more often if you can dance like that.”

“I saw you watching.” You crossed your legs. Unintentionally, the slit fell open. You ignored it even if the two males in front of you were eyeballing your legs now. “You’re mate is a very skilled dancer.

“He learned from the best.” Eris took a sip from his glass. “I almost married her for it.”

That you didn’t know. You filed that away in your mind to examine later.

“Don’t lie. You did that to piss off Cassian,” Azriel countered.

Eris rolled his eyes. You wondered if you should continue the small talk or be direct. Both the High Lord and his mate seemed to like the direct approach so you finally asked them.

“Why was I really invited here?”

“You know why.” Azriel kept a heated gaze on you as he downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were pretty.”

Your mind was telling you to leave. The solar courts were more lax but this was Autumn. If anyone saw you, your reputation could be ruined. But you couldn’t move with both very handsome males staring at you like they wanted to eat you alive. Situations like this didn’t happen to you. Was it so terrible that you were enjoying the attention?

“You can leave and neither of us will stop you.” Eris reassured you. “Nor will it be held against you. This is strictly off record. It’ll be as if it never happened.”

“As if staying is any better?” You countered.

“Do you think so little of us that we’d allow your reputation to be ruined?” Eris chuckled.

“A female can never be too careful.” You wished you had taken another drink. If only to give your hands something to do. “Do you always recruit a female from your parties or am I special?”

It was meant to be a joke. A tease really. There was nothing teasing in Azriel’s eyes when he replied.

“You’re the only one we’ve ever agreed to make an offer to together.”

Heat flared between your legs and you knew your scent betrayed you. Especially with that wicked grin Eris had on his face. You squeezed your legs together and barely kept your composure.

“What would you like me to do?” You whispered.

Azriel held up his hand, fingers curling to beckon you over.

“Come here baby girl and let me show you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*`*~*~*~*~*~*~

If you told yourself yesterday you’d be falling into bed with a High Lord and his mate, you would have laughed. Then you would have asked in what world Helion would agree to share his bed after centuries of waiting for his mate to be free. Falling into the High Lord of Autumn’s bed? Impossible.

And yet.

Azriel was behind you, kissing your neck. His hands had pushed down the top of your dress on one side so he could cup your breast and roll your nipple between his fingers. Eris sat on the edge of the bed, hands up your skirt and pulling down your panties. Once they were off he pulled you forward by the hips and moved your knees onto the bed so you straddled him.

You fell back against Azriel, moaning when Eris wasted no time slipping a hand up your skirt and pushing two fingers into your slick heat. Azriel chuckled at you, pulling his mouth off your neck. You reached your arm back, hand grabbing his hair if only to hold onto something. Eris didn’t even move; you rode his fingers, thighs brushing against his pants.

You whined when he removed them only to be silenced when he stuck them into your open mouth. You hummed against them, sucking on them. He didn’t anticipate you would lower yourself on his lap and rub against the bulge in his pants, by the groan he made. Azriel had worked the zipper in the back of your dress down and it was hanging limply on your arms.

“Soon pretty girl,” Eris said and took his fingers out of your mouth.

Azriel removed your hand and arm off of him and Eris pushed up your dress. Azriel tossed it aside just like Eris had your undergarments. You were about to protest, you being nude while they were not, then Eris snapped his fingers. The clothes on himself vanished, and you inhaled sharply at the feel of his bare skin against your own. Azriel was naked as well, judging from the hard length against your back.

“Nifty trick,” you said, running your fingers over the dusting of hair on his chest.

“It is useful.” He looked about as hyper aware of the fact his cock was pressed against your cunt as you were. “Who do you want first?”

“Depends on how you want me.”

They invited you. You were not going to insult one by picking the other first. Eris’s gaze went behind you to Azriel. He looked back at you with a knowing smirk.

“How is your reflex?”

His hand came up and cupped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, just brushed his thumb against your skin. You wonder if he knew what a power move he just made. Surely he could feel how wet you were. Az put his hands on your waist, waiting.

“Okay, I guess.” You replied. “It’s decent.”

He hummed, removing his hand. “Azriel gets you first then. He can be rough and we don’t want to ruin that pretty throat of yours yet. Are you okay with taking me in your mouth while he fucks you?”

“Yes,” you replied very quickly.

“Good.”

Several things happened at once. Eris moved from under you and down the bed, while Azriel lifted you up with his arms. He hooked his hands and arms under your thighs and lifted you up, carrying you for a moment before dropping you back onto the bed. You screamed when he did that, which had them both laughing at you.

“Not used to being handled properly?” Azriel bent you forward over Eris’s lap, your hands propping yourself up.

“No.”

You couldn’t think of a witty response. Not when his hands were lifting up your hips to positions exactly how he wanted you. And Eris- the scent of him surrounded you while you watched him stroke himself.

“Open your mouth, princess.”

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. When you did that, Azriel grabbed your ass and you felt him spread you open. He pushed into you and you forgot what you were doing, dropping your head with a moan. Azriel was big, you gave him that much. He held you by the hips until he was damn near pressing into your stomach. There was no movement from him as you adjusted. Until he grabbed you by the hair to lift your head. You were looking at Eris again.

