#pencil skirt and sneakers

[platanarium]

#ootd #outfit #mirror selfie #fashion blog #blue tights #white adidas #skirt and adidas #pencil skirt and sneakers #pencil skirt #velvet skirt #turtleneck sweater

[zoesrepository]

@karinsklader

#brunelleschi #blogger #librarian #stripes #pencil skirt #black skirt #tights #colored tights #green tights #green #sneakers

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ [6K] friends with benefits, but oh no! there's feelings. canon adjacent, kind of? smut, summer, car sex.

You heard the rev of the engine just before the headlights flashed over your bedroom window, casting shadows over your sheets, your own silhouette on the wallpaper. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, the sound of the car idling across your street, waiting. 

You did anyway, fingers parting the slats of the blinds as you turned off your television, grabbing a sweater to shove on, feet stuffed into sneakers as the knit fell to just above the hem of your skirt. A few months ago you would’ve rushed to check your reflection in a mirror, sprayed some perfume, dabbed on some gloss, maybe a cherry flavoured balm on your lips. Now, you just grabbed a set of keys from the dish in the hallway before you closed the front door as quietly as you could. You should’ve told your parents, you knew that. Hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, teenagers getting murdered in broad daylight, an Indiana summer scape being used as the scene for some ripped off horror movie plotline. 

But sneaking off into the night with a pretty boy was all part and parcel of being young, wasn’t it?

The BMW was parked under a street lamp opposite your driveway and when he saw you making your way down, the boy got out of his car, greeting you at the passenger side with a kiss that he ducked down to give you eagerly before opening the door. 

It wasn’t always like that. The terms and conditions of this… situation, used to be a lot more strict. There were rules that came with hooking up with the guy from the video store next door. A casual fuck at a party became accidentally more and long gone were the days that you’d been pressed against a wall by someone who was more man than boy now, stubble scratching across your chin and jaw as you kissed him, tongues tasting like tequila, like cherry vodka and cheap beer. 

And you’d had enough sense left in you that night to pull away, gasping, panting, your hands in his hair as his snuck up your shirt, just barely, thumbs pushing nicely into your waist. You’d let your half lidded eyes drag across his pretty features and recognition managed to take over drunken hormones, over want. 

“Hey, you’re the guy that works in Family Video, right?”

And he’d nodded, smiling a little lopsided as his gaze stayed on your lips a second too long, loving the way they were glossy and bitten red by him. “Mhmm,” the boy had said. “Steve. You’re the ice cream girl.”

Not much else was said that night, not when the girl from the ice cream shop liked the way the boy from the video store tasted. You liked the way Steve held you, how he pressed you into a dark corner of someone’s house party, his eyes only on you even when there were so many other girls trying to get his attention. He’d walked you home when the sun was coming up, his sports jacket draped over your shoulders, your shoes in your hands. You’d written your number on his hand with an eyeliner pencil, smudged but there. 

He’d kissed you again when your neighbours sprinklers turned on, when the birds started singing from the cherry trees out back. It was a soft thing, too soft and too gentle not to mean much but when he pulled back, he squinted at you, looking regretful. 

“I, uh, I’m not looking for anything serious right now,” he confessed. Steve looked sad about it. “I don’t wanna lead you on— I just, there’s a lot going on right now, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you understood. So you nodded and shrugged, the boy's jacket moving against your shoulders and you could smell his cologne, the smoke from the party, your own perfume where it now lingered on the collar. 

So you said, “that’s okay. Doesn’t have to be serious, if we don’t want it to be. We can just… I don’t know. Hang out.”

Steve grinned that night, pleased, cheeks a little pink, ‘cause you both knew what hanging out meant. So he nodded too, told you to keep his jacket and that he’d get it back later, told you he’d see you soon and maybe he could take you for a drive or something. 

Casual, no labels, no expectations. No feelings. 

You were pretty certain that was the night you started falling for Steve Harrington. 

—————

You took Steve’s offered kiss with your chin tilted up, trying hard not to smile, failing when he held out a hand for you to hold as you ducked into the car. He shut the door for you, crossed the front of the beemer, lit up by the headlights, his white t-shirt hanging loose around his collarbones, threadbare and worn. His hair wasn’t done like he usually didn’t it, the messy strands falling across his forehead instead of pushed back. It made him look softer, like the Steve you’d grown to know past midnight. 

It had been months since that party. Months of hooking up on lunch breaks, using the staff room of the ice cream parlour to make out in instead of sharing food, rushing to Steve’s parked car to fool around in the back, letting the windows steam up, a sight too salacious for daylight. You didn’t date, Steve didn’t take you out to dinner, or the movies. You didn’t ask him too. Neither of you had met the other's parents, or friends. You knew a lot about Steve’s life, but you weren’t exactly enveloped in it. 

That’s how it was supposed to be. Just sex. Fun. 

But then Hawkins fell to scandal, a murderer on the loose, a boy you once knew from school. Weird goings on, strange sounds from the forest, news crews parked on streets, hoping for the latest story. Steve wasn’t around as much and when you did see him, he was with people you didn’t know as well. Nancy Wheeler, a kid called Dustin, Max Mayfield and another boy from the school basketball team. 

You’d watch across the street as Steve closed up the video store hours too early with Robin Buckley, rushing to his car with his friends in tow like there was some sort of emergency. So lunch hour sex sessions turned into late night drives, when the rest of the town was asleep and every house you passed was lit up by the street lights, by the aquamarine glow of backyard pools. 

Subtle changes happened first. There were still no dates, no talk of feelings. In fact, whatever was stressing Steve seemed to only be fixed by fucking you. He wasn’t rough about it, not mean, nor careless. But there was a different kind of urgency when he parked up somewhere dark and hidden, pushing his lips to yours and sighing hard like he’d been waiting all day to taste you. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to yours as he let you pant into his parted lips, quiet, soft noises mixing with the slap of his hips against yours. And when you were both fully dressed again and he was ready to take you home, he pressed extra kisses to your cheeks, your hand. 

He’d stare at you, longer than he used to, eyes filled with something you weren’t able to place yet and the boy would tell you to promise him you’d be safe. 

Steve would watch you until you made it inside, he’d do that all the time. But now he was in the habit of only pulling away when he saw your bedroom light flick on, your silhouette waving to him from behind the glass. 

After that, Steve took to kissing you more and more, sex not required. A kiss hello, sweet and chaste, a kiss goodbye, longing, meaningful - even if you didn’t know what it was yet. He was touchy, more open, talking to you and opening up when you’d get into his car and see the boy’s tired eyes. He’d tell you it was fine, that it was nothing for you to worry about. But you spotted a bat in the back seat footwell once, an old looking thing with fucking nails poking out the top.  

Steve had turned a little ashen when you stared at him, promising you earnestly that it was only for protection. You know, because of everything that was going on. You weren’t sure what made you believe him so easily, but you did. Night time drives turned into make outs broken up with Steve burrowing his face into your neck as you raked your hands through his hair. You’d watch him grow sluggish, words drowsy as he spoke about how the bad guys aren’t always bad, are they? And should we really believe what the cops on TV are telling us? And wouldn’t all of this just be so much easier if people had superpowers?

You weren’t sure what any of it was supposed to mean, but you’d nodded and dotted your lips over his hairline, letting him lean heavy against you until he scrubbed a hand over his face and coaxed you into his lap, telling you softly that he’d feel a lot fucking better if he got to make you fall apart with his fingers. 

You let him. And you returned the favour too. 

—————

You knew tonight was different by the way Steve was white knuckling the stick shift, antsy as he brought his touch to your bare thigh instead. He rubbed his thumb there, exhaled heavily when you covered his hand with your own. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly. You didn’t dare break the quiet, the one that only came with driving out of town when the sky was inky, when the wheat fields whispered in the breeze and the bus stops stood empty. Hawkins was asleep, but there was something that Summer that made the town feel less than peaceful. Maybe it was the ‘wanted’ posters on every street light. Eddie Munson’s face staring back at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine.” He glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road for a second or two. He looked heavy, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas, the man with the earth on his back, cast in marble, ready to crumble. “Just a little stressed ‘bout stuff, that’s all.” 

It was the same answer he always gave. You assumed it was his parents - his dad and his relentless tenacity about his job, his future. Maybe it was Keith, giving him a hard time about shifts. Maybe he had a friend in trouble. You were ready to ask, to pry a little deeper when the boy said:

“You’re not, uh—  you don’t get headaches, do you? Like bad ones.”

You squinted at him, confused. You watched the streetlights run over his features, casting the boy in a white-yellow glow before they stopped completely, signalling you’d reached the edge of town. The water tower passed you both by, only fields, the road and stars for company now. 

“Um, no more than anyone else who works with sugar loaded ice cream and six year old customers all day,” you joked. “Why?”

Steve didn’t laugh, shit, he didn’t even smile. He looked as serious as before and he ignored your question in favour of asking his own. His hand squeezed at your knee, affectionate, his thumb running circles into the inside of your leg before he had to let go to shift gears. “You don’t have nightmares, do you?”

You were really confused now. You leaned back against the door, watching as empty farm pastures blurred past Steve’s face. His lips were pressed right, concern in every part of his face, drawn in there like it was permanent. He looked tired, scared. Your throat drew tight. “Steve, is something wrong?”

“You’d tell me, right?” Steve was slowing the car down, pulling into an empty gas station lot that sat on an desolate road a few miles out of town. The place hasn’t been used in years, the pumps empty, the shutters on the windows covered in graffiti. But the neon sign above the roof still flickered, bathing you both in red and purple lights. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you? If you felt like…” Steve swallowed harshly searching for the right words. “If you didn’t feel safe?”

You unclipped your belt to lean forward, your hand resting on Steve’s thigh. Your brow was furrowed in concern, a worry knotting in your chest because you’d never seen the boy this serious. “Steve, what?” You watched as the boy exhaled again, a heavy, shaking thing and he looked at you with the most tender eyes. “Hey, hey, Steve, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Steve swallowed, throat bobbing hardly and his face crumpled, frustration and worry easily read. He was scarlet lights and inky shadows, neon purple bathing the dashboard as rain started to fall on the windscreen. Light drops of it, dotting here and there until it got heavier and heavier, a dull roar against the car roof. Water droplets slid down the windows, racing each other and Steve tried to find the words. 

He couldn’t. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t really explain. Not right now,” Steve dragged a hand through his already messy and he truly did look apologetic. He looked so tired. “Just, please, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? If you needed help with something, or, or, someone to talk to? You’d come to me, wouldn’t you? You know you can talk to me? About anything? This— this isn’t all sex, I know, fuck, I know it was supposed to be but, shit, we care about each other right? I, I care about you— ”

You nodded, eyes wide, moving as close as could over the middle console, the parking brake digging into your tummy so you could clasp his cheeks between your hands. You soothed your thumbs over the slight stubble there, eyes searching his, wondering if you’d find any answers there. You didn’t. So instead you kept nodding, hoping the boy would believe you. 

“I’d tell you, Steve. I’d come to you, it’s okay. I’m fine, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, not with me, okay?” Your voice was urgent, hushed, a frantic whisper almost drowned out by the rain. 

But your words seemed to soothe the boy and he visibly relaxed, face leaning into your touch. “So, no nightmares?” He asked again. 

“No nightmares,” you promised him and he turned his face into your palm, kissing the skin there, the way a boyfriend would. It made your stomach flip, an undeniably tender gesture. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded, eyes closing briefly to gather himself and the lights made the shadows under his lashes turn a deep ruby red. The rain splashed the hood of the car, puddles in the forecourt, purple lights reflecting back like an oil spill. “Yeah. I’m sorry, fuck, it’s just— I wish I could tell you.” Steve let his head fall back onto the seat when you moved your hands. “You must think I’m insane, right?”

You smiled wryly, bringing your feet up to rest on the dash, a move he would’ve told you off - semi jokingly - a few weeks ago for. “No more than I did when I first met you.” Your skirt gathered at your thighs with the move, pooling in the cradle there, cheap silk, lilac and more suited for a trip to the mall rather than a rainy night. But Steve tracked the movement, gaze dropping to the bare skin it uncovered before his eyes found your own again. “And for the record, Harrington, I care about you too.”

It seemed to break something in the boy, those earnest words, real enough to shatter, to make someone crumble in the best way. He punched out the breath he’d been holding and he leant his cheek against the headrest, eyes on you, amazingly soft. “I just wanna keep you safe,” he whispered and the statement made your heart ache. 

This wasn’t part of the agreement. This wasn’t even in the rule book. 

“I am safe,” you whispered back, brow still wrinkled in confusion. “Is this about Eddie Munson? The police are looking for him, Steve, they’ll find him soon—”

“Somethin’ like that,” Steve tried to smile but it was thin and tight lipped. “I didn’t mean to worry you, m’sorry.”

You smiled, still confused but eager to bring the boy out of his strange mood. You wanted to help, you wanted to comfort. “It’s okay,” you told him, soothing a hand over his thigh again. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout little, old me.”

Something in Steve’s expression told you maybe all he really did was worry about you. But he didn’t say anything more about it, not then. He just slid his hand over your own, let his fingers wrap around your wrist and climb up your forearm, tugging gently. “Hey, c’mere,” he whispered and you knew that look, you knew that tone of voice. 

Wanting, needy. Desperation coloured it this time, something new. 

He’d normally meet you in the backseat, lips crashing in the middle, a faux argument about who was on top that time. But instead, Steve just coaxed you onto his lap, sliding his chair back from the wheel to make room for you, your legs spread in either side of his hips. He seemed greedy for you, wide palms sneaking under your sweater immediately, the stitch between his brows softening once he got his hands on you. 

“Wanna touch you,” the boy sighed and he sounded far away, voice dreamlike now you were closer, like his worries had been eased. “Can I? Wanna make you feel good, think ‘bout it all the time,” he confessed, leaning in until his forehead was pressed to yours, his chin tilted up to meet you, noses bumping. 

You nodded, eyes falling shut because all you wanted to do was feel. It was easy with Steve, easy to close off the rest of the world and put all your trust in him. The cocoon of his car felt safe, warm and smelling like leather and his cologne, the hazy light filtering through the rain on the windshield, a kaleidoscope of crimson and violet. 

“Yeah, please,” you nodded and your voice sounded so much softer and smaller than before, like you were giving into it, like you were begging him. 

Maybe you were. 

