#i love sleazy loud heels!!

[kingkatsuki]

— sleazy

Everyone thinks Red Riot is such a nice hero, but really he just loves fucking his cute, unsuspecting fangirls.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, non-con/dub-con, implied!drugging but could just be seen as intoxication, unprotected sex, teeny tiny bit of assplay, Kirishima promises to wear a condom but doesn’t, creampie, public sex.

Word Count: 2.5k.

“You’re so lucky!” You heard the voices around the table when the Red Riot had offered to buy you a drink.

Suddenly finding it difficult to speak when you gave him a nod in response, grateful that he’d looked down at your glass of wine as an indication of what to order you because you weren’t sure you would’ve been able to answer if he’d asked.

You felt hot as it seemed as though every set of eyes in the vicinity were on you now— from the women who wished that he’d picked them, to the men that he’d come in with standing around the bar. The angry blond more formerly known as Dynamight seemed to be glaring at you from across the room, shaking his head slightly before downing the rest of his whisky.

“Don’t worry about him,” Kirishima grinned softly at you as he handed you a glass, “He always looks like that.”

Kirishima had this perfect way of making you feel at ease, the friendly tone to his voice paired with kind eyes made it easy for you to melt into him. Silencing any objections you’d usually have if a guy leaned down to tug your chair closer to him, or wrapped their arm around your waist during a first date. It was different when it was Red Riot— you felt like you already knew him. From your television screen to the huge billboards that were up all over the city to promote his latest collaboration. The man that you followed on social media and religiously liked his posts, not that you’d told him that— although with another few drinks inside you, you might.

“You look gorgeous tonight, you know,” His warm lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans closer to talk to you over the loud bass of music in the club, “I just had to come and talk to you.”

You don’t even question it when he lays a huge palm on your bare thigh, his thumb disappearing beneath the hem of your dress. Ghosting against the lace of your panties as you give another glance around the bar to see if anyone is looking— the only set of eyes that match your gaze are the same crimson ones from earlier, Dynamight still watching intently as he nurses his drink.

The fact that the Red Riot has asked for your number, bought you countless drinks and given you his undivided attention has you bursting with glee. Certain that none of your friends will believe you, instead wishing they’d come to the bar tonight to see for themselves when you tell them that you’re courting the number twelve hero.

“It’s so loud here,” His palm squeezes your inner thigh and you can’t stop your heart from pounding against your ribcage, making it difficult to breathe as his warm breath fans your skin, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Yeah, sure.” You find yourself nodding as he helps you stand, certain you weren’t this drunk before.

“Whoops—” He grins as he grabs your hips, his fingers brushing the curve of your ass as he keeps you upright, “I’ve got you.”

And it’s that moment you feel his hard bulge pressed against the small of your back. Even in heels he dominates your size, towering over you as a pure wall of strength and muscle as he guides you through the crowds. Stepping down a quieter hall that leads towards the bathrooms as he presses you against a wall, large palms still planted firm on your hips.

“I’ve wanted you all night,” He sighs, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against your neck, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“This is too fast,” You mumble, already feeling his fingers dipping beneath your skirt to grab your ass.

“Aw, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” He seems so sincere when he looks down at you with worried eyes, “Shall I call you a cab home? I just thought you wanted to have some fun.”

“I do, but—”

“But you’d prefer Dynamight or someone, huh?” His eyes droop, “I get it, that always fucking happens when it’s someone I really like—”

“No! I like you too,” You panic when he takes a step back, trying to step forward as you stumble into his arms.

“You do?” He coos, holding you tight, “I’m so lucky I found you.”

It’s embarrassing when he tugs you into the men’s bathroom, sets of eyes watching you with knowing looks from the urinals as he opts for a stall. Locking the door as he presses you against the sink, allowing you to look at him through the reflection in the mirror as he pulls your top over your breasts.

“You’re fucking stunning,” He groans, cupping your breasts as you grind yourself back against him. Alcohol inebriating your senses as he strokes your body, wondering whether you should just tell him to slow down now.

“It’s too much,” You mumble, unsure whether he put something in your drink as your head pounds.

But this is Red Riot, he wouldn’t do that, would he? He’s a Pro-Hero tasked to protect you from sleazy people like that, to make sure you’re safe.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He coos, “I’ll take good care of you.”

“We shouldn’t,” You slur, “Not here.”

“Oh? But I bought you all those drinks,” He mumbles against your neck, “I thought you liked me.”

“I do!” You panic, catching the forlorn look on his face.

“You do?” His eyes immediately brighten, “I’m glad because I like you too, sweetheart. A lot—”

He has you feeling like a giddy, lovesick schoolgirl as he reaches under your skirt to pull down your panties. Letting the fabric settle around your knees as he works on unbuckling his jeans. A large palm splayed on your back to push you over the sink as he guides the leaky tip towards your slit.

“Wait,” You mumble, trying not to slur your words, “Condom.”

You miss the look of annoyance that flashes through Kirishima’s eyes in his reflection in the mirror as you turn to look back at him before that same smile spreads on his face.

“Of course, sweetheart. What do you take me for?” He’s cooing at you as he reaches into his wallet to retrieve a large foil packet, ripping it with his teeth as he leans down to put it on, “Safety first, yeah?”

And the tip of his cock nudges against your ass, feeling the slickness of lube from the latex smear against your bare ass as you cling to the porcelain. Holding on as you watch him in the mirror as he slides the condom onto his cock.

“There,” His hand smooths along your ass, rubbing the lube against your skin to get it off his hand as he pushes his hips forward.

He’s big. The swollen tip enough to have a lump in your throat as you forget to breathe, wiggling your hips in a feeble attempt to reduce the ache.

“Shh, baby. I know, I know.” He coos, pulling back to fist his cock, “Let’s try again, yeah?”

But you don’t notice the devious smirk on his face, or the way his eyes glint with intent as he slides the annoying latex off his thick cock. Discarding it to the floor like trash as he wraps his cock in a large fist again, tapping the leaking tip on your slit before sliding it through your folds. Letting it catch against your tight entrance again as he can finally feel you without a latex barrier.

“Is this okay?” He hums, keeping his tip pressed against your quivering hole.

You nod in response as you try to remember to breathe, taking in large gulps of air as you feel him slowly push his hips forward.

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” He pushes.

“Yeah, I want it.” You groan as he immediately pushes forward, feeling the tightness between your thighs.

“Oh, shit.” His eyes roll back as he groans at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He’s far less kind now he can truly feel you as he cants his hips forward without a moment for you to adjust, the pain comes sharp and fast as he stretches you out on his cock.

“Ow,” You choke, your head lolling forward as you try to breathe, the ache between your thighs throbs sharply as Kirishima feigns sympathy.

Telling you what a good girl you are for him, what a good job you’re doing, that you’re his favourite. Clever lines he’s rehearsed time and time again, and it just so happens that they’re working on you just like they have a hundred times before on other girls.

You think you’re special, and in this moment you are. He’s picked you.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking good.” He grunts, warm palms heavy on your ass as he spreads you apart to see his cock buried deep inside your walls. The messy tuft of hair at the base tickles your skin as he pulls his hips back to give an experimental thrusr, “Taking me so well.”

You’re a mess as he fucks into you, your tits bounce with every rough buck of his hips as he presses you into the porcelain sink, your cheek leaves a messy streak of foundation against the mirror as he sets a brutal pace. Telling you it’s because he’s worried someone could come in and see you like this, that he wishes he could have you for longer to really take care of you.

And you believe every line.

“God, sweetheart. Your pussy feels amazing,” Kirishima groans, his thumb brushing the tight rim of your ass as your body jolts in surprise. Embarrassed and terrified at the same time.

“Not there, please—”

“Oh god, baby. I would never.” He shakes his head, but presses down harder against your tight hole, “Relax, Red Riot’s got you, yeah?”

His words are soothing as you try to focus on the pleasure, trying to block out the sound of footsteps outside and the way your cunt clenches around him every time someone rattles the door handle.

“Fuck, you’re clamping down on me, sweets,” He slurs, drunk on pleasure, “You’re tryin’ to milk me.”

He sucks air sharply through his teeth as he bends his back to watch his cock disappearing inside you, the slap of his balls against the swell of your thighs sounds inside the dingy bathroom as your legs shake. Balancing yourself in heels as you try to stop the sink from digging into your hips uncomfortably, certain you’ll have bruises in the morning.

“Gonna cum, shit— gonna fill this little pussy up.” He groans, and you’re certain it’s just words. Dirty talk to help get himself off as he prepares to cum inside the condom, “You want that, baby? Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” You find yourself playing into it, your walls throb around him as he works you towards your own release.

“That’s my girl,” He grins, reaching around to press messy circles against your puffy clit, “Gonna stuff you full of my cum.”

“Oh my god,” You repeat, clinging to the sink to keep yourself upright as you feel yourself on the edge of your release. The familiar pleasure building between your thighs as Kirishima leads you into bliss, “Kiri—”

“Red Riot, call me Red Riot—” His fingertips dig into you bruisingly as your cunt begins to convulse.

“Red Riot!” You mewl, “I’m cumming, Red Riot—”

“Oh shit, you want the entire bar to hear you, don’t you?” He grins, spanking your ass as your cunt spasms around him.

Kirishima fucks you through your climax, roughly thrusting into you as you feel the tip of him as deep as he can go. Kissing your cervix with each forward motion as he focuses on his own pleasure, his own desire.

“Hurts,” You choke out as you try to ignore the throb between your thighs or the way your skin digs uncomfortably into the porcelain.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart. Almost there—” He groans, ignoring your pleas, “Gonna fill you up.”

It doesn’t take him much longer to find his own release, his balls tightening as they begin to empty warm, hot spurts of cum into your pulsing walls. His hands smoothing down your back before reaching around to palm your naked breasts before pulling back.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groans when he pulls out to see strings of your slick connecting his softening cock to your folds.

And that’s when you feel it.

Warm globs of his cum slowly seeping out of your quivering walls, dribbling down your inner thighs and dropping onto the dirty floor.

“Did you— the condom?” You ask in confusion as you turn your head to face him, noticing the shiny gleam of his cock in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom as he gives you a cheeky grin.

“Oh, it must’ve ripped,” He shrugs, sticking himself back into his boxers with no care about how messy he is, “Sorry about that, sweetheart. You’ll be okay, I’m clean.”

Kirishima has just enough manners to pull your panties back up, even though you don’t have a chance to clean yourself up. Feeling his warm cum continue to drool out of you and collect in the lace of the crotch as you shuffle uncomfortably. Tugging your skirt back down as you fix your top, hearing Kirishima buckle his belt again as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I’ll call you yeah, sweetheart?” He presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before unlocking the door to the men’s bathroom stall and stepping outside. Leaving you standing alone in the room as you stare back at your disheveled reflection.

It’s only when you look down at the ground where you notice the drops of his cum that had fallen to the floor, and beside them the discarded condom still in the perfect roll from the pack.

That he hadn’t even bothered to put on.

#Kirishima smut #tw:noncon #trigger:dubcon #red daddy riot

[your-divine-ribs]

Private Dancer Part 1

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: brief drug use, Y/N is a lap dancer, a brief account of a sexual assault (not graphic) // Part 2 is hella long but will get it uploaded soon xxx

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

The loud bass emanates through the thin walls of the dressing room. Girls rush about, scantily clad or completely naked, frantically looking for items of clothing or rushing to perform. Glossy red lips and heavily mascara-ed lashes, sky-scraper heels and barely-there lace, the products of fantasies for the lecherous men gathered outside.

You'd worked at the club for a year now. When you auditioned and were offered the job as a dancer you promised yourself it was only temporary, simply a way to pay yourself through your final year of university. But you'd graduated three months ago and here you still were, several times a week, parading yourself like an object for the customers, wrapping yourself around the pole or tantalising in private dances. Your family and most of your friends knew nothing of your sleazy double-life but the handful that did were disappointed in you. They said you were belittling yourself, losing dignity by playing up to the customers' sordid wet dreams, but they didn't know the half of it. They didn't know how it made you feel. When you were up there on the stage you felt powerful, desired. You were in charge. The men could look but they couldn't touch, you were completely in control.

It's a Saturday night much like any other and the club is packed, full of customers eager to fulfill their desires. You sigh to yourself, appraising your reflection under the harsh fluorescent strip lighting in the dressing room, turning this way and that. You're wearing a black lace underwear set with intricate detail, hold-up stockings, and the highest heels that crazily enough are impossible to walk in but easy to dance in. And mostly importantly they show off your best feature, your long slender legs.

A loud wolf-whistle goes up and you turn to see your friend, Cayley, looking at you with a cheeky grin. "I would!" She chuckles.

"Yeah well, you'd fuck anybody so coming from you I won't necessarily take it as a compliment!" You tease, dodging her as she playfully swipes at you.

"You love me really!" She grins, then you watch as she delves into the cup of her silky red bra, producing a small plastic bag of white powder. "Little pick me up before you go on?"

You shake your head. "Nah, I'm good. I'm already feeling pretty confident tonight. I've finally managed to pull off that tricky pole move I've been practising for weeks. Gonna wow 'em tonight!"

"Suit yourself!" Cayley shrugs and proceeds to tap a small amount of coke on to the nearby surface, using a credit card to chop it into thin lines. "You're lucky you know. There's some good customers out there tonight, probably gonna be big tippers."

"Oh really?" You say, not really interested, leaning into the mirror to titivate your hair. All the customers are the same to you, just faceless men who you don't really see as individuals. It's easier that way. You can just go out there, perform your ass off and collect your tips without even giving them a second thought.

"Yeah... some band apparently... they played a show at the arena tonight..."

"A band?" Your interest is piqued, and you turn towards your friend, waiting for her to elaborate. Someone playing at the arena must be pretty big...

She looks back at you blankly. "Oh I don't know... you know I hate that kinda music. Mick told me the band name but I forgot. It was something weird... what was it again? Catfish something... I don't bloody know!"

Fuck...

"Catfish and the Bottlemen?" You almost squeal, your mouth going dry.

"That's it... d'ya know 'em then?"

"Yeah I fucking know 'em!" You cry, your heart starting to beat that rapidly you feel faint. "They're only like my favourite band of all time!"

You can feel a flush rising steadily up your body, your mind teetering on the edge of panic whilst you pace. You can't do it, you can't bloody do it. You'll go to pieces, probably stumble and fall.

"What's the problem?" Cayley says, as nonchalant as ever. "Hey... you might even get more than an autograph tonight, eh?"