He whispered into your ear, “open your mouth.”

You did so again. He let go of your hair and lowered your mouth onto Eris’ cock. He was big too. You went down as far as you were comfortable with and rubbed your tongue against him.

“Good girl,” Eris murmured.

That made you clench around Azriel. There seemed to be an understanding in that moment. When you bobbed your head, Azriel pulled out and slammed back into you. Azriel was indeed rough. He took exactly what he wanted from you, your whole body moving in time with him. Eris was stroking your hair while you used one hand to make up for what you couldn’t take into your mouth. You finally pulled off of Eris, salvia stringing from your mouth to the head of his cock.

“Touch me,” you turned to almost look back at Azriel. “Please, I can’t,” you didn’t know how to express what you wanted or why. Your hand still stroked Eris, your other arm starting to shake.

You felt the weight of Azriel shift on your back and his arm hook around your waist. You fell face first into Eris’s thigh when Azriel’s fingers found your clit. You even stopped stroking the High Lord. How were you supposed to think when Azriel was hitting all the right spots inside and outside of you?

Then Azriel pulled out of you. You yelled in protest- until he was lifting you up and spinning you around. These two males had to have a routine. Azriel put you right into Eris’s hard length like it was nothing. Before you could think, his hand was in your hair, pushing his length into your mouth. You could taste yourself on him and it made you dizzy. More movement behind you: Eris had shifted onto his knees.

They moved in sync, more so than before leaving you to sit there and take it. Eris lifted your hip up at a different angle that had you seeing stars. Azriel was gagging you and being just as rough as Eris promised. In no time, your orgasm was rushing through you with unstoppable force. Your muffled moans had Azriel spilling down your throat. You’re certain Eris followed and came inside you.

You were a wreck when they both pulled out of you.

“You did so well.” Azriel wiped the tears off your cheek while you caught your breath.

There was drool all over your mouth and you could feel Eris’s cum slipping out of you. You needed to clean yourself up. You went to move off the bed and ask where the bathroom was. Instead you pulled back onto the bed with an invisible force. You were held there on your back by your arms; shadows pinning you down. Eris snapped his fingers and you were mostly clean again.

Eris grinned down at you. “Oh love, did you think we were done with you? We’re just getting started.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You waited until their breathing evened out before easing out of bed. Looking for your dress in the dark on wobbly and sore legs wasn’t ideal, but you needed to get back to your room before someone noticed you were missing. Samira would not believe you if you got caught sneaking into your guest chambers. You found it and slipped it on, fighting with the zipper and giving up when you got it halfway up your back. Shoes were next. Your underwear was nowhere to be found.

You huffed. The last thing you wanted was for them to find it and return it with a smug grin. You finally found it by the bathing room door. Slipping them on, you didn’t hear bed creak or the sound of footsteps until something whispered your name.

“By the cauldron,” your whole body jolted, heart racing. You turned to see Azriel behind you, thankfully wearing pants.

“Sorry,” Azriel chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You caught your breath and whispered. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. I can winnow you into your room so you don’t have to walk.”

“That’s kind of you.”

He put his hand on your arm and when you looked him in his eyes- your whole body recoiled and you inhaled sharply. That tightness in your chest you felt all evening snapped. You took several steps back staring at him horrified. Your hand went to your chest. You stared at him with eyes wide and he stared back in what you were certain was horror.

What just happened was impossible. Azriel was with the High Lord. You needed to leave. Panic ripped through you at the implications. It was not possible- you were imagining it. You needed to leave. You took several steps back, not looking at Azriel. Maybe it was just you. Maybe you lost your mind. It had to be. There was no way-

Someone was calling your name.

You blinked. You’d backed yourself into a corner. You couldn’t catch your breath no matter how much you breathed in and out. A warm hand made you startle; you focused on amber eyes staring back at you and it happened again. That sharp tug in your chest like a rope going taunt.

“Look at me.”

A soft but firm command of a High Lord you couldn’t ignore. You blinked and you were crying. Strange emotions that weren’t your own were overwhelming you. It was too much, the sudden wave of feelings hitting you. Something cold wrapped around your wrists. You looked down and screamed, shaking your arms when you saw black lines.

“It’s just shadows,” Azriel said calmly from behind Eris. “They’re trying to help.”

“It’s alright,” Eris whispered, brushing your hair back with his hand. “Take a deep breath.” You did as you were told. “Good girl. Now breathe out.”

You found your voice even if it was laced with your tears. “I didn’t. I swear it, I don’t know how.”

How do you explain that this wasn’t a trick? They had to think that. If they felt it then they had to believe you cast a spell on them. They could throw you in the dungeons for this or worse. What were the odds you climbed into their bed and- two tugs halted your thoughts. Warmth flooded your chest. You choked back a sob.

Eris sighed. “Az can you go get a calming tonic from the infirmary please?”

If he disappeared, you didn’t know. Eris dropped his hands to your shoulder and gently guided you backwards. Your legs hit the back of a chair; he gently sat you down into it and then knelt so he was eye level with you.