His hands found the hem of your sweater at the same time yours found his, but you tugged at his cotton shirt with more insistence. You watched his face falter, like he was remembering something. You frowned, fingertips searching under the material for the familiar feel of his warm skin, the trail of hair that led down his navel and into the band of his underwear. Your brow wrinkled deeper when you found something scratchy, a crinkled band that seemed to wrap around him. He flinched when you pressed your palm to it. 

“Steve— what—?”

“Babe,” Steve tried to placate you with sweetness, his eyes worried, his hands holding your waist and pulling you closer. “Jus’ leave it on, yeah? It’s—”

“Are you hurt?” 

You couldn’t help it, worry and panic taking over and you hated that you didn’t listen to the boy but you were tugging up the hem of his top before he could protest. A bandage was wound around his torso, crisscrossing at his stomach, climbing up to the bottom of his ribs. There was a dark shadow under the right side, like there was a bruise hiding there, or worse. 

Suddenly, all the talk of keeping you safe seemed laughable. Your eyes watered at the sight of him, the skin that peeked out from the edges of the wrap a little mottled, an angry red mixing with green and yellow. “What happened?” You sounded distraught and the watery concern Steve that could hear was thick in your throat and it made him fucking ache. 

“Nothing,” he tried to lie, but he sounded tired, like all he did was avoid the truth. “I’m okay, I swear. I promise you. I just, I just took a bad fall. Bruised my ribs, caught myself on somethin’ sharp, or  whatever, but I’m good.”

You didn’t believe him. Your heart was telling you not to. But Steve Harrington was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was too exhausted to argue. You stared at him, saw how he pleaded with you, silent, hopeless.  

Your hands found his jaw, thumbs smoothing over the apples of his cheeks and held him like he was precious. He was. So much more than some guy you found in the dark corners of a stranger’s house party. Who would’ve thought?

“Are you in trouble?” Your voice wobbled. You felt helpless. You were trying to tamp down the ugly thoughts in your head, wondering about all the worst case scenarios, thinking about the kinds of people who could do this to someone. You wondered if your dad could help, if he’d give you some cash if that’s what Steve needed, the spare room, a way out— “can I help? What can I do to help?”

“No, no,” Steve answered with a new sense of urgency, eyes wide. “No, listen, you’re staying far away from it all, okay?”

The fact Steve didn’t deny that there was something to fear, that there was something he was caught up in - something he wasn’t telling you - made your worry spike even more. “Steve, what the fuck is go—” 

You were cut off by a kiss. A crushing thing, all consuming and it swallowed your words, your worries, your tears. Steve was warm all over, his lips just as hot, soft and plush and always tasting like mint chapstick. He chased your mouth as you went to pull away, an argument still on your tongue but he kissed you until you turned pliant, hands falling from where they’d been planted on his chest to winding around his neck. You made a soft noise of defeat when his tongue licked over the seam of your lips, your mouth opening for him, the kiss turning deeper. You took in the sound of Steve’s shaky gasps, the way his hands mapped out the curve of your back, the dip of your waist. 

Steve kissed you until you both couldn’t breathe. 

You pulled away panting, eyes heavier and half lidded than before and Steve’s were no better. He was trying to coax you back, his fingers on your chin but you were reminded about what lay under his shirt and your features were crumpling with concern again. 

“M’gonna hurt you, I’m too heavy,” you whispered, aghast, shifting onto your knees awkwardly as if you suddenly just realised you were sitting on his lap. “Steve.”

“No, hey,” Steve protested, squeezing at your waist until you sat back on his lap. He whispered your name, serious. “You’re not hurting— Jesus, stay please? I’m fine, okay? Please. Babe, please, just…” he looked up at you, words trailing off and lingering in the small space that was between you both, floating in the red-purple light. 

It was still raining. 

“What do you need?” You asked him and you tried not to let your eyes turn glassy but the boy underneath you was gazing at you like you were the first one to ask him such a question in years. “What can I do to help, Steve, huh? I’ll do it, okay?”

“Need you,” Steve managed to choke out and he looked lost, he looked desperate but his eyes were hungry and falling to your lips and god, god, his hands were trailing up the sides of your ribs and he was groaning softly when he found you’d left your bra at home. “I swear to god, I promise, I just need you.”

It made it easy to fall into him, lips pressed to his as you tried to hold yourself off of the boy, just slightly, enough to hopefully not cause the boy any pain. But Steve was having none of it, sighing against your mouth and tugging you forward, his hands gripping your hips, sliding underneath your sweater and along the waistband of your skirt. He groaned, a sound you knew well, his lips chasing yours as he kept you pressed down in his lap, the cotton of your underwear pushed to the denim of his jeans. You kissed him back, pliant before turning eager, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you resisted the urge to roll your hips over him. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you whispered again and you sounded scared, worried. “Steve.”

“Shhh,” Steve soothed you with a hand on your jaw, tugging you back, keeping you grounded against his. His thumb was pushing to your cheek, trailing down to catch over your lip, his mouth ghosting over yours. Your noses knocked, breaths mixing. “S’okay, m’fine, yeah? You’re fine, babe.”

Steve watched through hooded eyes as he coaxed you into moving, a gentle back and forth of your hips over his and he smiled, nodding when you let out a soft noise, forehead falling to rest against his own. “There you go, there she is,” Steve whispered and it felt fond, it felt familiar, the way he spoke, the way he held you. 

It didn’t feel like something friends did, not even friends with certain benefits. Not anymore. Not with the way he was looking at you. 

“I just need to, fuck,” Steve let his head fall back onto the chair, chin tilted up to watch your face, the scrunch of your nose when something made you feel good. He was blue in the shadows, navy, inky. Scarlet skin, red cheeks, purple lights making him ultraviolet. “I just need to feel you, I’ve not stopped thinkin’ about it all day, I swear. Is that crazy?”

You shook your head, lips parting as you let out a heavy breath, the kick up of Steve’s cock in his jeans hitting your clit just right. You kept rolling your hips, slow, even strokes over him. “No, s’not crazy,” you let out a quiet whine, chasing Steve’s touch as he gripped your hips a little tighter. “Think ‘bout you too.”

“Just wanna— wanna switch off sometimes, you know?” Steve groaned when you reached for the button of his jeans, wrapping an around your waist as he lifted his hips and helped you tug the denim down one handed. “Bein’ with you, it helps. It helps so much. I just wanna get lost in you— baby—”

Steve cut himself off with a groan, eyes clenched shut and the term of endearment falling from his lips too easily. You’d ached as he spoke, staring at his soft eyes, the tiredness around them, busying yourself with freeing his cock from from his boxers until you knelt up a little and pulled your own underwear to the side. 

You were already wet from his kisses, the way he’d helped your rock your hips over his, but god. God, Steve was a stretch. The boy would normally work at you before hand, legs spread for him in the backseat so he could fit two fingers inside, his tongue and mouth helping ease you, melt you. Then he’d give you inch by inch, jaw unhinged and eyes dark as he talked you through it, telling you how good you were at taking his cock. 

Desperation won over this time, though. It took a little squirming, a wriggle of your hips and a sharp gasp until he was fully seated inside of you and there was always a dull burn as you did. It was worth it though, to feel so suddenly full, to watch the way Steve’s brain seemed to glitch at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. He moaned, brows scrunched together as he pressed his fingertips into your hips so hard you were sure he’d leave a lavender coloured map of touches behind.  

“Shit, shit,” the boy gasped out and he clung to you as you did him, pulling you into his chest so he could wrap both arms around you, big hands spanning across you back. “Baby, fuck, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You felt breathless at the sensation, stuffed full, your nose pressed to Steve’s neck as he surrounded you, as he held you. You shifted, just slightly, adjusting as he throbbed inside of your cunt and Steve hissed sharply through his teeth. 

“You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, ohmygod.”

You laughed, softly, not at all mean and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling closer as you stayed still, just for a minute. “Easy, cowboy,” you murmured. Steve’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, grabbing them, kneading them. “You okay?”

He nodded and you pulled back enough to see the way his cheeks flushed pink, lips parted and eyes flutter closed. The boy sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you just feel so fucking good. You’re so warm,” he marvelled. 

It was getting harder and harder to stay still, your cunt clenching around Steve’s cock, making you both gasp, soft noises falling from each of your mouths and it was anyone other than Steve, you would’ve seen embarrassed at the wetness gathering at the base of his cock, coating the insides of your thighs. “Can I move?” You asked him, whispering. 

Steve nodded, too blissed out already, his pretty brown eyes getting that far away look to them. Hazy, fuzzy, dreamlike. He seemed less tired now, less stressed, less tense. So you lifted yourself up gently before settling back down on him, the tip of his cock nudging deep inside of you and it made you cry out, a strangled sound that Steve stole with a kiss. He kissed you through it all, hands everywhere at once, roaming over you, sneaking under skirts and sweaters to slide over your bare skin, like he was making sure you were real. 

There was a neediness to it all that surpassed hormones and urges. 

So you let him, kissed him back with just as much fervour as you rode him, hips moving slow and gentle, the pressure building between you both, filling the air in the car, filling the cracks between your ribs and it made you spin, it made you dizzy. You kissed Steve until he didn’t look so blue anymore, and when you pulled back, letting him mourn at your neck, your jaw, your chin, the rain had stopped and the purple light above the gas station was flickering. 

“Steve,” you sighed, your voice cracking, watery. 

“I know,” the boy mumbled back and he sounded the same. 

You were staring into his eyes when you came. One hand pressed between your sticky thighs as you pushed mean fingers to your clit, the other in Steve’s hair, holding him to you, anchoring yourself. Steve swore as he felt you tighten around him, pussy fluttering as you came, movements turning a little messy and unbalanced but the boy gripped you under the ass and helped you move through it all, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on your skin. 

“M’close,” Steve groaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the heat from his cheeks, the softness of his hair against your throat. “Fuck, babe, I’m so goddamn close, where—?”

You doubled down on your efforts despite your shaky thighs, despite how sensitive you were. You rocked over him, pace quickening, wanting nothing more than to make Steve fall apart. You heard him gasp, lips parting against your neck, heavy breaths falling over your skin. You held him to you, let him bury himself there, helped him hide until he could piece himself back together again. 

“Inside,” you told him and your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore. You sounded wrecked, wild, desperate. It’s not something you and Steve did often, in fact, you’d only done it once before and you’d both been too tipsy to really remember it. But you were on the pill and Steve trusted you as much as you trusted him. “Wanna feel it, Steve, please, inside—”

“Oh, fuck!” Steve gasped as he came, hips bucking up into you with a little less rhythm than before  and he abandoned his grip on your ass to wrap his arms around you again, pulling you in, crushing you to his chest. He held you, pumping you full, cock twitching as he cried out, the sound muffled against your cheek. He whispered your name, a prayer. “Fuck, fuck. Baby.”

You could feel how hard his heart was beating, your cheek pressed to his chest as the rain started back up, heavy drops on the car roof, more lines trailing down the steamed up windows. You could hear Steve’s soft pants in between, his breath huffing over your hairline. You felt the boy skin his lips over the same spot, his nose pressed to your forehead. 

“You okay?” He whispered and you nodded, pulling back enough to look at him. 

He looked so much softer than before, the harsh lines gone, tension released. Steve ran a hand over your cheek and you leaned into it, kissing his palm. “I should be asking you that.” You brushed a gentle hand over his side, where you knew his bruise lay under his shirt. “Did I hurt you?”

“Quite the opposite,” Steve laughed, soft, quiet. The rain was growing louder, heavier. He was still inside you, heavy, warm, big. It was a comfort you didn’t want to read too much into. “Feel cured,” he joked. 

You huffed out a breath of a laugh, smiling, cheeks warm and you winced as you shifted up on your knees and Steve made a soft noise, cooing at you as he held your waist and helped you move. You bit your lip as you moved your stretched out underwear back into place, your body burned at the feel of Steve’s come slipping from between your folds, warm, wet. 

“I don’t even have anything to help clean you up,” Steve murmured apologetically, but he would’ve been lying if the idea of you going home full of him didn’t make his dick twitch again. 

“S’okay,” you told him and when you made to move off Steve’s lap, the boy gripped your thighs. 

You looked at him, brows raised, because this was normally the part of the night where you fell back into the passenger seat, satisfied and a little numb, laughing over a stupid joke Steve cracked before he drove you home and kissed you goodnight. “Stay,” he asked, whispering. You watched him swallow roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can you just—? Stay here for a bit, yeah?”

You softened, eyebrows scrunching as you took on the emotion on Steve’s face, the shyness there, the hope. You nodded, settling gently back onto Steve’s lap and you reached out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, using the gesture as an excuse to let your fingers trail over his cheekbone. Steve turned, catching your knuckles with his lips, a fleeting kiss. 

Then he sucked in a breath and seemed to ready himself, his hands on your hips again, sneaking under the fabric of your sweater so he could rub circles into your skin with his thumbs. 

“So, it all started with this girl…”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

[mypoisonedvine]

Please write us perv eddie. Even if it's dark idc. Just him stealing the readers panties or "accidentally" tripping and groping her boob lol. She's into it the whole time. They're walking to the local ice cream shop and she stops directly in front of him and bends over to grab a flower on the ground and he runs *right* into her ass and just groans. Omg.

I won't do a whole fic but maybe just a little... (it's not DARK dark but eddie's pervy ofc and the reader is innocent... or so she seems)

(other warnings for dubious consent, somnophilia [not sex just watching her sleep for gratification], foot fetish, panty theft and dacryphilia)

You didn't even know what you were doing, that was what drove him crazy. When you chewed on your pencil in class, when you stretched your arms and arched your back which pushed your tits right out on display, when you wore sandals or flip-flops to school... you didn't even know that you were doing to him.

That time you sucked on a cherry popsicle, looking right at him as you hollowed your cheeks to drain the juice right out of it with your red-stained lips; he came in seconds after he got home, imagining those lips wrapped around him and mumbling praises as if you were really there on your knees.

Or when you were reading on his couch, and you took your sneakers off and put your feet up on his lap, wiggling your toes inside the white cotton socks... he couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel if you rubbed his boner with your foot, or the way you would moan and squirm if he pulled one of your socks off right now and kissed your pretty toes...

Worst of all was when you cried; he felt like a real sicko the first time you were upset about something and cried onto his shoulder, sniffling and sobbing pathetically. He was hard as a fucking rock. He wanted to push your head down into his lap and fill your mouth while you cried on his cock; he wanted to make you bounce on his dick and call you his little crybaby.

