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#To anyone wondering what the musical looked like
taasgirl · 3 days
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espresso - lando norris
summary: y/n is a famous singer who also happens to be a massive f1 fan. when she mentions a liking for a certain driver, it's only fate that he tries everything in his power to get her attention.
a/n: no face claim! the outcomes/order of races are altered to fit the story, it's just a fun time!!
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liked by oliviarodrigo, oneruel, pedri, and 1, 376, 227 others ynusername my new interview with wired is out now!
user64973 Stop you're gorgeous
user89322 do i wanna be her or be with her??
user09384 so who r u crushing on huh
ynusername it's a seeeecret 🤫
user44172 This entire vid is so chaotic omfg
user03638 Please let y/n enter her wag era
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liked by user55736, user89842, user73903, and 10, 652 others user33973 HELLO???? LANDO LITERALLY LIKED THIS TWEET I'M CRYING
user98301 brother personally knows who y/n's next bf should be
user40440 HAHA NO LITERALLY
user34593 God please let this be lando shooting his shot after watching y/n's recent interview
user43982 NO WAIT UR SO FR BECAUSE SHE LITERALLY MENTIONED LIKING AN F1 DRIVER WHAT IF IT'S HIM??
user12871 lando and y/n 🙏🙏
view ynusername's story...
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liked by oscarpiastri, lorde, gavi, and 782, 774 others ynusername what a race! lovely to see you again @ oscarpiastri, maybe aim for a podium next time though?
oscarpiastri I'd like to see you try in a f1 car
user49949 Wait is oscar the guy y/n was talking abt in that vid? user53004 i hope not, i love him and lily
user20833 Okay so did y/n and lando interract or not? 😭
user61221 hot girls support mclaren (confirmed!) liked by ynusername
user89483 y/n slowly integrating herself in the f1 scene, we see u girl
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liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant, ynusername, and 2, 459, 383 others landonorris A lot to learn from this weekend, but we keep pushing. Also great to meet a lot of new faces and the incredible fans🧡
user58273 SORRY WHAT THAT SECOND PHOTO...
user89894 is the new face y/n perhaps??
mclaren Great weekend Lando! liked by landonorris
user92702 I genuinely tweak whenever u post bc u look so fine
user53982 not y/n liking this post 😭
user66359 AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN FOLLOW HIM user98123 miss girl is stalking her crush i bet
user17263 please let this year be your year
user52209 Did anyone see his response to that post race interview?
user28732 YES AND HOW HE HAS HIS EYE ON SUM1
user87229 oh he trynna thirst trap (y/n) liked by landonorris
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liked by lilyzneimer, oliviarodrigo, pedri, and 334, 938 others ynusername remember that one bitch ass ex I had? yeah well I wrote another song about him! 'feather' is yours now, but best enjoyed when you have an ugly, cheating, lying dick of an ex to think about. have fun with this one!! 😘
lilyzneimer STOP I'M ACTUALLY DYING I WAS NOT EXPECTING OSCAR OMG I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING liked by ynusername
user82983 i was like wow normal post! and then boom. oscar.
oscarpiastri Okay that seems a little mean
lilyzneimer already on repeat
oscarpiastri Um excuse me???? Did you read the caption...
user68297 NEW Y/N MUSIC YESYESYES
user26321 omfg i've been waiting for an angry y/n song
user72639 this sounds really familiar?? song of the summer maybe?
ynusername ahhhh thank you bb
view landonorris's story...
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liked by user58273, user98004, user63874, and 10, 376 others user44938 Y/N papped in Monte Carlo today! Rumours are circulating that she was visiting F1's starboy Lando Norris, however there is no official confirmation.
user99812 ohhh y/n we see you
user89283 Okay everyone shut up abt lando, let's take a moment to appreciate y/n's beauty omf she's gorg
user23294 I SECOND THIS !!
user12834 hmm i wonder why she's in monaco...
user48463 Y/N u ain't slick 😭
user35273 she saw lando's story and ran straight to him
user16282 "how far u go for a sneaky link? I'd fly"
user52883 I know damn well she ain't in monaco for a holiday
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liked by landonorris, gracieabrams, laufey, and 483, 995 others ynusername it's exactly like selena gomez's 2011 film
user73948 I KNOW LANDO'S HOODIE WHEN I SEE IT
user63762 ur the genuine it girl
lilyzneimer Monte Carlo reference, I love it liked by ynusername
user11928 landoooo
landonorris oooooo
user40948 oh hey lando user29830 Fancy seeing you here user73984 He wants her so bad
oscarpiastri I think I've seen that hoodie before
ynusername hmm i wonder where 🤷‍♀️
user49283 girl saw his story and flew out IMMEDIATELY
user53984 y/n l/n wag era loading 😏😏
user92874 So pretty
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liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, mclaren, and 3, 469, 848 others landonorris Calm before the storm #raceweek
charlesleclerc Good to see you with some company
user76483 CHARLES HASFGUEH
ynusername omg invite me next time
user42761 Girl bfr we know where u were at
user52739 THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE
user19820 y/n and lando are a match made in heaven
user82637 I wonder who you were hanging out with 🤔
oscarpiastri Wow I feel like I've seen that girl before
ynusername me too
user61542 not lando soft launching y/n as if we don't know it's her
user82736 I mean technically we don't
user19823 @ user82736 No I think it is confirmed, she was heard on his twitch stream the other day
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liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, danielricciardo, and 1, 254, 982 others mclaren Our drivers and their partners after qualifying! Lando and Oscar will begin P4 and P5 respectively in Monte Carlo 🧡🤍
user82638 AND THEIR PARTNERS??? Y/N AND LANDO?
user52761 admin really said if they won't confirm it, I will liked by mclaren
user52839 Please lando and y/n are adorable
user82636 lily & oscar >>>
user48273 Sooooo they official...?
user27163 guys stop with this y/n x lando madness, i need a double mclaren podium
user82638 y/n really manifested her wag era huh
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liked by ynusername, logansargeant, lilymunhe, and 3, 716, 372 others landonorris Monaco '24. Thank you to everyone who came out, and showed me support this weekend. I promise to be better next race. tagged: oscarpiastri & ynusername
ynusername my racer 🧡🏎️
user62538 HELLO? user82776 i'm gonna be sick
mclaren Papaya boys! liked by landonorris
user72538 Y/N is so beautiful I can't even
user16529 HIS EYES
user52863 him hard launching y/n >>>>
user98276 This is MY victoria and david
ynusername omg we're definitely not as cool as them
user41752 i won't get over this ever
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liked by landonorris, phoebebridgers, mclaren, and 967, 837 others ynusername i think i need to buy more orange clothes
landonorris I've already offered up half my closet to her...
landonorris nice shirt though 😏
user62538 oh i'm living for their hard launch
lilyzneimer Welcome to the team!!
user22817 STOP THIS IS ADORABLE PLS WE NEED Y/N AND LILY CONTENT IMMEDIATELY
mclaren Our favourite pop star liked by ynusername 🌟
user52763 Y/N THE WAG YESSSSSS
oscarpiastri It's actually papaya
ynusername okay sassy man apocalypse lilyzneimer @ ynusername feed him to the zombies
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liked by oliviarodrigo, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 583, 872 others ynusername oh and btw, my new song espresso is out and it's a @ landonorris certified 'banger'. his words not mine. listen on all platforms now!!
landonorris She's working late cause she's a singerrr
ynusername haiii
user72637 y/n really walked in and said that she's the best lando ever had and ever will have
landonorris I mean it's true sooo
user62537 Okay lando I didn't know u had game like dat
lilyzneimer oh I love you
ynusername LILYYYYYYY i love u so much oscarpiastri I think our gfs are gfs... @ landonorris
view landonorris's story...
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please let me know if you guys liked this! i love doing lando fics so much. as always, my reqs are open so feel free to drop suggestions!!
1K notes · View notes
Silly Little Love Song
So, I decided to start with the Margarette Macron x Reader because they deserve more attention in the fandom and I absolutely love how this character is portrayed. The title of the fic comes from the song by Wings (I sang it in my head trying to figure out what the actual name of the song was), and if anyone has future suggestions, feel free to let me know! Extra note - Y/D/N stands for "Your Dorm Name" to make things more inclusive!
Summary: The reader has always admired Margarette's piano playing from a distance but does not want to admit this to them. However, Margarette picks up on the reader's glances and tries to get them to open up. Will a love song that reveals the reader's hidden musical talent finally bring the two together?
Warnings: None, if I miss any please let me know!
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Y/N's quill traveled smoothly across the page as they finished the last sentence of their notes for potions class. The professor completed the lecture ten minutes ago, but Y/N was in no hurry. They did not have any classes the following period, and potions was the subject that they struggled with the most, so detailed notes were a must if they were going to pass.
"You really shouldn't worry about taking notes, dear Y/N. Haven't you aced the past two exams?"
Y/N looked up and met the soft gaze of the Prefect of Orca dorm, Margarette Macron, their eyes the color of forget me not flowers that Y/N could get lost in if given the chance. Y/N shook their head and closed their notebook. "Oh, hello Margarette, I wish your statement was true, but my grades are more horrendous than some of the freshmen in this year's entrance exam..."
Margarette chuckled at the comment, and Y/N wondered how it was possible for even their voice to sound like the most beautiful serenade. Still, Margarette was a powerful magic user that was in line to be the next Divine Visionary, so how could they possibly be interested in a mediocre magic user from Y/D/N. Margarette leaned on the table and tilted their head, their industrial piercings reflecting the torch light from the room.
"Such a shame that people from Y/D/N put so much pressure on themselves, especially someone as-"
"Hey, Margarette!! Can you show us some of your magic again?!" A cluster of eager freshmen dashed up towards the table like children sprinting to a glass candy display. Each of them had bass clefs or eighth note marks that matched that of musical magic users, so it made sense why they would want to see the famous piano display that Margarette would sometimes show off. Margarette crossed to the front of the room that was free of any tables, and with a wave of their wand, their piano materialized in front of them. As they sat down on the bench, Margarette's fingers gracefully moved over the ivory keys, causing awes and oohs to fall from the dazzled freshmen, and Y/N found themselves equally entranced by the music notes that swiveled and turned among purple ribbons. Margarette, while at one with their music, took every chance they could to glance over at Y/N. Any time they looked, however, Y/N seemed to be preoccupied with their shoes or an imaginary stain on their cloak. The moment Margarette would not be paying attention, Y/N would remain fully focused on their playing or let their focus wander to take in Margarette's makeup that looked perfect in this lighting. Just stop it, Y/N muttered to themselves internally, They would never take a second look at you if some pretty magic user walked through the door right now.