“I know this is a lot to take in. I promise you, we are not upset.” He took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. You swallowed and blinked profusely. “Aren’t you afraid I’ve placed a spell on you?”

You couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet. Eris laughed.

“We invited you to our bed. Was it that good you suddenly thought of a spell to cast in between orgasms to trap us?”

Your face heated at his remarks. Thankfully out of the darkness Azriel appeared with a vial. He handed it to you and you took it with shaky hands. You felt dramatic for your reaction but there was nothing you could do about it. Eris took it from you and uncorked it before handing it back. You downed it quickly. He stood and took the bottle from you, vanishing it into thin air.

“Well?” You looked between them after a moment passed. “Aren’t you going to say something about this?” You gestured between yourself and them, specifically pointing at your chest.

“It’s a mating bond, what else is there to say about it?” Eris replied.

Your stomach flipped at his candor and Azriel hummed in agreement. As if this happened all the time. Maybe they took a calming tonic also when you weren’t looking.

“How are you both calm? Mating bonds,” you forced the term out, still not believing it was real, “are between two fae not three!”

Azriel and Eris glanced at each other. Both of them had a knowing look. Azriel shrugged and Eris sighed. He turned to you, meeting your gaze again.

“Years ago we were told this could happen.” You blinked, something akin to shock washing over you. He continued. “We were told specifically that the light of dawn would bring forth a third bond.”

“Like a prophecy? That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” you replied without thinking.

Azriel bursted out with laughter. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

You scoffed in response, uncertain of who she was. “You also said you didn’t plan to steal me from Thesan. You, High Lord Eris, are a liar.”

Now it was Eris who laughed. “Glad to see the tonic is working.”

If they had been told before- “So you knew it was me?”

“No, we did not. I felt a draw to you but,” he looked you up and down. “I think the reason is self explanatory.”

“My shadows took a liking to you out in the throne room,” Azriel added sheepishly. “But they didn’t tell me. The bond snapped for me when I touched you.”

Mates.

Mates, plural.

You had mates.

Realization sunk in and you slumped against the chair. You never entertained the idea of having a mate. For you it was an old wives tale, a fictional love story you read about in romance novels. Yes, they existed. But it seemed like it was reserved for High Lords and other important fae. You weren’t anyone special.

“I think,” Eris interrupted your thoughts. “We should rest. Azriel can winnow you to your room. We can talk in the morning if you are up for it.”

“Can I stay?” You whispered.

You had no right to ask that of a mated pair, let alone a High Lord you didn’t really know. However, the idea of leaving made you uneasy. Your friends would understand. Gods, how were you going to explain this? Yes, well a High Lord and his mate asked me for a threesome and surprise seems like I’m their mate too! You mentally groaned at how ridiculous this all was.

“Of course.” Eris pulled you out of your thoughts. “Azriel can get you a change of clothes from your room. If that’s alright with you.”

You nodded. This time you saw the shadows envelop Azriel. It was amazing to watch him disappear almost into a puff of smoke. However, that left you alone with Eris. Not that you cared. The potion was deeply in effect. You realized he was shirtless and your gaze ran over his bare chest and arms.

“We have a guest bed you can sleep in.” You looked up to see Eris with a slight smirk on his face.

“A guest bed?” You furrowed your brows. “In your own chambers?”

“Az’s wings are sensitive. Sometimes he doesn’t like to share a bed.” He paused. “I know I speak for us both that while this isn’t an ideal situation, we would like to get to know you. If you wish.”

“Are you asking for permission to court me, High Lord?” That did something for him because you could feel it before he shut it down. “I need to process it, I think.”

“That’s reasonable.” He gave you a soft smile.

You didn’t have to wait awkwardly for long as Azriel returned quickly with your bag. There was indeed a guest room right next to the High Lord’s bedroom, which still shocked you. As surreal as the past few minutes were, you were exhausted. You bid them an awkward good night and when Eris shut the door and you swore you heard him whisper something to Azriel, about how they owed his sister-in-law a lengthy apology.

#acotar #polyacotarweek #poly acotar week #polyamory #Azriel/eris/reader #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #female reader #azriel got rizz #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1 #Neapolitan Bonds

[atinylittlepain]

after that episode i need all the joel fluff i can find, like i need an overdose to make up for the heart wrenching pain i am in at the moment

i'm right there with you, babe :( one order of pure fluff coming right up. i did set this in my Unexpected Expectings universe, but it's still lovely on its own I think

gif by @a7estrellas

Talking Shop

Joel Miller x pregnant!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

She keeps Joel company while he works on a crib for their baby, but she's not really interested in the woodworking.

warnings | 18+ pregnancy, that's it, this is just sweet and simple

...............................

“Are you even listening to me?” “Mmhmm.” Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands on his hips as he shoots her a questioning look.

“What’d I just say then?” She huffs, slumping back onto her palms where she’s sitting on his workbench. So maybe she hadn’t been listening to him waxing poetic about woodworking, she was a little distracted by the push and pull of his muscles under his sun-drenched t-shirt as he worked away at sanding more wood for the crib. For their crib. 