Most of the time, Eddie didn't feel bad at all for being like this, though every once in a while a little guilt would seep in. The guilt, though, was a bit erotic in its own way. Knowing he was creeping on you when you were just an innocent little girl, barely eighteen, who thought he was just your first friend in boring-new-town Hawkins... knowing it was wrong and dirty just made it better.

Like when he'd been visiting your house and asked to use your bathroom just so he could pilfer through the hamper and find a used pair of your panties. He almost busted in his jeans when he smelled them, and tried to imagine what dirty thought made your panties so wet with your delicious scent.

He took those panties home and fucked them for hours until they were soaked in his come. He liked to imagine you, somehow, putting them back on and wearing his come right up against your cute little pussy all day. He'd be the luckiest guy in the fucking world.

But the worst thing he'd ever done was when you came over and ended up falling asleep on his bed. He could've done a lot worse with that, but he did his best to contain himself. He was just going to watch you, but then he realized that your skirt had ridden up and, from just the right angle, he could see up under it to your little pink panties. Instantly all the blood that was supposed to be in his brain rushed to his cock and he had to take it out, he had to stare at your tiny mound hidden under the fabric and your sweet, peaceful face as he got himself off.

He tried to be quiet so he wouldn't wake you, but there was still the soft clinking of his belt as he opened it and the slow slide of his zipper.

A low sigh fell out of his mouth when he got his hand around his aching cock. Your cute little hand would feel so much nicer; it's a shame that you fell asleep with your sneakers on or he'd be looking at your feet right about now...

But the upskirt view was plenty to work with. If only he was brave enough to flip that skirt up and look at your pretty ass in pink lace. That ass would look so good covered in his handprints and bruises.

If only he could see the shape of your pussy, even just the dip in between where the fabric hugged onto your lips; but your legs were too close together for--

You shifted slightly and he started to put his cock back in his pants, but your eyes were still shut. He got down on his knees at the foot of the bed and had to bite his lip and shut his eyes to keep from moaning.

You had spread your legs and given him the perfect view of your panty-covered cunt. It looked so fucking cute-- he leaned in a little and saw the little bump where your clit must be. He wanted more already, he wanted to see your folds all slick and sensitive, he wanted to see your tiny little hole... he wanted to see your other hole, too.

He stroked his cock faster, throat bobbing as he tried to stay quiet. Dirty fucking slut, you know what you're doing, don't you? he imagined telling you as he pulled you over his lap and spanked you.

No, I swear! you would cry, so cute with your big eyes full of tears. I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you!

You'll finish what you started?

You would nod and bite your lip, getting on your knees for him.

You hummed softly in your sleep, holding his pillow tighter, and he squeezed his cock with a low groan. This was the best thing since he told you that pretending to shake a salt shaker on your tongue would make you taste salt. Dumb little girl, you just kept trying and trying when it didn't work, and he nearly creamed in his jeans.

Naughty baby... he thought to himself. I'll teach you everything, I'll teach you how to be a good slut, just for me.

He stroked himself faster and faster, eyes darting back and forth between your spread legs and your innocent face. His wallet chain and loose hanging belt were chiming rhythmically as he jerked faster and faster-- he was already so close and he wanted to fucking coat you, come right on your clothes and face and hair and--

Fuck. Where was he actually going to come? He couldn't do it on you, he didn't have a rag-- oh god, what's the plan?

You handed him the stolen panties from under his mattress. "Try this," you suggested.

He choked on his own throat as he looked back at you, sitting up and smiling at him with eyes wide open.

"Well? Isn't this what you usually come in?" you tilted your head.

He started to try to stammer out an excuse, tried to start pulling his jeans back up, but you just giggled.

"I was wondering when you were gonna man up and make a move," you explained, batting your eyelashes at him. "I've been waiting forever!"

He blinked at you rapidly, totally unable to respond. "Uh-- I-- what?"

"Come here and tell me about how cute I look sleeping," you cooed as you sat up and tugged on his shirt to pull him closer. "And I'll tell you about how cute you look trying to hide a boner."

#eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie #this was fun

[cascade05]

Convenience

This is kinda suggestive so watch yo self, unless you don’t wanna...

Thinking about Bakugo and his pretty secretary. She wears very business chic clothes, mature and sexy as oppose to cute.

Suit pants that hug her--not enough to be innapropreate but enough to make it obvious she works out. Suit shirts that dip into her chest a little bit, not enough to be immoddest but just enough to drive Bakugo wild. Stilletoes. Just plain black stilletoes, nothing else. She does have a pair of black flats tucked under desk and a pair of pristine black sneakers, just in case. When she wears pencil skirts, Bakugo is just about sent to his knees. And if the way the freshly pressed fabric hugs her hips wasn't enough, she dares to come into the office with a pencil skirt that has a zipper going straight down her ass.

It's the convenience of it that really gets him. How easy it would be to just pull the top zipper all the way down, exposing her lacy black underwear to him. (He only knows because she bent down that one time and he saw it ON ACCIDENT! When he thought about it that night it wasn’t really on accident tho—)

It's the convenience, he tells himself as he watches her strut out of his office. She's beautiful and just so conveniently always apart of his day, that's the only reason he can't stop thinking about her. It's not because she doesn't put up with his shit and it's not because she's constantly defending him when sponsors say something sour about him. It's definitely not the worried glances she gives him when he comes back from patrol a little more banged up than usual—he'd like to bang her a little more than usual when she wears that stupid skirt—

It's convenience, he thinks. He knows her and she knows him. Its convenience, he convinces himself. That's all.

Definitely not whatever the hell his heart keeps telling him.

#lol he’s lying to himself #always lying to himself #this happened cause i saw a skirt like this and thought #that has some uber spicy daydreaming potential… #zesty #bnha #mha #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #cascade05 #lol

[twogyuu]

an unfinished tale [prologue]

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: In an age absent of DMs and dating apps, a year you're not supposed to exist in, you defy all odds and manage to fall in love with the neighbor down the hall from your uncle's dorm. Part of you wishes he feels the same, part of you hopes he doesn't - for the sake of your heart and his.

Genre: Fluff, crack, smidgen of angst, first/last loves, time travel!au, 90s!au, college!au, uncle/roommate!chan, chan has a twin brother who is reader's dad LMAO, fairy godmother!seokmin; featuring friends!seungkwan, vernon, and jihoon too 💙

Warnings: Mentions of Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore(?); references to the films, Past Lives and The Butterfly Effect

WC: ~1k

masterlist || next

Red thread. 

Inyeon. 

Butterfly effect. 

These were only a few of the hundreds of concepts of “fate” out in the world. The idea of fate was fascinating, wasn’t it? Two souls predestined to be together despite the confines of space and circumstances. One way or another, you’d find your way to one another because the universe, or whatever higher being up there, willed it – your stories already penned into the endless constellations of the sky before you were born. The only thing left was for the pages to be turned, eyes lingering across each word like footsteps on an unscathed path. 

The seamless flow of fate makes it natural to think that it only moved forward. Two people’s fate existed in the same timeline and moved in parallel before they crossed, tangled, and knotted. 

What would happen if fate didn’t follow these unsaid, human-made rules?

What if fate transcended the confines of time?

. . . .

With the flick of his wrist, Wonwoo snaps his hardcover copy of Haruki Murakami’s Kafka On the Shore with one hand. The quiet clap of stacked pages is lost amidst the noise of the subway station during rush hour. Businesswomen clatter down the stairs in their heels, hands pressed on the side of their tight pencil skirts; it’s in contrast to the rubber soles of the sneakers worn by the teenagers who heave as they sprint and race one another across the platform to catch the last train before they are late to class. The soothing robotic voice overhead announces the incoming trains; every ten minutes, it is complemented by the warning to stay away from the rails for one’s safety. 

With a heavy sigh, he tucks the red and black book into his satchel, the only question of why he took Kim Mingyu up on his recommendation to read Kafka on the Shore, polluting his mind. His friend had claimed it was award winning and vaguely added that it had an “interesting plot.” Mingyu hardly read, and if ever, he opted for mainstream books, like Me Before You – which took him four years to finish by the way. 

Murakami’s work wasn’t boring per se, but magical realism isn’t really Wonwoo’s cup of tea. Perhaps others would say he lived his life boringly, but he preferred one or the other. Black and white – the right shade of gray was difficult to perfect. 

Wonwoo is fortunate to have a later start time to work than most people. It gives him time to sleep in – or on the days he couldn’t, he could get up early and actually enjoy the leisure of his mornings. Workout checked off for the day, he could grab freshly brewed black coffee and perhaps a simple croissant straight from the oven from the bakery across the street from his loft, before settling on a bench in the subway. His activities ranged from doodling and reading to people watching while listening to music. Indeed, he is an introvert, but for that very reason, he finds solace in the anonymity of crowds during rush hour. In these moments, he didn’t matter and no one questioned him. 

The familiar sound of the rusty metal wheels against the tracts down the strip screech through his AirPods as Wonwoo comes to a halt near the ledge. The last train swept away most of the morning crowd, leaving only him and a select few others loitering in the dreary, gray terminal. The train rushes past him in a blur, creating a wind that rustles his overgrown bangs; he could feel it skimming the rims of his glasses, some strands brushing across the top lashes of his eyes. 

He waits for the cars to come to a halt, then the hissing of the doors sliding open to climb in. Though there were several empty seats, Wonwoo always opts to stand – there was enough sitting in a day. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

The overhead voice announces the next stop – the signal for the doors to come to a close and the train engineer to start the lever once more. 

Wonwoo knows this routine like the back of his hand. There was no reason for him to expect it would change. 

But it does. 

It feels like time slowed, everything happening fast, yet slow, all at once. A young woman dressed in a lavender blazer, clinging onto her own work bag like her life depended on it, barrels towards the already closing doors. It narrows and she barely slips through; they snap close behind her, releasing air as the car rocks back, then forward as the train starts moving. 

Without enough time to find a seat, she clings onto the same pole as Wonwoo to steady herself and keep the inertia from sending her sailing across the car too. She collects herself enough to stand tall, lifting her head to come face to face with Wonwoo. 

The young man is awestruck. His jaw grows slack, lips parting, yet no words escape. Excitement courses through his body; his grip tightening around the stainless steel pole, turning his knuckles white and the sensation in his hands growing numb. His heart surges with an unfamiliar, yet seemingly nostalgic feeling. The soft acoustic music flowing from his AirPods grow faint; only the sound of his quickened heartbeat thrum, replacing the gentle plucking of chords. 

The young woman is no less shocked – if not more. Her eyes well with tears, a half-hearted chuckle escaping her lightly painted lips before she presses them together and swallows harshly. Confliction flickers across her pretty features, her chin wobbling as she tries to maintain her composure and figure out what to do next. 

“H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Silence, then a beat. The sounds of the wheels against the tracts roar throughout the train. They’re barely speaking in whispers this time, but they can hear one. It’s as if everyone else on the train evaporated and they’re transported back to the first time they met. Only the two of them, this close in the expanse of the wide and spacely car. The scenery outside blur and blend into an infinity of white. The train could be taking them to outer space for all they cared. 

Where they were going didn’t matter. 

If fate didn’t know distance, then what they had didn’t know time. 

“Long-time, no see, stranger.”

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped. 

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’. 

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight. 

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter. 

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued. 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice. 

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him. 

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat. 

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range. 

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly. 

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat. 

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior. 

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled. 

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself. 

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement. 

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook. 

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered. 

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall. 

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum. 

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John. 

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’. 

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.” 

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.” 

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort. 

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father. 

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'. 

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.” 

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly. 

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad. 

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!” 

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.” 

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you. 

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

  

 “NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you. 

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open. 

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde. 

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried. 

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool. 

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up. 

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm

©loveharlow.

#Spotify #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #obx jj #SVN #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #obx jj maybank #obx netflix #obx x reader

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Fall Wardrobe Essentials

Staple Tees:

**Purchase in Modal, Pima cotton, or a cotton-cashmere blend**

Fitted crewneck tees (long-sleeves/tees & tanks for layering)

Relaxed fit long-sleeve tees

Turtleneck long-sleeve top (fitted & relaxed fit options)

Contour bodysuits

Blouses/Shirting:

Silk button-down blouse

Cotton button-down blouse

Silk shell top/t-shirts/camis (for layering)

Sculpt knit top(s)

Self-tie wrap blouse

Shirred boatneck, mock neck, or cowlneck silk blouse(s)

Leather button-down

Knitwear:

Thin cashmere/wool crewneck sweater (fitted/relaxed fit)

Thin cashmere/wool turtleneck sweater

Chunky relaxed-fit cable knit sweater

Knit polo-neck sweater

Cashmere sweater vest (crewneck, v-neck, and/or turtleneck)

Mockneck cashmere/wool sweater

Cashmere long-sleeve sweater dress

Cashmere/knit skirt (mini, midi, or maxi - depending on your personal preferences)

Sophisticated coordinating knit set (top/pants or skirt of your choice)

Casual knit set (top/pullover and relaxed fit pants)

Cashmere cardigan

Cable knit cardigan (doubles as a light jacket)

Bottoms:

Black straight-leg jeans

Black bootcut/flared jeans

Black straight/bootcut trousers

Wide-leg trousers (I love a solid black, black pinstripe, and black with lace-up detail selection)

High-waisted leather pants

Split hem trousers

Stretch jersey/cashmere pants (straight-leg or flared)

Quilted leather/tweed mini skirt

Knit/wool mini and/pencil skirt

Leather skirt (mini or midi)

Silk midi skirt

Dresses/Jumpsuits:

Knit/sweater dress

Little black dress (shift dress/A-line cuts are great)

Blazer dress/jumpsuit

Slip dress (for layering)

Minimal black jumpsuit ("LBJ")

Leather and/or denim dress or jumpsuit

Jackets & Outerwear:

Black tailored blazer

Leather blazer

Tweed jacket

Trench coat

Leather moto/cropped/bomber jacket

Black wool coat

Raincoat ( I like Rains for high-quality options on the affordable side that are still built to last for several seasons)

Statement jacket/coat

Footwear:

Sleek flat/low-heel black boots with a pointed-toe or square-toe silhouette (I love Vagabond, Jeffrey Campbell, Vince Camuto, and Sam Edelman for more affordable, high-quality options)

Black loafers/sleek black flats

Black lace-up boots

Black heeled boots

Black pumps

White sneakers

Rain boots (I recommend the Melissa Shoes Welly/Grip/Step boots or a stylish, sustainable, and more affordable option)

Accessories:

White/black ankle & crew socks

Black control top tights

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Chunky/small chain necklaces & bracelets

Simple pendant necklace(s)

Pearl necklace

Simple diamond studs

Crystal drop earrings

Minimalist bangles

Stackable rings

A sleek, minimalist black tote (can fit a laptop for work/travel)

Black shoulder bag

Small black bag (top handle, crossbody, etc.)