She gives you a lascivious wink, loaded with suggestion, rolling up a ten pound note.

"Y/N! You're on in 3! Get your shit together!" Mick, your boss calls out from the doorway.

"Oh shit!" You mutter, feeling your legs start to tremble with nerves.

You suddenly shoot a hand forward, snatching the rolled up bank note from Cayley's hands. You definitely need a bit of assistance on the confidence front tonight. You dip your head down, snorting up a thin line of the coke, wiping your nose and shaking the tension out of your arms.

"You ready?" Cayley looks at you with an expectant grin.

You just nod, heart pounding, head spinning. "As I'll ever be."

A quick glance in the mirror, then you step through the door and into the short corridor that leads to the side of the stage. You can hear clapping and a few cat-calls as the last act comes to a finish and you try to steady your breathing as you see one of the other girls making her way backstage.

"It's a big crowd tonight... good luck Y/N," she smiles as she slips past you.

You're on.

You hear the opening bars of your song and take a deep breath, slowly moving forward, eyes fixed on the silver pole in front of you. You daren't look out into the crowd for fear of recognising a band member.

You reach out for the pole, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. The steady, slow beats of the music fill your head and start to pulse through your body as you swing yourself around, coming to a stop with your back to the pole, slowly sliding down, running your free hand down over your body.

You hear a rumble of appreciation from the table to your left and glance over, smiling at the middle-aged men in suits that are sat there, keeping your eyes on them as you slide up and down the pole, moving your hips to the beat.

You're just turning to swing around the pole again when you catch sight of the table directly in front of you and your heart starts racing wildly. There's no mistaking those faces, you've been to enough shows and watched enough interview and gig footage online that you'd recognise them anywhere. Bob, Benji, Bondy... and Van.

It occurs to you how surreal all of this is. Just weeks before you were in an audience of 15,000, watching the band on stage, screaming out their lyrics at the top of your lungs. Now here they are in this comparatively tiny crowd, watching you perform. And they're certainly watching. Four pairs of eyes taking all of you in as you sway and writhe around the pole. You're in the zone now, nerves melted away, putting on the show of your life.

Your eyes lock with Van's for a long moment as you slide around the pole, coming to a rest at the foot of it with your legs splayed suggestively. A spark of satisfaction shoots through you as you see his mouth fall slightly agape and you hold his gaze as you run your hands sensually up your stockinged thighs, smiling to yourself as you watch Bondy lean in to speak to him and he can't tear his eyes away. You finally look away, rising to your feet, throwing your head back and moving your hips in time to the music, grasping the pole to twirl around it once again.

All too soon the song comes to a finish and you peel yourself away from the pole, gratified to hear the appreciation of the audience, sure you've earned yourself some decent tips and maybe a few private dances later in the evening. That's where the big money can be made. It definitely isn't your favourite part of the job, you aren't able to keep your distance from the customers, it's just you and them and although they're under strict orders not to touch you've had to fend off drunken groping hands before. Security have even been involved on more than one occasion. You know some of the girls offer 'extras' too, but that isn't your style.

You allow yourself a quick glance over at the band's table before you duck backstage, noting a pair of cool blue eyes still trained on you. You hold Van's gaze for a few seconds before you slip away.

"So... were they watching?" Cayley's waiting with an eager expression back in the dressing room.

"Yeah..." you breathe, fanning yourself with a hand. "Fucking hell Cayley they were all there. And Van, the singer was staring... like really staring. Oh my god I think I'm gonna die!"

Cayley giggles, shaking her head. "Well don't drop dead just yet! You won't get any tips that way. Go on... get out there! Work your magic!"

She starts ushering you towards the corridor which leads to the bar area and you practically stumble on your heels.

"But I've not even re-touched my make-up!" You protest.

"No need. You look bloody gorgeous! Now go... before some other lucky girl gets in there first!"

The bar area is dark and it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust after the harsh lighting of the dressing room. There's lots of customers in tonight and this part of the evening involves you taking drink orders over to tables, maybe catching a customer's eye so he'll be tempted to splash out on a private performance. You scan the room, locating the table where the band are sitting, and are just starting to head over when the feel of a hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. It's Mick.

"Y/N, you have a private dance already," he grins. "You put on a hell of a show!"

Damn! You're sure that one of the other girls will end up waiting on the band's table all night if you don't take your chance now. You crane your neck to peer past Mick, just making out Bondy's hat.

"But... I was just..." you protest, but Mick cuts you off.

"No buts... come on. Booth 4. The guy was very insistent that he wanted you."

You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that you've missed your chance, already steeling yourself at the prospect of a sleazy, middle-aged guy leering over you. "Okay, okay I'm going..."

You make your way back to the corridor you've come from, locating Booth 4 and pushing through the door. A pause, a deep breath before you grasp the thick velvety curtains which open out into the small room... only to find Van McCann sitting there, eyes a little wide with an awkward smile on his lips.

Immediately your pulse races and your nerves bristle as you walk forward, trying to show poise and confidence even though your inner fan-girl is practically having a cardiac arrest.

"Errr... alright love?" He offers, looking every bit as nervous as you feel, which surprises you somewhat. In interviews he comes across as such a self-assured person, and when he's up on stage he practically oozes confidence from every pore.

"Hi... it's errr... Van right? I... umm ... I've heard some of your songs," you stumble over your words, crossing over to the music controls as a distraction so you don't have to look directly at him.

"You're a fan?" He says in a hopeful tone, and you can hear the grin in his words without looking at him.

"No... not really..."

Crap... what are you saying? You curse yourself inwardly. You've been so preoccupied in not coming across as star-struck that you probably just sound plain rude. You scroll through the tracks on the small screen, purposefully still not looking at Van.

"Oh... oh right," he says, his tone a little flat, then he pauses. "So... what's your name?"

Now you allow yourself to look at him, using the same line you use every time someone asks you this very question. "I'm Candy... but you can call me whatever you like tonight..."

Van shifts in his seat, letting out a nervous little laugh. "That's not your real name though... is it?"

You just smile at him, taking a surreptitious deep breath to try and calm your nerves as the opening beats of the slow, sultry music start to fill the air. "Did you come here to talk... or to watch me dance?"

You can feel your confidence slowly starting to trickle back now as you step out so that you're facing Van, the routine you've performed countless times flowing through your head and into your body. It's like muscle memory.

"I... errr... I've never done this before," he suddenly blurts out, and his obvious show of nerves just bolsters your own confidence. "You know... had a private dance."

As he sits there fidgeting in his seat he looks a world away from the charismatic performer you witnessed up on the stage a few weeks previously. You place your hands on your hips and fix him with an even gaze. "Just sit back... relax... and enjoy the show."

As if on cue, the steady beat of the song changes pace, the signal to start your routine. You tip your head back, raising your hands up to run them over your body, swinging your hips, slowly sinking down on to your knees. Van watches on, seemingly mesmerised as you plant your hands on the floor and toss your head back before starting to crawl across the floor towards him, your movements sensual and feline.

"Christ..." you hear him utter under his breath as you reach him, rising up slightly to place a hand on either knee, pushing his splayed legs even further apart, your eyes flicking suggestively down to his crotch.

Your fingers travel upwards, gripping his thighs as you rise fully on to your feet until you're leaning forward on a level with him.

"Please tell me your real name," he says, his eyes locking on to yours. God, they're striking close up. You've always thought that when you've seen pictures of him online, but in person they're even more captivating.

"Why d'ya wanna know?" You purr, moving even closer, placing your hands on the back of the seat near his head, pressing your body into the space between his legs.

"I just... I just... wanna know. You're bloody gorgeous ya know..." His voice hitches a little as your body comes into contact with his, and you push into him even harder.

"I can't tell you. It's not real life in here... it's just a fantasy," you whisper into his ear as you roll your hips into him. Then you pull back slightly, maintaining his hungry gaze. "I can be your fantasy tonight..."

You're on a roll now, feeling energised by the desire in his eyes, enjoying this far more than you probably should. You grab on to the collar of his shirt, bringing your face close to his, so close your lips almost brush.

You wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. His lips look full and soft, parted just a little as he looks on in awe. His tongue flicks out to lick his lower lip as you sway in front of him. Of course you'd never dream of kissing a customer... until now.

"I know I don't even know you but I'd love to kiss you right now," he breathes as if reading your thoughts. As he speaks his fingers curl around your hips.

You pull away instantly, placing your hands over his and sliding them back on to his lap. "Nuh-uh, that's not how this works. You can look but you can't touch."

"It's like bloody torture!" He complains, his eyes slipping down to roam over your body where his fingers are forbidden to go.

You step slightly away to allow him to appraise you further, running your hands seductively over your frame once again. "Sorry but those are the rules..."

A cheeky grin appears on his face as you step back close to him, this time planting your knees on either side of his upper thighs on the seat, coming to a rest fully straddling his lap. "Can't we like... just bend the rules... just for tonight?"

"Sorry Van..." you smile down on him, satisfied when you feel his body shudder a little as you press yourself flush against him.

You wouldn't normally get quite so close but you're feeling a little reckless, spurned on by his obvious enjoyment and your attraction to him. As you roll your hips against his and he lets out a small groan your mind starts to wander. Maybe just this once...

No! Pull yourself together Y/N! You don't even know this guy! You met like five minutes ago!

You lean right in, your lips grazing his neck and you can hear his breathing getting deeper and more erratic. God, being this close to him is making you lose your inhibitions. Your hips are undulating at an escalating pace almost like they're moving of their own accord.

"Fuck..." Van moans, hips twitching beneath you. He's definitely fully aroused now, you can feel it with increasing certainty as you feel his stiffness through his jeans.

This only makes you drive your hips even harder, moving in purposeful waves, the friction on your own body making you gasp as shivers of pleasure start to radiate through you from your core.

All of a sudden you feel Van's hands on your hips again and his grip is harsh this time, fingers clutching at you, bringing you to a standstill.

“You gotta stop!" He says urgently, his voice a strangled kind of groan.

You quickly lean away from him, slightly concerned and you're taken aback. His face is flushed and his eyes are glazed over with lust, he's even got beads of perspiration on his forehead where his hair's pushed back. Despite his obvious excitement his expression is uncomfortable. Have you gone too far? Your customers are usually left begging for more, not pleading with you to stop.

"I'm sorry!" You blurt out, and by some timely coincidence the music starts to slow and fade out, prompting you to rise up off the seat and move back.

Van's hands fall into his lap and he squirms in his seat, looking down before he raises his gaze to you. "Don't apologise... please... it's just... errr... shit!" He looks away again, screwing his face up, then you watch as a small grin emerges, slowly spreading. "Thought I was gonna lose control there for a moment... if ya know what I mean!"

Realisation floods you. "Oh! Oh right! Don't worry about that!" You reassure him, wanting to giggle but not really sure whether that's appropriate.

"Sure you're used to that though, eh? That was really something."

His smile is wide now, mischievous, and you find you're smiling too. You can't help it. You've just made Van McCann nearly blow his load AND he's fully dressed. Your inner fan-girl is practically doing a victory lap.

"Yeah... I mean no... not really... I mean... oh god I don't know what I mean. You've embarrassed me now!" Without your dance routine to hide behind you're a bundle of nerves, all of a sudden faced with one of your idols, blushing furiously.

Van stands, awkwardly adjusting his clothing which makes you both laugh, and he's got a hopeful look in his eyes. "So... since we're... errr... a little better acquainted now do I get to know your real name?"

You hesitate, hearing Mick's words in your head.

Never, and I mean NEVER, give out your real name or any other personal details. You do not want any crazies tracking you down at home, believe me!

But he's not a crazy. He's Van FUCKING McCann for god's sake. And he wants to know your name. He likes YOU. The realisation sets off a spark inside you that floods your whole body, conjuring up thoughts which you probably have no business thinking. I mean he's only asked for your name, not your phone number.

You're aware that you're grinning like an idiot nevertheless, just about to open your mouth to speak when there's a sharp rap at the door and Mick's voice booms out. "Next dance, Booth 6... five minutes!"

Disappointment sinks in you and you're not the only one. Van's face visibly falls before he plasters a smile back on. "Damn! I should have just booked you for the whole evening I guess!"

"I'm sure you have much better things to spend your money on!" You giggle, a little shyly, then you throw caution to the wind, stretching out a hand to him. "I'm Y/N by the way."

Van's smile makes your belly flip as he reaches for your hand, and instead of shaking it he raises it to his lips and plants a small kiss there.

"It was really good to meet ya," he grins, and then he hesitates like he's about to say something, but Mick's at the door again, calling to you, and he looks down.

"I'd better let you go then," he says, edging closer to the exit. "Let that other lucky fella spend some time with you now."

A mild panic shoots through you as you realise that Van probably thinks that you give other customers the same intimate treatment he's had and you don't want him to think that. But then as you watch him duck through the door you immediately dismiss the notion that he might be bothered about you in that way. I mean, why would he be? He was just after a quick thrill tonight and you delivered it. End of story. You watch him go.

Your next dance is for a balding, overweight guy who’s easily old enough to be your dad. Your heart sinks as his eyes trail over your frame as you enter the booth and you detect the cloying smell of body odour as you move closer. You force a sweet smile as he asks your name and you repeat your usual line.

"Mmm... Candy... you're so sweet baby," he coos, his hands raking up and down his thighs.

You take a deep breath, hiding a shudder, before you start to perform your usual dance with much less enthusiasm than you did for Van, keeping a small but definite gap between your bodies as you gyrate in front of him. Something's changed. Usually you can clear your mind, performing your routine flawlessly, feigning a seductiveness which drives your customers wild. They'll be so caught up in their little fantasy that you're hot for them when the reality is that your mind is actually focusing on something completely mundane like running through chores that you need to do or what you're going to cook for dinner the next day. Now all you can think of is how you'd rather be anywhere else than here. You feel suffocated.

"C'mere Candy baby," the guy drawls, and as he speaks you feel his fingers grasp hold of your hips, trying to pull you down on to his lap.

You immediately go to push his hands away, but he's surprisingly strong and he's not backing down, he just grips you tighter.

"No touching, you know the rules!" You cry, trying in vain to prise his fingers away.

This isn't the first time this has happened and you know it certainly won't be the last, and just that thought alone fills you with a kind of despair. All of a sudden you don't feel desired and powerful, you just feel tired and degraded and more importantly really pissed of. And not just pissed off. Fucking livid actually.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" You yell with vigour, surprising yourself and the sleazy man, but he doesn't back down, further taking liberties, one of his hands sliding between your legs.