“Um, something about towels?” He smirks at her, shaking his head as he shuffles over to stand between her legs. It’s a warm day in Jackson, summer wrapping up the town in bright rays and heat, and she feels a little dizzy looking at the sweat-darkened neck of his t-shirt, taking in the scent of cedar sawdust and musk that could only be her man. He rests his palms on her thighs, squeezing lightly.

“Not quite, mama. I was saying that I’m gonna use dowels to put the crib together. It’s safer, and sturdier. Gonna last a lifetime that way.” She hums, bringing her hand up to scratch lightly at the scruff along his jaw, basking in the way he leans into her touch.

“I was pretty close. Cut me some slack, huh? You’re a little distracting, Miller.” He chuckles at that, dipping down to steal a kiss that she chases after, deepening it in a way that has him groaning low from his chest. He pulls away with a smack, a dopey grin settling on his face.

“Oh yeah, I’m the distracting one.” She goes to reply, but is cut off by the feeling of a quick flip in her belly. She gasps, and Joel’s face crumples in concern, but she just takes his hands, guiding his palms to rest over the swell of her stomach. The flip comes again, but this time, Joel’s eyes widen, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as his eyes dart between her equally amazed expression and where his hands are resting on her belly. Another flip comes and he lets out a deep, rumbling laugh, his eyes crinkling up and a broad smile stretching across his face.

“Is that– is that what I think it is?” She giggles, nodding lightly.

“At least someone’s excited about all your woodworking talk.” As if on cue, another kick comes and they both laugh. Before she can figure out what he’s doing, Joel is already sinking down onto the floor with a groan.

“Joel, your knees–” He shushes her, his face now level with her belly.

“Listen, kid, your mama might not think it’s very interesting, but when you get here I’ll tell you all about dowels and bevels and fretwork. Gonna have you carving before you can walk.” She can’t help but laugh, running her fingers through his hair as he grins up at her.

“Lemme tell you something else while I’m down here. Your mama is an absolute menace–” She scoffs, tugging just a tad unkindly at his curls to get him to stand back up.

“Alright, I think that’s enough talk for one day.” He chuckles, stealing another chaste peck from her as his palms come back to squeeze at the plush of her thighs.

“Just telling him the facts, darlin.” She huffs at that, bringing her palms to rub over his chest.

“Still hoping it’s a boy, I see.” His grin is back as he shrugs.

“Just got a feeling, I guess.” All she can do is shake her head, pulling him in by his thin t-shirt for another kiss.

It is so definitely not a boy.

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller blurb #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #unexpected expectings

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VI

Why hello there! I am finally back with an Eepy Boi update!! Sorry it took me so long to get around to posting this, between the holidays and my work schedule being all over the place and a heap of other junk it took me a bit, lol. We're taking a little jump back? Forward? In time this chapter, the Fall Festival is finally upon us... Maybe a little bit of tension starts to occur? This is going to be a very fun chapter hehe. Thank all of you so so much for your continued support during my hiatus, I see every single note, reblog, and kudos on this fic, I read every single comment I get, all of you are absolutely wonderful, again, thank you. If you would like to be added to my tag list for this fic, please let me know! If you ever want to come be crazy over the Sleep Token boys with me, shoot me an ask or a message! Now onto the good stuff, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: None, fluff, not proofread

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link!

Part V - Part VI

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Absolutely not.” Vessel responds blankly as he flips through one of the magazines by the register.

“Ves, come on.” You groan. “It's one night.”

“Yeah, one night with a whole group of people that want to run us out of town.” He retaliates in the same bored tone as he turns another page.

“Everyone's going to be wearing costumes, no one will know it's you.” You offer as you start bagging his purchase.

“They've seen pictures of us, love.”

“What? Those blurry, grainy sasquatch looking photos from the paper?” You sigh, handing him the bags. “Listen, I know you're worried. I know you just want to keep everyone safe, but you hiding yourselves away is only going to make people more suspicious.” You could feel his eyes studying your face.

“I get the slightest feeling that something is wrong we leave, do we have a deal?” He sticks out his hand to you, you clap your own into his without hesitation, giving it a firm shake. “I agree that people might be more comfortable with us being in town if we can exist in the same space without an issue… I just hope you're right about this.” 

“I'll be right by your side the whole time.” You exchange a soft smile.

“Are you closing early that day?” He asks.

“Of course, I have to get into costume myself.” You giggle. “I'll be closing at noon that day, but I can always reopen if you guys want to stock up afterwards.” You offer.

“It’s not that, I wouldn't want to trouble you.” He chuckles. “I was thinking maybe we could meet here before the festival.” 

“I'd like that.” 

“Then it's a date.” He bows his head slightly in dismissal before pushing out the door.

The next day the store was abuzz with excited children picking out glow sticks, mother's buying ingredients for their bake sale items, and last minute costume necessities for all the town's residents. “Miss (Y/N)!” You can't help but smile as a young boy with messy brown hair and a gapped tooth smile rushes up to the counter.