Statement bag/evening bag

Cashmere scarf

Silk/decorative scarf

Fingerless/touch-screen friendly, lightweight gloves

Lingerie/Loungewear:

Seamless bra/underwear

Lace bra/underwear

Matching pullover cotton sweatshirt/sweatpants

Knit or jersey cotton top/lounge pants set

Luxurious pajama set (silk, Tencel, cashmere, etc.)

A to-die-for piece of lingerie like a lace slip/silk teddy

Silk or cozy robe

Cozy open-back slippers

#fashion advice #capsule wardrobe #wardrobe staples #custom wardrobe #personal style #personal branding #wardrobe design #style advice #style tips #fashion trends #outfit inspiration #styling tips #fashion education #fashion editorial #outfit ideas #black outfit #fall outfits #fall wardrobe #femme fatale #it girl #self concept #glow up tips #femme fetale aesthetic #femmefatalevibe

[bakubunny]

thinkin abt shoto and his alt girl. you know, the one who turns his world upside down, their lives so different yet paralleled. he was the only one in his life who wasn’t surprised when he fell head over heels for the girl with piercings and ripped jeans instead of floral perfume and tight pencil skirts.

shoto and his alt girl who doesn’t care about money or social status; she says it’s hard to care about things she’s never had much of. she isn’t enamored by his hero ranking or the people he’s surrounded by. she’s most enamored by him - pretty, strong, and kind - every bit the hero the media makes him out to be and more.

shoto and his alt girl whose face is rarely done up, and he loves her that way. he thinks she’s beautiful every day of the week; her makeup doesn’t change that, and she knows it. most days, she’d rather spend her mornings in messy braids and worn out band tees, drinking coffee next to him than on dolling herself up only to wipe it off later. shoto’s alt girl who sometimes does a little bit for him anyways because she sees the way he stares at her eyes, how he drinks in the bold lip colors that adorn her smile when she’s up for it.

shoto who listens to his alt girl ramble about the things she really cares for as he runs his fingers through her hair, whether it’s romance novels or video games, or perhaps something deeper in herself. he carefully laces up her worn out sneakers and leather boots, plays with the fraying of her jeans and the hem of her skirts when she lets him, runs his fingers along the smoothness of her tights. shoto who loves her thigh highs and short dresses because he knows they’re just for him. he helps her with those pesky fishnets so he can stare at her thighs and leave a trail of kisses behind.

shoto’s alt girl who doesn’t care what the media wants her to be - she’s unapologetically herself, and he loves that about her. even when the world tells her to be less of this and more of that, it’s rare that she truly gives in. he sees the sides of her no one else does - the soft, gentle parts she’s not always quick to show. the world doesn’t hear the way she cries out his name when he holds her close at night. they don’t see the way she clings to his frame, digs her nails into his back, turns to putty in his hands with a few tender words. they don’t know the way she loves him, wholly and completely, imperfect though he may be.

just shoto and his alt girl, the one he swears he’ll never let go of… and proves it every day for the rest of his life.

inspired by izu’s alt girl by @dcsiremc

#idk abt this but it feels cute i guess #f!reader #todoroki shouto #x reader #todoroki shoto #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha smut #aged up characters

[corollaservant]

Retail Therapy // Dabi x f!reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Synopsis: Working as a sales assistant in a high end sneaker shop is boring. But you're about to be taught otherwise.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, degradation, humiliation, vaginal and oral sex, illegal recording, mentions of crimes, ableist remarks (not from reader), harassment, dumbification

A/N: idk how I thought of LoV as streamers (but not like gamers). Thank you to the anon who approved:)

Another boring day at work. But honestly, what were you expecting? 

You didn’t know anyone who had fun working in retail. Not that this would be your job forever, as you planned on quitting and you know, try something else. Dropping out of college may have not been a smart move but you were confident that you’d find your path, somewhere, sometime. The store was never busy, the pricing and interior design repelling most passers-by and only attracting a couple influencer kids (you often laughed at the term) accompanied by their rich parents or a few unknown athletes in an effort to buy designer and make a better name for themselves. High end clients never showed up in person, they had no reason to, no one shopped at boutiques anymore, all the more sneaker ones. 

You would often kill time by watching stuff online (who didn’t), looking at the latest socialite news in various media outlets, the world was going downhill, you thought, as you absentmindedly sipped from your water bottle, articles writing about villains, social pariahs, as they’d branded them, parading power by killing innocent civilians ‘for the fun of it’. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when two shadows at the door caused you to look up. Customers? No way. Your heart stopped for a second thinking to yourself what kind of a twisted game of fate this was, as both walked through the door. Who didn’t fucking know them, Dabi and his subordinate, the man he had on a leash even though he was the supposed boss, Shigaraki Tomura. What the fuck where they doing here? 

The taller man, which you knew was Dabi, wore a dark blue jacket with its collars ripped and matching pants that cut off above his ankles while his patched purple skin stood out. Surgically attached staples (or where these piercings?) moved when he smiled. Despite the menacing appearance, you had to admit he looked quite.. elegant? His shorter companion didn't fail to catch your eye either, a hood pulled low over his face wearing a miserable plain outfit. Under other circumstances, you’d throw pathetic guys like them in a second out the establishment, the store wasn’t a charity but you quickly reconsidered once you remembered the recent streaming they made. Shigaraki filmed Dabi burning up a whole forest just to kill some time as they laughed. Problem was they had accidentally murdered some poor people on a picnic, who they’d later find and film, joking about how ‘today was not the day for a picnic, guys’. The two guys would livestream the whole thing on various platforms, other times they’d upload it later on a channel they owned under an alias, where perverse comments encouraged and gave them both views. They obviously had a clear immoral viewpoint on heroes (they despised the filth society had created on false pretense) and never failed to shout it even louder. 

‘’Hello, sweetheart.’’ Dabi greeted you, approaching the register. His loyal dog followed close, hands in his pockets and a sly smile. 

‘’Me and my..friend would like to check out a few shoes today, we’re feeling generous.’’ he continued. 

You regained composure and stammered a ‘’yes, sure’’ as they looked at you, Dabi's eyes diverting to look at your work uniform, a blazer with exposed bust and a tight pencil skirt (yeah yeah you knew this was a high end sneaker store but rules were rules and you had to attract the filthy rich men somehow – manager's words, not yours). 

‘’W-what would you guys like to see?’’ you were stammered, the proximity not helping. 

‘’Sweetie got a speech impediment?’’ Shigaraki said directly to your face before Dabi interrupted.

‘’Don’t listen to this asshole, he isn’t getting any so he’s always pissed off.’’ to which the first scowled but remained silent. 

Dabi seemed.. kind? You thought as you looked at him and shyly moved to the display shelves. 

‘’S-so, could you guys tell me what you’re looking for exactly?’’ You couldn’t believe these two had to come to your place for fucking shoes, somehow the thought of villains having to buy clothes had never really crossed your mind. 

‘’We don’t fucking care, sweetheart’’ Dabi said looking directly at your fluttering from anxiety chest and eyeing your tits. Such a pervert, thinking you wouldn’t notice. 

The whole time Shigaraki was on his phone, which he held in a bizzare way, it was known his quirk involved his hands but you never bothered to care, both these guys were murderous and you possessed no ‘quirk’ whatsoever so it really wouldn’t matter if it came down to physical altercations. 

‘’We have t-these ones’’ you lifted your arm up to show Dabi a new pair you got in last week as his eyes traveled to your bent ass, skirt accentuating the curves even more, as he smirked to himself. 

‘’T-they collaborated two brands for this.’’ you murmured, not sure he heard you. His presence made you anxious, you knew what he was capable of and definitely wanted to live another day. 

‘’Oh yeah?’’ Dabi said. ‘’How much do these cost? They’re fucking ugly.’’

You opened your mouth to retort but settled with a ‘’T-two grand.’’ which came off unsure and hesitant. 

‘’These are dead. Two grand for these abominations? Hey Shiggy, come look!’’ he told the man who had been too consumed with his phone to listen to the conversation.

‘’Look at that shit man, can you believe trash heroes buy that for two grand?’’ he asked as the latter lifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah I really don’t give a fuck, buy your shit and go, I have content to upload.’’

‘’Please excuse him, baby, he’s just a weirdo who gets off on livestreaming the people he decays, don’t worry we won’t take long.’’ 

Decaying? Livestreams? And why did he call you baby? These guys had to be joking, they were openly talking about murdering people for fun and you suddenly felt sick, your stomach with its contents turned over.

You had been silent, looking at them in horror, while Dabi broke the silence.

‘’Awwh, c’mon now, I’ll be nice. I think I might like these.’’ he said and pointed to a pair of black plain sneakers, they’d suit him, you thought despite the predicament.

You must’ve not reacted at all so he spoke again:

‘’Are you slow, sweetheart? I said I want to try these on, in 15’’ in a tone that made you immediately snap out of your thoughts and take a step back, he felt too close through your peripherals. 

‘’L-let me check in the b-back for you guys’’ you apologetically mewled as you backtracked, you couldn’t even turn around but somehow got to the storage room. Fuck, you thought, of course he had to be wearing one of the largest freaking sizes, your store never brought these as no one ever bought them, what was he, a fucking giant? You were frantically searching through storage drawers and basically anything scattered you could find across the room but with no success, the pair was sold out (was a basic choice) and the sizing available was 13 and below. Shit, you cursed, as you were about to exit, when you saw two figures at the door startling you. 

‘’What’s taking you so long? Lost in the hallway?’’ Dabi mocks, as Shigaraki snorts. 

‘’I- i- couldn’t f-find the ones you’re looking for’’ you avert your eyes as you utter the words and Dabi’s smirk wavers as he stares at you.

‘’What does that mean, baby?’’ he asks, as he inches closer. ‘’You should be grateful I even chose this shitty store in the first place. It’s not enough you charge poor customers two grand for shoes I can find in the dumpster, now you’re telling me you don’t have the one pair I actually liked?’’ he raises his tone as he has you practically pinned against the door. You could’ve sworn the other guy's laughing but the room’s spinning and you try to take a deep breath. 

‘’I- i’m sorry, guys, p-please let me try to find s-something else- for you, I-’’

‘’No, I think you can just shut the fuck up now, sweetheart. I don’t want excuses from that dumb mouth of yours’’ His words hurt as you try blinking your tears away, it used to help but not when they’re flooding your eyes like a stream anyway. You feel like this could actually be your end and matter of fact, anyone would know soon enough, as you’d probably also get livestreamed while they’re at it.

‘’Soo.. let me get this straight, you can’t find a proper excuse, you don’t have my shoes, you make me and Tomura wait while you're blabbering some bullshit and you scam stupid cunts for money. Does your boss know he’s hired the dumbest whore on the planet? Or do you fuck him to keep your job? Shame truly, all this for a shitty job, you reaally gotta be desperate.’’ he says and now the tears are well formed and fall from your eyes, as you sob– you literally sob, ashamed and hurt, these men didn't even know you and here they were throwing words around because of a pair of fucking shoes, you feel disgusting, useless and embarrassed, as you choke out some ‘’im s-sorry’’s and apologize profusely.

None of them seem to care about your tears or your stuffed nose, snots falling on your chest and staining the work blazer and Dabi continues in an amused tone.

‘’Stop crying, it's pathetic. Be of use instead, will you?’’ he sighs and signals to Shigaraki, who had been watching his phone intently the whole time, to come close. 

‘’Tomura, how do you think bitches like her pay when they can’t satisfy my needs?’’ he asks the man, who contemplates for a second, kind of clueless and annoyed, interrupted from the live streaming of the rest of the LoV. 

‘’Ugh.. I don't know, kill her? Listen man, we don’t have much time, we have to go meet the rest, so whatever you want to do, make it quick, I want to show my face in Toga’s stream, she has too many hot bitches watching her.’’ he sighs.

This man is out of his mind.

‘’Shiggy you fucking incel, it’s not like you’re going to fuck any of them, so how about you put your scrambled decayed brain to good use?’’ Dabi responds, all while you’re looking at the exchange horrified, where the fuck is this going?

‘’Well, since apparently I’m the smart one here, I’ll tell you both how this is gonna end up.’’ Dabi exhales, he sounds bored but his eyes gleam, he seems amused. ‘’You can’t offer me my shoes? You offer me your body, it’s not like you have anything else going on for you anyways. I fuck you and your little cunt and you’’ he turns his attention to Shigaraki, ‘’you’re going to film the whole fucking thing. Should grant you enough pussy, once I let you participate.’’

-

You want to scream, you really do. But there’s no words coming out, the phone’s too far away, the storage room hidden in plain sight and there’s two guys ganging up on you so what’s the only thing you do? Beg.

‘’P-please, Dabi, I can- I can help you find something else, we have-’’ you blabber but he cuts you off.

‘’Wow doll, surprised your dumb brain memorized the name. But I don’t blame you, I would too.’’ He’s inching closer to you as you backtrack, each step he takes leads you towards the end of the room, the closet touches your back as you’re pinned under him, touching the shelves. 

‘’Got the camera on?’’ he tells Shigaraki, without turning to look at him, while the latter scoffs.

‘’Yeah, all set’’ he says, you can see him holding his phone and wait impatiently.

‘’Now’’ Dabi says, ‘’take that nasty shirt off, God, who dresses whores like you up? Tits out and everything for the public to see.’’ he says as your shaking hands start unbuttoning the work blazer, you had no shirt under it, it was a hot day and you hadn’t bothered, it’s not like customers were frequent. 

He’s so close to you that your arms touch on his shirt as you slowly remove it and it falls down your shoulders, your bare tits in full display not just for him but for Shigaraki’s camera to film as well. His eyes rake you up and down, your cheeks stained with tears, your hair disheveled and flying all over as your tits bounce on your chest, rising and falling from anxiety. It’s swift, but you notice how his turquoise eyes widen– not a lot since they’re heavy lidded and half patched– to the sight of your tits.

‘’Fuck, these look nice’’ he comments as he brings up both hands to grope them while you gasp. His hands are not as cold as you expected, they’re large, slender and painted black as he starts circling his wrists while still at a fair distance. You moan and he smirks, Shigaraki switching spots to get a better angle. 