As Margarette finished the last lines of their signature melody, their head shot up in hopes of finally catching Y/N watching their performance, but all they saw was Y/N leaving the room with their head facing the floor. The freshmen crowded Margarette and praised their magical abilities, but their compliments were not enough to prevent a frown of disappointment to appear on the Prefect's face. Once the freshmen left the room, some more quickly than others at the realization that they would be late for their next class, Margarette let out a sigh. Oh Y/N, why do you flee when the spotlight always shines brighter on you in my eyes...
..............................................................................................................................
Y/N's temples throbbed as they tried to study the potions formulas in their dorm room, but none of the numbers or ingredients were adding up. If anything, they created a murky abyss in Y/N's mind that made no sign of clearing any time soon. Y/N rubbed their eyes as they shoved their chair back with a squeak, the annoying sound miniscule compared to the running thoughts that zoomed in their head.
There was only one thing that could help them at this point.
Y/N traveled down the stone hallway, their feet clicking on the slate colored walkway as the remaining tangerine rays of the sun began to dip below the protective walls of the school. They knew that it was risky to leave their dorm this close to dark since students were not allowed to roam the halls, but Y/N needed to find a way to alleviate their stress and doubt. Finally, they reached the music room, a place where magic users who did not specialize in magical spells imbued with lyrical notes could practice. Y/N could feel a weight lift from their shoulders at the sight of the piano in the middle of the room, the familiarity like a comforting hug from a close friend. They sat down on the mahogany bench and drew in a gradual inhale, their fingers positioned on the keys and waiting in anticipation.
The tune that Y/N began to play was a simple one, but it was a melody that they had learned from their childhood. Each note felt like home, and Y/N could feel themselves swaying with the beat of the song. They were so lost in the moment that they did not hear Margarette enter the room.
It was an encounter that happened merely by chance.
Margarette had just finished the first patrol round of the night, and as they began to return back to their dorm room, they heard the sounds of a piano from down the hall. The tune was simple, but the emotion that came from the music caused goosebumps to cover Margarette's arms and curiosity to sparkle in their eyes. Upon entering the room, Margarette half expected to see one of the freshmen from earlier, but seeing Y/N playing the piano with the grace of a dancer made Margarette's heart swell with pride and a surprised gasp to leave their purple tinted lips. "My, my, you never told me you played piano, Y/N."
Y/N jolted at the sound of Margarette's voice, the shock causing them to tip backwards and the bench below them to slide and topple to the floor. Instead of colliding with the jagged and ancient stones below, Y/N felt a pair of arms wrapped securely around them. The same eyes Y/N could feel themselves almost drowning in earlier were now inches from them, only this time, Y/N could not look away. Margarette assisted Y/N back to a standing position before placing the bench back upright. The prefect dusted off the bench and took a seat, patting the space beside them. "While I enjoyed the heavenly melody you were playing, may I show you a new song? It's one that I hoped to play for you one day."
Y/N could feel a blush heating up their cheeks, but to be so close to the person who inspired them so often was an offer they could not refuse. Y/N sat down next to Margarette, their scent a mixture of lavender and musk, which to Y/N's surprise made them feel relaxed and not nervous. Margarette hesitantly reached for Y/N's hand's, but they stopped themselves. "Is it alright for me to show you how to play the song?"
Y/N nodded as they rested their hands in Margarette's palms, their fingers gently intertwining as Margarette placed them on the piano keys. Margarette took things slow and allowed Y/N to sense which keys to press when and what notes would follow next in line, and unlike the usual purple ribbons that surrounded Margarette's music, the musical notes were surrounded by a pinkish hue. Once the tune was complete, Margarette let go of Y/N's hands and their chest rumbled with laughter. "You are a natural, Y/N! You should play more often and share this beauty with the world!" Margarette looked away then as a thought crossed their mind. They rubbed the back of their neck as their pale cheeks appeared more red than normal. "Then again, I would gladly cherish your beauty on my own."
Was Margarette really confessing their feelings right now? Y/N's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but after seeing the brief glimpse of fear enter Margarette's eyes at the potential of being rejected, Y/N knew how to respond. Y/N leaned up and kissed Margarette on the cheek, but they retreated soon after with their arms wrapping tightly around themselves. Despite the cold temperature of the room, Y/N 's embarrassment made it feel like they had been hit by one of Dot's spells. "As long as I can admire your beauty and learn more songs by your side as well, then we have a deal..."
Margarette felt as if someone had just told them that they were the next Divine Visionary, and yet this overwhelming adoration was far greater than such an announcement. Margarette cupped Y/N's chin, their fingers light as they leaned closer. Margarette pressed their lips against Y/N's in a feather light kiss, parting away with a grin wider than before. "I would accept that deal any day, my darling."
Tags: @ansbobcar, @rainee-da, @mayurin17, @thebasicbword, @mashleverse, @xram7x
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pass1onepr1ncess · 3 days
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Source Memories
I wanted to gather all my thoughts and find a place to put down everything that I remember about source, and I know people love headcanons posts on this site and this is kinda like that in a way so I figured "Why the hell not?" I would like to add that while these are from my memories of the events of Vento Aureo, some of them are also from my life afterwards. I don't have a ton of memories from after we all left Rome, but there's a couple. I stayed in Naples for about a year after that, but then I left and never saw any of them again, so.
Giorno
He was already pretty tall at 15. I think he was, like, 5"9'? I didn't know at the time, but now that I have extra knowledge I'm fairly sure it's because of the Dio/Jonathan genes. Those guys were fucking huge. I wouldn't be surprised if Giorno had grown up to be at least 6"0. However, I left Naples around the time we both turned 17 and he was about 5"11', so not quite. But again, I left and we were both still growing.
He wasn't white. He didn't have a whole lot of Japanese features from his mom, but his skin tone was one of them. He was more tanned than myself, which to be honest wasn't saying much but y'know. He wasn't the darkest either, though. In fact, he was still on the lighter side of the group.
His hair was extremely voluminous. And shiny. I think I only ever saw him take out his braid once, but oh my God. I think I asked him if he used a hair mask or something and he said no but that he used coconut oil, I think.
I don't think he was an actual vampire like his father, I don't think it was really genetic. Not in my source, anyway. But he did have a set of fucking canines on him. Also, he yawns like a cat. Narancia and I watched him do it once and saw his teeth and looked at each other because I don't think either of us had ever seen anyone with teeth closer to fangs than Giorno's.
He liked humming things. I don't really know what music he was thinking about or if it was even actual songs he was humming, but he hummed little tunes a lot. It wasn't very loud, and I could tell it was just to himself. He had a smooth humming voice, though. It made me wonder what he would sound like if he ever sang, but I never got the chance to hear that.
He was one of the few people in the group who didn't drink. Pretty sure Bruno offered him some wine once, but he turned it down and said that he didn't drink. That was the only thing he ever said about it, though.
Gay trans man. You could see his top surgery scars from the window in his shirt he always kept open.
Bruno
I don't think he had ever lived there, but you could tell by his physique and facial features that his family was extremely Greek. Also, Bruno was probably the palest out of all of us. He spent more time than the others in the turtle both to guard me and to keep out of the sun. And even when he went out, he put on sunscreen almost everytime he left. I never saw him get burned, but that could also just be because he was careful. Not sure if he really was prone to sunburn or if he was just overly-cautious. I wouldn't put it past him either way.
He was very strict. I didn't know any of them that much at all while I was with all of them, despite everything that happened. Bruno made sure that we were all aware that I was "The Mission" and that none of them were supposed to get close to me or get attached. He made sure I knew, as well. Told me not to talk to them too much so I wouldn't form a bond with them. However, things obviously changed after Venice. But by then, we hardly had time to talk at all. In the end, I didn't know Bruno that much before he died, but I could tell that he started to care about me despite being the one who insisted I was off-limits. I know the fandom likes the idea of him being an adoptive father to me, but to be honest he felt more like a protecticve older brother.
His eyes were a very dark blue that very much seemed almost black in the shadow. But when we were outside, you could tell that they were more of a deep cerulean.
He was hopelessly in love with Leone. Had absolutely no chance of hiding it even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to. He would look at her like Flynn Ryder looked at Rapunzel in the floating lights scene in Tangled. Leone wasn't fond of PDA, so they never actually even showed many signs of their relationship even with their own squad around. But you could tell from Bruno alone that they had something special. I remember before everything really got dangerous, seeing him look at her like that made me hope that I'd find someone like that someday.
That little black part of his suit wasn't lingerie. Not in my source, at least. The way it moved with his clothes made it clear that it wasn't a tattoo, either. It was just a part of his shirt.
His zippers didn't leave scars unless the parts he had unzipped were left unzipped for too long. The longer they were unzipped, the more prominent the scars were. I had/have (in headspace) the one on my wrist, and it's pretty prominent because 1) the zipping wasn't the original cause of the injury and 2) the zipper popped when he died and before Giorno brought him back. The scars they left behind were also zipper-shaped. Like the teeth, I mean.
He liked being near the ocean. I think the sound of it put him at ease and helped clear his mind or something, I'm not entirely sure. He just liked being by the water. It wasn't the same if we were more inland with rivers or something. He just seemed more relaxed when we were specifically by the sea. I didn't know why back then, but now I know that it must've reminded him of home.
Leone
Black transwoman. It was never my business what surgeries she had, but I know she was on HRT. She wore her hair in micro braids, and her roots were a much darker purple than her braids. I'm pretty sure her hair was naturally purple, but it was braided with yarn which is where that lavender color came from. She was the second darkest in the group.