“Daclan, she's busy-” his mother starts, a bubbly school teacher you had gotten to know quite well since she had moved to town.

“Don't worry about it, Siobhan.” You chuckle, pulling the bucket of candy out from behind the counter and discreetly offering it to him. You lean down slightly, “if you don't tell the other kids I'll let you take two.” You whisper with a wink. He shoves his hand into the bucket before quickly and triumphantly retrieving his candy.

“Miss (Y/N), are you coming to the Fall festival?” He asks excitedly.

“Of course I am, I wouldn't miss it for the world.” You smile. “What's your costume going to be this year?” He starts rambling on about his skeleton costume as you ring the two of them up.

“Woah! Mom, look at him!” Your attention flashes over to the door to see Vessel frozen in place as every pair of eyes in the store land on him. As quickly as he caught their attention it was gone, the bustling energy returning once more as everyone continued their shopping. You motion him closer with a wave of your hand. Declan stared up at the large masked man in amazement. “What are you supposed to be?”

Vessel gives you the briefest of looks, not exactly sure how to respond at first. But, seeing the boy's bright smile and lack of fear, it warmed his heart. He leans down, resting his elbows on the counter to bring himself closer to eye level. “The Grim Reaper, pretty scary, right?” He says with a grin.

“Awesome!” Declan exclaims in response. “Mom, can we make a costume like his next year?” Vessel chuckles at the young boy’s excitement.

“Sure thing, honey.” She ruffles Declan’s hair. “Come on, let’s let Miss (Y/N) close up so she can get ready.” You exchange goodbye’s with her, Declan telling you that he hopes you get to see his costume before hurrying out the door.

“So far so good.” You remark as you lean against the counter, you and Vessel shifting to more easily face each other. “I promise tonight will be fun.” You reach out, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, if you talk so highly about this festival, I can't see any harm in giving it a shot.” You wait for your last few customers to file out of the store before locking up.

“Where's everyone else?” You ask, looking out in the empty lot for their truck.

“They're in back, I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” You click off your open sign with a smile, motioning with a nod for Vessel to follow you out the front door. Your keys jingled in your hand as you struggled with the lock. “You'd think after all this time I wouldn't mess this up.” You sigh. The front door had a tendency to not shut fully unless things were maneuvered a certain way; the keys had to be slid into the lock a certain way, you had to push the door fully shut with your shoulder, you felt your cheeks start to burn as you struggled with something so simple in Vessel’s presence.

“Mind if I give it a try?” He offers quietly. You shuffle out of his way, the heat of his body noticeable against yours as he slid a little too close behind you. He jiggles the key slightly, slamming his shoulder into the glass pane’s metal frame, managing to slide the deadbolt into place. He pulls on the handle a couple times, making sure it's fully secure, before turning to you with a proud smile. “There, that should do it. He follows you out back, the other three members of the usual group lounging in the cab of the truck. IV was the first to notice you, perking up in his seat when his eyes landed on your approaching form. He nudges II, who looks up immediately from the book he was reading at the mention of your name.

“Where's your costume?” III asks in mock annoyance. He hops down from his place situated in the bed of the truck, his long strides allowing him to approach you quickly and pull you into his arms. He pulls back slightly, his blue eyes finding yours and making you freeze under their warm gaze. “Promise me I'll get you to myself for at least a little while tonight.” You could hear the smile he was wearing under his mask lace it's way through his words. Before you had a chance to respond the passenger door of the truck was kicked open, IV practically falling to the ground as he scrambled out. Your eyes darted up to three, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gazed down at you. He gives you a quick wink before he steps back, satisfied with your flustered state. 

IV bounds up to you, excitedly taking your hands in his. “I can't wait to see your costume.” You jump slightly as a warm hand if placed against your lower back, you caught the sight of II in your peripheral.

“Well we have to let her go get changed into it first.” He chuckles. “It's good to see you, love.”

“Come on guys.” You chuckle, motioning for the four of them to follow you. “You can hang out upstairs while I get ready.”

It always made your heart swell every time they were all together in one place. The warm, me jovial energy that filled your apartment had you practically skipping to your room to get changed. You could hear the four of them continue to talk in the living room, just quiet enough to make it so you couldn't hear. You opened your closet, pulling out the neatly packaged bag that contained your costume. You shimmied into the tight dress, the stretchy fabric hugging all of your curves just right. Was this the most original costume in the world? Absolutely not. But, considering you were hoping to catch the attention of some masked men in particular this evening, you figured it wouldn't hurt to be a little cliche. You did your makeup as quickly as you could, a dark smokey eye that was finished off by you drawing a little black nose at the tip of your own with eyeliner. You grabbed the headband from your vanity, adjusting it perfectly atop your head before giving yourself one final once over in the mirror and heading back out to your waiting guests. The room fell silent the second you stepped through your door, four pairs of eyes locked on your small form. All of the sudden attention made you feel self conscious about your costume choice, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. You wrapped your arms around your torso, your cheeks warming as you looked between the four. “Does it look ba-”

You didn't have a chance to finish your question before they were all scrambling out of their various seats towards you. All of them reassuring you that you looked fantastic and apologizing for staring. Your small group prepared to head out, III hung back to wait for you, his monstrous form taking up most of the doorway. You smile up at him as you straighten up from pulling on your shoes. “You look beautiful.” He compliments you softly, making your cheeks warm.