Dabi closes the distance as his face is on yours, his breath on your mouth and you close your eyes when he laughs.

‘’Awhh, did you think I’d kiss you?’’ he says as you whimper frustrated but he continues ‘’Whores like you don’t deserve kisses.’’ He grabs your skirt with both hands and aggressively lowers it. 

His words cut deep and you fight the urge to let another stream of tears fall down your face, you’d been called names in the past, but the way he talked intimidated and upset you way more than anyone before. Unbeknownst to him, your felt your panties soaked, his hands on your tits had turned you on, the thought of you being like this disgusted you. You really were pathetic and he’d soon find out.

His hands cupped your clothed cunt as you moaned ‘’D-dabi, please’’ to which a voice from the back laughed, you had completely forgotten about Shigaraki, the fact that he was watching (and filming) making you want to vomit.

‘’Baby, please shut the fuck up.’’ Dabi said as he moved to your left and continued ‘’Tomura, are you getting this?’’ but at this point Tomura was not only getting it but holding the phone with one hand while the other rubbed his hard-on.

Dabi moves your panties to the side, almost ripping them apart and pushes two fingers without warning in your lubricated cunt as you choke on a moan, his fingers feel so good around you and he knows how to move them inside, working his way deeper, while they’re already long.

‘’Man, you’re not gonna believe how wet she is.’’ he tells Tomura, who hums and strokes his clothed cock, his phone shaking in his hand. 

You’re being moved up and down the shelves, his fingers penetrating your cunt with force as you feel the pressure in your core build up, you think about fucking yourself on his fingers, grinding up and down but he brings his other hand to your neck and chokes you unfortunately with precision, blocking your airway immediately: ‘’Don’t think you get to decide when to cum.’’ he says and he removes his stained hands, your arousal is brought to your face as he turns around and proudly shows the camera. 

‘’Look at this retail cockwhore guys, pussy dripping from two men she couldn’t sell shoes to!’’ he brags and you crumble, embarrassed and desperate for an end.

‘’D-dabi, p-please don’t say that’’ you mewl and he looks at you with pity.

‘Say what? The fucking truth? Aren’t you a little cumslut, yes or no?’’

‘’I- I - am n-not-’’

‘’I said, are you or aren’t you my little cumslut, yes - or - no?’’ he orders as you notice something small and blue igniting from his fingertips and you freeze.

‘’Say it’’ he orders.

‘’I- i am’’ you brokenly murmur, but he needs all the words. 

‘’You’re what?’’ 

‘’Y-your cumslut’’ you're shaking not wanting to believe this ordeal.

‘’I need the name too, camera's on you know’’. he says again, his patience wearing thin.

‘’I-i-am--Dabi’s cumslut’’ you look at the camera and with that he finally snaps, turning you over and grabbing you by the waist, his wet fingers touch your lower back, ass to his erection, as he spanks you and you flinch.

‘’Good, now let’s show everyone how good cumsluts like you get fucked’’ he smirks as he unzips his pants and brings his cock in between your folds. 

The sensation is intoxicating, your heat and his pre leaking in between you while your hands are stretched to touch a shelf you can’t reach. 

‘’Make sure you’re getting this’’ is all Dabi says before pushing his cock inside you as you let out a sharp cry, he’s too big and you can’t take him at once, a shooting pain up your entrance as he starts thrusting at a steady pace. 

‘’P-please ‘s too much, s-slow d-down’’ you yell behind you but he doesn’t seem to be giving a fuck, as he grabs your hips harshly and pushes his angry cockhead with hatred all the way up inside you, your pussy stretching to accommodate him and his length and you thank his fingers for the prior lubrication and mess they made in your cunt.

‘’Fuuck, feels too good’’ he groans as he rams into you, you hear a sudden whimper and look around to see Shigaraki with his cock out, moving his fist up and down his length, a phone still on his hands while his eyes are fixated on the spectacle. 

You don’t have time to beg for him to stop filming because Dabi’s slender fingers are toying with your clit, his cock ripping apart your insides and digits finding the bundle of nerves with ease. He teases your clit, not harshly, as his cock does that for you, but in light strokes, like he’s trying to tickle you and you feel yourself tremble, your cunt twitches and he feels it as he groans ‘’Shit, you’re tight, too? Who would’ve expected it, huh’’ as Shigaraki is starting his commentary on camera.

‘’Take a look guys, this is probably the biggest cockwhore we’ve seen, look closer! getting her loose cunt fucked like that.’’ while Dabi huffs, skin slapping sounds reverberate through the small room, as he continues his pace, cock disappearing in between your folds.

‘’Man, shut the fuck up.’’ he tells the guy behind him, ‘’her pussy’s tight as shit..or maybe I just have a big cock.’’ he says and you moan, he’s becoming harsher, his cruel words only cause more arousal, you can’t deny the pleasure he’s giving you, each time he belittles you or Shigaraki for the matter. You feel yourself tense around his length and while you can’t see him, you imagine him drinking in your desperate arched back, frustrated whines and pathetic attempts to sink down his cock – even though you know damn well he’s the one setting the pace.

‘’Hey, Shiggy..’’ Dabi groans, ‘’want me to let the whore fuck herself on my cock? She seems so eager.’’ he tells Tomura, who at this point is solely focused on your ass sinking up and down Dabi’s cock.

‘’S-sure..’’ he breathes out, too horny to care. 

Dabi stops moving, cock hard and still inside you –stretching out your cunt regardless, as you pant frustrated. You’d been so close and he stopped once again. Fuck it, you think, you need to get your release somehow. 

You take a deep breath and start your tantalizing moves with his length throbbing in your walls, you move and grind your hips back and forth as Dabi hisses, his hands dig in your ass, a pain from a metal on your hips, you’d definitely have marks tomorrow but it feels too good and he lets you, which surprises you.

‘’D-dabi, is she good?’’ a voice calls from behind but Dabi doesn’t answer, he just lets you do your work as you increase your pace, your legs are about to fail you but you raise yourself up and grip whatever you can find in front of you as chokes escape your mouth. You think you might make yourself cum and he must be on the verge too, because he grabs you by the hair and shoves his cock all the way up your cunt, leaving you breathless as he spits a ‘’enough’’ and starts drilling himself inside at his own relentless pace.

You’re feeling numb beyond your core, repetitive thrusts and a heating sensation building up and you suddenly wish for his hands on your clit so you beg. Again. 

 ‘’D-dabi, please, agh t–touch me..there.’’ 

‘’Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.’’ he smirks, breaths ragged as he plunges his cock into you, the perfect motion for your pussy to clench and while he acted all tough, a hand is back on the swollen nub. He wants you to come undone, wants to be the one bringing you to such despair. 

‘’D-dabi, I-im-hmn.. g-gonna–’’

Hairs sticking to your face, veins popping in your hands as you feel something in your stomach snap, blabber a bunch of incoherent words and cum all over him trembling.

He’d been waiting for this, holding himself back, he could’ve come way sooner but wanted your orgasm on him so he lets himself go with a couple final thrusts. He groans, praising your ‘’good cunt baby..’’ before cumming inside, long spurts that feel endless and the sensation is tingling, almost satisfying in a twisted way.

A voice interrupts the moment when both of you turn to look at Shigaraki, his angry cockhead in between half a fist and a frown on his face, he seems upset.

‘’Dabi, you idiot, I wanted her too.’’ he says and Dabi looks at you, fucked out and cum oozing from your hole. His cum. 

‘’Well,’’ Dabi looks at you, ‘’would my favorite cumslut help a friend in need?’’ he smirks, ‘’just some head, we don’t have all the time in the world, alright?’’ He smiles as you lower your gaze – fuck fuck fuck, wasn't one enough? What's the point of arguing though, one look at both of them convinces you otherwise.

‘’C-could I please have some water?’’ you try to stall, throat dry from the sounds made earlier. 

‘’Water?’’ Dabi laughs, ‘’nah, it’s too far away. Here, have this instead.’’ he says as he approaches you and swiftly moves his hands up your cunt, gathering the dripping mess and bringing it to your mouth. ‘’Open up’’ he orders and your eyes widen before you realize his fingers coat your tongue with his cum, as he continues ‘’now, you can suck the incel off.’’ he says as Shigaraki is too impatient to retort and already has his cock poking at your mouth. He’s smaller but has nonetheless notable girth. 

‘’Mhm..not gonna last long, man’’ he says to which Dabi snorts, not really giving a fuck. Indeed, once you're forced to take Tomura in your mouth and bob your head up and down a couple times, he pants and whines, cock jerking in your mouth, as a palm with the pinky lifted rests on your head pushing it down his groin. Soon enough he comes, you can tell by the way he frantically tilts his hips up, so you remove your mouth in tears, this feels horrible. His load spurts all over the place, some lands on your hair and some on his shirt. 

‘’Fuck!’’ he groans, ‘’my shirt’s stained, you whore.’’ his voice whiny as red eyes narrow. For the first time, he manages to inflict terror, his hand’s about to touch you when Dabi interrupts.

‘’Enough, she’ll give you another one, I’m sure shitty store sells some lame shirts somewhere.’’ to which Tomura sighs and removes his shirt. He throws it to your face and hisses.

‘’Gross, you can keep it, cumslut’’. You feel fucked out, tainted and humiliated when Dabi speaks up.

‘’Tomura–’’ There's still hope in your eyes, as you turn to him.

‘’She's about to put in on Depop you know.’’

Dabi and Tomura smirk and you wordlessly get up, something plummets inside (your heart?), as you wipe tears inside your elbow, the only clean body part of yours.

-

It’s been hours since the shift ended but you’re curled up in bed, bruised inside out and you can’t sleep, your mind blank, as you anxiously scratch your knees. You feel violated, you remember Dabi’s hands on you, cock and fingers inside you – Tomura’s shirt and his load in your hair, which was later thoroughly washed to the point clumps fell off, when a message appears on your phone.

It’s a message request from a @ touyat and it reads:

How’s my favorite cockwhore doing?

You suddenly feel very cold, how did they even find you? Your hands shaking as you pick up your phone to unlock it only for a new request to pop up: 

@ shigarakitomura

1 attachment sent.

You take a deep breath as you contemplate.

Well, this could be worse, you try to think rationally. This could’ve been livestreamed.

#boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #touya todoroki #mha smut #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha dabi #mha shigaraki #mha x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw degradation #tw dumbification #i honestly feel bad ngl #corollaservant

[baka-bakeneko]

Into It - Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader

tags: NSFW, workplace, Mr. Nanami has an obsession, overthinking, progressively dirtier thoughts, stalker behavior, seat licking, mention of footplay [i know, i'm sorry], masturbation in workplace, territory-marking, [i mean some seriously off-handle shit happens and i feel like tagging them would spoil the surprise], y/n is used, panty stuffing, foreplay, semi-public sex, slow burn sex, creampie, snowballing, not really proofread just shared with fellow degenerates word count: 6.52 k synopsis: Nanami Kento loves seeing you at the workplace. [headcanon idea provided by bllue_soul on twitter, their art is amazing, their obsession with Nanami is immaculate] a/n: i want this man (SPICY) to spit in my mouth after he eats taco bell. I'd let him use my asshole as an ashtray. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

Nanami loved when you wore blue in the office. He'd never say it, but Nanami made sure to get up for a cup of coffee when you'd show up in the morning.

Five minutes late as usual, even on days you were scheduled later. Nanami couldn't explain why it was that exact time, every time, but you always walked through the elevator doors with your coffee cup in hand, looking for your ID in your purse.

Knee-length pencil skirt, black. Teal blue silk button-up. Heels. The strappy kind that went around your ankle and sleek. The bottoms were scuffed because of daily use, except for Fridays when you wore your black sneakers.

He refilled his cup, catching glances of you through the glass of the breakroom. You were running late, yes, but today was different. You reached to strap up your heel, wearing an entirely new skirt half shorter than the regular.

With a lift of your knee to a lobby table, you fixed your shoe and inadvertently flashed your lacy blue panties. Nanami stepped closer to the counter, acknowledging the sudden throb of his cock at the sight. He narrowed his eyes, catching onto more of the previously hidden skin of your inner thighs.

He'd peeked before, passing by you in the downstairs cafe but was caught by the slip you wore underneath. But now you were as careless as possible, as if you'd wanted Nanami to notice all of you.

He would've popped a blood vessel if he didn't keep his composure; a slick icy dew settled down his spine as he pulled his coffee cup to his lips and disguised his gulp. Nanami slowly tore his eyes away from your elongated legs as you stood upright, as you adjusted your skirt just past your thighs.

He stole another glance as you walked in, admiring the tilt of your hips when you walked and how this new skirt of yours aided the visual.

Nanami cleared his throat when another coworker entered and discreetly adjusted himself in his slacks before taking an actual swig of his coffee. He excused himself to his desk and sat down precisely, making sure his chair was two inches in the way of the walkway.

You exchanged your greetings to your coworkers as you breezed by them, taking long pulls of your coffee while you made it to your desk aisle.

Upon your turn, you noticed Kento sat upright in his chair almost purposefully in the walkway.

"Good morning, Nanami," you offered with a small smile pursed on your lips.

Your free hand went to his shoulder and carefully cupped it, willing yourself to not squeeze and admire the amount of muscle he hid under his suit.

You cleared your throat as you sidled around his chair, your thigh brushing his knee while your hand pushed him in rotation to watch you walk by.

Nanami's eyes were trained on your hand for the moment you touched him, then stole a peek at your ass as you breezed by him. This coy display of yours made his heart race in his ears.

"Y/N, you're late," he chastised softly, rotating the full 180 with his eyes glued on yours all the way to your seat.

"I know," you pouted, sitting down carefully at your chair. You pressed your knees together and tucked your legs just under the seat. "The line at the coffee shop was so long, even when I got there early."

Nanami tightened his jaw, straightened his tie and put on his best composure; you smiled at his efforts, how he slicked at his hair and flattened his tie to his chest.

"I even got you something," you cut in, stalling his scolding you. You dug into your purse and retrieved a singular wrapped cake pop, coated with light blue sprinkles over the beige icing. "Reminded me of you."

Nanami's eyes remained blank though the underside of his right one twitched; you held the treat out to him and he took it with a low tone of thanks.

"That's not all," you offered, going through your bag again to retrieve a bottle of iced coffee. "I know you like hot coffee, but I brought you a cold brew. More caffeine."