She... didn't talk much. Much preferred her own company over anyone else's- except for Bruno, but she never liked to be too close with him while anyone else was in the room. If I didn't talk much with anyone else in the group, I hardly spoke to Leone at all. But even then, I think we both knew that amidst the group of almost all men, we both shared a bond since we were the only two girls. Since she didn't talk much and I wasn't allowed to talk, there were times where we would be listening to the boys' conversation and hear something strange and we would both look at each other from across the room in that gossipy sort of "Did you hear that, too?" kind of way. But, that was kind of the extent of my interactions with Leone. I'm sure if we were given the chance, we would've gotten along. She probably could've been a really cool older sister.
She really liked her wine. I don't think there was a moment at any point on the trip when she was with us that there wasn't at least one bottle of red wine among the group at least. She would sometimes send Mista or Narancia to get extra bottles when she was running low. Bruno said something at one point about her drinking on a mission, but she waved him off and reassured him that she'd be fine. She spaced her glasses out just enough that she wouldn't get drunk, so I can only assume she'd been used to drinking on the job and knew how to handle herself. She offered me a glass once. In any other circumstances I might've accepted, but I was too on-edge and paranoid then. I wanted to stay as alert as I could be, even before the whole San Giorgio Maggiore debacle. Bruno reprimanded her for offering it to me, though. Said that I was too young to drink. She said that he doesn't seem to mind Fugo, Mista, or Narancia drinking, and he replied with something about it being different with them. That I had a whole life ahead of me that didn't need to be tainted with alcohol. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had already drank with my mother before.
I never left the turtle when we were in Sardinia. Bruno had instructed me to stay put and that they'd let me know when we were safely off the island. When everyone else came back, no one told me what had happened. Not specifically, just that they ran into some trouble. Hardly any of them even spoke to each other for the first few hours on the boat. But when we left without Leone and when I saw everyone's expressions, I knew. It was a weird feeling because I remember thinking to myself that I was grateful that Bruno had told me not to get attached. I was grateful I didn't know her, but I still felt sad. It definitely hit Bruno the hardest. Narancia was more outwardly expressive with his feelings, but I could tell Bruno was... I don't even know how to describe it. He just looked miserable, like someone had just ripped a piece of his soul from him. Giorno checked on me a couple times, I think we were in a similar boat (metaphorically speaking). He had only joined the squad for a little bit, so he also wasn't entirely close to Leone. He was the only one in a semi-stable frame of mind to be checking up on others. Mista just sat off to the side by himself, taking apart his pistol and putting it back together again over and over. The Sex Pistols were worried about him, but he ignored them until it was time to feed them.
Fugo
There's gonna be so little about him on this list because we hardly spoke at all before Venice and then he left and I never saw him again so... Idk.
He made it clear by his facial expressions that he did NOT like me. Like a mixture of anger and suspicion. I knew this even before reading PHF, but reading the book and getting his perspective on it made a lot of things make sense. He was suspicious because I didn't talk and was distant, especially considering I was related to The Boss. I understand, and I don't blame him. I kinda wish I could talk to him again and explain myself a bit, but I think Sheila E helped him understand my side a bit as well even thought I never met her. I'm sure the events of PHF did happen in my source, but I wasn't around to witness them. I left Naples before it all went down, I never saw Fugo again after Venice.
I think he had the same feelings towards me as he did towards Giorno. We were both New(TM) and I think he was both upset that his routine and daily life had been disrupted and changed and also just generally suspicious of us.
Out of everyone, he seemed closest to Leone. He obviously had a bond with Bruno, as did everyone else on the team, but he stuck around Leone like he was her clingy younger brother. She didn't seem to mind, which I was a bit surprised about given how she was. I'm sure she might've protested at some point, but I guess they had been teamed together long enough that she gave up trying to push him away and got used to it. They kinda looked like that "Excuse me, he asked for no pickles" meme lmao.
Mista
He was. Really creepy towards me. Not excessively so, like he wasn't being a weirdo in general he just. It was clear that the only other woman he had ever really actually hung out with was Leone and he didn't really know how to process that I had boobs or that I showed a lot of skin in my outfits. I know he didn't mean to be so weird about it, but it was enough that I have a permanent distaste for him. Like the time in the van when he was whispering (badly whispering, btw, I could hear every word) to Fugo about my boobs and I just kept looking out the window pretending I couldn't hear because I felt so awkward and gross about it. I kept wishing Leone would take her headphones off and smack him or something, anything to make him shut up. And then Bruno slammed on the brakes and Fugo went flying into my chest and gratefully he was normal about it and tried to apologize and I think he felt just as awkward and embarassed about it as I did- but then Mista had to make it even weirder for all of us! He just. I didn't like him and I still don't. Not all Mistas, just the one from my source. He makes me wildly uncomfortable and the fact that he was 18 while I was 15 makes it. I just try not to think about it!
He smelled, like, REALLY bad. He constantly smelled like sweat and onions but then he would douse himself in an UNGODLY amount of Calvin Klein cologne to cover it up like that was an acceptable replacement for a shower. But then the cologne was just too much and it smelled like chemicals. Also, those pants were real zebra leather. Do you have any idea how insane you have to be to wear actual leather pants in summer? In Italy?? In Naples????? We swapped bodies and I swear to God this man's legs were drenched with sweat and the leather would stick to the skin and it was a HORRID sensory experience. Not to mention the fact that he was also even weirder about him being in MY body.
The Sex Pistols were pretty cool, at least. They were fun to talk to. I'd give them snacks sometimes when Mista wasn't around because he didn't like them eating when it wasn't meal time.
I'm, like, 95% sure he did actually have OCD. It wasn't just the 4s thing, either. Sometimes he would have to spin the cylinder of his pistol a few times before it "felt right" so he could actually shoot. Or turning a doorknob multiple times before opening the door, or retracing his steps on the sidewalk before moving forward. I don't mean this in a bad way, I just genuinely think he had OCD and that's okay. If he did, it's not like it was his fault.
Pretty sure he was cishet. Or maybe not straight, but I'm fairly sure he was cis. But also, I didn't know much about any of them and could be absolutely wrong! Also he was some kind of latino but I never asked about specifics so that's all I know.
Narancia
Nara is the hardest to think about, I think. I've always thought that if we were given the chance to have known each other in any other context that we could've been really good friends. Maybe even more? I'm not even sure myself, to be honest, But I know I have strong feelings about him. He ignored Bruno's whole spiel about not getting attached to The Mission and would sneak into the turtle to hang out with me. It was fun. He kept me company, which was nice because I was so intensely bored. The guys didn't give me anything to do other than just sit around in the turtle, but I know even then that I was having a better time than they were, so I can't exactly complain.
He let me in on a decent chunk of the gang gossip. Not a whole lot, but he told me about Polpo and the arrow before it became a whole thing. He didn't know about the whole Requiem thing, but he knew the arrow gave people stands. It was how he got Aerosmith when he first joined the gang.
He was Indian, I'm pretty sure. and Genderfluid. I don't know what his sexuality was, but I think he may have had a crush on me? Like I said before, I don't know. There was, maybe the start of something between us that we didn't have enough time for. Too much going on at the time for that.
He had already seemed keen on wanting to befriend me even before we got to Venice, but he seemed to stick pretty close after we left the Church. I didn't know then about the "Trish is me" thing because I was unconscious for that, but it was clear that his motivations had changed from "I'm going to protect you because I was told to" to "I'm going to protect you because I understand you." He was almost always in arms length of me after that, like if he got too far he wouldn't be able to save me. Which is kinda funny considering that his stand was long distance, but it was sweet.
Given that he was the only one in the gang who had genuinely tried to form a connection with me despite the circumstances- and specifically the way it happened- his death hit me the hardest. He was going on about how he wanted to go back to school and all these things he wanted to do when we got back and then all of a sudden just. He was gone. I was homeschooled before my mother got sick, and I didn't really have any friends. Narancia was the first person who I felt somewhat close to, someone I could call a friend. And even though I knew him for a very short time, he impacted me in a way that only my mother had before. And yet, when he died, I couldn't cry. I was too scared and on edge and Aware that Diavolo was nearby. But a few months later when Giorno and Mista helped to set up a funeral, when I saw how empty the church was and how Mista and Giorno were the only ones there, I broke down. He was right, we were extremely similar. Just like me, he lost the people who cared about him and was betrayed by people he thought he could trust. And he was so bright, despite it all. Even though he had been hurt, he still carried a smile and tried to make his friends laugh. He didn't let his pain dampen his positivity, and he was hopeful to the very end. And the fact that he was the one in a casket when I hadn't done anything to deserve my seat at his service, the fact that he died protecting someone who probably didn't deserve it. I couldn't take it. I don't think that way anymore, and I'll forever be grateful to him for what he did for me. Both in protecting me and being my friend. I try to stay positive and keep my head up because it's what I think he would do. That way, he never truly dies.
I tried to look up what kind of flowers Giorno grew over hia body in canon, but I couldn't find anything that quite matched how they're drawn. But at least in my memories, they were pumpkin blossoms.
Anyway, here's your little reminder that my asks are open if anyone wants to talk about source. I'll answer any question as long as it's not weird or creepy.
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mayor rolan loffin's deal with niklaus was that he would gain his hearts desire, but lose what he valued most, and it makes me wonder if all of his deals work in a similar way.
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xcziel · 3 months
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i am reading a recently-published history of the New Romantics by dylan jones (Sweet Dreams - this thing is a TOME. 1700 pages, okay?) and
i am only in the beginning chapters and having to google uk stylistic terms bc when i say we are getting into the *minutiae* i am not exaggerating even slightly
but ANYWAY i highly recommend if you care at all about late 70s/early 80s pop music style and influence just for the music coverage writing. it has been SO long since i've read this specific kind of lyrical, metaphorically bombastic, sharply excessive prose, that flashy nme qua rolling stone type of description and rhetoric that i grew up on and love and *rarely* see these days. i hadn't realized i missed it so much
we're currently at waxing ontological about roxy music and bowie
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discocandles · 9 months
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Can I please just be the embodiment of a rave held in an abandoned gothic cathedral? Pls?? That's all I want to be.