“Thank you.” He slips his hands into yours, his lips warm through his mask as he places a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Ready to get going?” You nod, letting your hand reluctantly fall from his.

You piled into their truck, you were currently squished in between Vessel and II, III and IV curled up in the bed. “So, you're all excited about this festival, what are we even going to be doing?” Vessel asks suddenly, breaking the silence in the truck.

“Well,” you start, “there's going to be a lot of food, hay rides, a costume contest, lots of vendors from around the town, a few rides, a haunted house. It's nothing spectacular, but I’m hoping it will make you guys feel more at home here.” You noticed him and II exchange a look over your head. It wasn't long before you pulled into the bumpy dirt parking lot of the fair grounds. III vaulted out of the truck, his heavy boots landing on the ground with a loud thud. You notice II shove him back slightly as he holds out his hand to help you out of the truck. He gives your hand a soft squeeze before dropping it, you were quickly surrounded by the four men, all of you chatting happily as you made your way up to the festival. The four froze, taking in the chaotic sight before then. IV reached out, slipping his hand into yours.

“There's a lot of people, huh?” He asks, startling back slightly as a child rushes past his legs.

“The whole town’s probably going to show up.” You explain. You lean on closer to him, “you alright big guy? We can always turn around and go back to my place if this is too much.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I think I can handle it if you're by my side.” You noticed his features soften as he smiles under his mask. Your cheeks warm, your eyes darting to the ground in an attempt to try and hide your flustered expression.

“Where should we start?” III slips an arm around your shoulder, you instinctually lean into his side.

“You're the expert, love, lead the way.” Vessel shoots you a sharp grin. The group stayed close to your side, forming a buffer between you and the rest of the crowd. You wandered from booth to booth, letting the boy's childlike wonder take over as they excitedly showed you small trinkets and hand made gifts they stumbled across. The booth of old ladies selling goat milk soap cooed over how adorable all your costumes were, slipping sweets into all your hands as you made your way out. You paused in front of a vendor selling handmade jewelry, you jumped slightly as a hand came to rest on your waist.

“That would look very pretty on you.” II’s gentle voice meets your ears.

“You think so?” You ask through a flustered giggle. II asked to see the necklace in question, the beautifully wire wrapped crystal sparkling in the gradually setting sun. “It is really pretty.”

“How much?” He asks without hesitation. The young woman running the stand told him the price, to which II shocked you by immediately purchasing the necklace. He steps behind you, your hand raising to the unfamiliar weight as it falls around your neck. “A beautiful necklace for the most beautiful woman in the world.” His warm breath bounces off your cheek as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately finding his bright blue ones.

“You know you didn't have to buy me anything.” You see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“What if I wanted to?” You didn't miss the teasing tone that had laced its way into his words. You traced a finger along the cool metal wire, fully turning yourself to face him. You glance up at him through your lashes, struggling to find the right words to say to thank him. You pushed yourself up onto your toes, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I think that’s very sweet. Thank you, II.” You perk up at the sound of one of the others calling your name, III appearing at your side and slipping his hand into yours.

“Mind if I steal her from you?” He quickly asks II.

“Not at all.” He holds up his hands with a soft chuckle. “I'm sure I'll manage to snag her back later.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm.

“What a shame,” III leans down to murmur quietly in your ear, “looks like I'm going to have to beat them off with a stick to get you to myself.”

“Careful, you're all going to make me think you have a crush on me or something.” You tease in response, shooting him a playful smile of your own.

“Only a pretty little thing like you could handle something like that.” He winks. “I want to make sure you eat before IV gets over excited and drags you off to the rides.” He jokes with a smile. He tucks you safely into his side, helping you avoid the bustling crowd that surrounded you.

“Are you having a good time?” You ask him softly. He glances down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“Yeah, I’m spending time with you, of course I’m having a good time.” You let out a bashful giggle, quickly turning away as you feel your cheeks grow warm. 

As the evening carried on you couldn't help but notice II grow more fidgety with every passing hour, occasionally leaning into Vessel to whisper something only for the taller man to clap him on the shoulder and give him a reassuring grin. You were currently sat in a circle on the ground, finding a nice place in the open field to settle down and have some good together. You laughed as IV expertly stole a bite of your corn dog faster than you could comprehend what had happened. “What's your favorite ride?” II suddenly chimes in from his position sitting across from you.

“I'm personally a big fan of the haunted house, I think all the cheap jump scares are fun.” You respond with a laugh.

IV makes an intrigued noise. “We should all go on!”

“Only two people can ride together, unfortunately.”

“Well, how about you ride with me then?” II winks at you, making you blush.

“If you think you can handle it.” You tease in response. II stands, offering you his hand which you eagerly accept. He hoists you from the ground, pulling you into his side and slinging his arm across your shoulders. Vessel tagged along with IV, knowing it would be the only way to stop him from complaining about how he wanted to go too, III elected to stay back to save your spot. You all chatted happily as you stood in line, the slow creeping pace allowing them to see a little of what the ride had in store for them.