That's it!

Your knee connects with the man's groin and it's hard enough that his face contorts and his body folds as he cries out, cursing you loudly. You reward his insults with a slap across his face, delivered with force. Then before he has chance to recover from the shock of your retaliation, you hastily make for the exit, pushing through the velvet drapes and flinging the door open. You barrel through the door with so much impetus that you slam straight into another figure in the corridor. It's your boss, Mick.

"Bloody hell Y/N! Look where yer going! Hey... aren't you supposed to be dancing?"

"I've had enough Mick!" You cry. "I'm going!"

Mick looks shocked and annoyed. "But your shift's not over yet. We've got a list of punters wanting a private dance after your performance. You can't just walk out!"

"Watch me!"

At that moment the door of Booth 6 swings open to reveal the guy from earlier, red-faced and fuming, one hand holding his injured groin and the other pointing at you accusingly. You know Mick won't give him the time of day. Customers not obeying the rules do so at their own risk, but you don't wait to see what ensues. You're already storming down the corridor, making for the dressing room.

"Y/N! What's up? You look upset!" Cayley comes rushing over with concern, thrusting a glass of what looks like vodka at you. "Here, have a drink!"

You don't accept it although you'd like nothing more than to knock it back. You just want to get out.

"I quit!" You shout out loud enough to carry across the whole dressing room, and this causes a few of the girls to look up, but the majority look disinterested. In this line of work it's not unusual for girls to come and go.

Cayley tries to talk you around but you've made up your mind. You grab your bag of clothes, not even bothering to get dressed and slipping into your faux fur coat. Then you're making for the corridor and the exit of the venue, leaving behind the dark, sweaty atmosphere and pushing through into the cold winter's night.

Read Part 2

#private dancer #catb imagines #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

[animefeminist]

“If I Was Born As A Girl…”: Transfeminine desire in Stop!! Hibari-Kun

Content warning: discussion of transphobia

It was 1981. The smash-hit Urusei Yatsuradominated Weekly Shonen Sunday reader polls, while Pierrot’s popular adaptation of the interstellar sex comedy was just starting to take off on Fuji TV. The manga would eventually end in 1987 after thirty-four volumes, while the 195 episode anime would run until 1986. During this time, creator Takahashi Rumiko even found the time to pen another prolific romance manga: Maison Ikkoku.

At this time, artist Eguchi Hisashi had just wrapped up his bawdy detective comedy Hinomaru Gekijou and was on the hunt for a new concept. Living in this boom period for romantic comedy—which also included juggernauts like The Kabocha Wine and Kimagure Orange Road—Eguchi wanted to make his mark on the burgeoning genre. But the illustrator wasn’t interested in playing things safe or making a guaranteed hit. From the outset, Eguchi wanted to lampoon the genre and twist reader expectations by having the central love interest be “a boy who dressed as a girl.”

“As I was putting all my energy into drawing Hibari-Kun to be as cute as possible,” Eguch saidi to French program Toco Toco in 2017, “the story would become more and more twisted. There weren’t that many manga like this at the time.”

In a cafe, he drafted the first storyboard for what would become Stop!! Hibari-kun—its title a pun on Hisashi Sekiya’s hot-blooded boys’ sports series, Stop! Nii-Chan.

Stop!! Hibari-kun, at first blush, boasts a fairly conventional set-up for a screwball romantic comedy. After the death of his mother, Kosaku is sent to live with Ozora Ibari, a loud-mouthed, sleazy yakuza with four daughters. No sooner does the young man arrive, however, than he falls head over heels for Hibari: the playful and exuberant third daughter of the Ozora family. Hibari, bright blonde and full of tomboy energy, sticks out in comparison to her more reserved sisters. It’s fair to say Eguchi draws Hibari with more attention and care to detail than he does the other female characters, between her ultra-trendy threads and her numerous pin-up splash pages.

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#stop hibari kun #hibari oozora #eguchi hisashi #articles

[meowzfordayz]

drinks at the bar, dance in the dark

Author’s Note: procrastinate writing by writing? #procrastinate writing by writing

drinks at the bar, dance in the dark

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~1,700

CW: alcohol, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: Can I Kiss You? by Dahl

~faqs~

Isn’t a huge drinker

Nonetheless, enjoys the pleasant ambience of a drink or two

Doesn’t mind sitting at the bar of a restaurant if the main dining area is full

The type to make overly enthusiastic small talk with the bartender

Also the type to order whatever you order

Isn’t a huge drinker = relies on your expertise

“I’m literally not an expert though?”

“That is fine! I believe in you!”

…

“Thanks?”

“I will have whatever she is having!” Kyojuro smiles brightly, cocktail menu untouched.

“So two Flaming Gorillas,” the bartender nods.

“Pardon-” Two what?

“You don’t want a Flaming Gorilla?” How are they saying that with a straight face? “She ordered a Flaming Gorilla. Would you like something else?” the bartender offers, not unkindly. Possibly noticing your failing attempt to hide your giggles.

“Oh no, a Flaming Gorilla sounds delicious!”

“It’s peppermint and coffee technically peppermint schnapps, Kahlua (coffee liquor), and Bacardi, but you don’t want to confuse him,” you take ~some pity on him.

“Exactly!” he exclaims, “Delicious!”

Shaking their head amusedly, the bartender nods again, “Of course.”

As soon as they turn around, Kyojuro stares at you. He suspects you’re up to something, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly. Sure Flaming Gorilla is an… odd, name, but its flavor profile is intriguing — certainly not displeasurable?

“Love,” he’s hesitant, fearful of accidentally offending you.

“Hm, Kyo?” you grin a little too widely (not that he doesn’t adore your wide grins!), eyes twinkling, equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying.

“Why did you order a Flaming Gorilla?”

You snort, “I like mint.”

“And coffee?” he feels like he’s catching on…

“And coffee,” you wink.

Oh “You’re teasing me,” Kyojuro states, tone neutral. Suspicious. 

“Only a bit,” you poke his shoulder, giggles finally escaping as your face scrunches happily.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he’s still staring, rare flicker in his gaze as he watches how beautifully, perfectly, you celebrate your success, adorable hiccups jostling your body, “Love?”

“Y-yeah?” you barely manage to gasp, on the verge of clutching your chest as unabashed laughter threatens to burst.

“First, I am happy that I can provide such entertainment for you,” he chuckles fondly, voice lowering to a calm, assured tone, “And second, I believe you are forgetting how unyielding I can be when I tease back.”

Hates the bar

Hates how loud it is

Hates how dirty it is

Hates how overpriced it is

Hates the sleazy patrons

Hates the inattentive bartenders

Maybe he just hasn’t gone to the right bar? 

HOWEVER

You getting ready to go to the bar?

Yeah

He loves that a lot

“Red or black?” you hold up two dresses for Sanemi — who’s lying on the bed, feet dangling off the end, head propped contently on a few of your Annoyingly puffy damn it throw pillows.

“Red,” because he adores how vibrantly—deeply—it accentuates your figure.

“Shoes?”

“Heels,” because your legs are one of the only distractions he willingly tolerates, “But not too high,” because he cares about your comfort. Although sometimes he chooses High knowing he’ll get to carry you once your feet begin hurting. It’s a delicate balance: obnoxious PDA versus the smug, tender satisfaction of holding you.

“You’re not even dressed yet,” your brows furrowing pointedly, “Why are you still in bed?”

“Because I’m helping you,” he states matter-of-factly, sly glint barely restrained, “And because I can get dressed in about two minutes.”

“You’re the reason I take so long,” you huff.

“I appreciate you listening to my opinions,” he smiles nonchalantly, poorly feigning oblivion.

“Are we actually going to make it to the bar this time?” you roll your eyes, dresses tossed aside in mock defeat as you walk toward the bed.

“Not if you never get dressed.”

I’m totally going to wipe that grin off your stupid face you hum cheerfully, eyes narrowing as you rest your thighs against the mattress.

“I’m not getting dressed until you get up,” you declare, hands reaching subtly, teasingly, for his chest.

“Then I guess we aren’t making it to the bar,” your hands don’t go unnoticed as Sanemi’s stare sharpens.

Anticipation. Enthrallment. Seduction.

“We’re not?” you pout coyly, fingertips ghosting across his pectorals, relishing the crisp attraction of his perfectly ironed shirt. This man irons everything because he enjoys being responsible for later dishevelment. Every wrinkle, every crease, is evidence of his—of your—desire.

A low groan vibrates under your fingertips, slender fingers wrapping gently, demandingly, around your wrists, guiding you impatiently, hungry, to plush lips.

“Absolutely not.”

You’re inclined to agree as Sanemi sucks on the tip of your index finger, tongue hot and delicate; nuzzles into your palm, warm breaths erratic and vulnerable; nips at your pulse, melting your resolve as he mouths at your goosebumps; kisses along your knuckles, licking between them, grazing, torturous ministrations; grinning triumphantly as you cave. Sanemi’s grin: 1. You: 0.

Goes to the bar because you want to go

And he wants to go wherever you go (within reason, of course — he isn’t codependent!)

Not exactly nervous

More so overstimulated

Who knew there were so many kinds of rum? as he eyes the shelves of liquor behind the bar And whiskey? fingertips digging gently into your hip, grounding himself Why is that green?

Trusts you to order for him

He’s the DD (designated driver) anyway

But you always encourage him to try new things (i.e. new drinks), and he always ends up enjoying whatever you introduce him to

Is constantly struck by the tenderness and intimacy of how well you know him — of how well you gauge his tastes, likes, dislikes

“We could’ve made these at home,” you smile softly, tone playful even as your gaze prods.

You’re tucked against a wall at a tiny, round high table, stools facing each other, condensed droplets lazily sliding down the sides of your glasses, coasters damp and sticky.

“You just want to continue curating our liquor cabinet,” he deflects your concern, returning his own gaze Please don’t let my social anxiety me ruin your evening.

“True,” you giggle, licking cutely at the sugar rim of your drink, “And I also want you to be comfortable.”

Deflection’s always futile when it comes to your intuition.

“I’m very comfortable,” he declares, taking a dramatic swig of his drink, winking exaggeratedly afterwards.

“Well now I’m uncomfortable,” you grin widely, cheeks flushed as you roll your eyes fondly, “That was quite un-Giyuu-esque.”

“I’m a little uncomfortable,” he shrugs, regretting the sharp tang at the back of his throat, doing his best to refrain from wincing, “But you want to be here,” his voice lightens, affection tempering the alcohol’s burn, “And I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too,” you chuckle quietly How am I this lucky?

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he reassures you, stare unwavering, the surrounding din ebbing from his focus, sapphire glint locked only—solely—on you.

“Except for at home in bed asleep with me as your big spoon,” you smirk knowingly, laughter bubbling in your chest at Giyuu’s immediate, affronted expression. “Let’s just finish these drinks, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

Because I will stay here until they turn the lights on his dedication—devotion—evident in the way he searches the warmth of your offer. Ensuring its sincerity. Ensuring you’re happy. If that’s what you want?

“I’m one hundred percent sure,” you nod.

And suddenly, Giyuu realizes all over again that you might be sure about more than just leaving the bar with him. You might be—you are—sure about him. 

He’s immediately intrigued by your perfectly fine thank you very much lonely silhouette, elbows perched neatly on the bartop, legs crossing and uncrossing as you sip slowly—steadily—on your drink

Decides he’d like to get your number, and maybe even your name

Puffs into his hand first to make sure his breath smells ~divine

Shakes out his hair (countless people have told him he looks better with his hair down), then puts it in a bun (countless people have also told him he looks better with his hair up), aaand then shakes it out again

Notices your mindful posture

Okay, so, no cliche pickup line(s)

Inhales, exhales

Confident strides!

“Is this seat taken?” large hands enter your peripheral, suave smoothness cutting through your wistful bored daydreaming.

“No,” you raise an unimpressed eyebrow, gesturing vaguely to the empty barstool, not bothering to glance over, “Does it look taken?”

“Um,” Tengen chuckles awkwardly, wishing you’d just look at him and his pretty face, “No?”

“So are you going to sit?” you snort.

“I feel like you don’t want me to,” he retorts, only slightly irked because he knows you’d be instantly smitten if you’d just look at him.

“I don’t care either way,” you shrug, “It’s a bar.”

“You sound thrilled that it’s a bar,” he mutters, settling beside you despite his sarcasm, eager to see the color of your eyes.

“I’d rather be home with a lover, but I’m lacking one of those two things,” you drawl bluntly, faint smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth Which is why I’m here, obviously and unfortunately.

“What kind of lover?” he asks softly, “Just for tonight?” leaning closer.

For whatever reason, you don’t recoil, caught off guard by the pleasant trace of sweet grass and warm amber meandering languidly from the collar of his shirt to your scrunched nose. Somehow, nothing about this man is overpowering or underwhelming. Curiosity seeps into your disinterest; the tips of your ears hot when you tilt your glass to finish your drink; searing, insatiable sensation licking from your clavicle to your throat to your jaw. You know he’s watching—devouring—you.

“For as many nights as he deserves,” you murmur, “As many nights as he can earn.”

“Look at me,” he’s gentle interlaced with promising — interlaced with tantalizing, “Let me look at you.”

“Haven’t you been doing that this whole-” your intended quip falters as you swallow thickly Such large hands, “This whole time?”

You look at him.

#hashira x reader #preferences #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

[eldesperadont]

if Jay retains against Finlay (and Taguchi) then i want him to defend the NEVER belt against Taichi. They don’t need a logical storyline, their slimy sleazy bastard aura should just gravitate them towards each other like some black holes or whatever, let them fight and be awful and insufferable and flirt with- and kill each other and make everyone that enjoys it (me) think “god i can’t fucking stand these two i love them so much”

#these two and naito - all three with each other have the unholiest bastard energy #rat triad. #and jay himself confirmed that theres a bond/similarities between them #after defeating taichi in the g1 last year he was like ‘he only has that kinda fun with taichi and naito’ or sth like that #these three have s*xual tension eventho its the least you want of them (if you’re a coward) #they are like made for each other in the worst way #okay but im serious i wanna see jay and taichi feud just cause it’d probably be entertaining i loved their g1 match last year sm #i love sleazy loud heels!! #percht.txt

[starryhyuck]

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

“Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

#nct smut #wayv smut #xiaojun #xiaojun smut

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

#lexisholiday2021 #bluemusickid700challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #boss!steve

[sableseb]

Dirty Disco

Harry Styles x f!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, rough & quick, choking, grinding, slight name calling, use of drugs, slight peer pressure

tags: @meetmeatyourworst​ @greeneyedblondie44​

a/n: This is a request that wanted a story based off the photo below! To the person who wanted this, I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.x

The club is in full swing. Hot, sweaty bodies pressed against one another, music vibrating the dance floor, and couples occupying each darkened corner. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than right here. You craved a night out. And what better place to go than one of the most elite nightclubs in New York? 