Nanami stiffened further, watching as you set the glass bottle on your shared desk then pushed it with the tips of your fingers over to him. Your effort was cute, pushing past the small conjoining crack as you remained fully in your seat.

He could see down your blouse then, past the teal blue silk and in to see another catch of lace. Nanami gulped, his free hand clutching the top of the cold brew bottle and slamming his eyes shut.

"Thank you, Y/N."

You sat upright with a snap, folding your hands to your lap with a cheeky smile. "No problem, Nanamin."

His cock was seething now, so hot and throbbing for you without you even noticing his slow descent.

You forced your knees tighter together, hoping to hide the sudden wet you had for Nanami as you did everyday sitting in front of him. So badly you wanted to be his office pet, for him to keep his attention focused on you rather than work.

With a curt nod in your direction, he slid into his corner office desk and logged onto his computer. You watched the man square his shoulders, finishing off his cup of coffee before you turned around in your chair.

Nanami peeked from the corner of his eye to you, wheeling yourself tight into your cubicle and reaching for the straps of your heels. Like clockwork, they helped you walk in but the constant sprint to the train, even when you're running early, warred on your arches.

He carefully mapped the flex of your calves as you kicked your heels off and rested your bare feet on the low-pile carpet.

Nanami thought of you, one day, resting your tired feet on his lap. How you'd press your aching arches into his thigh while silently willing him to ease the stress in them. He'd happily do so, for you, if you asked nicely.

-

By break-time, the swell of Nanami's cock subsided to replace his actual work. While you were in the forefront of his mind, you were subdued when his eyes weren't on you. He focused on numbers that repeated in sequence until you logged off of your computer and put your shoes on.

"I'm going to lunch with some of the girls," you offered, sidling around to face Nanami's back. "Would you like to come?"

Nanami paused in typing, the thought striking through his core. Very badly, he thought, all over your tits and tongue. He raised his brows, turning his chin over his shoulder slightly to you.

"No, thank you."

You hummed, pushing to your feet with your hand resting on Nanami's desk. "Would you like me to get you something?"

You reached a curious hand out, wanting to brush through the back of Kento's short blond hair. Your hand stagnated in the air before you balled your fist and dropped it to your waist.

He tilted his chin in your direction, catching your eyes. Nanami's jaw tightened, staring at your soft gaze back at him. The harsh lights of the office did absolutely nothing well for your features, but lightning nonetheless was beautiful haloed around you.

Nanami shook his head in response, pushing away from his desk with a log off. You leaned further into Nanami's view, taking up more of his scenery.

"Would you like to get drinks with us tonight?" You asked, tilting a hip against the desk.

Nanami kept his eyes locked with yours, his lax eyes watching as your ass shelved onto the desk and rode your already short-skirt further up.

"Us?" He repeated, turning sideways to hid his once again growing bulge.

You smiled, scoffed in amusement as your hand reached out to push Nanami to face you. "The girls from work. I'm sure they won't mind you tagging along."

Nanami stuffed his hands into his pockets instantly, doing his best to hide the stiffening tent in his slacks. The precarious position he was in before you was nothing he hadn't imagined before.

You leaned against the desk before him, his chair placed directly before you. "I-I don't think I should."

"Oh, come on," you pleaded softly, lowering your voice as your coworkers began to file out to grab lunch. "I'll buy you a drink."

The ache slowly roared up Nanami's stomach, taking all of you in.

"I'll think about it," he said, sitting back in his chair. "Now, go on, before you miss lunch with your friends."

You smiled and pushed off of the desk, straightening out your skirt before walking away. "You want me to bring you something back?"

Nanami followed your movements around to the front of his cubicle; he grinned suddenly and shook his head.

"No, go." He raised a hand to wave you off. "Go, before you're late coming back."

You scrunched your nose at him then pat your hand on top of his cubicle before walking off. The way his dull stare looked into you, locked into you while he kept his attention directed at you made you feel warmer inside.

You wrung the handle of your purse on your shoulder as you walked out of the office, looking back a final time to see Nanami standing up to refresh his cup of coffee.

Nanami was careful moving while still in your line of sight. He ignored your gaze and went to the breakroom to clean his coffee cup. More of his coworkers filed out of the office, leaving him alone for the hour lunch they had.

Upon seeing you leave, Nanami took the opportunity to return back to his desk. With the lights automatically shutting off, Nanami rested his head in the exact space where you sat on the desk.

He breathed softly at the remnant of warmth you left, turning his face to press his nose right where he imagined your panties touched the surface. All of it, so warm. Nanami pressed his tongue to the surface, knowing that he wouldn't find anything of note in your wake but imagined the heavy damp of your pussy.

Nanami huffed against the desk, resting his forehead to it as he fumbled with his belt buckle. The thought of eating you out on the very desk after hours drove the heat right back to his throbbing cock.

He took grip of his cock and stroked once, stopping his breath on the thought of you sat where his head was now. Like a dog, he lapped at the desk top while he squeezed tight at his cock and stroked long and slow.

Nanami sniffed up all of your scent, licked up all that he could before he felt your essence was dissipated from the top. He'd normally hold off on such outward displays in regards to you, but today felt like more.

He moved away from the desk in a pant, dropping to his knees and trudging to your chair. Imagining the day he'd lay his head on your lap, let your tired feet fumble over his raw cock, Nanami stroked and inhaled deeply at your chair.

Kento breathed deeply at your seat, dragging his tongue over the aerated mesh of your chair. He imagined your skirt ridden up further while you sat, your lacy blue panties rubbing against the mesh.

Kento opened his eyes to look at your seat, the thin string of your panties woven into the mesh. His brow quirked and gnawed at the spot to free the string.

He thought of your panties catching, your pussy touching the mesh and riling yourself up while at work. Naughty girl, he thought, squeezing his cock harder as he finally came.

With a kneel, Nanami reached out for your to-go coffee cup and brought it to his dripping cock. He leaked all of his cum from his tip and into the empty cup, staring down at its ooze mixing with the legs of the coffee remnant at the bottom.

He caught his breath, bent over your chair, letting his cock twitch freely into the cup until he was empty. Kento sat back on his haunches, righted his pants and belt buckle before standing up and grabbing the cup in disgust.

Carefully, he walked it to the men's restroom and discarded it in the bin, stuffing it far to the bottom and balling paper towels on top.

Nanami stood before the mirror, washing his hands while staring at the sudden blush in his demeanor. He wished to understand the allure about you over him in such a place. Even when he thought about work, you were right over his shoulder.

Like a tempting little devil in your lacy undies, crossing and uncrossing your legs in your strappy heels. Nanami knew it was wrong to want to be between them so bad while on the clock, but the stress only built with every passing by.

He leaned against the white tile of the bathroom and took a deep breath, knowing he could get through another day like he did every other one before it.

But tonight you asked him out for drinks. And he was going to go.

-

Closing down his office desk around the same time as you, Nanami stood up and righted his suit jacket in the walkway. You managed to step back into your heels a final time, strap them up and put your phone in your bag as you logged out of your computer.

"Y/N," Kento began as you took of your ID and put it into your bag.

You hummed, giving the blond man your undivided attention. He stood stiffly before you, hair and suit kempt to the nines just as you expected from him every day.

He glanced at his watch on his wrist, reached with his free hand undo his tie at the second the hands hit 5:30. "Let's get those drinks."

By his utterance, you brightened. He saw it and that look alone sent another lash of heat through his stomach. The way your eyes lit up and how your lips curled revealing your teeth in a genuine smile.

"Let's go," you pushed, moving to wrap your arm through his and walk with him to the elevator.

You rested your chin to his shoulder, peering up at him with your still egregious smile; Nanami's heart raced with how close you were to him at this moment.

He kept his pace with you, not overexerting your tired stride in your strappy heels. Nanami kept his arm bent with yours, his muscle flexing under your fingers.

"Do you workout?" You asked innocently enough, squeezing tenderly at his bicep. You felt his body tense under your touch, his muscle tightening in your grip.

You hid a roll of your eyes at that, your mind wondering to the thought of what Nanami looked with his shirt off. Your imagination on him kept you focused hard at work everyday, as if he would be able to read it on your face.

Kento's body was rigid by your touch, your question. He glanced down at you, offered a half-watt smirk.

"Not a day in my life." He added, pushing the button for the elevator and stepping inside with you.

When he thought it'd be just the two of you, your coworker friends suddenly flooded into the elevator. The bubble surrounding the two of you was now popped, all the noise of the multiple women nothing more than grating.

Still, you held onto his arm, pulled him a bit closer as you looked up at him expectantly. His heart fluttered as his cock twitched, both parts of him expecting two different things at once.

-

You managed to get the bartender's attention while Nanami sat at the table off from your coworkers. He'd loosened his tie and folded it carefully to tuck into his suit pocket.

You were leaning egregiously over the bar, waiting as the bartender fixed your drinks, no longer paying attention to how your new skirt was riding up.

Nanami wanted to sit back and admire the view, but glanced around to the other patrons. His eyes caught onto a few gentlemen's gazes, how they lined up on the curve of your ass.

He was up and behind you swiftly, his hands respectfully holding the sides of your skirt and pulling it down over your thighs.

You sat up with a grin, into Nanami, leaning your head against his shoulder. "What, don't like a show?"

Kento reddened, glancing around the bar at the other men now fixated on your proximity. He straightened his hands along your hips then backed away. I don't want to share you with other men.

You maneuvered in his hold and turned around, touching at his naked collared shirt. Nanami's hands followed up to clasp over yours. He shook his head.

"I...don't want you to be exposed." He managed to say, chastising himself internally for chastising you like this.

You slipped a hand up his neck, emboldened by his touch. "You like what you saw..."

Nanami hid a roll of his eyes, holding himself up from leaning into your hold. "Maybe a little, but this isn't the place for that."

You narrowed your eyes at Nanami, searching his calculated stare back at you. "You wanna dance?"

His brow furrowed quizzically, allowed you to push past him and ditch the drinks. You grabbed onto his wrist and led him out onto the dimly lit dance floor, the lights pointed up towards the ceiling cycling through the rainbow.

"Y/N, I don't dance," Nanami said flatly, dragging his feet after you.

"Then stand there," you responded, dropping his hand to your hip after you faced away from him. "I like a man that knows what he wants."

Nanami gulped as he felt you press against him; your skirt hiked up an inch as you slid down the length of his legs and pulled yourself back up.

Internally, he bit at his knuckles, fighting every urge to lose himself before you. Nanami reached out for your hands, holding you upright before him.

"Don't...do that," Nanami scolded, hissing into your ear.

You felt a chill roll down your spine, feeling Kento's breath husk against your skin. You forced your knees together, feeling the warmth pool further down to your pussy.

You teasingly tilted your ear in the direction of the blond's mouth. "What do you want me to do, Kento?"

An errant grimace scoured his mouth, the sound that followed it along with the grip of his hands made your breath pick up.

You felt the bulge of his cock against your ass, how it throbbed against you.

Nanami couldn't help it then, smelling your shampoo and feeling you so closely. His mouth jerked to answer but he was silenced as you swayed your hips to the switch of music.

His slammed his eyes shut, leaning against your temple as his thumbs ran along your palms. "Y/N, please."

"I can stop," you whispered, tilting your head further to look behind at Kento. "Just tell me too."

Nanami panted softly against you, ready to press you hard against him and cum in his pants. He wanted to call you out right there, tell you this was inappropriate and that your friends were watching.

"I-I can't," he whimpered into your ear, a groan so sweet all over your body.

You leaned your head back and whispered up to his ear. "I know."

You pulled away from Nanami enough to do a three-step then reeled yourself back into your coworker. "I have something for you."

Nanami relished and dreaded the moment away from you, wanting nothing more than your body melded in his. He groaned into your ear when you returned, a question in his grunt.

You giggled lightly, reaching into your blouse for the strip of lace you'd tucked there upon arriving to the bar. You held the fabric over your middle finger, allowed Nanami's hand to slip it away from you.

Nanami ran his fingers over the fabric, knowing exactly what this was. His cock was indestructible then, hard and folded up against the zipper of his pants. He brought your panties to his nose and inhaled deeply, a low and disgusting sound that resounded beautifully in your ears.

"What do you want to do, Nanamin?" You asked coyly, pressing your ass a bit firmer against his hard bulge.

Kento shut his eyes as he took in a second long inhale of your panties, his other hand holding carefully onto yours.

"Let's find somewhere private," Nanami stressed against your ear.

You grinned softly, turning in the direction of Nanami's low voice. "Lead the way."

Kento waited a long moment, reaching between the two of you to adjust himself. He stuffed your panties into his pocket then pulled away with a low clearing of his throat.

He nodded carefully in the direction of the restroom and you followed his lead down the hallway. Kento looked over at the table with your coworkers, all of them occupied in one another, and grabbed your hand to exit out of the back door.

You slid out of the exit with him, wading in the back brick alley. You watched as Nanami looked down the length of the alley, surveying his surroundings before pushing you up to the nearest wall to the back door.

He used his knees to pry your legs open, watching your skirt wade up further. Nanami stared at your bare thighs, waiting to see the actual flash of your pussy but stopping himself.

He took grip of your jaw, leaning in and ready to kiss you. Nanami's thumb and index finger pressed into your cheeks, opening your mouth enough to stuff your panties in.

Your drool wetted at the lace, instantly tasting your wet from earlier in the day. Nanami smirk at your doe-eyed look, pressing his lips to your nose as his free hand reached down to swiftly put two fingers into your pussy.

You quivered, your eyelids flickering with your body jolting softly. Kento groaned at the feeling of you clenched around him, your soft walls throbbing, almost aching to be around him.

"You're messy, Y/N," Kento spat before your puckered lips, his chest hardened to keep his excitement at bay.

The sight of you, your eyes glistening in the alleyway light while your spit seeped from the corners of your mouth. Your panties stuffed so carelessly into your mouth, the lace falling on your chin.

"You've been wet since work," he stated matter-of-factly, reminiscing on the taste of you he'd licked from your chair.

Your breath caught, half-blinking at Nanami's statement before nodding. You'd smelled the faint musk of Nanami's cologne and thought of what it smelled like when he sweated.

Nanami slipped a third finger in, working you open as you squeezed your eyes shut at the intrusion. He huffed, planting his free hand on the brick wall beside your head and leaning in.

Nanami carefully rested his lips to your temple, massaging you with his three fingers effectively pushing in and out of you. He ignored your throbbing clit, an act that makes you buck at his thumb rested atop your slit.