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shotmrmiller · 1 month
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simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.
he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.
he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.
he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.
you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.
he looks one clown short of a circus.
he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)
possessive, obsessive, paranoid.
he'll kill you if you try to leave him.
simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.
his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.
simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.
unsung heroes.
and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.
simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.
there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.
you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.
you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.
you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.
you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.
your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.
"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-
how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.
it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.
the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.
his little hero.
you took him home, so now he takes you to his.
(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)
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lovebugism · 3 months
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do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader
hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
“Boo!”
You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.
The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.
“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.
Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”
You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.
“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.
Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”
“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.
“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.
He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”
“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”
“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.
“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.
Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 
There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.
“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.
Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.
“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”
“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.
You cave instantly. 
You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.
“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.
“Good,” the boy hums.
“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.
Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.
You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.
“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.
West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 
—————
The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.
Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.
His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.
You shrug. “Nothin’…”
“I missed you.”
You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”
“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.
“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”
“I think so, too.”
“It’s awful.”
“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.
“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”
Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.
“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”
You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”
Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”
“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 
“No, it was very intentional.”
“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.
Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”
“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”
He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”
“God, you’re such a boy.”
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hairmetal666 · 9 months
Text
Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.
Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.
He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.
"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.
He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?
Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.
He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.
Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.
Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.
Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.
Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.
"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."
Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."
Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"
Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.
"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."
"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."
"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.
Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."
"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.
"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.
"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."
They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.
"Working on new music?"
Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.
"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"
Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."
"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."
He grimaces. "That's a low bar."
"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.
"Shut-up."
"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."
"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"
"No, not at all. Just curious."
"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"
"Gossip," Eddie frowns.
"Anyone else you got your eye on?"
"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.
"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.
Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"
Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."
"Are you lonely?"
"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."
"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.
"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"
"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"
"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.
"The one that got away?"
"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."
Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"
"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"
"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."
Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.
"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."
"Wait, Steve--"
"See you around."
He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.
Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.
"Eddie, I don't--"
"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."
"What?"
"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."
"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?
"God, since 1986, at least."
Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.
"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"
"You're mine too," the words tumble out.
"What?"
"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."
"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"
"Pathetic gay yearning and all."
Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.
Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.
Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."
"It's been a decade!"
"Fuck," Eddie cackles.
They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.
"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.
Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"
"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."
"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"
Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."
Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."
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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months
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OK SO WHAT ABOUT ALASTOR X FEM READER EXCEPT READER DOESNT KNOW HOW TO REACT TO HIS CHIVALRY
So this takes place before they start dating and the beginning of the relationship. Reader basically has never met a guy who has chivalry(or is respectful) like ALASTOR, so when Alastor’s mannerisms come out, reader just looks at him like “wtf are you doing?” BUT NOT IN A MEAN WAY, more like in a confused way because they’re from a time where chivalry isn’t as popular(especially to women in general) and reader was raised to be tough(but it’s still nice to get treated like a lady). So whenever alastor acts like that reader just gets awkward and shy.
IM ASKING FOR THIS CUZ LIKE THE GUYS NOW HAVE NO RESPECT OR CHIVALRY like alastor😔😒 (ik not ALL guys but most guys now and days are jackasses)
Hnnng I fucking love this ✨️
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Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Harassment, Men being nasty
Description: ☝️⬆️
Back when you were alive, men never did the sort of things that Alastor does unless they wanted to get laid
Most of the men you knew had tendencies to act like frat boys or old perverts
Only having one goal in mind and if they got rejected then they got fucking nasty as hell with you
On top of that, you didn't have the luxury of growing up to be soft and helpless like some people
You had to be strong and look out for yourself, you rarely looked to others for help
Not even your own family
Some people didn't even look at you as a woman, just as some tough badass who didn't need anyone's helping hand
At least you hoped that how they looked at you
Not that you would've rejected the offer if anyone actually tried to help you out, everyone needs a hand now and then
The only people who ever offered any sort of help were horny guys who offered to help you let off some steam with them
Fuck off
But Alastor grew up in a very different time than you and his way of treating you always gave you whiplash
He would never dream of asking you to fuck within the first few days of knowing each other, or even the first month wtf kind of animals have men turned into??
You don't even wanna know, Alastor
His little pet names alone made you flustered but his actions??? A whole other monster in itself
When you first met him this crazy guy kissed your hand like you were in some regency movie
You were so shy afterwards that you couldn't look him in the eyes, your cheeks hot and pink
One time, Alastor actually took off his coat and put it over a puddle for you step on
Didn't you just beat up some guy for ripping it???
You could've just stepped over the puddle in the first place??? Why did you do that??
"I did what any proper gentleman would do for a lady such as yourself, Y/N..!"
You gotta look away at that point or else he would see how hot your face is getting, feeling flustered
Alastor actually asked you to dance to a song that wasn't meant for grinding and sweating on each other??
You blush and mumble something about not knowing how to dance to music like this and instead of making fun of you Alastor teaches you how
He's a wonderful dancer and leads the entire time, not letting you make a fool of yourself in front of everyone
You've never felt your heart do skip so many beats before
You're trying to ignore what some random lecherous demon is saying about your body and the things he would do to it??
Guess what-
"Now that is not the way to start a proper conversation with a lady of Y/N's status, or any lady for that matter."
Alastor scares him off for you and won't even accept your thanks in return, making your legs wobbly
Once your suffering with feelings for Alastor then every little thing he does makes you turn into a gooey puddle
It doesn't stop when he's suddenly courting you, only getting worse with each romantic act
He brings you flowers, dedicates entire broadcasts to you, asks you to take evening strolls with him
He does all this and never even expects a parting kiss from you, simply happy to be in your presence
When/why the fuck did men stop acting like this?? This is so much better than how they were back when you were alive-
You get flustered just at the sight of him now, wondering just how he's going to make you swoon today
Alastor is slowly getting you accustomed to how he believes you should always be treated, happy that you're no longer confused by his actions
This motherfucker just Pavlov-ed you into falling for him
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This was so fun to write!! I hope I did a good enough job!!
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hollandsangel · 25 days
Text
voice | m. sturniolo
i had this idea a million years ago, please enjoy!!
summary: chris wonders if you can tell his and matt’s voice apart
warnings: super fluffy!! a bit suggestive at the very end, i’m questioning if it’s good or not
wc: 1.6k
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gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !
“i call shower first!” you exclaim the second the garage door is open, sprinting past matt up the stairs to his bathroom.
“there’s three showers,” chris says matter-of-factly as you blow past him on the steps, holding a hand out in confusion.
matt sighs and follows behind you, passing chris as well, “yeah, but you don’t have to share,” 
you’re already on the mainfloor, running into matt’s bedroom to grab the change of clothes you’d left earlier.
“i’m so glad i don’t have a girlfriend,” chris mutters, earning a smack upside the head from nick, “jesus, fuck, what,”
“you’re just annoying,” nick says, deciding it’s a good enough explanation and getting a laugh out of matt.
“agreed,” matt’s still chuckling when they reach the kitchen table, setting down the take out the four of you had gotten on your way back to the house. he hears the water turn on in his bathroom, accompanied by the soft sound of your voice as you sing along to your music.
“oh she’s a nicki fan,” nick says to no one in particular, referencing the tik tok sound when he notices you’re listening to a nicki minaj song. 
matt looks up from the bag of food and laughs.
chris sinks into the couch but looks over at matt, arm slung over the cushions, “i wonder if she could tell our voices apart,” he says after a second. 
“what?” matt asks, thinking the question is mildy rediculous. 
“like do you think she could recognize your voice?” chris explains, wandering into the kitchen now. opening a pepsi and leaning up against the counter. 
nick chimes in now, having been fiddling with the vlog camera and battery, “like compared to you and me?” he asks chris, glancing back at matt as if to say ‘is this guy for real?’
“yeah,” chris nods.
“yeah, obviously she’d be able to tell my voice apart from yours,” matt is looking back at the food again, tone matter-of-fact, as if what he’d said was absolute common sense. 
chris is quiet for about half a second and matt thinks that’s the end of that absurd conversation. it isn’t, of course. 
“should we test it out?” chris asks through a sip of soda.
matt officially gives up on trying to set the food up, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before turning to chris, “and how are we gonna do that?”
chris shrugs, but nick has an idea, “chris, you could like, just go ask her for something, if you left something in the bathroom—“
“absolutely not,” matt shuts it down immediately with a shake of his head, “you're not going in the bathroom when my girlfriend is showering,”
“i won’t even go all the way in!! i’ll cover my eyes,” chris promises, but matt is still skeptical. “i’ll just like poke my head in the door and ask if i left like..a belt or some shit in there,” is chris’ next offer. 
matt sighs and thinks about it, weighing the pros and cons. of course you can tell his voice apart from his brothers…right? he’s making himself nervous, pysching himself out and worrying they all sound the same to you. it upsets him for some reason, he can’t quite decide why.
“fine,” he agrees after a beat of silence, convincing himself you know whis voice well enough to separate it from chris’, and if you can’t, he thinks he might actually feel a sick twinge of unjustified jealousy.
“yes,” chris mutters under his breath, always excited to pull a prank on anyone.
“this is definitely going in the vlog,” nick says, still messing with the camera and coming to sit at the kitchen table where matt is now.
“i can’t believe i agreed to this,” matt mumbles, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. he stands from his seat and walks over to the wall where he can see the bathroom door, feeling some what protective, like he needs to supervise chris to make sure he doesn’t wander too far into the bathroom.
“what should i say?” chris turns back arms pulled in close to his body as if he’s nervous. he’s already grinning and trying to keep from laughing.
“ooh, call her sweetheart, matt always does that,” nick suggests, wiggling his brows in matt’s direction to tease him.
“oh my god,” matt groans softly, rubbing at his eyes, “i fucking hate you guys,”
“okay, i’m going in,” matt drops his hands at that, eyes on his brother immediately. chris puts a hand over his eyes, just as he said he said he would before knocking on the door. nick has the camera out to record and is trying to stifle his laugh in the collar of his hoodie.
at the sound of the knock matt hears your voice, calling out for him, no doubt thinking it’s him at the door. he has to cover his mouth, partly out of nerves but also to keep himself from saying anything.