You squeeze your way into the mass of people to join in on the sleazy dance floor behavior. You let the music take over your movements. Hips winding against a man’s, chest pressed against a woman’s and completely lost in the feeling of the erotic nature of being between two people in such a compromising way.

Suddenly, you couldn’t feel anyone against you. Until, two hands pull you in close from behind to rub himself to the beat against you. You had it in mind to turn around and tell this asshole he couldn’t just touch you as he pleased and maybe even smack him for good measure. But, all those thoughts left as soon as they entered when you meet a pair of eyes that are the prettiest shade of green you’ve seen, complemented by the mop of brown hair.

You find yourself wanting to be smacked by him. He chuckles at the way your mouth is slightly agape, obviously expecting to see an ugly weirdo with grimy hands. Instead, you got the most handsome weirdo with grimy hands. And that made all the difference. You get your mind straight and turn back around letting him guide you against him.

You grind against one another to the music shaking the walls. The smooth material of his pants feels good against your heated skin. He’s taking his time with you, moving your ass against his hard on he got when he first laid his eyes on you in that mini skirt and shirt that’s barely keeping your chest concealed. 

Grasping the hem of your skirt, you lift it up a bit and bend over to give him a glance of your perfectly plump ass straining against the black mesh. You gasp as his hands move from your hips to palm the firm flesh. You wanted to feel those rings everywhere. The cool metal excites you even more.

After letting him have his fun for a moment, you straighten back up to lace your fingers through his thick hair and pull him against your neck, backside still moving along with his front. You feel the hot puffs of air he’s emitting and it sends shivers down your spine, straight to your aching heat. His hands wander up your torso to rub and grab at your chest causing you to arch forward in his grasp.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” 

His voice catches you off guard for a moment. His accent is thick, annunciations as slow as honey dripping from the comb. 

“Looking for an escape is all.” you reply next to his mouth, trying to catch a taste of him.

He spins you forward and leans in close to your ear, lips grazing the shell of yours as he says, “I can help with that if you're interested.”

If he didn’t catch your attention before, he surely has it now. He’s tall and lean, clad in a tight vest that showcases his firm chest with a cross resting upon it. Tattoos splattered all along his tan skin. This man is trouble. Lucky for you, trouble is exactly what you’re looking for.

“How can you help?” you question with a glint in your eyes.

He smirks and takes your hand to lead you away from the dance floor. The music is but a low vibration in the back room you find yourself in with a man who’s name you don’t know. You don’t want to know it, you’re not here for formalities and neither is he.

It’s dark with hues of red from the low lighting. The leather couch looks expensive...and so does the glass table with bags of illegal substances littered across it. Now you’re nervous. You’ve never done any sort of drug. But, the man pulling you along and whispering lowly in your ear, “It’ll be fun. I got you.” is very persuasive. Especially, when he looks so appealing. 

He places you next to him on the couch, the leather sticking uncomfortably to your heated thighs. You watch as those long fingers reach for a bag with little white squares in them. He digs one out and places it upon his tongue, he leans in to you, waiting for you to get the hint and take the tab from his mouth.

You’re hesitant, but that mouth is calling to you. You tangle your tongue with his, slowly kissing him in the process. He grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His taste is addicting. Alcohol mixed with something sweet, you almost forgot you took the acid...almost. You pull away with worry etched in your features.

He takes notice and chuckles. “Such a good girl for me, you know that?” He takes another tab for himself and downs it. It’s always exciting to share this experience with another. It’s really exciting though, when his companion is a figure from a wet dream.

You can feel your body loosen and mind clear, your present and not all there at the same time. The man to your left closes in on you. His smell hits you harder than before, dark and musky with a hint of something floral. You pull him against you, leaning back so he can cage your body with his.

He looks at you thoroughly this time. The way your eyes have already dilated, the way your chest is begging to be released from that ridiculously tight shirt, and especially the way you lick your lips, almost like you’re tempting him to ruin you. And you were doing just that, tempting.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, genuinely curious. He would hate to have to rush you to the hospital.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against you. He lets out a groan from the abrupt contact of your center against his front. Pulling his head down to meet yours, you whisper against his lips, “I’d feel better if you were inside me.”

He’s caught off guard for a moment, not expecting you to be that brazen. Drugs can work wonders on a person’s mind. Who is he to deny your request? He couldn’t even if he tried, not when you have him pressed so firmly against you and you start rocking against him.

The moan he lets past his lips is a sound that makes you wetter. The need for this stranger is so great that you don’t even care about the foreplay. You need him inside you now. He picks up on your urgency and makes quick work of his tailored pants. He releases himself from the confines of his underwear as you kick yours off your heeled feet.

He pushes the tight fabric of your skirt up past your hips. His eyes feast on how wet you are for him. Your arousal is already pooling against the leather of the couch. 

“Please.” you beg. “Just fuck me.” 

He pushes his dick against you, using your wetness to cover his shaft for an easy in. The sensation of him finally pushing in has you seeing colors. You aren’t sure if it’s the drugs or how good he fills you up. But whatever it is, you want more.

Seeing you whimper and writhe underneath him unlocks the primal urge to have you brain dead for his cock. He picks up his pace, your chest bouncing with each snap of his hips. He can’t stand not seeing your bare flesh moving freely, so he rips your shirt down the middle. 

You gasp at his roughness. Before you could let out a whiny, “Hey,” he latches onto your breast. Licking and biting while his hand preoccupies the other. Grabbing and pinching till you didn’t know what to focus on, him pounding into you with no abandon or the way his wet, hot mouth and calloused hands are working wonders on your sensitive nipples.

“So responsive.” he groans between the valley of your breasts. “What? Nobody ever fuck you this good?”

The blood rushes to your face. His words egging on your inevitable climax. You’re speechless as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that has your abdomen flexing and toes curling. The only sounds coming from you are the high pitched moans he’s pulling from you.

He doesn’t like how loud you’ve gotten. His hand flies up to your throat. The rings feel nice against your heated pulse. Until he starts squeezing. Your eyes go wide and your sounds seize, but your cunt latches down on him harder than before.

“My pretty girl likes being choked? That’s right. Take it you fucking slut.” he says through clenched teeth. 

And take it you do. His pelvis keeps kissing your bundle of nerves as you buck up towards him. His other hand that’s not restricting your breathing finds your clit, giving you even more pleasure than before. The warm feeling creeping up your neck, the way your ears ring, you know you’re cumming as your legs tremble around the man between them.

He let’s go of your throat in time for you to let a scream of pleasure escape. Your orgasm triggers his own and he’s fucking you deep into the couch to get as close as possible to you. He has to prop himself up on his hands so he doesn’t crush you as his high washes over him.

You both lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the euphoria from the sex and drugs. He pulls out of you and helps you into your panties. As you stand, you can feel his spent pool in the fabric. Making you horny all over again. 

“Round two at my place?” the words leave your mouth before you even process them. You just want this man in every position possible. A grin makes its way upon his features. He places his hand in yours to help you through the club and out into the cool night air.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

[emmyhem]

it’s about time (l.r.h)

a/n: hi again! first of all i want to say thank you for the support on “seven things” it means the world. secondly, my requests are open and i’d be happy to write something for you. this is a jealous bff!luke imagine i wanted to get up this weekend, i didn’t do a very thorough edit before posting so hopefully there aren’t any typos. i am working on the request for a lashton x reader love triangle piece right now and will hopefully have it up by monday or tuesday. thank you, i hope you enjoy - emmy :) 

pairing: luke hemmings x reader 

summary: being best friends with the guy you’re in love with is extremely taxing especially when you have to watch him be with another girl all night. just when you’ve finally had enough of waiting around for him he ruins your plans for moving on. 

warnings: alcohol, using alcohol as a coping mechanism, slight angst, jealous luke, mentions of throwing up, cursing, luke’s a bit of an asshole. 

word count: 3.3k

“God, could they get a room?” you scoffed leaning into Calum as you watched your best friend practically eat his date’s face from across the club. 

“Jealous are we y/n?” Calum laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder. 

“No, just utterly disgusted.” you said before slamming back your fourth shot of tequila.

 That was a lie, you were jealous. You were so insanely jealous that you could scream. 

Luke had met his date, Hannah at the studio last week. She was new, working at the front desk. She had caught Luke’s eye the second she walked in the room with a bright confident smile, and a flirty look in her eye. Luke had asked her out the next day and was practically giddy when she accepted. 

And that’s how they ended up in the corner of the club, Luke’s hands tangled in her hair, and her tongue down his throat. All the while you were trying to not look bitter, and distracting yourself with one too many drinks. 

It wasn’t a new routine. You couldn’t count how many times you’ve had to sit back and watch a girl way prettier than you, be in the exact position that you would quite literally die to be in, with your best friend of 4 years. And somehow it seemed to hurt more each time, which meant more drinks for you. 

As you felt the familiar and comforting burn of your fifth shot of the night slide down your throat Calum shot you a knowing look. 

“Maybe you should slow down there, kid.” 

You rolled your eyes and took his Corona from his hands using it as a chaser. 

“Corona girl?” you heard from behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet a pretty pair of green ones (you still preferred Luke’s blue, but what the hell). 

“Tequila girl.” you clarified. 

“Respect.” the man said, extending a strong tattooed hand. “I’m Austin.” 

“Y/n” you said, shaking his hand. You glanced over your shoulder at Calum who was now engaged in a conversation with Mikey and Ashton beside you. 

“Pretty name, pretty girl.” he smirked. “So, can I get you a tequila?” 

You giggled, happy for a distraction from Luke.

“You can get me a margarita, on the rocks.” 

“Deal.” 

The two of you chatted as you sipped on your drink, mind getting hazier with each sip. And you don’t know if it was the alcohol or your determination to get Luke off your mind but Austin was really, really hot. 

“Do you wanna dance with me?” you asked before you had a chance to convince yourself otherwise. You were never really a dance in public kind of girl, normally the closest you got to showing your moves on the dancefloor was Just Dance in Luke’s living room. 

“Absolutely.” Austin replied, sliding an arm around your waist to lead you to the dancefloor. 

The bass beat shook the floor as the two of you made your way to the middle of the club. As you stopped you realized you had absolutely no idea what to do. You never did stuff like this. You can’t even remember the last time you went on a date, let alone danced to sleazy house music with a stunning stranger. You glanced around you hoping to follow the lead of the more experienced dancers around you.

 A redhead to your right swung her hips, inching closer to her partner's body with each movement until she was pressed directly to his chest. 

“Seems like a good place to start” you mumbled to yourself. 

The second your hips were in movement Austin’s hands gripped them strongly guiding your movements closer and closer to him. As the beat built and your movements slowed to a teasingly slow pace his grip tightened causing your tight white dress to bunch up on your thighs. 

With the alcohol in your bloodstream and Austin’s breath on the back of your neck you nearly forgot about Luke and your perpetual sadness, that is until you locked eyes with him from across the room. 

Hannah was tucked under his arm sipping on her drink, but his gaze was locked on you, he had an unrecognizable look on his face, and a jaw clenched so hard you feared he would break his teeth. 

You took him staring as the perfect opportunity to spin around, inches away from Austin’s face looking up at him through your lashes. His pupils were blown a bit, eyes filled with lust. He was practically breathing into your mouth. You will yourself to just kiss him. It’s not like you were Luke’s girl you thought, so you started to lean in. 

As Austin placed his hand on the back of your neck you felt someone grab your arm tugging you out of Austin’s grip. 

“Y/n”  Luke appeared next to you.

“Is there a problem man?” Austin said grabbing one of your hands. 

Luke rolled his eyes with a sly grin on his face, “Cal wants to talk to you.” he said to you not breaking eye contact with the pissed off guy in front of you. 

“I’m a bit busy.” you said annoyance brewing in you as you ripped your arm out of Luke’s hand. “Can it wait?” 

“Nope, said it was important.” he said nonchalantly “Better go find him.” 

You internally groaned, “I’ll be right back.” you said leaning in to peck Austin’s cheek. 

“Y/n, C’mon!” Luke shouted over the music. 

“Fine!” you groaned leaving Luke and Austin behind you as you scanned the bar for Calum. 

After searching for a few minutes you saw him in a booth with Ashton, and Michael talking and laughing. 

“Calum,” you called. He glanced up at you waving a hand above his hand. You slid into the booth next to him, your patience growing thin. 

“What is it?” you said. 

“What?” he said, confusion spreading across his face. 

“Luke said you needed to talk to me, what’s up?” 

Calum’s eyebrows tugged together glancing at the other guys. 

“I haven’t talked to Luke since we got here.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned to the corner across the room where Luke had Hannah pressed up against the wall. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you said out loud, rubbing your temple in frustration. 

Ashton gave you a sympathetic smile and glanced at Michael who was practically sleeping on Cal’s shoulder. 

“Maybe we should head out.” he said motioning to the drunk mess that was the three of you. 

“No” Calum whined, dragging out the oh sound. “y/n was about to get some.” he teased poking your side. 

“Just take him home, y/n/n.” Michael groaned, not even opening his eyes. 

You pondered the idea, you never did stuff like this. But Austin was hot, and Luke was preoccupied. To say the least.

“I could take him home.” you say aloud trying to convince yourself. 

“Then do it.” Calum challenged. 

“I will.” you stated proudly. “You guys get Luke. Ash, you get the uber, and Austin and I will meet you at the door. “ you gave a quick nod to the boys and went to get Austin. 

Austin stood exactly where you left him on the dance floor. 

“Thank god you’re back. I-“ 

Before he had a chance to finish, you crashed your lips onto his. He quickly fell into the kiss moving his hand to the small of you back. Before it went any further you pulled apart about an inch, and spoke into his mouth, 

“Come back to my apartment?” 

“Absolutely.” he said an excited smile growing on his face.

When the two of you made it to where your group was struggling to stand by the door Luke pulled apart from Hannah, looking Austin up and down. His eyes stopping where your hands were interlocked. 

“Love, a word?” he slurred, nodding his head away from the group. 

You walked with him just outside the door. 