"Patience," He hissed softly, pressing his hot crotch against your hip. "is a virtue. Learn it."

Nanami retracted a finger and you whined, feeling his digit line between your folds. He leaned in further, curling his fingers to your innermost wall.

"I want you to enjoy this, not find the release." He ordered, slowing his pace. "Do you understand?"

You nodded at him, your hands bracing the wall to not stop him. Opening your eyes, you met Kento's eyes as breathed methodically in and out of his nose.

When he sensed you'd calmed, Nanami resumed. He teasingly pumped his fingers into you, working his knuckles to make sure you'd be open and sopping for him.

He pulled his fingers out, dragging them along your innermost wall and earning a pulse of your pussy. Nanami looked down at his hand to find his shirt sleeve wet, your walls tightening around his digits rhythmically.

"Good girl," Nanami praised in his low-effort tone. He pulled his sleeve up and returned to his stance, pushing his two fingers back in.

Your eyes rolled as a muffled noise escaped through the lace, relaxing your body to let Nanami make work of it. His fingers, long and warm, were gentle against your pliant walls.

He'd imagined this scenario all day, Nanami wasn't ready to squander it for two minutes of flash-pan lust. He wanted to savor everything about you in this instance.

Nanami reached to undo his belt, still pumping his fingers into you. You watched him flip the leather strap from his belt loops with one hand, readily unclasp the metal hinge and pull it off with a single effective tug.

He stared at the belt in his hands, refastened the loop and urged it in the direction of your hands. You silently obliged his request, allowing him to slip the leather strap over your wrists then pull before folding it back between your tightened hands and knotting it with a final loop.

Nanami's effectiveness, while one-handed, was impressive to say the least. And his fingers still working you all the while was nothing short of excruciating.

You tensed at another soft press at your walls, your eyes crossing at the lick of heat blipped through your stomach in a half-life. Nanami shrugged off his suspenders, leaning his shoulder onto the brick before pressing his chest to yours.

He forced you closer to the wall, your legs spreading further to accommodate his large hand, his long fingers. Nanami cautiously unzipped his pants, undoing the button and shoving the waist of his briefs down to unveil his hard, already leaking cock.

"I've waited for this," he whispered, taking his hand back to pull your skirt up to your stomach.

The brick of the building bit into your ass, driving another low noise from you. Nanami's eyes raked down your body, going for the top button of your blouse and popping it free.

He went for the second one, planting his lips in its resting place against your chest, then the third before revealing your matching lacy bra. In his favorite color.

Nanami bit back the urge to pounce on you, continuing his marvel of your body underneath your office attire. He buried his face between your tits and breathes in, perversely lapping his tongue at the jeweled detail placed in the lace against your breastbone.

He selfishly sniffed at your skin there, running his tongue over the curve of your breasts before nudging his nose at the stiffened peaks tucked behind the peek-a-boo lace.

Nanami glanced up at you, saw your eyes now half-mast and descending into hunger. You wanted him so badly inside you, all over you. The thought of him made your skin itch and sizzle with his body being the cool ice to sate it.

He gnawed into the lace over your nipple, suckling and nibbling at the fabric over your tit before tearing it down with his teeth. Nanami kept your eyes as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, massaging at your breast with his wet lips while his tongue lashed over and over at you.

You trembled, choking in breaths through your panties while your pussy fluttered wildly. Nanami didn't relent, moving over to your other breast and doing the same all while tenderly caressing his cock with his free hand.

You couldn't help another buck of your hips, once again feeling the precipice nesting in the small of your back. Nanami bit at your nipple, earning another squirm from you. He widened his teeth and bit around your areola, earning your hips edging from his touch.

"Discipline is necessary towards pleasure, isn't it?" Nanami asked, not expecting a true answer from you. He towered over you, searching your eyes before pulling his fingers out fast.

The speed floored you, dropping your stomach as he brought his fingers up to admire your wet glistening on his fingers. Nanami ran his thumb over his tips, now wrinkled and pale from being inside you.

He took the time to clean his fingers, using his tongue to draw long stripes of your wet from his skin. You marveled at the curve of his tongue, his lips catching your wet and making them shine.

"But I fear I've left you waiting too long," Nanami whispered, taking grip of his cock and sliding his tip along your slit.

The hot press of his head touching your clit sent chills down your spine, the pre-cum from his tip mixed with the wet from your pussy.

Nanami slipped his cock between your thighs, sliding it closely against your wet. You pouted, feeling the twitching heat of him wedged between your legs.

He pressed his thumb to your folds, holding you open until he pushed his cock into you. The sudden flush of heat that came from his tip just inside you made you wiggle, his cock slowly drove into you.

You tried to bow forward, losing the strength in your knees; Nanami held you up, flushing his chest to yours as he bowed his head down.

You looked up at him, allowing Kento to rest his forehead against yours. He winded against your lips, heating up the drool and damp from your lace panties.

His cock pushed through you, filling you. He throbbed inside of you, twitching within your walls. Your skin broke out into a sweat, chewing on your panties in your mouth before pulling them into your mouth.

You begged for Kento's kiss, pouting your bottom lip out against his. You cried into the fabric, brushing your nose against his as he fucked into you slowly, rolling his hips against yours and out.

He grabbed at your thighs, lifting you up against him; your hands scraped against the brick, following the new scratches that dug into your ass.

"How do I feel?" Nanami asked against your mouth, taking each miniscule flicker of your eyes.

You mewed through your panties, your lips ghosting against his. Kento pecked your top lip, then your bottom lip before pulling at your panties with his teeth.

Each thrust felt better than his fingers, his cock bigger and longer than his digits. You rode into his pumps, leaning your head back against the wall; Kento took the opportunity to lick at your neck, slopping up the building sweat on your skin and suctioning at your collarbone and throat.

He felt that he'd be able to consume you, caging over you protectively while taking from you whatever you offered. Kento appreciated the frailty of you, so open with your hands tied behind you and willing with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Nanami enjoyed deep down how you splayed before him, the filth that exuded you. He kissed up to your ear, then across your jaw before breathing against your lips again.

He paused in his thrusts to feel you speared on his cock, to feel you gushing over his waist and staining his dress pants. This was better than whatever he imagined at work; Nanami's mind couldn't come up with this scenario during his filthiest daydreams.

You whimpered on him, his length sheathing fully inside you; more wet gushed from you, feeling Kento pressed tightly inside you.

Nanami started his thrusts again, pulling you back onto him until your back stiffened and you scratched at the brick behind you.

You fervently dropped your head up and down, stopping and moaning through the fabric as you rested your forehead to Nanami's shoulder.

The orgasm tore through you, heating up the backs of your thighs; the scratches on your ass pricked further, your back scratching with the brick while you yoyo-ed between the rock of Nanami's cock and the hard place of the wall.

Nanami metered his pace, slowing again with each tighter push through your orgasming walls. He stuttered inside you, allowing your euphoria to pull him through his.

He forced your head up and moaned directly in your face, taking his teeth to tear your panties from your mouth and finally kissing you. Kento closed his arms around your head, pressing you tighter up to the wall.

When he came inside you, you jolted again. The speed of him shooting into you, pooling through you and bringing a new film of sweat over you.

Nanami ate at your lips, scoured and licked into your mouth as he relished in the new gush of warmth around him due to his cum. You were now delectable, much like any dessert with buttercream.

He continued until he caught his breath, releasing your legs to let you stand at the same time of pulling out of you. You felt the sluggy trail when Nanami's cock bowed out of you, your knees trembling at the weight after an orgasm.

"Sorry," Kento apologized, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. "I made a mess."

Before you could shake your head at him, tell him it was okay, Kento kneeled before you. With your thighs spread apart, Nanami stared up at you.

He carefully pulled your heel up to rest on his thigh, running his hand up your calf and further to the back of your knee. Nanami cooed at your skin, resting his cheek to your knee.

"Nanamin?" You questioned.

Nanami ignored your tone, looking up at you again as he shifted closer to you. He lolled his tongue out from his lips, timidly slipping his to the top of your slit.

You jerked away from his tongue. "Kento."

Nanami looked up at you, expectant and patient. "Y/N, let me clean you up."

You wiggled at his words, backing your hips into the brick wall again. "Y-you don't have to."

"I want to," Nanami stated plainly.

He moved closer to you again, licking at the top of your slit then down to your clit; his light pressure caused a ticklish feeling between your shoulders. Nanami kept your eyes as he dropped his tongue to line between your folds, lapping up his housed cum in you.

He carefully licked, prodding his tongue into you to suck more of his cum out. You folded your knuckles to your mouth, trying to keep your breath steady and not enjoy his intimate act more than that.

Nanami pulled back when he felt he'd gotten it all. He carefully stood up again, righting his still-hard cock into his pants then doing the same for your skirt.

He rested his hands at your waist, leaning in to kiss you. You shut your eyes softly, opened your mouth to receive his tongue and felt his spit dribble into you.

Nanami carefully shared his cum into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself and him; the umami of your sex something to be savored.

You swallowed nervously, realizing what he was doing. You lolled your tongue back at Kento's, swirling your sex between your mouths before he parted to gulp down his half.

"Your taste is immaculate," he whispered before your lips, buttoning your shirt back up and tucking your breasts back into your bra.

"I should go," Kento said, undoing your wrists from your belt.

You rubbed at your wrists carefully as Nanami bent to pick up your panties from the dirty alleyway. He tucked them into his pocket, lined his belt back through its loops.

"Be careful getting home tonight," he warned sweetly, resting his hand to your jaw to pet at it. "Call me if you need me."

You bowed into this man, watching as he slicked his perfect hair back into its set style. Nanami searched your once again doe-eyes, swooning inside by the whole swap from sex kitten to touch-starved in the blink of an eye.

"Okay," you offered, taking grip of his wrist to kiss the meat of his palm.

Nanami pulled back from you, grabbed the door to the bar and held it open for you to walk back in. He followed behind you back to the main area and grabbed his suit jacket along with his keys.

He politely excused himself to your work friends, glancing to see you duck into the bathroom. Walking out of the bar, he narrowed his eyes at the strange men that ogled you earlier and made memory of their faces.

-

Walking into his apartment, Nanami pointedly kicked his shoes off at the front door and straightened them against the wall. He hung his tie on the back of the door along with his suit jacket.

Kento moved around his apartment in the motions: putting soiled clothes into the hamper, dirty dishes in the dishwasher and straightening up his king-size bed.

He showered, changed into his jinbei and slipped into his slippers. Kento brushed his teeth, made himself a cup of tea, and grabbed the book he'd been working on for the past week.

Shuffling to bed, he turned on his nightlight and climbed in. Folding the comforter over his waist, Nanami flipped open his book to the last page he left off.

He scanned over the words, still going back to the day he'd had. Nanami couldn't lie that his cock was sore from being rubbed raw.

He blinked slowly, pinching at the bridge of his nose with a groan.

From his place in bed, he heard the front door handle jiggle. Nanami sat up, ready to get out of bed as it opened softly then shut again.

He raised a brow and folded his book to his lap to see you, leaning against the doorway.

You held your heels in your hand, having had three extra drinks after Nanami left.

"Hey baby," you grinned drunkenly, dropping your heels to the floor and shuffling to the bed. You folded your body over the plush bed, the pillow-soft comforter cool against your cheek.

"Hi honey," Nanami smiled, folding his book closed. "How was work?"

You hummed, pulling yourself onto all fours and crawling over to your husband. "It was so good, you were so good."

He spared a dry chuckle at you, watching as you curled sideways in the bed, resting your head in his lap. "You were too. Do you want me to run you a bath?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes. Nanami grabbed at his teacup, holding it out for you to take.

"Take a sip, sweetheart," Nanami urged softly, bending his knee to sit you up on his thigh.

You did so, hiding a roll of your eyes. You set the cup out for Nanami to take back, which he did as he leaned down to peck your lips.

"Did you get cuts from that wall?" he asked, ready to take care of you as you curled further into his lap.

Your eyes fluttered, shaking your head as you tucked closer to Nanami's stomach. "Hold me."

"Anything for you, my love."

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[prettieinpink]

Wardrobe Essentials Guide !!

This is only a guide- you don’t need everything I list. This is just to help people build their dream wardrobe sensibly without over or under consuming or to recognize what they may want/need.

Solid colour does not mean there can be no pattern on your clothes!! It just means avoid shapes, text, pictures etc on your clothes!! 

Before purchasing ANYTHING ask yourself these 3 questions!!

How can I style this?

Is there an opportunity cost? 

Will I still be able to wear it in 3+ years, even if my style changes?

TOPS 

  2 solid colour long sleeve tops

 2 solid colour short sleeve tops

2 solid colour tank top

2 solid colour cami top

2 underneath ‘layers’ tops 

1 athletic wear top

1 white button up ( make it as plain as possible) 

2+ graphic tee of your choice ( for funsies ) 

1 cute bodysuit of your choice 

1+ knitwear solid colour top

3+ statement piece tops of ur liking 

BOTTOMS 

1 good pair of jeans you like

2 leggings solid colour!!!

2 sweatpants 

2 track shorts 

2 basic long pants solid colour ( for going out more formally/extra) 

2 biker shorts solid colour

1 cargos pants solid colour 

1 denim shorts

2 mini skirts ( or longer )

1 midi/maxi skirt 

1 pencil black skirt ( formal events ) 

1 athletic wear bottoms 

3+ statement pieces of your liking 

DRESSES / FULL BODY 

1 black mini dress (trust me)

1 solid colour maxi dress

1 solid colour mini dress

1 solid colour jumpsuit (short or long)

1 solid colour 2 piece outfit

1+ statement pieces of your liking 

OUTERWEAR 

1 white cardigan ( can be cropped)

1 black cardigan ( can be cropped) 

2 solid colour zip up jackets

2 solid colour sweaters 

1 solid colour puffer jacket 

1 solid colour blazer

1+ statement piece of your liking

SLEEP/LOUNGEWEAR

1 cute pair of summer pjs

1 cute pair of winter pjs

2 sleeping tops

2 sleeping bottoms 

1 satin OR cotton robe 

2 cute loungewear sets 

UNDERWEAR & BRAS

2 your skin colour t-shirt bras 

2 solid colour sport bras

1 black t-shirt bra

1 white t-shirt bra

2+ your skin colour bikini underwear

2+ your skin colour slip underwear 

2+ solid colour hipster underwear 

2+ solid colour classic underwear

1+ maxi underwear 

OTHER AKA OPTIONAL 

1 cute swimwear set 

1 cute activewear set

SHOES

1 plain white sneakers ( can be chunky) 

1+ white sneakers with statement colours

1 cute pair of ugg boots 

1 nude pair of heels of your choice

1 white pair of heels of your choice

1 black pair of heels of your choice

1 white OR black boots 

1 black, nude OR white pair of loafers

1 pair of solid colour sandals OR FLATS

2+ statement pieces of your choice 

BAGS 

1 black shoulder OR crossbody

1 white shoulder OR crossbody 

1 brown shoulder OR crossbody

1 solid colour tote bag ( not the shopping ones) 

1 solid colour clutch 

1 solid colour backpack

JEWELLERY ( ALL ARE EITHER SLIVER OR GOLD YOU CAN CHOOSE )

small OR big hoops

5 cute studs

5 dangling earrings

2 necklaces

4 rings 

4 bracelets 

1 good quality watch 

APPAREL ACCESSORIES 

2+ black belts

2+ solid colour scarves 

1+ solid colour gloves

1+ solid colour beanies 

2+ solid colour hats of ur liking

2+ apparel chains

2+ solid colour sunglasses 

Andddd thats it lovelies!!! Reminder to spend and consume responsibly, don’t shop fast fashion please!! Clothes suck and its so bad for the environment. Is there anything that you think I should add to this list, or anything to remove and why? Also if you don’t know why something is on this list, ask me pls!!!! 