“yeah,” chris starts, needing to take a second before continuing because he’s already making himself laugh. “yeah, sweetheart, did i leave my belt in here?” he asks, barely stood in the doorway of the bathroom.
“uhh, i think it’s in your bedroom?” you say after a slight pause, about to poke your head out from behind the shower curtain, but chris has already mumbled a ‘thanks’ and essentially sprinted out of the bathroom, closing the door and crumbling to the floor in giggles.
“you’re not fucking real,” matt shakes his head, laughing softly himself and pushing off the wall to go back to the kitchen table. he’s a bit bummed that you didn’t realize it wasn’t his voice, but he keeps that to himself.
nick pans the camera over to matt’s face, which seems expressionless, even with both his brothers cackling outside of the frame.
you come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, heading into matt’s bedroom to drop the clothes you’d changed out of. matt is instantly sitting back up, the legs of his chair scraping along the hardwood floors.
“ooh, someone’s pissed,” nick turns the camera to himself, eyeing the now closed door.
“that was too fucking good,” chris says after a deep breath, still recovering from laughing so hard. he pulls a chair out next to nick and the two start to explain what had happened to the camera, eyes flicking up to matt’s door every few seconds.
in the bedroom you’re putting your dirty clothes back into your bag when matt comes in, looking a little bit pouty, “hey baby,” you turn towards him, laughing at the slightly pathetic look he gives you, “what’s up?” you wonder.
“m’ tired,” he tells you, slumping up against you for a hug. you wrap your arms around him and rub his back, letting him lay his weight into you.
“we’ll eat and go to bed, yeah?” you give his back another little pat when he nods against you, “mkay, let’s go,” you kiss his cheek quickly, only to have him turn his head in search of a real kiss. you oblige of course.
nick and chris have already started eating and updating the vlog on their day when you and matt come out of the bedroom. matt joins them at the table but you head for the fridge to grab a drink. “oh, did you find your belt?” you ask matt, still digging around.
“what?— oh yeah” he mumbles, gaze turned down to his fries.
“okay good. by the way you sounded so much like chris when you came in— it freaked me the fuck out” you say with your head in the fridge, still searching for the diet coke you know you left inside the door, “did one of you drink my coke–”
“wait what?” matt’s head snaps up, food forgotten.
“hmm?” you turn around to find all three boys looking at you. nick’s mouth open in a half smile and chris clearly trying not to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. matt’s just staring at you with eyes a little bit too wide before he speaks up.
“what do you mean i sounded weird?” he asks, leaning forward. you notice nick’s shut up about whatever he was saying to the camera earlier, pointing the lens at you now.
“i dunno, when you said sweetheart it just sounded super fucking weird— why are you guys looking at me like that–” you have to ask, feeling slightly weirded out by the intensity of their gazes
“i knew it!!” matt cheers, punching the air and doing a silly little dance as nick doubles over and starts hitting the table.
chris’ jaw drops and he presses his fingers into his eyes as he laughs next to his brother, leaning on him.
matt bounds over to you with a grin, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground slightly.
“whaaaat,” you giggle, clearly confused by their reaction. 
“it was me,” chris manages to say between bouts of laughter, “we– we were trying to see if you could tell our voices apart.”
“of course i can tell your voices apart, especially your voice,” you turn towards matt, saying it like it should be obvious, like it’s silly they doubted you for even a second. 
matt’s just grinning at you, feeling a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest, “i knew you could,” 
“bullshit!” chris exclaims, both him and nick still leaning against each other as they laugh.
“he’s right, you were freaked the fuck out,” nick manages to say between giggles, “you watched chris like a fucking hawk when he opened the bathroom door,” he looks over at you, his smile contagious, “he was definitely freaked the fuck out,”
matt groans and drops his head against your shoulder. you brush your fingers through his hair and chuckle to yourself, “awe matt,” you coo, “i definitely know your voice, i’ll probably be hearing lots of it later anyways.”
tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose
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redstarwriting · 11 months
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bestie
spider squad x black cat!fem!reader
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request?: yes
request: “hi! okay i love your works and my brains been rotting thinking abt this lol. i was wondering if i could request a black cat variant! reader that somehow (idk how sorry ), she's apart of the spider-society? Given that black cats backstory isn't all that nice, maybe she has a deal W miguel to let her stay if she makes sure she uses her skills to help the society instead of stealing? and how the squad(miles, gwen, pav, hobie) meet her in the society?”
requested by: anon​
word count: 2.1k
genre: platonic and chaotic LMAO
Warnings: language, stealing, bad Spanish, slight Gwen crush if you squint but also like not really
A/N: STOP I LOVE WRITING PLATONIC AND CHAOTIC THINGS!! i did change up the prompt a bit as they didn’t meet her in spider society necessarily (even though the did, they just didn’t know it lol) i hope you enjoy this anon! also if anyone wants to knows some of the specific songs that gave me black cat 2099 vibes lemme know 👀 i’ll make a post
pt ii - becoming hobie’s bestie
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Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie were called to “the principal’s office” as they started calling it. So here they are, in front of Miguel, waiting to be reprimanded for something they did. “I have a mission for the three of you,” he says, pointing to Miles, Gwen, and Pav. “Hobie, you’re not needed.”
“Like ‘ell I’m not,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Miguel subtly smiles to himself. Reverse psychology. Works every time.
“Wait, what?” Miles asks, eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna yell at us for existing?” Gwen asks, equally as surprised. Miguel rolls his eyes. “For existing? When have I ever…” he trails off as Pav, Hobie, and Gwen point at Miles. 
And Miles points at himself. 
“Dios mío,” Miguel mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not doing that. This time.”
“What’s the mission then? Are we going somewhere new? Oh! Can I bring back a souvenir?” Pavitr asks, excitedly. “No, but I’m sure you’ll end up with some sort of souvenir regardless,” Miguel grumbles, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “Well, what do you mean by that?” Gwen asks and Miguel types into his computer. A picture of a girl pops up on the screen. “I need you to bring me her.”
“Uhhh what? You want us to bring you a… civilian?” Miles asks, and Miguel nods. “She’ll respond to you all better. You’re the same age,” Miguel says, and they all glance at each other. “Can you not be secretive for like, a couple of seconds? Is she an anomaly?”
“No, Gwen. Just bring her to Spider Society, please. She’s from this universe, so I’m just sending you to where I need you to go,” Miguel says, opening a portal for them to go through. They all glance at each other before Gwen shrugs, walking through the portal. Miles and Pav follow her, and Hobie rolls his eyes following the three of them. They find themselves… at a show? They’re on top of the catwalk in a stadium show, looking down at the audience. “What the hell?” Gwen mumbles and Hobie is intrigued when he sees the instruments on the stage. “Now why did he send us to a concert?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. Right at that moment, the lights go down and everyone starts to scream. “So, you think she’s in the crowd? How are we supposed to find someone in all of these people?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. “I can do it, easily,” Pav says, and Miles and Gwen give him a Look™. “What?! It’s simple you just look for her face! Miguel showed us a picture of her.”
“Aye, ‘e’s right. Found her,” Hobie says, and they all look at him. He’s pointing, and they follow his finger. “SHE’S THE SINGER?!” Gwen yells as the music starts. “Yeah. Guess we gotta wait for the set to finish,” Hobie says, shrugging and sitting on the catwalk, “Gettin’ a free show outta this shit at least.”
“Oh, please, every show you’ve ever been to has been free,” Gwen says, sitting next to him, taking her mask off. Hobie, Pav, and Miles all follow suit. “What does Miguel want with a singer?”
“I like her outfit,” Pav says, ignoring Miles’ question and sitting next to Gwen. Miles quickly slips between Pav and Gwen, shooing him away slightly. “Not my style. Lyrics ain’t bad,” Hobie says, leaning back and observing the performance, “She can sing, I’ll give ‘er ‘at.”
“I fuck with it. Lyrics speak to me,” Gwen says, and Pav nods. “She seems angry.”
“Yeah, that’s why I can respect what she’s doin’. Threatenin’ and angry music is cool,” Hobie says, bobbing his head up and down. Gwen nods. “Okay, guys, seriously, what does Miguel want with a singer?”
“Maybe she’s a scientist or something? Miguel needs her help?” Gwen suggests, and Miles shakes his head. “Nah, I feel like he’d just meet with her then.”
“He did mention she was close to our age, though. And her songs make it sound like she has an issue with authority,” Pav mentions, and Hobie nods. “I fuck with ‘er.” They all look at him. “Oh, I get it. She’s Hobie’s age,” Gwen says, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “What does ‘at ‘ave to do with anythin’?”
“You two are the same age, both have a problem with authority… whatever she is, she needs someone she can relate to to actually come with us,” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “Guess ‘at makes sense.” The four of them continue watching the concert. Even though it isn’t necessarily punk music, Hobie loves the lyrics. And Gwen loves all of the songs because she understands the lyrics more than the other guys. Miles is enjoying it because Gwen is enjoying it, and Pav is enjoying it because other people are enjoying it. However, neither of them would probably listen to this after this mission. When you’re nearing the end, Miles slips his mask back on. “Alright, everyone. What’s the plan?”
“We need to get backstage,” Gwen says, slipping her mask on as well. “‘ave a gander down there,” Hobie says, pointing at some marks on the stage. “What’s that?” Pav asks. “Pyrotechnics. When they go off, we go in,” Hobie says, and they all nod. “Hope they’re big enough that no one sees us,” Gwen mumbles and Hobie scoffs. “Gwendy, it’s a stadium show. It’s ‘bout to be big,” he says. The four of them prepare, running along the catwalk and getting ready to web back to where you would disappear to. Sure enough, the pyrotechnics go off and Hobie was right. They’re big. It gives them the advantage as they slip undetected backstage. They hide high up, watching as you run offstage after your encore. They silently follow you to your dressing room and Miles points at an air vent. Gwen nods, quietly yanking it off of its hinges. She crawls inside, taking a glance to make sure you’re still clothed, and then motions for the boys to follow.