Brown metal buggies horribly painted to look like wood creaked along the track, bat shaped hood ornaments were barely recognizable after years of dings and chipped paint.A repeating track of over dramatic screams and ghoulish moaning looped from the speakers. “Next in line, please!” The ticket collector barked, IV and Vessel stepped up first, IV practically vibrating with excitement as he waited for the all clear to get on. II’s arm slid around your waist as you stepped forward, waiting patiently for the next cart to wheel itself into place. “Y’all have fun.” He waves you on. II helps you step into the cart, your body thudding against the thin, leather covered padding on the seat.

“You’re not going to get all scared on me now, are you?” You ask in a playful tone.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be right here to protect you.” He returns with a smirk. Your body lurched slightly as the buggy started to move. You were hit with a blast of cold air as you crept into the dark space, II’s arm wrapping around your shoulders, you found yourself instinctually snuggling into his side. You jumped slightly, giggling over being startled by the second air cannon you had rolled past.

You rolled past a growling werewolf, “Look, you can see the wires.” You nudge him slightly, pointing upwards.

“I personally think it adds to the experience.” He chuckles, you can’t help but laugh yourself. “You’re so beautiful.” You feel your breath freeze in your lungs at his compliment. You clung to him as something shot out of the darkness at you, it took you a moment to recognize the plastic skeleton’s limbs rattling at you. Your eyes are drawn back to him as you feel a warm hand slip over your cheek. “And you thought I was going to be the one getting scared.” He chuckles, his eyes flashing briefly to your lips. “Cute.” He fidgets with the edge of his mask for a moment, stretching the black fabric away from his neck. “Can- can I, um…” He swallows thickly, his confidence immediately crumbling as you continue to cling to him for comfort. “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, your wide eyes glimmering in the dim light. Without hesitation II lifts his mask, his lips slotting perfectly against your own. Your hand slides over his chest, you could feel his heart pounding under your palm. As quickly as the kiss had started it was over, II’s mask already neatly back in place by the time your eyes fluttered open. You hide your face against his neck, hoping he hadn’t noticed your flustered appearance. “That was nice.” He suddenly chimes in, making you giggle. You both reluctantly shuffle away from each other as the exit opens in front of you, squinting under the bright lights. II offers you his hand to help you from the cart, your eyes meeting his as he smiles. Your pinky wraps around his as he lets his hand slip out of your grasp. You hear him laugh softly at your actions, allowing your fingers to stay linked.

“That wasn’t even scary.” IV groans as you approach.

“I never said it was scary, I just said I liked it.” You respond. Vessel smiles down at you.

“How was riding with II?” He asks with a chuckle. Your cheeks immediately warm at the question.

“We had fun.” You get out through a nervous giggle. 

“Well, look who’s back.” You can’t help but smile at III’s cheerful tone. He hoists himself up from his position on the ground with a soft groan. “How was it beautiful?” Your eyes trailed after the people that were starting to gather in the open field.

“It was fun.” You felt a pang of guilt in your chest as you thought about kissing II. “See anything interesting while we were gone?”

“There’s a pretty good band playing over there.” He nods somewhere behind you. “Want to go check it out?”

“Sure.” You can’t help but smile as you feel the warmth of III’s hand brush against yours. The two of you lazily strolled in the direction of the music that floated through the air. A local folk group was currently performing under a gazebo, a small dance floor set up in front of the stage. You laughed as III took your hand and spun you around in time with the music, pulling you to him and swaying you in his arms.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asks with a grin.

“Not very well,” you giggle in response, “but I feel like with you that won’t matter too much.” You found yourself easily falling into a rhythm with him, every small misstep and teasing comment from him made you both crumble into fits of laughter. You both paused, looking up at the sky with the rest of the crowd as fireworks started going off overhead. III continues to hold you close, your arms sliding over his shoulders as the two of you watch the display. He fully encircles your waist with one arm, his hand sliding over your cheek, turning your face in order for his warm lips to find yours. Unlike the kiss with II, III took his time letting the sensation of kissing you sink in. You felt so small in his arms, the gentle dominance he had over the kiss allowing your body to fully relax into his embrace as your eyes fluttered shut. He traces a thumb along your jaw before hesitantly pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He rushes to apologize, his body relaxing at the sight of the soft smile that had laced its way across your lips. Your eyes meet his, bright blue irises scanned your features with an adoration you had never seen. “I really like you.”

“III-”

“There you guys are!” He jolts back from you, the sudden lack of warmth making you shiver. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you!” It was IV, he jogged up to you. “Vessel wants to get going.”

You found yourself in the cab of the truck between Vessel and IV, II and III electing to sit in the bed for the ride back to your place. Your mind raced as you played over both men kissing you over and over again in your head. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand there was II, his silent charm and the undeniable intimacy the two of you have has drawn you in from the beginning. But then there was III, who made your heart race and dominated every aspect of your senses whenever you were with him. Who, despite his monstrous size, was always so gentle with you. You were absolutely torn. You rumbled into the store’s parking lot, Vessel parking the truck around back. You stood at the bottom of your stairs in a small circle. “Well, I hate to admit it, but that was pretty fun.” Vessel grins at you, there were murmurs of agreement amongst the group.