Should I make an skincare or make up bag essentials guide next ??? 

#femininity #high maintenance #pretty privilege #dream life #fashion #high value mindset #dream girl #it girl #that girl #glow up #self improvement #self development #clothes #clothing #accessory #pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #pinterest #aesthetic #wardrobe #feminine journey #cute #level up journey #leveling up #the feminine urge #becoming that girl #girlblogging #clean girl #guide #tips

[theambitiouswoman]

Capsule Wardrobe Essentials 🛍👚🎀👗

Wardrobe staples are important clothes that you can wear in many different ways. They are classic and versatile, and you can mix them with other fun clothes. These staple pieces are like the base of your wardrobe. You can use them with trendy or fancy clothes to make cool and useful outfits. They help you build a wardrobe that works well and looks good. So, you can make lots of different outfits and always have classic clothes to wear.

White Button-Up Shirt: A crisp white button-up shirt can be dressed up or down for various occasions.

Little Black Dress: Timeless piece suitable for formal events or casual outings.

Jeans: A well-fitting pair of jeans in a classic cut can be worn with almost anything.

Blazer: A tailored neutral blazer instantly adds sophistication and structure to any outfit.

Classic Trench Coat: A timeless outerwear piece that works well in various weather conditions.

Black Trousers: A pair of well tailored black pants can be a foundation for both professional and casual looks.

Neutral Sweater: A simple sweater in a neutral color is cozy and versatile for different outfits.

Classic Handbag: A quality handbag in a neutral shade adds a touch of elegance to any outfit.

White Sneakers: Comfortable and stylish, white sneakers can be worn with dresses, jeans, and more.

Black Ankle Boots: Versatile and stylish footwear that complements various outfits.

Pencil Skirt: A versatile piece that can be dressed up for work or paired with casual tops.

Crew Neck Sweater: A timeless and cozy sweater that works well with jeans or skirts.

Leather Jacket: Adds a touch of edge to any outfit and can be styled in various ways.

A-Line Dress: Flattering and suitable for both casual and semi-formal occasions.

Tailored Trousers: Classic pants that can be worn for business meetings or events.

Striped Breton Top: A chic and effortless piece that pairs well with jeans, skirts, or shorts.

Maxi Dress: Perfect for summer or special occasions, and can be dressed up or down.

Denim Jacket: A versatile layering piece that adds a casual touch to any outfit.

Structured Handbag: A classic bag that holds your essentials and complements different looks.

Ballet Flats: Comfortable and stylish shoes suitable for various outfits.

Denim Shorts: A casual option perfect for warmer months and can be paired with various tops.

Midi Skirt: A versatile length that works well for both casual and more formal occasions.

Black Leather Belt: Adds a finishing touch to many outfits and cinches in dresses and blazers.

Slingback Heels: Elegant and versatile shoes suitable for both office wear and events.

#wardrobe #styleinspiration #personal style #glam inspo #womens fashion #fashion #level up journey #clean girl #soft girl #girl boss #dream girl #girlblogging #it girl #dream girl journey #dream girl tips #levelupjourney #rebranding #style inspo #ootdinspiration #ootdstyle

[chrollohearttags]

foot locker manager!sukuna x executive black!fem reader

content warning: banter, reader is kind of bougie, sexual tension, finger sucking, oral/fingering, hate fucking, panty stuffing, throat training, cumshot, pet names (miss, sweetheart, baby), Sukuna has an accent (he gives me Houston idc 😫)

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

sukuna, who had been working within the mall for a few years now, had worked his way up to manager of the Foot Locker within it.

sukuna, who never took life too seriously, applied the same approach to his leadership style. His store was by far the most fun in the district. Always blasting music..bumping everything from Moneybagg to DMX (and trust, he knew every word).

everybody wanted to shop at his location. The men saw him as their homeboy; talking about basketball and women as he helped them find the perfect pair shoes to compliment their fit. And the ladies because the handsome, hilarious manager makes them smile. Greeting them with a ‘miss’ or calling them ‘gorgeous’. Smooth and fast talking, laying the charm on thick.

helping single moms find their babies the perfect shoes or the kid going to state championships the perfect basketball sneaker.

“Little man starts second grade this year. We gotta have him looking right.” “You’re going to state this year, bruh. Can’t be playing on worn out shoes. Trust me, did that and almost threw the whole tournament for us. I’ll use my discount, don’t even worry about it, lil bro.”

sukuna, who was always laced; Diamond stud earrings, a gold watch, matching necklace and the latest sneakers. Tattoos littering his muscular forearms and chest. Not to mention his signature Dior scent. Looking good and smelling even better. Any girl that he had come in contact with instantly folded at the slightest bit of flirtation. All the Sephora and Victoria’s Secret Workers were in love.

“Good morning, ladies.” “Girl, that’s Ryo I was telling you about. He fine ain’t he?”

every woman except the newest regional manager, (y/n) (l/n). Who was notorious for your no nonsense attitude and authoritative style was shocked to see how he ran his store and even more so how he greeted you as if you weren’t his boss.

“How we doing, miss? Can I help you find sum’?” “Yes, the manager. Ryomen Sukuna? Is he the one who runs this location?” “You’re in luck, baby. You’re looking at him.”

sukuna, who carried on with business as usual, watched you give glances and eye tolls as you jotted down notes on your clipboard. Strutting around in that short pencil skirt, tight shirt and tall heels. Wet and wavy flowing down your back and face done up. He hadn’t seen a bitch as bad as you in a long time, if ever.

sukuna, who couldn’t help but to stare and ogle as you followed him around the store. Completely puzzled by how someone so fine could be so damn mean..listening to you spout off orders about how this shelf should be organized and how that display was against regulation. And especially how the music was distasteful.

“No disrespect, miss. But I run this store so let me do my job and stay out of the way. I do the best numbers in the district every month, I don’t see the problem.” “You won’t be for long if I have anything to do with it. This is a business, Mr. Sukuna. Not a nightclub.”

the week went on with you monitoring the store and making notations for final review. And after almost seven days together, you were at odds and each others throats.

(Y/N), who was taking notes and auditing in the office during closing when you were interrupted by an irate Ryomen.

“Yes, Mr. Sukuna. Can I help you?”

sukuna, who had spent years building a repertoire with his customers, was upset that a lot of loyal buyers refused to come back until the ‘mean bitch’ was gone.

“You’re ruining my store, that’s what! When the hell are you leaving?” “Correction, I’m fixing this mess and you better be grateful because corporate is two seconds from getting your ass out of here.”

the two of you got into a bit of a quarrel, resulting in rising tensions..in more ways than one!

sukuna, who had you cornered against the desk couldn’t help but to laugh at the stark difference in your height. Especially when you began to rant and rave about how unprofessional he was.

sukuna, who had seen your type before and knew exactly what you needed to quell that horrible temper, ran a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up mid sentence. Causing you to stutter over your words and become flustered.

“Why don’t we stop all of this fighting and settle it then? Tell the truth..you don’t really want me fired, do you?”

sukuna, who puts that charm to good use by mumbling into the crook of your neck..moving his hands up your body and smirking against your ear. Seeing as clear as day how much you liked it.

“What are you trying to do, bribe me?” “Bribing only works if I want something out of it. I’m just tryna’ make you feel good, sweetheart.”

sukuna, pulling you into a deep kiss, shoves his fingers into your panties and works you around on the tip of his digits as the two of you make out. Making certain that the door was bolted and the store was empty so that no one could disturb him or what he was about to do.

sukana, who had you exactly where he wanted, sets you atop his desk, pulling your skirt down and panties to the side. Only after you got him out of his shirt; admiring that sexy body and countless tattoos..along with the third leg he was hiding behind his work pants. Playing with it as he kneels down to devour your pussy. Working his thick fingers around in that juicy cunt, lapping up juices and letting them dribble down his tongue.

“Oh fuck…”

sukuna, who lets you suck his fingers clean as he slides inside of you, starting off with slow thrusts because he knew you couldn’t take it all at once. Watching it press into your skin.

sukuna, who had a week’s worth of tension and lust built up took out every bit of his frustration on you..pounding your shit into oblivion.

“Ah shit! Right there, Ryo..fuck that pussy. Take it!” “That’s it..that’s why you need, baby. That lil’ attitude fucked out of you. Some of that good dick, isn’t that right?”

sukuna, amazed by how creamy you got for him only a couple strokes in couldn’t restrain himself or his strokes. Making you tug your own panties between your teeth and bite down to withstand it as he folded your legs up.

sukuna, who had enough of your bitching, decided to put you on your knees and fuck your throat. “Much better use for that pretty mouth, don’t you think?”

making you touch his abs with his forehead by the time he finished.

sukuna, unable to hold back, painted your face and titties with a warm stream of nut, releasing loud groans with it..really loving when you proudly put it on display with your tongue out and a smile.

sukuna, who kisses you after filling your mouth up, knows that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his job or you after this. Knowing you’ll keep the dirty little secret as long as you can come back for another ‘inspection’..anytime you’d like.

#cherry’s drabbles 🍒 #jjk drabbles #smut drabble #jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x black reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk smut #jjk headcanons #jjk au #jujutsu sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x black reader #black reader smut #modern alternate universe #modern au #black fem reader #jjk ryomen #this man is so fucking fine #can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve written for him #cw sex mention #cw smut #suggestive cw

[csuitebitches]

Guide to Building a Classic Wardrobe

I was asked a long time ago by an anon for a guide to build a wardrobe. This style caters to someone mature, slightly conservative, NOT fashionnova-esque, something that will last a long time in all fashion seasons, provided you look after your items well. I live in a relatively hot climate and the coldest temperature I’ve experienced when living in a place is like 10 degree Celsius, so I will admit that I am not very well versed with living in cold climates for a prolonged period of time (I don’t think a 2 week trip to Switzerland in the summer counts as “cold”).

I have purposely built with keeping neutrals in mind. I’ve learned that its best to first build a neutral coloured wardrobe in mind, then start adding colour to it. You might find this wardrobe boring, but if you work in a corporate environment/ somewhere where you can’t showcase too much colour or creativity/ if you come from a relatively conservative/ high profile-but-not-entertainment /modest culture, you’ll find this useful.

ALWAYS keep an eye on the material of the item you are buying. If you have to buy a sweater and you live in a cold climate, buy cashmere. Yes, it will be expensive, but it will keep you warm and last longer. If you live in a hot climate, invest in tops and dresses made out of pure cotton. Material plays a huge role in the climate you live in.

I do not endorse fast fashion or over-consumerism but I understand that it is affordable. I would therefore recommend you to buy things carefully and with consideration, not just for the sake of the environment but for your wallet. It’s better to buy 1 quality item than 10 horribly made, short-lasting items.

Never mix more than 3 colours in your outfit at a time. That’s something my father taught me, and I recommend you stick to it, especially if you’re new to building a serious wardrobe.

Lastly, do not be enthralled by what influencers buy or wear. I can guarantee you that the clothes they wear on Instagram aren’t even theirs half the time. Don’t fall into the trap of micro trends.

(Pictures for this post have been sourced from Pinterest).

Underwear

Nude bra + thong/ undie

Black bra + thong/ undie

White bra + thong/ undie

Strapless bra (black)

Strapless bra (nude)

2 sexy bra sets (optional, I have these in red, pink, blue)

Nipple pads

Tops

White silk cami

Black silk cami

White plain tee

Black plain tee

White tank

Black tank

Beige tank (or whatever suits your complexion - brown/ nude)

White shirt

Black shirt (satin/ silk)

Blue shirt

Pants

Navy blue trousers

Wine/ red high waisted trousers

White trousers

Beige trousers

Black trousers

Straight leg jeans (blue)

Another pair of jeans (not ripped, blue)

White jeans, straight leg/ mom cut

Skirts

White

Black

Red

Beige (a checked print, like Burberry)

2 maxi skirts

1 pencil skirt in black (work appropriate)

Shorts

Denim (not distressed)

Tailored white shorts

Tailored blue shorts

Tailored black shorts

Formal attire

1 maxi dress - red/ black/ a neutral colour

White/ black vest and trouser set

Everyday dresses

Knit dress in black/ cream/ brown (long)

2 summer dresses, short

White peasant dress

Outer wear

Leather jacket in black/ brown

1 cardigan in black/ white

A shawl/ silk scarf

Denim jacket

Long trench coat in camel/ brown/ beige

Blazer in white/ navy blue/ black

Sweater in black/ white/ red

Shoes

Black/ white/ brown leather boots

White/ silver heels

Black heels

Gold heels

Mules in black

Home slippers

Running shoes

White sneakers

Accessories

1 brown/ black leather bag

1 tote bag

1 clutch for parties

Hair clips

Tights/ leggings - sheer and opaque in black

Socks

Jewellery

Diamond studs

Everyday pendant

2-3 simple bracelets/ bangles in silver/ gold

Signet rings in gold

Chunky hoops

Devices

Hair straightener

Hairdryer/ Blow brush (i prefer the blow dry brush)

30 mm curling wand (for long, big curls)

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #c suite aesthetic #working woman #empire #beauty #fashion #wardrobe #styling #capsule wardrobe #basic fashion #neutral #fashion guide