Meanwhile, you’re wiping your makeup off, sipping on some water to soothe your throat from your performance. You walk away from the giant mirror to go grab a snack in the corner of the room when, suddenly, you feel like someone is watching you. You subtly unsheathe your hairbrush, which doubles as a dagger. Just in case. You take a deep breath, turning around, and throwing it. Miles leaps out of the way, and the other three’s eyes are wide. The accuracy with that throw was a little too good. “None of you are Miguel,” you say, on edge still. “Ay, don’t compare me to that bloody bloke. I’d rather die than be called ‘im,” Hobie says, and you give him an amused look. “I can arrange that,” you say, and Gwen clears her throat. “I just wanted to say your concert was like, totally, awesome.”
“Aw, thanks! Did you pay to watch?” you ask and she looks around. “Well uh… I, um—” She gets cut off by your laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t,” you explain. “Oh! Then no. Too cool to pay, you know?” Gwen rambles and Miles turns his head to her, giving her a look that translates into ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ You chuckle. “Why are you four here, then? Señor O’Hara miss me?” you take a bite of the snack you picked, leaning against the wall. “How do you know Miguel?” Pav asks and you snort. “Long story. Oh! He finally find out I took something from him?” you ask, tossing your food to the side and crossing your arms. “I… we actually don’t know. He just said we had to bring you back to—”
“Wait he’s actually inviting me into his super secret spider society?” you ask, a look of excitement spreading across your face. “Uh. Yes?” Miles says, and you squeal. “This is so exciting! My first time being invited, okay, great, hold on,” you say, quickly running off and behind the changing room divider. “Uh… you’re just gonna come with us?” Gwen asks, and you yell a quick ‘yep!’ They all look at each other and shrug. “No offense, sweet’eart, but I thought it woulda been ‘arder to convince ya. Wasn’t aware bein’ invited by a stuck-up wanker like ‘im was all it would take,” Hobie says, and they hear a giggle from behind the screen. “Oh this isn’t my first time in his little fanclub,” you step out from behind the divider, garnishing an all-black catsuit with shiny black gloves coming to claws at the fingers. A small eye mask adorns your face, and you smirk. “It’s just the first time he’ll know I’m there.”
“Holy shit, no way! You’re Black Cat!” Gwen says, and you do a little curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Gwen Stacy,” you say, and her eyes get big. “How did you know—”
“Like I said. Not my first time there. Surprising since you all have that spidey sense or whatever, but guess I’m just that good,” you say, pulling out a dimension-hopping watch. “When did you—”
“Do I have to say I’ve been to your Spidertopia already again? Come on, I’m sure your pendejo of a boss is waiting for us,” you grin, and Hobie shakes his head. “Not my boss. I like you, though. Gettin’ fuck the establishment vibes,” he says, and you wink at him. “Thanks, Hobie Brown. Appreciate it. Also, Pavitr, you need to tell me what your haircare routine is,” you walk through the portal, and the four of them follow after you. Sure enough, you step out of the portal and stand right in front of Miguel’s desk. “Hello there, Spider-Boy,” you say, and he sighs. “(Y/n). Give me the device back. Now.”
“I’m good, actually. Been having too much fun with it,” you say, placing it on your wrist. He mutters something in Spanish as the four of them appear behind you. “Wait, if you’re Black Cat, why are you like… a superstar?” Miles asks, taking his mask off. “Was told at a young age to never settle for second best. So, I never did. Also if you want to steal from the big leagues, you have to be in with the big leagues,” you say, shrugging. “Damn, she is… so cool,” Gwen whispers. “We have an agreement, (Y/n),” MIguel says and you groan. “Miguel! Big guy, amigo, can I call you that?”
“No.”
“Don’t care, when have I ever stuck with an agreement?” you ask and he frowns. “This is all because you want to be able to come here whenever you want, isn’t it?” he asks and you grin. “You’re so smart, bestie,” you say and he groans. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. So can I come here and not have to worry about multiple spiders biting me all at once?” you ask, and he sighs. “Yes.”
“YE—”
“BUT!”
“Fuck, there’s a but,” you groan, as he continues talking, “No. Stealing.” You feign offense. “What makes you think I would ever steal something from here?” He points to your wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was gifted to me.”
“By who.”
“Myself.”
“Esta maldita chica,” he mumbles, and you grin. “Well, thank you so much for approving my breaking and entering of your little arachnid club. I’ll be sure to return everything I’ve taken in hopes that you would notice I wanted to be invited,” you grin, and he clenches his jaw. “You step one toe out of line—”
“I woooon’t! Promise! Before I return everything though, I kinda have a heist planned in Earth-42,” you shrug, pulling up a portal. “I’ll tell Miles you said hi, Miles,” you give him a smirk, but before disappearing into the portal, you hear Miguel. “When you’re done come back here. I actually might be able to use you for something.”
You smile at him. “Say less, Spider-Man.” Then, you disappear. “We’re about to see a lot more of her, aren’t we?” Miles asks, and Miguel sighs and nods. “Dude! She is so cool!” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “She don’t take shit from no one. Respectable.”
“She’s funny! And she was able to shut you down, Miguel, that never happens,” Pav says, laughing a bit. “She seems kinda crazy,” Miles says.”
“What, like we aren’t?” Gwen retaliates and he shrugs. “I am perfectly sane! Most of the time…”
Miguel runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the four of them continue discussing you while walking out of the room.
He was not looking forward to the friendship the five of you were about to form.
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snoopyearss · 1 month
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smut! | mdni
Possessive!Gojo who will walk up to anyone who is talking to you (doesn’t matter the gender) and make it known you two are together. He’d wrap his arm around your shoulder and ask you “so who’s your friend?”
Possessive!Gojo who embarrasses you in front of the person you’re talking to. He would make up some stupid lie and drive the person away. Just imagine you’re at some bookstore with him and a guy walks up to you. Gojo hears the man’s voice and then he hears yours giggling, and suddenly he’s booking it to where you are. As soon as he sees you chatting with the other male, he walks up to you as if he just randomly bumped into you. 
“Hey! How are you? It’s so nice to see you! How is that rash you were telling me about? Did it clear up? I heard it was contagious, you might wanna be careful.” Or something like that, and the man talking to you would get grossed out and walk away. You turned to him and lightly slapped his arm. “Was that really necessary?” You huffed. “Very necessary.” He would answer and give you a big sloppy kiss on your cheek.
Possessive!Gojo who would text you “damn so which position are you both in right now” if you’re taking too long to respond to his text messages. “Which round are yall on?” He would text. “Satoru, I’m in the shower??” You text back. And you roll your eyes at what he texts in response. “Send proof?”
Possessive!Gojo would leave hickeys on your neck and do unnecessary amounts of PDA when he’s around your friends or in public in general. You guys would walk up to your friends and they first notice that fat bruise on your neck. “Geez Satoru, give her a break once ina  while.” Suguru would joke. Gojo would place you on his lap when all of you would go out for drinks. Kissing on your neck then migrating up to your jaw and your earlobe, whispering sultry things in your ear and you giggling in response. “Ugh, Satoru enough! Get a room you two.” Shoko would whine.
Possessive!Gojo who pounds into you in the club bathroom after spotting you dancing on another man while he and Suguru are talking. Everything Suguru said was going in one ear and out the other as he watched you swivel your hips and look back at him. He knew about your little game. He knew you liked to tease him, get him a little upset so he can fuck you later. Gojo would stand up from where he was sitting and walk directly to you, taking your arm and making his way to the bathroom. And this is where we are now,
“O-Oh, F-fuck! ‘Toru- shit!” You can barely let out a proper moan, it was getting cut off by how hard he was fucking into you. Your knuckles turning a different color with how hard you were gripping the sink. You were facing the sink, eyes tightly shut as you took every stroke he gave you. “Dirty girl, you wanted me to -fuck- catch you dancing on him so I can take you back here, d-didn’t you?” His resolve was slipping, you were so tight around him and it was driving him insane. 
He pulled you by your hair and lifted your head up to face the mirror, “Look at yourself baby, look at how good im fucking into you. You like this? You like getting bent over the sink? Our friends are probably wondering where we went. You’re lucky the music is loud enough so they won’t hear you.” Your eyes began to roll back at the words dripping from his mouth. “Oh my f-fucking- g-go- ‘Toru! I-I can’t! I’m gonna-” Babbling nonsense while telling him you were so close. His pace would change to a more rough pace, the way you like it while rubbing all sensitive areas on your body and get close to your ear to talk you through it. 
Possessive!Gojo who cums deep inside you and takes your panties so people can see it drip down your leg. He must let everyone know you’re his.
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girlboypersonthingy · 1 month
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Hi yes i saw hazbin requests were open??? Anything involving pining Lucifer. Or lucifer seeing reader dressed super nice for like a fancy party or something (full makeup, fancy revealing dress, that sorta thing) for the first time. Maybe feelings are revealed? I’m a sucker for pining
I love that we are all so disgustingly thirsty for this man. He deserves it ❤️‍🔥 but seriously tho…all my Lucifer posts have gotten at least 100 likes in the first day that they’re posted. Like damn yall, we need to talk about our husband more! We all have such good taste 😌 I love our little short king. Thanks for the request. Enjoyyyyyyy~
Notes: fem!reader, reader wears a dress in this one
TW: suggestive themes, hardcore pining, heavy making out
🪽The King of Pining🪽
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This morning, Charlie invited everyone to the lobby of the hotel, shouting out that she had great news and a wonderful idea. Husk and Angel grumble about their annoyance with it being too early in the morning and them being way too sober for group activities right now as they plop down on one of the couches. The rest of the group files in, finding spots to relax as Charlie bounces up and down in her spot, bitting her lip and clenching her fists out of pure excitement. You follow along, deciding to stay standing and a bit behind the group, glancing back to see Lucifer coming to join the pack, standing just behind the couch that sat Vaggie and Nifty. You stare at him for a moment and when he finally glances your way, you offer him a sleepy smile and a quick wave of your hand. A small smirk finds its way to his lips as he nods his head at you, quickly looking away after.
“So…what’s the news?” Vaggie finally speaks up once everyone is settled and all eyes are on Charlie standing front and center. “Sooooooo, I had a brilliant idea that will be equally fun and beneficial to the hotel. Ready? Ready for it?” Charlie looks around the group, looking as if she might burst into flames of enthusiasm any moment now. “WE ARE GONNA HOST A BALL!!!”
Angel smirks as he nudges Husk beside him. “Heh, balls.” “She said ‘ball’, jackass. Singular.” Husk spits back, rolling his eyes as he scoots away from Angel a bit.
“It’ll attract new recruits for the hotel! We can mingle, talk about all we have to offer. AH! It’s gonna be soooooo funnnnnn.” Charlie is yelling now, she can’t control herself in the slightest.
Charlie goes into explaining the details- it is to be a huge party with a formal dress code that everyone and anyone is invited to. It’ll be here at the hotel, with an open bar (Husk wants to die) and music! The group lets out noises of mixed emotions, Nifty and Angel shouting out of excitement and anticipation while Husk and Alastor both let out noises of dread. You, on the other hand are nervous but looking forward to having a fun night and getting to know the hotel staff and residents better. As Charlie’s speech ends, the group begins to disperse and talk amongst themselves.
You watch as Charlie approaches Vaggie, shyly dropping to her knees in front of her on the couch so that they are eye level with each other. “Will you…be my date to the ball, Vags?” You can’t help but smile as you watch Vaggie laugh, her cheeks and nose slowly changing color. “Of course, you goofball. You’re my partner. There’s no one else I’d rather go with.” They share a long hug, a beautiful positive energy radiating off of them.
“They’re just adorable, aren’t they?” The low, charming voice that sounds right next to you causes you to flinch a bit, now turning to see the king of hell himself standing beside you. “Oh! Hey. Yeah. They are pretty cute. They make a great couple.” You look back to the two girls holding hands and giggling but Lucifer keeps his eyes on you, taking this opportunity while you’re distracted to examine all the little details of your face up close. Hopefully no one else catches sight of him in this moment of utter hopeless romanticism.
When he finally snaps out of it, he lets out a sigh before putting on his best smile, clearing his throat just to get your attention again. “Speaking of great couples~” And as soon as your eyes land on him again, your lips curved up ever so slightly, his courage quickly leaves him. Lucifer freezes for a moment, mouth going dry as he tried to find a way out of this. Say something you idiot.
“I-I ha! I uh…I wonder what other great couples we’ll see at this party. Maybe some of hell’s highest royalty?” Nervous chuckles just keep rolling from his lips and he’s really hoping you don’t notice the way his hands are shaking as they rest on his cane. One of his trembling hands comes to the collar of his shirt, lightly yanking it down as if that would help bring air back to his lungs, the air you’ve sucked out of him with one simple glance.
“Hm. Yeah. Maybe.” You reply plainly, looking back to Vaggie and Charlie and before you can converse with Lucifer any further, he’s walking off with his tail between his legs, eyes wild and full of doubt. “You’ll be there. You are the king of hell after all, I’m sure everyone will be too focused on you and Charlie to notice any other royals. Are you uhm…planning on going with anyone?” You ask, still watching the two girls near the couch. Your voice stops Lucifer in his tracks, making him pause for a moment as he listens. He turns slowly back to you, wearing a bashful smile as he tucks both his arms behind his back.
“No, actually. I hadn’t even thought of it.” He lies, watching as you finally pull your gaze from his daughter and relax it on him. He slowly saunters back your way, unable to control his wandering eyes. “And what about you? Do you have anyone in mind that you’d want to go with?” And now his nervousness is rubbing off on you, making your voice shake as you respond. “Me? No, no…I’ll probably just tag along with uh…”
As you look around the room, it seems all couples have already paired up. Vaggie and Charlie sat on the couch still, Charlie’s legs strewn over her girlfriend’s lap. Angel and Husk seemed to be having a bit of an argument over what they will wear together. Angel wants to wear all pink but Husk is like FUCK NO. Even Sir Pentious was trembling in front of Cherri, as he looked to he asking her out. Obviously, Alastor is bringing his shadow along. That’s kind of a date…right?
“Uhm I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone there.” The pride that inflated Lucifer’s chest just seconds ago seems to suddenly be punctured and drained by your lack of acknowledgment to his flirty hints. He wants to ask you to be his so badly it’s making his chest hurt now. Not his for the night, not his during the party, his all the time, any time he needs you. As he opens his mouth to speak, he hesitates and then decides to let out a heavy sigh instead. “Well..I will see you there.” And with the tip of his head, he finally turned and left you standing alone in a herd of conversing couples.
~night of the party~
You figured there’s no harm in showing up fashionably late tonight. At least, that was your excuse for showing up late. In reality, you were fully ready before the ball even started but your legs were so weak and shaky, you couldn’t find the strength to get yourself out there. So instead, you’re sitting in your room, fully clad in your nicest dress along with some accessories, sunken into your plush bed as you try to steady your breathing. Maybe if I stay here long enough in this dress, I can just say I was there but not actually go…
A knock on your door has you straightening up in your spot, a warm surprised feeling lighting up your chest. “Come in.” You respond, wondering just who was coming to see you right now. You assumed it was Angel trying to get you to come out and start partying with him. To your surprise, the princess of hell pops her cheerful little face inside your room.
“(Y/N)! I was wondering when you’d be coming…out…there. Oh my gosh! You look so gorgeous EEEEE!” Charlie steps into your room now, her big yellow eyes shining with enthusiasm and hope as she fangirls over your getup. “Oh, thank you. You look stunning yourself.” Charlie watches your eyes fluttering all around the room, unable to focus. “Yeah…I’m coming. Just…feeling anxious I guess.” Taking a deep breath, you finally stand, straightening out your dress and checking your hair in a mirror quickly. “Oh stop it! You look flawless, (Y/N). Let’s go have some fun.” Charlie quickly links arms with you and drags you out to the lobby full of people, lights and music.
Within just a few minutes of joining the party, you find yourself looking around a sea of strangers all on your own. Seems the princess of hell has a line of guests wanting to meet and greet with her. Understandable, but you’re starting to get overwhelmed. You’re desperately looking for a familiar face, needing a buddy to help you feel included and secure. As you swim through sinners and other residents of hell, head turning side to side, you finally spot Lucifer after nearly an hour of wandering around alone.
Sure, His typical white suit is nice, very flattering on him. But, oh boy, did he look fantastic tonight, heavenly even. For this special occasion, Lucifer was dressed in a deep red suit with accents of white and no hat, instead sporting his pretty, slicked back blonde hair. You’re not quick to rush to him, I mean are you trying to look desperate and pathetic? No, just stay calm. But once again, you two share a glance from afar and give each other a small wave of the hand. Lucifer looks…pained. He looks like he might just collapse to his knees and start vomiting. His shift in body language causes your smile to drop, your expression shifting to one of concern as you mouth to him ‘you okay?’.
From Lucifer’s point of view, the room became silent, empty, dimly lit with you there at the center of it all under this glowing golden ray of light. You looked angelic, innocent and sweet, elegant but also nervous and out of place and adorable and fuck it, he can’t wait. He nearly pushes the sinner trying to talk to him aside, rushing to you as his brain became overloaded with ideas of what to say to you.
With each and every stride he takes, your cheeks flush deeper shades of red. With every step, his knees begin to feel more and more like jelly. Finally, he’s joined you in the spotlight, the rest of the party fading away before both of your eyes as you stand just inches apart. Now, it’s all wandering eyes and heavy breathing from both of you. Licking your lips first, you force words out to break this awful silence.
“Wow! Y-you clean up well. You look nice, Luci.” As your voice reaches his ears, his dream-like state abruptly ended. The room floods with loud music, chatty people and bright lights again. He seems to perk up at your compliments, feeling like a dog in heat as his eyes travel up and down your lovely outfit. You watch as his eyes finally leave your waist and come up to meet your own gaze.
“Holy hell. You look absolutely divine.” He scoffs quietly, wondering how an angel like you ended up down here. “Oh, Lucifer.” You swat a hand at him and you can feel your face burning up, sweat starting to form on your upper lip and forehead. “Stop it. You flatter me.”
Lucifer looked as if he might pass out, becoming more and more flustered the more you blush. Although, a pleased smirk graces his face because oh~ you like when he flirts with you, huh? It’s okay, he’s hella into you too.Together, you’re just a ticking time bomb of gushy feelings and sexual tension. He figures if he wants to have any chance of confessing his feelings to you tonight, his best option is to lead you out of the way and put a little distance between you two and the crowd. So, he reaches out and gently takes your hand, pulling you along to the now vacant bar with an extremely forced and up tight grin.
Husk is standing behind the counter, looking not as irritated as you’d thought he would tonight. Luci pulls out a stool for you, gesturing for you to sit before he does because he’s a gentleman and ladies always go first. “Hey. Whatcha want, doll?” Husk ask you first, giving you a wink after you answer. “And for you, sir?” He eyes Lucifer who shakes his head, politely refusing his offer. As Husk begins whipping up your drink, yet another tense silence falls between you two.
“Are you having a good time?” The blonde finally speaks up, side eyeing you. “Eh. I’m not a big party person. I’m not a fan of big crowds either so…not really.” At long last, your unhappy and disappointed attitude brings all of Lucifer’s courage and gall to his mouth. Now’s his chance. “Let’s get out of here then.” He blurts out as Husk slides your drink to you, the bartender giving you an awkward look. “What? But all these folks wanna meet you.” Once you look over to him, a devious smile makes its way to Lucifer’s thin lips as you take your first drink. “And? I’m the king of hell! I do as I please.” He teases and now you’re both smiling brightly, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you push his arm playfully. “I love Charlie but I hate this party. Let me finish my drink first, yeah?”
Lucifer continues to side eye you and also scan over the entire room, checking out the scene as you sip on your drink. You can see his casual glances and the way he quickly diverts his attention as soon as you catch him staring. Now you’re the one feeling some bravery. You quickly and smoothly slip your hand into his, letting your thumb rub back and forth across his knuckles as you try to quickly suck down the rest of your drink.
The grip you have on each other grows stronger, tighter with each second that passes. You notice Lucifer bouncing his leg now, growing impatient and needy. As soon as a slurping noise comes from the straw at the bottom of your glass, Lucifer is trying to pull you up off your seat. He’s not worried about hiding his eagerness from you at this point, not when you’re looking like you do now and getting so blushy and shy at his flirtatious comments. He has to shoot his shot, he has to try. You’re the only person who’s made him feel young and love sick again after Lilith, he can’t afford to let you slip away too. That would crush him more than the weight of the embarrassment and discomfort he is feeling right now.
Lucifer leads you to the library, doubting anyone would be occupying it at the moment and he is correct. Finally, alone together, his hand in yours still, fingers interlocked. His big eyes, full of worry and second thoughts stare deep into yours as he gives himself a moment.
“Oh, my. Where do I even begin?” His other hand comes to yours, holding them both oh so delicately. “You…I’m so….” You nod, smiling to give him some encouragement to continue. “I want you so bad. I want to hold you, I just want to touch you already. I need to kiss you. (Y/N), I love you-“
You’re not sure what came over you but now your hands are exploring his blonde locks, your lips moving feverishly against his. Besides the faint, far away music playing, all you two could hear was each other’s soft gasps and the smacking of wet lips. At first, Lucifer was very engaged in the kiss but he was hesitant to touch you, unsure of where to put his hands. Like hell he wants to rest his claws on your hips or your butt, but he waits for you to give him the okay, his hands balled into fists and held up near his shoulders.
Finally letting him have his way, you guide his hands to your torso before breaking the kiss to whisper, “It’s okay, Luci. You can touch me.” It’s more of a whimper than a whisper but Lucifer isn’t complaining in the slightest. The tone of your voice and the feeling of finally touching your perfectly soft body had his eyes glowing bright red now.
Quickly and without warning, he crashes his lips back into yours sloppily, his long forked tongue gently gliding across your lip, giving the slightest bit of attention to your teeth. He would devour every bit of you right now if you only asked. He wished you would ask right now. He’d even beg for it…You happily let your mouth open more, inviting him in as his arms slowly stretch their way around you until he’s holding you tightly against him. Lucifer squeezes you tightly as he savors your taste for a moment, pulling a soft whine from you before loosening up.
With your eyes closed, you tried to just follow his lead and do your best at impressing and arousing him but he’s sort of doing the same. He hasn’t been with anyone like this in so long, he’s rusty as hell. So, yall are an absolute mess. After about a minute of wild making out and rapidly moving hands, you’ve found yourselves on the floor. The two of you sit up on your knees, holding onto each other as if your lives depend on it. Your hands held his cheeks so tenderly, pulling his face as close to your own as you possibly could.
Lucifer couldn’t help but smile against your mouth, a soft laugh leaving him as he remembers all those nights he dreamt of this exact situation- you looking beautiful and magnificent as always and him having the freedom to let his hands roam your darling figure. He’s been craving you, dreaming of you, wishing for you, praying for you. The laugh that escapes him results in you pulling back to get a look at him. And fuck was he gorgeous- hair a disheveled mess, the purple shadow on his eyelids smudged ever so slightly, his once impressive suit now wrinkled and shifted awkwardly on him, his lips still shiny from your saliva, his breathing loud and heavy and his smile just kept getting bigger, toothier.
“What are you laughing at?” Lucifer rests his forehead against yours, his eyes moving across your breathless, flushed face, just dying to know what’s on your mind now. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages, darling. More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire existence, I’ve wanted to be alone with you like this.” A breathy giggle leaves you, your hands shaking as they travel down from his face to his biceps.
“Oh really? Why don’t you stop telling me and…keep showing me?” You tease, your hands coming to rest on his puffed out chest. Your touch combined with your sweet flirting and breathy voice has all of his wings popping out momentarily. You can’t help but laugh at this, but Lucifer is all business right now. You told him to show you, and oh darling, he’s gonna teach you a whole lesson on how beautiful and ethereal you are to him…and he’s gonna teach you with only his hands and his mouth.
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utahimeow · 2 months
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“kenma?”
“hmm?”
he doesn’t take his eyes off the tv screen where he shoots at enemies left and right, but his ears are all yours.
“who was your first kiss?”
it’s become a habit of yours to watch his fingers move on the controller, long and thin and dexterous, wondering how he manages to move them in such a swift manner that to you seems impossible.
“didn’t have one,” he says, blunt.
“ever?”
“ever.”
“how?” you ask, both surprised and not—though now that you think about it, through all the years you’ve known him, he probably would have told you if he had.
“all i did in middle and high school was play volleyball and game. didn’t have time to kiss anyone. also didn’t care about it,” he admits.
you suppose if he wasn’t with you or kuroo, he was at home, playing video games. but there was that little obsession of his with shoyo hinata… so you guess it wasn’t a crush after all.
there’s only an ounce of hesitation behind what you say next, because yes, kenma’s your best friend and this could change the trajectory of your entire relationship with him, but also it’s kenma. kenma who you’ve shared a bed and clothes with, kenma who’s seen you at rock bottom and who’s wiped your snot and tears away when you were at your lowest, kenma who you’re attached at the hip with.
“what if i was your first kiss?”
kenma doesn’t falter at your words, not even for a second as he plays on expertly, nonchalant as always.
“uhh, why?” he asks, and you’re triumphant. if it was a ‘ew, no, what the fuck?’ then that’s how you’d know you fucked up. but it’s not.
“it kinda makes sense for me to be your first. also, i just wanna know what it’s like to kiss you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders.
the next few moments are full of nothing but controller sounds and the music from the video game on the tv. in the faint glow that radiates from the screen, you make out a tiny dusting of pink on kenma’s pale cheeks.
eventually he gulps. then, “can we drink first?”
your mouth falls open with an insulted gasp and you have half a mind to smack him over the head.
“if you think i’m ugly you can say that, kozume,” you pout, crossing your arms.
“it’s not because i think you’re ugly, dumbass.”
“then why do you need to be drunk to kiss me?!”
kenma is silent again. he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re staring at him utterly indignantly.
“because i’m too scared to look you in the eyes right now.”
oh.
now you get it.
kenma kozume is such a virgin. and you want him so incredibly badly. in fact you have to restrain yourself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until he can’t think straight.
instead you slide off the couch and head towards his fridge, grab two bottles of asahi and the bottle opener from the utensil drawer before padding back over to the couch, sitting an inch or two closer to kenma than you were before.
you click one bottle open for him, then one for yourself, then without a hint of hesitation you take a confident swig until you’re near chugging the drink.
“chill,” kenma says, side-eyeing you after taking a swig from his own bottle. “don’t want you pulling a himeno on me.”
you let out a noise that’s half-scoff and half-laugh, smacking at his arm. “don’t joke about that. that scene was traumatic.”
two bottles of beer later, kenma’s in-game reflexes start to waver. he’s no longer as sharp as usual, though his tipsy state still trumps the skills of an average player. meanwhile, your head floats with the buzz of alcohol—well, it hovers.
“kenmaaa,” you whine, shaking his arm, when all of a sudden his character is shot to death and the screen pauses as if to deliberately rub his defeat in his face. you stifle a giggle while he runs his hands over his face, though you’re pretty sure it’s not because he lost.
“what?” he asks, but he fails at conveying any real irritation towards you. his voice is small, frail almost.
“i wanna kiss you,” you say. your fingers still cling to the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. kenma’s entire body burns from it. he’s so fucked.
“okay, fine,” he says, turning his body to finally face you and criss-crossing his legs on the couch. “this feels awkward though, how are we-”
and you’ve waited long enough for this, and the alcohol that buzzes through your system makes you throw all your morals out the window, and you’re grabbing him by fistfuls of his hoodie and dragging him towards you until your lips smash—literally—together, and finally he shuts up.
you’re not sure what overcomes you, but you’re kissing him like you’re hungry, not quite ravaging him, but years of yearning deep inside of you bubbles to the surface and fills you with desperation.
also, you’re tipsy.
it’s not long before you come back to your senses a little and remind yourself that this is just his first kiss. go easy on him, maybe?
you move away, slowly, as though trying not to startle him, to find a pair of golden feline eyes blinking back at you. they’re swimming with something unintelligible, something akin to… need? you think you must be seeing things. you’re tipsy, after all.
the silence that hangs over the pair of you is heavy—too heavy. it hurts your shoulders. you laugh so that it goes away, covering your face as though kenma’s timidness was contagious and has now spread to you.
eventually, when you peer back up at him, he’s grinning almost… triumphantly. despite the blush that covers his entire face, he looks victorious. his face replaces any words he could say, and he turns back to his game without a word.
you, however, struggle to keep your thoughts to yourself.
“can we do that more often?” you ask, leaning your frame against his, nuzzling your face into his warmth.
“yeah, we can.”
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sytoran · 9 months
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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff
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you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.
🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader
🖤 word count: 3145
🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine
main m.list | AO3
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You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.
There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.
Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?
The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.
As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.
It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.
ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.
Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.
"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more." 
You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.
Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.
As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.
"You here alone?"
You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.
Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.
"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"
Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.
"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.
You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep. 
"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.
The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me." 
The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.
You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed. 
The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.
After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.
She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.
Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.
"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry. 
You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.
The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone. 
The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.
"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"
Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music. 
Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.
When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.
God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.
The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.
When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.
Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.
When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.
Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.
Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.
She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.
Fuck, you're not going to survive.
Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?
“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows. 
You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.
After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed. 
You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.
The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.
"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."
Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.
Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced. 
"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy. 
Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.
.
"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.
You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.
But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.
So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.
"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble. 
"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.
Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands. 
"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing. 
Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.
Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.
Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.
.
It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.
Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.
“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.
The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.
All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable. 
Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.
Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.
Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”
“Nope.”
“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”
“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.
“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones. 
You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.
“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.
Fuck, it was torture. 
Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.
After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.
“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.
“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.
You splutter. “But the sign said–”
“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”
That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted. 
You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.
“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.
“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.
Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.
“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.
When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.
You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.
Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.
“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach. 
“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;” 
She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.
When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.
“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.
You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust. 
“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it. 
When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.
Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.
You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.
Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.
You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.
Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.
“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.” 
You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”
This woman was going to be the death of you.
You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.
In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.
Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends. 
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i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(
main m.list | AO3
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