“Do you guys want to come up for a bit? There’s, um, there’s kind of something I need to talk to you about.” You fidget with your hands as you nervously put the statement out there. You were going to deal with feeling conflicted the only way you knew how, by facing the problem head on.

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @themultiverseofmars @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @madsthenightowl @dangerkittenclaws @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @v3nu5s @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpireskiss @savaneafricaine @sanekiii @ajordan2020 @diditgirl13 @sodomizerrrrr @mishaglass @thisbicc @chewbrry @backwards-readings @popppylove @lovelyan @asianchic-44 @littlemiss-sakura @sleepy-time-dreamy @xdarkcreaturex @deltottoro @chewbrry @thisbicc @miss-multi45 (If I missed you or you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!)

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[zyettemoon1800]

Hi! Can you possibly write a NSFW alphabet fir hobie brown?

Aftercare

He is so loving after y'all are done. He will go run you both a bath while he gets you both something to eat. However, if you don't want to move or eat anything, then he will just get a towel and clean you off, and make you drink a cup of water before going to bed. If you are also a Spiderman/ spider woman he will make some lame excuse to Miguel as to why yall you can't leave the bed.

Body part

On him, he loves his hands and how they grip your plush stomach or thighs or how he can make you messy in under ten minutes.

Cum

Though he loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you, he does not want any kids as of right now and he is not a fan of wrapping it up so he will most likely just pull out and cum on your stomach, face, ass, or back. However, if you are on the pill and you don't mind, he will happily cum in you.

Dirty Secret

I can see Hobie as an exhibitionist. He wouldn't mind taking you underneath a table, on top of a skyscraper, or in an alleyway. However, the one place that he wants to do it more than ever is in Miguel's office. Just the thought of Miguel catching yall makes him ready to explode.

Experience

He is not a man-whore however he has had his fair share of bedroom guests.

Favourite Position

Any position that has you on top of him. He hates the idea that women should only be a bottom and will fight anyone when he says that having women on top is even better. He also likes it when you sit on his face. Weight is not a thing he cares about and he wouldn't mind suffocating beneath a fat pussy and some thick thighs.

Goofy

He is not an overly goofy person when you two are having sex. He might crack a few especially if it's your first time and he is just trying to lighten the mood and get you to relax.

Hair

He does not shave and is a firm believer that you should not do it either. The hair is there for a reason so let it be. Now if you wanna trim it or make your bush into some cool shapes, he is all on board. Depending on what shape you are trying to do, he might just do it with you so yall can match.

Intimacy

It is not rare for him to be seen hanging off of you in some way or another. It's not that is jealous or anything, he just loves being by you.

Jack off

If you are not around and he really needs to rub one off then he will jack off. Always if you are not in the mood, then he will take care of himself

Kinks

Slight Daddy Dom kink

Slight Breeding kink

BDSM ( can go both ways)

Cum Play

Pet Play ( on your part)

Food Kink

Location

He usually will just go into your or his room because he knows that it is the safest option. However, he will also do it on top of a random skyscraper or somewhere in the Spider HQ.

Motivation

Just sit on his lap or bend down to pick up something and he is already to through you on the nearest surface.

No

He is not sharing you with anyone and he will not do anything that you are uncomfortable with or anything too risky

Oral

He is much more into giving than receiving when it comes to orals. He prefers to be buried in you more than anything. However, he wouldn't mind if you gave him a blowjob as a way to get him up in the morning.

Pace

His pace can change from a flip of a coin. Somedays wants to go hard and fast to get rid of any stress that he has, while other times he is soft and sensual.

Quickies

Yes, especially when he should be out on a mission or on patrol

Risk

This man will fuck you in an alleyway by a very busy street and won't stop even if he hears people getting close to yall

Stamina

On a good day he could go maybe three times with ten-minute breaks in between and a round could last for about 20-30 minutes.

Toys

He doesn't mind you using toys on him or on yourself. He is a fan of vibrators and handcuffs.

Unfair

If you are being a brat and just giving him a hard time for no reason then he will edge you for an hour or two and no amount of crying or pleading will make him stop.

Volume

He has always been a vocal person so of course that would extend to the bedroom. He will be in your ear moaning and groaning while calling you a good girl or a slut all depends on what you fancy.

Wildcard

He is known for just throwing you over his shoulder he wants your attention. It doesn't matter who you are talking to.

X-ray

He is about 7 inches soft and 8.5 inches hard. He also has the Jacob's ladder piercing.

Yearning

You really don't have to do much to get him excited, however, he is a sucker for some short shorts or a body con dress. Seeing your curves and rolls just spill over just does something to him.

Zzz…

He doesn't go to sleep directly. He will make sure you are all good and he may play with his guitar for an hour before cuddling up with you.

#hobie brown #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie x reader #chubby reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x chubby!reader