“What’s up?” 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with this guy, what are you doing with him?” 

“Um, taking him home with me?” you said confused. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“Who says?” anger began building as you looked up at him. 

“Uh, me I guess. You know nothing about him.” 

This caused you to scoff, a laugh passing your lips, “And you do a background check on every girl you take home with you?” 

“That’s different,” he alleged. 

“And how’s that?” your patience was growing thin, and you could feel this conversation sobering you up. 

“I don’t know y/n, you're just not one night stand material.” 

Okay, ouch. Tears began to prick at your waterline. 

“Go to hell.” you breathed, pushing past him. 

“No, y/n/n. You know that’s not what I meant. C’mon love, hey I’m sorry.” he called after you. 

As you approached the group, holding back tears, you took a glance at Austin in front of you and realized that no matter how hot he was you really didn’t even want this. How could you when you were head over heels in love with your asshole of a best friend.

 But it was too late now, you would do it. Even if it was wrong. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if it was just to spite Luke. 

“Ready to head out?” you questioned aloud, swallowing your hurt. 

“Yep, uber just got here.” Ashton confirmed, guiding a hammered Calum and Michael out the door. 

You all climbed into the Uber X Ashton had ordered, Luke, Hannah, and Calum in the back, Ashton in the passenger seat, and Michael, Austin, and you in the middle. 

As you pulled away from the club, Ashton spoke over the light music coming from the car radio and gave the driver Luke’s address. The group had made plans to all spend the night at Luke’s, like you typically did after a night out. 

“We have one more stop actually” you choked out, feeling Austin lean into you, lips attaching to your neck. 

You gave the man your address and turned your attention back to the sexually charged man glued to your side. As he moved his kisses up to your jaw you closed your eyes, in order to prevent yourself from breaking down. The constant reminder that Luke had no interest in you, being thrown in your face as Hannah released soft sighs behind you. 

Ashton glanced back at you from the front seat, 

“You feeling okay, kid?” he asked. 

You nodded gulping, and looked up at the ceiling to deter your threatening tears. 

His eyes narrowed in concern as he adjusted his body in his seat so he was looking you in the eyes. Luke turned his attention away from Hannah (much to her despair) to the front of the car as Ashton spoke.

“Y/n, you sure? Maybe you and your friend should continue this another night.” Ashton suggested, noticing how you had tensed up and your expression had faltered since entering the car.

 Austin pulled off of you and shot him a frustrated glare from his seat. Ashton raised his eyebrows in response, silently challenging Austin to confront him. 

Austin moved in centimeters from your ear, “Your friends are kind of cockblocks.” he complained. 

You tilted your head away from him and looked out the window Michael was sitting next to.

“Maybe they’re right.” you muttered. “Maybe you should just go home, and we can do this some other time. I’m not feeling well.” 

You kept your gaze directed outside of the car, too afraid to see his reaction to your sudden rejection. 

“Your kidding right?” he scoffed. 

You were becoming more anxious by the second as he rambled on about how you must be joking. 

“I’m not laughing.” Luke interrupted flatly.  

“Okay, what’s your deal man?” Austin’s demeanor had quickly changed as he turned to face Luke, aggression clear in his face. 

Luke held his hands in the air before resting them on the back of your seat. “No deal, she’s just clearly not interested, so maybe you could give her some space.” 

Calum and Michael perked up in their seats as the mood in the car shifted. In the front Ashton was talking to the driver, explaining how you would be getting dropped off with the rest of them. 

Austin was in a confrontational mood now, one that made you uneasy. He and Luke continued to bicker back and forth. Hannah sat confused and aggravated next to Luke.

 You were seconds away from crumbling, feeling extremely upset and overwhelmed. Michael placed a hand on your shoulder, hoping to ease some of your distress as you pulled into Luke’s driveway. 

Everyone got out of the car, leaving Austin stirring in his own anger. Ashton patted the top of the car twice before it drove away.

“Well, y/n you sure know how to pick em’” Luke commented. 

Calum shot him a disapproving look as you shoved past, running inside. 

You had officially reached your breaking point. You couldn’t have Luke but you were in too deep to be with anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Luke seemed to be taking pleasure in your misfortune for the night. 

You went straight for the bathroom. All the alcohol and confrontation hadn’t been kind to your stomach. 

You hunched over the toilet and began throwing up before you even got the chance to close the door all the way. Your eyes were red and stinging from your tears and your throat was stripped raw. Hugging your knees to your chest you sat with your back against the sink. 

Three soft knocks came from the cracked door and you peered up through cloudy eyes to see Ashton looking at you with pity clear on his face. 

“Can I come in?” 

You nodded into your knees, staring down at the familiar tiles of Luke’s bathroom. 

You couldn’t count how many times you had been in this exact spot. Whether it be dealing with the consequences of your unhealthy coping mechanism after a night out like you were now. Early mornings after sleeping over, sitting in the steam while Luke showered because he just couldn’t wait to tell you a story, or late nights he would convince you to paint his nails. All of it was replaying in your head. 

“Why can’t he just love me the way I love him?” you whimpered as a sob broke from your throat. 

Ashton was quick to wrap his arms around you, taking a seat on the floor. 

“It’s okay, y/n.” he shushed. “You’re okay. 

“I love him, Ash” your voice muffled from being pressed to his shoulder. 

“I know.” he comforted you, rocking your frame lightly. You sat in silence for a bit, trying to control your breathing. 

By the time you left the bathroom Calum and Michael were asleep on the couch and Luke and Hannah had gone to Luke’s room. Ashton laid on the couch with the other guys and you made your way to the guest room, falling asleep the second your head hit the pillow.   

You woke up early with a throbbing headache and an insatiable craving for iced coffee. There was no doubt in your mind that you were first one awake, the guys wouldn’t be up for hours. You tiptoed through the living room past a sleeping Michael, Calum, and Ashton being careful not to wake them. As you turned the corner to leave you heard a voice from the kitchen, 

“Morning,” Luke called, his gravelly voice making it very clear he had just woken up. He was leaning on the cabinet in a pair of sweats, a cup of coffee in hand. 

“Oh, you’re up.” you responded still moving towards the door. 

“Going somewhere?” he questioned walking towards you. 

“Yea I gotta go, I have uh…” your mind was drawing a blank. “ya know,  laundry.” 

“Wait,” he sprung forward in two big steps grabbing your shoulder. “as urgent as that sounds, I wanna talk.”

“‘bout what?” 

“I feel like I should apologize for last night.” 

“It’s okay, we can talk about it later. I really gotta get going.” 

“Y/n! Will you let me say sorry, please?” he pleaded 

“You have.” you replied nodding at him before turning away once again. 

“Fine, then can I ask why you tried to take someone home last night. You never do that.” 

“No reason.” you lied, opening the front door. 

“Really? Cause Cal said something last night about you being jealous or something and then I went to check on you and I overheard-” 

“I gotta go.” you panicked, taking a step outside. 

Right before the door swung closed and you made your escape Luke stopped it with his hand and spoke, 

“Are you in love with me?” 

You froze where you stood, squeezing your eyes shut completely mortified. 

Slowly, you spun back around to face Luke. He stepped out of the door frame allowing you reentrance and led you to the kitchen. Once you had both sat down he spoke again, 

“So is it true? What you told Ashton last night, is it true?” 

You placed your hands over your eyes and shook your head.

“Does it matter?” you responded. 

“Of course it matters, what do you mean?” 

“I mean you have Hannah and it doesn’t matter how I fe-” 

“Hannah’s gone.” he interrupted. 

“Gone?” 

“It wasn’t gonna work out with us. I ended things last night.” 

“Why would you end things with-” you paused, eyes narrowing.

Luke looked down, suddenly not wanting to meet your eyes. 

“Do you...you love me?” 

At this Luke shot up from his seat and started pacing around the kitchen.

“Well, of course I do. But I asked you first, and you can’t just..” he rambled on but you stopped listening after “of course I do” 

“Lu,” you said, standing up

He continued talking, not even hearing you over his own nervous talking and fidgeting. 

“Lu.” you called a bit louder. 

He turned to you, stopping mid sentence his mouth still hanging open. 

“I am.” 

“You…” he spoke slowly, eyes frozen on you.

“I am in love with you.” 

Both of you were frozen in place, terrified that if you moved you may wake up and discover this was all just a dream. You stayed like that for about a minute till you broke the silence. 

“I have been, for a couple years now. And I never told you, cause I always thought that-” you were cut off by Luke’s lips. 

He had one hand on the back of your neck and the other pulling you closer by the waist. You melted into the kiss pressing a hand to his chest. It may sound cliche but you swore you were seeing fireworks as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip.  

“I love you.” he sighed as you pulled apart. “I am so in love with you, fuck I can’t believe-” Before he had a chance to ramble again you pulled him back in for another kiss. 

After a few minutes you broke away to catch your breath. Luke moved his hands to cup both your cheeks, 

“Hi.” he cooed. 

“Hi” you smiled. “I need coffee” you turned away walking towards the kitchen.

“Hey no wait” he whined pulling you back by the waist. “m’not done kissing you.”

“We have plenty of time for that, but I need coffee now.” you teased pressing a swift kiss to his lips. 

“Mmm, I know but we’ve got a lot of catching up to do” he said chasing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as you walked to the coffee machine. 

As you fixed yourself a coffee, Luke's chin resting on the top of your head, you heard shuffling from the living room. When you looked up Michael was walking in with messy hair and eyes puffy from sleep. He glanced at you in Luke’s arms, his expression unchanging and mumbled while pulling orange juice from the fridge, 

“It’s about time.” 

#5sos imagine #5sos imagines #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #5sos one shot #5sos one shots #5sos blurbs #5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings one shots #luke hemmings blurb #5sos preferences #5sos drabbles #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer blurb

[todoscript]

loyalty

character: todoroki shouto.

warnings: suggestive language. a woman tries coming onto your man.

author’s note: was vibing with this with my girls the other night but might as well put the vibes on here too because we know that once shouto’s in love with you, he won’t ever betray that love

todoroki shouto

to cut to the chase, the very moment he realizes other women—whether they be heroes, news reporters, office workers, fans, etc.—start flirting with him his dick just goes limp.

soft, flaccid, not even the wind can get that thing to move

these ladies could go through the most tasteless ways, vying for his attention, like revealing clothing or unnecessary touching. still, he always gives them the bare minimum interaction, not so much as sparing a glance in their direction when he knows they’re just desperate to get in his pants.

he’s incredibly blunt and cold, and definitely isn’t shy about shoving them off when they get way too close, it’s pretty damn intimidating.

after all, we know how rude he can be when his patience gets tested.

they can go all they want at wasting his time, trying so desperately to garner his favor but as soon as you walk into the room, that’s a whole other story.

to those that only know him professionally, it’s staggering how quickly he softens up and goes starry-eyed for you.

a complete 180. like is this really the same man that nearly freezes nasty villains to death?

you can practically feel the devotion and adoration lighting in his eyes, all directed toward you. it’s only a matter of time before those ladies all give up.

they end up walking out of his agency with loud contempt in their heels at their utter humiliation.

- - - - -

Her nefarious attempts at wooing Shouto so far have all been fruitless, the wispy, exaggerated tone of her voice sounding like static every time it abandons her puckered lips. Grainy, annoying white noise. Shouto grimaces when he hears it, catching onto the game she’s trying to play.

His guest—a sidekick coming in place of her boss—circles the desk in his office, where the two were reviewing a plan devised to thwart a troublesome gang of villains. For any inessential reason, she’s checking her nails and tucking away stray strands of hair as if preparing herself for an interview—making herself presentable. Her hums threaten the silence, and he has a foreboding that these plans they’re going over are in a distant corner of her mind.

Now, Shouto more than realizes he’s an exceptionally desired man. He’s had his fair share of interviews and newspaper headlines depicting him as “the hot yet cool pro dominating the hero scene”. It didn’t take long for him to acknowledge the slew of admirers that came with his reputation and good looks. Some of which he’s had the displeasure of dealing with quite often nowadays.

Shouto sighs quietly. There comes a time when these “fans” come onto him too strongly that it becomes a hassle. Especially when they cross boundaries he has so critically established.

“C’mon, Shouto,” she muses freely, and the white and red-haired hero begins regretting the fact he took his own name as his hero alias. “Going over these plans is so boring, don’t you think? Why don’t we blow this joint and say… go out for lunch together, hmm?” She hits her shot again. There’s suggestion hidden in her faux naïveté, her act inflated by her fluttering eyelashes as Shouto turns to her.

Crossing his arms, his lips set into a frown. “You’re here for work, not to hang around and act like we’re friends,” he says firmly, piling bricks and binding them together with mortar to implant a wall he prays will drive off her desperation so he can finish this meeting quickly. The sidekick, however, seems determined to tear down these barriers as if the pro has issued an unspoken challenge. Her lips smothered in gloss upturn into a smirk.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she teases, hoisting herself onto the table next to the array of papers sprawled in front of him. She makes a point at crossing her legs, hoping he hooks onto the bait of her enticing display. To her dismay, Shouto doesn’t even blink, finding the material written on the papers more interesting.

Eyes widening, she questions the hero’s tenacity in disbelief. Her confidence stumbles amidst his lack of interest. She bites the inside of her cheek, pouting. Time for drastic measures.

Shimmying closer to Shouto, she leans forward, giving her voice a better path to intrude his ears with light whispers. “Don’t tell me you’ve been grumpy as if late because you haven’t had anyone to sleep with…” she taunts suggestively, glinting at how the hero’s muscles flex at her statement and assumes she’s finally pushed his buttons.

Oh yeah, she’s pushed some buttons alright. Little does she realize they’re all the wrong ones.

Diving brazenly into a torrent, the sidekick lifts a hand toward Shouto’s arm. “Y’know, I would gladly help you fix that if you let me—” Her words are thrown off, brought to an abrupt halt by him gripping her wrist.

The sudden tense, chilly air has the sidekick shivering at both the coldness and apprehension at what is in store for her.

“I’m sure you know by now that I’m taken,” Shouto emphasizes his words with a steely look in his mismatched eyes that nudge in the direction of your photo framed on his desk, your joyful yet spiritless expression unknowingly witnessing this woman’s acts on your man. She gulps, aware it is her own fault for choosing to ignore your picture and still have the audacity to try and have her ways with him. How despicable. Now she has to face the consequences.

Shouto cruelly shoves her hand from his grasp, his expression so sharp it almost pierces like daggers.

“So I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to pursue a man that obviously has no interest in you before I tell your boss that their sleazy sidekick can’t stay in line and perform her duties.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagine #bnha scenarios #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha headcanons #todoroki headcanons #todoroki imagine #shouto x reader #todoroki scenarios

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

#Kurt Kelly x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader #Bitch Reader #Mean Girl Reader #Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Heathers #Heathers x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot #Ram Sweeney

[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist  

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

#NCT-WRITERS #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #nct imagines #nct series #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct horror #nct 127 #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 horror #nct fics #nct 127 imagines #yandere jaehyun #nct 127 jaehyun #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun series #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 series

[babyboibucky]

Stages - Part 2

Pairing: AU!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,780

Summary: Bucky slowly realizes that he wants to cross the line of friendship with you.

A/N: Well, well, well. I obviously lost control and wrote a long-ass part lmfao

STAGES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

-

TWO: DENIAL

On the day you landed your first job, Nat decided that a night out must take place in order to celebrate. All your college friends were there: Bucky, Nat, Steve and Sam. All of you hopped from one bar to another, took body shots, played beer pong— basically, it was a crazy, wild night.

Knowing that you didn’t have the best tolerance for alcohol, Bucky kept his eye on you the entire night. He always made sure that you were safe whenever you all went clubbing and that night was no exception. Although he was extra protective of you and this didn’t go unnoticed.

“Someone do a body shot on me!” You screamed and hopped on top of the bar counter, earning cheers from everyone in the club.

“Quick, take a video of this!” Sam nudged Nat who immediately fished her phone out of her pocket.

Bucky restlessly stayed close to you to make sure that you weren’t going to do something stupid. You didn’t need to have alcohol in running in your system to do crazy shit, what more if you were actually shit-faced drunk.

“Put the salt on her tits!” Nat yelled.

Bucky glared at her and then turned to Steve with a shocked expression on his face, “What the actual fuck?”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “Well, what’s new?”

More cheers erupted from the crowd when you sat on the bar counter and let the bartender dust some salt into your cleavage.

“Any volunteers?” He asked.

“I’ll take the shot.”

Bucky’s ears perked at the voice of a guy, probably around your age. He was tall and lean, he was good-looking to be honest. But Bucky didn’t like his aura. At all. He didn’t like how the guy eyed you from head to toe, how he licked his lips as he squeezed through the crowd to get to you like a predator stalking its prey.

The guy was up to no good, Bucky could tell.

“You ready?” The bartender asked you.

“I was born ready!” You exclaimed at the top of your lungs, eyes lidded as the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed began to take over your senses.

Bucky could feel his blood boil with how the guy was too touchy as he waited for the bartender to give him his shot. The way his hands squeezed your waist, how they slid lower so he could get a feel of your ass. Or how he kept on whispering to your ear, his lips brushing against your cheek as you merely chuckled in your drunken stupor.

The bartender handed the shot glass to the guy and it was at that moment that Bucky knew that he wasn’t going to let the guy have his way with you.

“Hell fucking no.” Bucky said and rushed over to you, snatching the shot glass from the guy and gulping it down in one go.

“No body shots tonight, everybody. Have a great night!” Bucky said as he ushered you away from the perv.

The crowd booed Bucky as he glared at the guy who looked ready to deck him. Thank god for Steve who placed a heavy hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing it as a warning.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve pointed out.

Bucky pushed you away from the crowd despite your protests, “The fuck is wrong with you?” You slurred.

Bucky deadpanned, “That sleazy fucker was about to swallow your tits.” He said, sitting you down on one of the couches in the club.

You pouted, “I have salt all over my boobs.” You said, looking down at your cleavage before looking up at Bucky through your lashes as he stood in front of you.

Bucky blushed at how fucking innocent you looked, something he never really noticed about you until now. The way your eyes fluttered in an attempt to keep them open, how your cheeks were flushed from the tequila running through your body.

“Well, if you didn’t volunteer to do a fucking body shot then you wouldn’t have that problem.” Bucky scolded you, turning to Steve and grabbing the glass of water he had brought for you to drink.

“Here, drink.” Bucky instructed you, pushing the glass of water into your face.

You shook your head, “Clean it up first.” you told him.

“Clean what?” Bucky asked.

“The salt on my boobs. Clean it.” you said with a pout, finally drinking the glass of water and burping out loud afterwards, making Bucky cringe.

“Fuck no, wipe it off with a tissue. I’m not licking salt off of your chest.” He said.

“You’re no fun, Barnes.” You huffed out. “Imma go...fuck...I wanna throw up.” You hiccupped and stood up, wobbling your way towards the bathroom.

Bucky approached Nat and nagged her to follow you into the bathroom to make sure you were fine.

“You know, you’re acting strange.” Nat observed with a sly grin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re in love with your best friend.” She teased.

“First of all, that’s gross. And second, everyone knows how much of a pain in my ass she is when drunk. I’m preventing said pain in my ass, that’s all.” Bucky defended. “Now go and follow her, make sure she throws up in the toilet and not on the ground.” Bucky said and pushed Nat towards the direction of the bathroom.

“Fuck no, I’m not cleaning up her mess. Why don’t you go instead?” Nat complained before walking away.

Bucky? In love with you?

“Me? In love with her? Gross.” Bucky uttered under his breath, unable to notice that Nat was smirking as she walked away and disappeared into the dance floor.

Bucky snapped out of his trance when he heard Sam’s voice calling for him. He grunted when he looked around and saw that Nat had disappeared. Looking over at Sam who was watching drunken girls squeal as they rushed out of the bathroom, he figured out that you failed to reach the toilet before actually puking.

Running a hand through his hair, Bucky quickly ran to the bathroom and sighed when he saw you kneeling by the entrance, your vomit pooling around your knees.

“Good god.” he huffed and bent over to pick you up, “I fucking knew you wouldn’t make it. C’mere.” he said and brought you over to the sink.

Bucky made sure to hold your hair, keeping it away from your face as you continued to throw up for the next minute.

“You’re disgusting, Christ.” Bucky said as he watched you heave out a couple more times before whining.

“My throat is burning and the world is spinning.” you sang, gripping onto the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

Seeing how fucking drunk you were, Bucky turned on the faucet and began cleaning you up almost drowning you when he continuously splashed water onto your face. He then took out his handkerchief, soaked it in water and began wiping your arms and legs which had remnants of your vomit.

“Bucky.” you slurred as you leaned against the sink while Bucky was bent down, cleaning up your legs.

He hummed in response but didn’t say anything.

“Buckyyy, bonky boo...booboo...” you giggled.

Bucky looked up at you with a confused look on his face, “The fuck are you saying?”

“Are you my boyfriend?” you suddenly asked.

“How many fucking shots did you take?” Bucky asked as he stood up, unable to bite back his amusement at your antics.

“What’s your shirt made of, huh? Boyfriend material? ‘Cause you look like a boyfriend...my boyfriend.” you said and laughed, throwing your head back.

Bucky felt his heart flutter as he gazed at you with a certain glint in his eyes. You looked so carefree with your head thrown back as you laughed. Even with your face all wet from the water and your hair sticking on your forehead, you looked really pretty. Hell, you smelled like vomit and yet Bucky found himself adoring you as you kept giggling and slurring your words.

Nat’s words rang in his head like an alarm, sending his senses into overdrive and panic.

If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re in love with your best friend.

As if it was all the wake up call that he needed, Bucky’s eyes went wide as he shook his head.

“Fuck no.” he said as he stared at you, neck and ears red at all the weird thoughts crowding his brain.

He began slapping your cheek gently, “You look ugly and you smell like vomit. Definitely not girlfriend material.” he said and it was most likely directed at himself rather than at you.

As if he was reminding himself that you were still the same girl in college who had the ugliest haircut he had ever seen.

-

“God, I fucking hate these heels.” You complained as you bent down to fix the strap while you gripped Bucky’s arm for support.

“Maybe if you actually listened to me and bought the other pair I showed you, you wouldn’t be whining like a fucking bitch.” Bucky complained as he watched you fiddle with the straps every now and then.

“That pair was hideous!” You told Bucky as you straightened up, your hand still wrapped around his arm.

“Hideous but comfortable. Don’t make me fucking carry you when you finally decide to give up on those damn shoes.” He said, waving over at the waiter passing by to grab some champagne.

Bucky frowned when he saw someone arrive at the reception of your cousin’s wedding. He quickly handed you the glass of champagne, “You’re gonna need this.” He whispered, tipping his head towards your father who just showed up.

You knew that your father will be attending your cousin’s wedding, it was the reason why your mom who was supposedly your plus one, decided not to go. So automatically, you had asked Bucky to accompany you knowing that you’ll be seeing your father again after the divorce, ten years ago.

If only you didn’t love your cousin, you would’ve ditched her wedding for sure.

Your breath hitched when you followed the direction of Bucky’s eyes. True enough, your father was there and he wasn’t alone; someone younger was clutching his arm, smiling sheepishly at your aunts and uncles that your father had approached. You downed the champagne in one go and wished it was enough to loosen up your nerves.

“Can you stop squeezing my arm?” Bucky asked, feeling your fingers clench around his elbow tightly.

Your grip on Bucky tightened even more when your father’s gaze landed on you. The closer he got to where you and Bucky stood, the tighter you held onto Bucky.

“Breathe.” Bucky bent down to whisper to you as he gently removed your hand from his arm so he could place it on the small of your back for support.

“Wow. Hi.” Your father greeted you with a smile. He glanced over at Bucky and tipped his head in acknowledgment.

Bucky offered a tight-lipped smile before focusing his attention on you. You looked pale, not even your make-up managed to give color to your face at that moment.

“How have you been? It’s been...so long.” Your father asked and Bucky could tell that the question was genuine.

But he also knew that you hated your father with a passion and that no matter how sincere he would be, it wouldn’t be enough for you to forgive him. It was as if you spaced out and if Bucky hadn’t gently tapped your back, you wouldn’t have responded.

“I’m good.” You stated, voice small and shaky.

Bucky noticed that your father too didn’t know what to do or say. The both of you just remained still with unspoken questions hanging in the air. The woman beside your father must’ve felt that awkward atmosphere and cleared her throat.

“Hi, I’m Diana. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She chirped and extended a hand.

Bucky watched as your eyes slowly went from Diana’s face down to her hand where two rings sat on her finger, one with a princess-cut diamond and the other, a simple silver band but with tiny diamonds studded around it.

“You’re married?” You asked your father, leaving Diana’s hand hanging in the air awkwardly.

“You actually remarried.” You bitterly chuckled. “For how long?” You asked.

Bucky’s hand on your back was now wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady on your feet.

Your father opened his mouth but nothing came out. It was then that Bucky understood the gravity of the situation. You’d told him about your parents’ divorce, how they slowly started to lose interest in each other and how they ended up fighting daily. All these years you thought that it was a simple falling out, that one day they both woke up knowing that they no longer loved each other.

Diana straightened her posture, “Ten years.” She responded.

All hell broke loose.

A string of hushed curses escaped from your mouth as you angrily addressed your father’s betrayal. You’d been angry at him for giving up on your mom that easily, for not fighting for your custody...for simply disappearing from your life after the divorce.

All this time you’d been angry at him for all the wrong reasons.

He’d been cheating on your mom. It was the reason why he had signed the papers immediately and without any hesitation. You couldn’t understand why your mom hid this from you, why she never told you the real reason why she filed for a divorce.

“I will never ever fucking forgive you.” It was the last thing you said before running out of the venue, your painful heels long forgotten.

Bucky ran after you and grabbed your arm, stopping you in the middle of the hotel lobby. You thought he was going to reprimand you for being rude to your father or that he was going to ask you to go back to the reception and finish the program out of respect. But instead, Bucky bent down and started to unbuckle the straps of your heels.

“If you’re going to dramatically walk out, make sure you won’t fall flat on your fucking face. That shit’s embarrassing as fuck.” Bucky said and carefully removed your heels.

He knew you were holding back your tears and he honestly thought that the dam was going to break. But remained stubborn and managed to suppress your emotions. For some reason, Bucky wanted to pull you into his embrace and tell you that it was okay to cry.

“Go forth and walk out.” Bucky dramatically told you, motioning towards the grand double doors of the hotel.

A smile. Bucky felt proud for making you smile despite the tension a few minutes ago. He watched you chuckle at his gesture and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh along.

“C’mon, let’s go buy some burgers. Food here is shit anyway.” He told you as he began to walk towards the exit.

However, you remained standing behind him with a frown as you stooped down to your feet. Bucky grunted, “Please don’t tell me—“

“My feet hurt.” You told him.

Bucky rolled his eyes but walked back towards you, groaning as he turned on his back and bent down, “Hop on, bitch.”

You quickly jumped on his back and wrapped your arms around his neck, grabbing your heels from Bucky’s hand so he could carry you properly, “And I thought you said you wouldn’t carry me.” You teased.

“Knowing how much of a whiny bitch you are, I’d rather carry your heavy ass than deal with your complaints.”

Bucky bit back the smile that had been tugging at his lips. He could smell your shampoo at how close your face was to him, could feel the smoothness of your legs as he held onto them; how you held onto him.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You told him ever so softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He knew that you weren’t just thanking him for carrying you. You were also grateful for him simply being there when things went to shit with your father. If he wasn’t there, you probably wouldn’t know how to deal with the situation. And you appreciated how he didn’t stop you from your outburst, how he didn’t force you to go back in and apologize for the scene you had caused.

Bucky supported you in all the ways you needed him to support you.

“Anything for you.” Bucky replied, but only in his mind because he wasn’t quite ready to face the truth.

The truth that his heart was beginning to flutter whenever you were around.

-

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[liron-ao3]

A person called home

Izzy kicks her high heels off and throws her keys on the sideboard standing in the foyer of her mansion. She winces at the loud noise it makes. Simon surely is already asleep. Or was, until she clopped into their house in the middle of the night, half-asleep after several days of night-shooting in a row.

It's still new that Simon lives here, and Izzy still can't help grinning every time she sees his minivan parked in their garage.

She only has a few hours until she needs to return to the set. She loves her job as an actress, but sometimes, the fee is much more smart money than wages.

Izzy finds Simon sleeping on the sofa, the DVD screensaver running over the TV screen. She smiles down at him. She knows that he hates to lie in their bed without her.

She breathes a sigh and nudges on his leg. Simon stirs in his sleep, his nose scrunching up in the most adorable way.

"Come on, Si. Time to go to bed," Izzy says, and he blinks his eyes open. He adjusts his glasses and sits up.

"How was your day, babe?" he asks, voice rough from sleep.

"Long," Izzy replies. "Come to bed. I'm falling asleep on my feet."

They undress and meet each other naked under the sheets. This is what coming home truly feels like to Izzy. It could happen in a fleabag anywhere. Izzy doesn't need all this luxury her success in the film industry bestowed on her. All she needs is curling up around her boyfriend and sleeping in his arms.

 ***

Sometimes, Izzy still can't believe this is real.

Izzy had been so ambitious. She wanted to make it in Hollywood, come hell or high water. She didn't have time for men, saw them as dispensable for the longest of time. Most men in the business were too shallow for her taste, and those who weren't were already taken. But Izzy would never intrude and break up a marriage. She had seen how much her mother suffered during her parents' divorce. Izzy would never be the reason for such heartache.

While the press speculated about secret lovers and her sexuality, Izzy took one of her brothers or friends to awards shows, learnt to deal with paparazzi, and focused on becoming a better actress and getting more trying roles.

Deflecting in interviews had become second nature by then. Laughing off questions about her being lonely cut her heart into pieces. Of course, she wasn't lonely. She was way too busy for that. That didn’t mean she didn't feel lonely in a hotel room somewhere in the world, despite video calls home and after-shooting meet-ups with the crew.

But her brother Alec aside, she didn't tell anyone. It had been during a video call, and she was more than just a little inebriated, when she told him how much she envied him for his happy little family. She wanted that, too. Not the kids. Not yet, maybe never. But someone who felt like home.

Little did she know that the very next day, her dreams would come true.

 ***

It was a grey autumn day three years ago. Fog was lying over the small town where Izzy was shooting a psychological thriller. Like every morning, she walked down to the breakfast room where she heard her co-star yelling at the poor serving staff.

"What do you mean there's no coffee? Not that I expected much from this shithole in the boondocks, but coffee is the least one should offer."

"Sir, the machine broke down," the poor server tried.

"I don't care! Bring me the manager!"

Izzy turned on the spot and left the hotel. The world thought her colleague was a kind, beautiful man, but she had seen past the facade on day one.

It wasn't only his sleazy manners and 'innocent' touches that weren't necessary for the scenes or the social situations they found themselves in. It was also the nonchalance with which he hit on every woman on set as if there wasn't a gorgeous wife with three beautiful kids waiting for him at home.

If Izzy could avoid her caffeine-deprived and handsy co-star, then she would take the chance.

She should have gone back to her room to grab a coat, but the early morning sun shone, and she didn't want to risk running into the scumbag on the upper floor, if he should decide to go back to his room.

The autumn leaves crunched underneath her feet as she walked down the pavement. She caught sight of a paparazzi on the other end of the street, but she ignored him. Instead, she hurried to the sweet little café she had seen through the car window every time she had been brought to the set.

From the outside, it seemed cosy and inviting. As soon as she entered, the smell of freshly baked scones rose into her nose. A patron sat on either side of the café, one glanced up from his newspaper, the other ignored her. No one approached her, so she went to the counter and waited as any other customer would.

The café looked like a mix between a comic book store and an art studio with original drawings adorning the walls and antiques scattered around the small space.

Curiosity spread in Izzy's chest. Who might be the owner of such a place?

The answer came instantly in the form of a glasses-wearing, Batman shirt sporting man about her age, who entered from the back. He nearly let the tray with fresh scones fall to the floor when he caught sight of her. A few scones rolled over the ground, and the man dove down, nearly losing even more until he put the tray aside to fish for the others.

Izzy snickered at the sight. The man looked adorable as he apologised a thousand times for being so clumsy, cheeks dusted in a beautiful pink, and his glasses sliding along his nasal bridge, causing him to stop his task and adjust their placement again and again.

When he finally got back on his feet, the fallen scones pushed into the pockets of his apron, he also got around to greeting her. "Go-od morning, Ms Lightwood. What can I do for you?"

Izzy snickered. "Call me Isabelle. And if you can manage, I'd like a cherry scone and the biggest cup of black coffee that you can handle." She smiled at him brightly, making him blush crimson.

"But of course. Please, take a seat."

The coffee was actually very good, the scone to die for, and that's how Izzy started to have breakfast there every single morning for the rest of her stay.

She talked with the owner—his name being Simon, as it turned out—talked about comics and how a New Yorker like him had ended up in this little town.

The little café became Izzy's shelter from bothersome co-stars and paparazzi. Simon wouldn't let in either, and the locals kept a respectful distance after everyone who wanted one had received an autograph and selfies with the movie star.

Whenever her schedule allowed, one could find Izzy at Simon's café, marvelling at the latest addition to his own graphic novel that he was writing and his best friend Clary was drawing, and the latest songs he practised, some of them his own compositions.

They exchanged childhood memories of growing up in the Big Apple, and shared private stories after closing time. Never since she had become a household name had Izzy opened up to a stranger like this. But Simon wasn't a stranger anymore. Far from it.

"When will they wrap up the filming?" Simon asked one day when Izzy hadn't left after breakfast.

She smiled at him shyly. "We finished two days ago."

"And you're still here? Not fed up with the locals yet?" he smirked.

Izzy tilted her head to the side and looked at him through her eyelashes, only her perfect makeup covering up the blush crawling into her cheeks. "I like it here. It's peaceful."

"But don't you miss your family? I'm sure Max and Rafael have grown like crazy since you've been gone."

Butterflies stormed through Izzy's body, not for the first time. The ease with which Simon soaked up every bit of info, cared for her well-being and her as a person, always set them in motion. Simon saw her. Not a famous actress, despite being a fan of her work. But she was also a friend now. Izzy wondered if only she wanted them to be something different as well.

"I guess. But they'll have to wait until Tuesday."

Simon chuckled. "Why's that?"

"Because," she started, stretching out the word, "if everything goes as planned, I'll buy the estate house on Monday."

Simon's mouth fell open, and Izzy pushed it close with tender fingers that lingered for a long moment.

"You wanna live here?" he croaked.

"If there's someone who'd like me to stay," she replied cautiously. "I'd still be away a lot, but… I think I might find…"

"What?" he whispered, leaning heavily against the counter.

"A home here."

Izzy's heart nearly beat out of her chest. Here she was, offering it on a silver platter, not knowing if the gift was wanted.

Sure, they had had moments over the last few weeks—long looks, lingering touches, private smiles. It all felt so real, especially compared to her workplace where pretty much everything was fake. But she had to leave soon, and she had to play her hand, not sure if they were even playing the same card game.

"With you," she said, time frozen for a moment that felt like an eternity.

But then, Simon's lips curled into a wide smile. "With me?"

"Yeah. I mean, I get that you might not want to move in right away. But I'd like to try this. With you. I haven't felt this alive for a very long time, the way I feel when I'm with you. So… what do you say? Should I buy the house or leave and never come back?"

Simon worried his lip between his teeth, still grinning. "If it's in your means, I think you should buy it," he said. "I'd really like that."

Izzy sat at the counter for the rest of the day and helped Simon to close up the shop at the end of the afternoon.

"Can I finally see the backroom?" she asked, putting the last chair up on the table.

"You wanna see my stockroom?" Simon asked, surprised.

"No," Izzy grinned. "But I wanna kiss you and these blinds aren't paparazzi proof."

"Oh," was all that Simon managed before he stumbled to the rear of his shop, Izzy on his heels.

Some bags of flour got damaged in the process of their first kiss and Izzy's dress ruined. But it was absolutely worth it.

***

Izzy's alarm goes off at 7 am after only five hours of sleep. Simon tightens his hold around her waist. "Don't."

Izzy presses a kiss to his pouting lips. "Just one more week, and then, I'm all yours, babe."

His hold grows even tighter. "See you tonight. Take care," he murmurs and pulls her into a deep kiss. "I'll try to stay up till you come."

She knows he likely won't make it. But as long as she can sleep in his arms, it's worth the two-hour drive through the night until she's home.

#Sizzy #human au #actress isabelle lightwood #coffee shop owner simon lewis #holywood #coffee shop au #sizzy fandom #sizzy fanfic #sizzy fic #sizzy fanfiction #oneshot #sizzy oneshot

[cafedanslanuit]

pairing: shigaraki x reader

tags/warnings: college!au, sweet, suggestive themes, alcohol usage

summary: tomura comes back to his dorm wasted and you try to get him to rest for the night.

a/n: shigaraki in a college!au is all i want, all i need

words: 1.4k

Before turning the page, you stretched your arms to the ceiling, sighing happily when your back cracked. It was already two in the morning but there was no chance you were putting that book down anytime soon. Tomura had gone out to a get together with his friends so you had the liberty to keep the lights on without having to listen to anyone complaining about not being able to sleep due to the light hitting their eyes. Not that you didn’t love spending time with Tomura but sometimes having a night alone was just what you needed.

Just as soon as you had turned the page, the door opened with a loud bang. Soon after, your boyfriend entered the room, his arm around Dabi’s neck. The latter one held him up for a couple of steps and then let him fall ungraciously on the bed.

"What happened?" you asked, getting the covers off and standing up to check on your boyfriend.

"He got drunk. And I'm no babysitter. He's your problem now," he shrugged. He turned on his heel and started walking to the door.

"What did he drink?"

"Whiskey," he answered, turning back his head to you. He laughed at your disgusted frown. "Yeah, I know," he said and disappeared through the door.

Sighing, you looked at the limp body of Tomura, half laying on the bed. You pulled him by his arms and tried to sit him up, but he wouldn't bulge. You then tried to pull him from his shoulders and he finally seemed to snap out of it.

"Hey," he greeted you with a sleazy smile. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

"Hey, drunkard. Gonna get you out of this so you can rest, okay?" you said, trying to take his red leather jacket off. He hummed in response and let you take his jacket. You threw it on a chair and then came back to him, who was swinging a little on the bed. “You know how bad you handle whiskey,” you reminded him, passing a hand through his hair.

“I know,” he sighed, opening his legs and pulling you closer. You raised your eyebrows, not used to this kind of physical intimacy with him, but decided to go with it. He put his arms around your waist and plastered his face against your stomach. You couldn’t help but smile at his antics and when he raised his face, you bent down to kiss his forehead.

Somehow, he was quicker and pulled you down, kissing you on the lips instead. He shifted on the bed and brought you down with him, so you were straddling him. You felt your breath caught on your throat at the hardness between his legs. You hadn’t been dating for long and your sexual advances had been shot down before, so you were surprised at how bold Tomura was being. You felt his harsh lips kissing your neck and your body instinctively moved closer to him.

“You okay?” you asked, suppressing a moan when you felt his hands wandering underneath your clothes and over the small of your back.

“Why?” he grunted, biting your neck. You gasped and rolled your hips against his. Your head spinned as he looked for your lips again, the bitter taste of alcohol against your tongue. He bucked his hips up, eliciting another moan and let himself fall on the bed bringing you down with him.

With hasty pulls and uncoordinated maneuvers, he got rid of your top and widened his eyes at the sight of your black bra. His hands went to your sides, still too nervous to actually touch you. Tomura looked back at your eyes, his face red and his breathing ragged. He pulled you down again and rolled over the bed so you were under him, his lips attached to your neck again, this time slowly going further and further down your chest.

“Tomura,” you say, and he looked up to you, eyes unfocused and lips swollen.

You wished you could be down for it. Hell, you had been dreaming about finally crossing that barrier with him, but not like this. Not while he can’t even look at you properly.

“Maybe we should sleep a little. You must be tired from the party,” you said, and his expression fell in an instant. He kissed your cheeks messily, leaving traces of saliva on your skin.

“C’mon, I just want to touch you. Please let me touch you,” he whispered and you heart ached.

“I want you to,” you assured him. “I do. But you’re too drunk. Let's do this tomorrow.”

Tomura’s face turned into a grimace and he swallowed thick. 

“If you’re so disgusted by me then just say it. You’ve been making a good job at hiding it so far,” he muttered, his gaze away from yours. You furrowed your eyebrows and forced him to turn his face back at you.

“Tomura,” you said, holding his cheeks between your hands. “I want to suck your dick,” you announce and his eyes widened again, but quickly went back to his guarded stance. “I really do. I’ve wanted to for quite some time now. But I’m not sucking you while drunk. I want you to actually remember it, because I happen to have a good game, okay? I promise I will suck your dick the next time you’re not this drunk.”

His face went red again and after a couple of seconds of intense staring, you noticed him slowly nodding at your words.

“Good,” you sighed and pushed him away from you and onto the bed. You turned your back at him and took off your bra and put your top on again. You stood in front of him, arms resting on your hips. “Shoes,” you instruct, and he slowly lifted his legs so you could take his combat boots off. You decided he wouldn’t die because he slept with his jeans and just helped him  get on his bed turning to the side.

Tomura tried to lay on his stomach but you moved him to his side again. He grunted in discontent but you ignored him, hopping on the bed and spooning him from the back.

“I don’t want you choking on your vomit. Neither do I want you puking over me, so you’re sleeping like that,” you explained to him, putting your arm around his waist. “Goodnight. Love you.”

This time, it was your turn to open your eyes in shock. You had never told him you loved him before. You did, of course you did, but you certainly didn’t want to tell him while he was drunk out of his mind and you had just told him you didn’t want him to puke all over you.

Tomura stayed in silence and when you looked over at his expression, you realized he was fast asleep. You sighed in relief and made yourself comfortable on the bed, pressing your nose against the back of his neck.

…

“What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes opened slowly, watching Tomura pace around his room. You let out a yawn and stretched on the bed, awaiting for him to elaborate.

“Where the fuck is my wallet?” he asked, searching around, lifting every piece of clothing that was sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t know. Ask Dabi, he was the one who brought you here,” you said. Tomura looked back at you and rolled his eyes.

“Of course that fucker did. I hate him so much,” he grunted and went back to bed, sitting down on the edge and looking at you. “And what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice much softer.

You pulled him down and pressed your lips against his. He choked back a gasp but let you maneuver him until he was laying on top of you, your lips moving softly while your hands were threading around his disheveled locks.

“I told you last night I was sucking your dick,” you smirked at him, Tomura immediately tensing up at your words. Your lips travelled to his neck, where you left soft kisses on top of all his scars. “But if you forgot it’s okay,” you added in a playful tone.

Almost as a reflex, you felt Tomura’s hands gripping your waist tightly, holding you close while you looked for his soft spot. After a low grunt and a roll of his hips, you knew you had found it.

“Want me to call Dabi to ask for your wallet?” you teased him and Tomura chuffed.

“Shut up,” he hissed, crashing his lips against yours.

#bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha #bnha

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by The Moon and Stars • 08

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors Author’s notes: Had a hard time with this one. 

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8: Master Plan

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Surgeons always have a plan, that’s what Y/N picked up from her mother over the years. They knew what scalpel they needed, where to cut or clamp down. But even with their carefully crafted plans, there are unexpected things bound to arise that we don’t originally consider.

“Stop moving.”

Because that was not a part of her plan. So she began to formulate a new one:

a) Surely if she were to scream now, it would alert professor McGonagall. She would come rushing to help and free her.

b) But if she stepped on the person's shoe while screaming, it would distract them just long enough for her to have a head start. The pain would be so sudden that they would drop their arms and she could run. If she focused hard enough too, she could channel magic around her. Besides, if all else fails, McGonagall would still be there.

Option b) sounded like a great plan.

Now that her attacker's hand was drawn back, Y/N opened her mouth until she promptly shut it again. In the dark, she vaguely makes out a tall figure coming into view, a familiar mop of fawn-like hair appearing from behind her.

It was Remus.

With his presence, her body instantly relaxes. Her shoulders slump as tension and fear slowly dissolve. Remus tosses her a glance, shooting a gentle smile before his face darkens as he nods. He brings a finger to his lips, warning them to not interrupt.

To her delight, Y/N feels the person’s grip loosen even more, however, their arms were still caged and secured snuggly. Her heart slowed, becoming calmer as her brain moved from the idea of self-defence to confusion.

McGonagall finally enters the main corridor. From where they stood, her back faced them as she peered around the darkness, gripping the base of her candelabra. It glowed brightly, lighting up the surrounding area.

This was the only time Y/N had seen her professor after official school hours. Her outfit was mismatched; a soft pyjama set, with her school robes and heels on. She swore she had a sleeping mask hanging around her neck. Had pure adrenaline not been coursing through her veins, she would have snorted.

Remus uses this to his advantage as he shuffles his way towards McGonagall. He brushes off the non-existent dust from his suit before he reaches into his pocket, placing a shiny pin on the breast pocket. He then coughs, gaining her attention.

Startled, McGonagall wheeled her head, “Mr. Lupin! What are you doing here?”

He puts his hands in the pocket of his suit cooly. “Good evening professor. I’m doing my rounds. I actually just came from Slughorn's party a while ago.” He says, gesturing to his unusual patrol outfit.

McGonagall remains silent, choosing to take in his appearance. Y/N can almost see the confusion written on her face. She peers sternly over her glasses to look at Remus. If he was nervous, he hid it well because his expression managed to stay unchanged and there was no trace of a lie. Her eyes scan him one last time before speaking, “You’re not supposed to be on rounds tonight.”

“I switched places last minute with another prefect. They weren’t feeling well.” Remus quickly adds on, “— you might know them? Calwald; sixth year Slytherin.”

“Ah, yes… I heard footsteps coming from here. Did you see anyone?”

Remus looks like he’s thinking quickly. “Yeah, just a first year Slytherin. I escorted them to their common room.”

Professor McGonagall’s unnerving gaze even made Y/N shudder. She tuts, her head drops in a small nod. She stands tall, “Very well then, goodnight Remus.”  

“Goodnight, Professor.”

The soft clicks of her heels started up again. McGonagall heads in the opposite direction of the Slytherin common room while Remus pretends to walk away before pressing himself against a wall, camouflaging with the shadows in case their teacher were to look back. The echoing became quieter until only a soft, almost inaudible clicking came from the distance. The glow from her candles was gone and darkness surrounded them again.

Y/N was made acutely aware of the other person’s hold around her waist once it slackens, pulling away from her. The heavy fabric is dragged off her body before she turns over to her attacker.

“Sirius?”

She jerks away as far as she could, angrily. Her fingers twitched momentarily.

“You almost ruined it,” he spits out cold and aggressively. His bluish-grey eyes stormed, ripples of angry waves rolling from them. From the proximity, she swore she could feel the venom dripping from him as she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. "And you bit me!"

She should have bitten harder.

She hisses back, “Shut it! How was I supposed to know that you were sneaking around?”

“Pads!” James growls, yanking at Sirius’ shoulder, “Fucking leave her alone. You’ve done enough today.”

“You gits!” Remus scolds, making his way back to the secret passage. He remained calm, directing his next sentences to the boys. “It was a mistake, okay? Calm the fuck down or you two will get us caught.”

Sirius huffs out, childishly. “Whatever you say Moomy.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“What’s going on?” Y/N askes.

At this, Sirius calms down a bit before he looks at Y/N again, a strange expression settles on his face. James on the other hand is ecstatic, “Right! We’re setting up the last part of the plan right now. The itching spray!”

Oh!"

“Yeah. Wormy is already inside the Slytherin common room making sure the spiders and Dungbombs we put in there are working.”

“Did you say he’s inside their common room?”

At this, his smile grows, “Got their password by waiting outside their door and Polyjuice potion. Our dear Moony brewed it.” Remus’ face is smug, his chest puffed out.

“Holy shit! I didn’t know you took it this seriously. Couldn't you be expelled for this?!”

"Godric, maybe Remus needs to give you his prefect title."

“I’ll gladly give it to you — fuckin’ hate being one.” Remus jokes, “Nah, we’ll be fine as long as we don’t get caught.”

“We’ve got our goody-two-shoes over here. Everyone loves him, won’t suspect a thing.” James says. Her eyes are back on Remus, sweeping from his face then down to his shiny prefect badge.

“I’m their scapegoat.”

Sirius sighs impatiently before cutting in, “Alright, I’m sure you can go now. McGonagall is long gone.”

Everyone shoots him a look.

“Oi! No! Please join us!” James whines, “You’re already here and trust me it’ll be so fun!”

“He’s right, join us,” Remus says, “Besides, you suggested it and it’ll be safer and easier to cover our tracks.”

It sounded exciting and she did need a pick-me-up considering her wavering emotions lately. Although Sirius’ jaw clenched. He was scowling at her.

“I’d love to join you,” she says, looking Sirius in the eyes.

A silent whooping came from James who balled his fist, throwing them into the air in celebration. They huddled together just as Remus led them out of the passage and through the dark.

James, who shared qualities of a golden retriever, walked by her side, a pep in his step. "You get to see the action first-hand, excited?"

“Of course!”

James rambles on before his eyes gloss over. He’s unusually quiet. Simultaneously, he grabs her hand and stops abruptly, dragging her to the back of the group. He lends in to whisper, his eyes flicking momentarily to Sirius, “Why were you with him?”

“Who?” She whispers back.

“Regulus Black.”

“Oh, we were at the Slug Cl —” She cuts herself off as she realizes, her eyes widened before staring at him, “You were following me!?”

“No! No!” He says, bringing his hands up defensively, waving them around. "You were walking in the same direction as him! To the Slytherin common room! It wasn't on purpose!"

“I — how did you — I didn’t even see you!” She thought back to the crinkling noise, “Wait, we heard you!”

He sighs a bit as he pulls out a large fluid-like, shimmery, silvery cloak. Upclose, silver threads were woven onto it, patterns swirling into regal shapes. He handed her the cloak to feel. It was silky smooth and glittered prettily in the light. It looked similar to the reflection of stars in a lake at night.

“You’re not telling me this is a…” she gaped.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear as if it were sewn on his face permanently. In a way, it looked rather demonic. He looked as if his face were going to split into two. “You betcha! An invisibility cloak.”

Her mind finally caught up to her once again before thinking back to what James asked. “Why’d you want to know about Regulus?”

“Huh! E-erm… no reason.”

She punches him softly in the arm. “You lying bastard! You can’t be nosey and not tell me? He’s not… bad? Is he? I quite like him.”

“No he’s not… just —” James cuts himself off, fearing he might have said too much. He did not expect the conversation to turn in this direction. He quickly averts her attention to another topic. “The Slug Club?” He says loud enough so the entire group can hear, “How was it?”

She would make sure to push him on the topic later.

Meanwhile, Remus and Y/N groaned.

“Awful.”

“Dreadful.”

“Nosey git.”

“Happily annoying.”

“He must be an actual slug. He’s slimy and boring.”

“Merlin! It can’t be that bad!”

“Oh trust us,” Remus addresses, “It’s worse. The entire time he went on and on about stupid shit. Like what was it he said?” He looks at Y/N.

“Ugh, what?”

“When he went on about that kid— what was his name… Seán?”

“Ah! Wait,” she straightened up and mocked their professor. She fake coughs for dramatic effect. “Your aunt created the Capmisted potion! Ah yes, brilliant, brilliant! I wish I taught her when she was at Hogwarts. Say, you’re still close, right? Why don’t we invite her to come to one of these parties one day?”

Her painful attempt at a British accent made them laugh.

“What a fucking sleazy bloke,” Remus chokes out.

They continued to make their way down to the Slytherin common room. All four jumped at the sound of footsteps before Y/N felt the invisibility cloak being tossed over her body, along with the rest of the boys too. They waited until it passed before finally stopping at the dungeons.

The entrance to the common room was by a stretch of stone. The area was dimly lit, the ceiling was low and had an eerie look and feel to it. Plus the cold only made Y/N rub her hands up and down her arms, goosebumps left in their trail. A dripping sound encompassed them like a makeshift metronome.

It made her feel uneasy.

Peter, who was crouched and small, hid in the shadows and would’ve gone unseen had he not popped out and scared all of them.

“For fucks sake Wormtail! We thought you were a Slytherin earlier.”

Peter was gleeful. He donned a large smirk and his face was slightly red. The Polyjuice was almost completely worn off, however, Peter had a full head of black, thick hair. “I checked everything, the traps should be set to release at eight o’clock.”

“An hour long?”

“Needs time to travel around the room.”

“Positive?”

“Positive.”

“Now comes the fun part,” James nudges her.

“Oh, hi Y/N,” Peter says slightly confused.

“Hey, Pete, here to watch if you don’t mind.”

Peter takes a moment to look at the rest of the group, “More the merrier!”

“Alright, you geezas! Let's get this party started!” James announces. He digs through the side bag he was carrying, pulling out four pairs of dragonhide gloves and tosses them to the boys. “Sorry, haven’t got any for ya. Would’ve brought an extra if I knew you were comin’.”

“It's alright.”

“Okay,” Remus says before crouching down, a large bag on his side. “I’ll start attaching everything, you know what to do and be careful. Remember, do not touch your eyes.”

He looks up at her, “Y/N if you could, it would be helpful to be on the watch out.”

“Gladly.”

Remus unscrewed bottle after bottle, attaching nozzles on them while James helped him. Peter slid out a ladder that was concealed by magic in a slim nook. As he scaled it, Sirius held on tightly to it before he cast a charm to prevent it from sliding around.

Up high, concealed by darkness and magic, revealed hundreds of identical bottles before Remus sprang up, switching places with Peter as he attached the rest of the bottles onto a huge system.

It looked similar to a new-maj mechanical system. The components consisted of small wires, a timer, tape and string connected to them all, along with a small lever that was attached to the underside of a brick. With the aid of magic, they were all securely set into place and ready to be activated.

“What is that?” She turned to Peter.

“Moonys got the bottles up there programmed to spray every time certain people leave the common room. See, look,” he points to the almost non-existent glow on the wires.

She marvelled at their creation. It was large and must’ve spent hours trying to conduct it. Sirius and James were helping Remus by passing him the bottles and securing them to the top of the roof.

If only Lily was here to see this. She would have an aneurysm.

At one point, Peter had been passing the bottles up to Remus while Sirius and James fiddled around with extra dungbombs they had, scattering them around.

“Jeez, Moons, my arms feel like they’re on fire.”

Peter did look worn out before he panted out. His forehead was starting to glean from sweat.

“Why don’t I do it for now?” She says to him before looking up to Remus.

“Only if you want to.”

The two switched places and Peter handed her his gloves. She slipped them on before enchanting them to fit snugly around her hands. Bending down, she picked up a few bottles. They were unexpectedly very heavy. She understood why Peter had to take a break. Although Remus seemed to be fine. Compared to his slim look, Remus had an unusual amount of strength that surprised her.

They worked in phases. Every ten or so minutes, Peter and Y/N would switch positions. They all worked in silence. From time to time, Peter and her would crack a joke, causing Remus to overhear and chuckle himself.

Everyone was having a good time. Even Sirius perked up, being less hostile to the entire group and even her. She thought she was dreaming for a split second.

The group worked quickly and managed to attach all of the bottles along with Dungbombs with only a few interruptions from incoming students. Luckily, they had the cloak to cover themselves and their things.

By the time they were finished, it was past one in the morning. They all huddled together underneath the cloak. Unfortunately, it was only medium-sized and unable to fully cover everyone from sight. Sirius and Y/N, who were on the edge on opposite sides, their arms and legs would poke out. More than once, it became very uncomfortable and hard to squish everyone inside as they flattened themselves against a wall anytime they heard even the slightest of movements. They kept impossibly silent, aside from James who’d been elated; constantly making small jokes or making sound effects with his mouth. Remus had to flick him a few times to keep quiet.

As soon as they reached the Gryffindor tower, they removed the cloak.

“Gastropod!” Cheered Peter to the fat lady. She swung open for the five of them. The warmth of the fireplace crackled as they threw themselves on the sofas. They all tried to catch their breaths and still their pounding heartbeats.

Pure adrenaline pumped through her veins as she took a moment to take in what just happened.

James was grinning from ear to ear, Peter seemed cheerful, Sirius became somewhat tolerable, while Remus, as always, seemed tired.

Remus, covering his mouth in a half yawn muttered out, “It was fun having you here but I’m knackered. I’ll see you lot at breakfast. Night.”

“Me too,” Peter said. Sirius got up to followed them as they made their way up to the boy’s dorms.

James stayed with Y/N for a bit afterwards. Both were giddy and they even ate a few snacks she still had in her pockets.

“Wasn’t that fun!” he said, “Godric, you need to join more often.”

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N says playfully.

“I’m going to train you — gonna make you into a mini-me. My apprentice.”

“I think the world has enough of your arrogance.”

He laughed unbothered by the remark, “This is only the beginning. Just you wait.”

#sbtmas #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #James Potter #Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black angst #young marauders #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #HP #hp series #hp imagine #reader insert #reader #sirius #remus #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #hp angst #the marauders imagine #marauders pranks #fanfiction #fanfic #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers