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cybrsan · 1 year

Text

Party of Three | C.S, J.WY

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Summary: Things take an unexpected turn when Wooyoung walks in on you and San.

Pairing: Choi San x F!Reader x Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Hidden feelings, threesome, smut

Word Count: 5.3k

Warning(s): Alcohol & drug use, sex under the influence

A/N: This fic is the most well-liked among readers on my AO3. The writing may not be up to my current standard as I first posted this in 2019, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Everyone is already stoned by the time you show up at San and Seonghwa's apartment. The former is the one to open the door, greeting you with red eyes and a lazy smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greets. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Before you can respond, you're slammed with the familiar smell of weed that wafts out into the hallway after him. Greedy to get started, you give your boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek and push past him into the kitchen, avoiding his grabby hands with skilled ease.

You throw your bag down onto the counter and then make a beeline for the fridge, desperate for some sort of alcohol after the stressful week of final exams you've just gone through. Grabbing a beer, you sit on one of the kitchen stools and give the room a once over.

Jongho, Yeosang, and Yunho are sat on the floor playing Mario Kart as Mingi sits behind them on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. It seems like he's pretending to be some sort of referee based on how every once in a while he shouts random things like, "Oh, come on, Yunho! Don't you know how to drift?!" You smile at his antics—you've missed this.

Meanwhile, the other couple of the group is squished into one armchair, Hongjoong's legs draped over Seonghwa's lap. Hongjoong's eyes flutter open and closed and Seonghwa chuckles, lovingly watching his boyfriend struggle to stay awake. As always, a stoned Hongjoong is a sleepy Hongjoong.

You go to turn back to San—thinking that you've seen everyone—when a silhouette on the balcony catches your eye. You’re overtaken with surprise when you recognize it to be Wooyoung, taking a hit from San's prized glass pipe. He hadn’t come to one of these get-togethers in a while, ever since he broke up with his girlfriend. Actually, now that you think about it, he hadn’t been here that much even when they were still dating.

He spots you and he smiles, his eyes turning into crescent moons from pure happiness. After shoving the pipe into Seonghwa's waiting hands, he jogs over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. You laugh and give him a hug, ecstatic that he seems like the Wooyoung you used to know. He was always touchy when stoned, but he had been holding himself back because his ex didn’t like him showing affection to anyone other than her.

“Thank god that bitch is gone,” you say, squeezing him one last time before letting go. “I missed this Wooyoung, the real Wooyoung.” You pause before adding, “My best friend, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung runs a hand through his black hair, laughing. “Yeah, me too. I’m glad to be back.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mingi shouts from his place on the couch.

Of course, Wooyoung agrees instantly. You roll your eyes; he’s a fiend when it comes to alcohol of any kind. “Hell yeah! Let’s do shots.”

Wooyoung jogs over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of vodka. You shiver involuntarily; you and Smirnoff have a dark history. As he begins to pour the gasoline into shot glasses, he shoots you a questioning look.

You shake your head. "No. Hell no. No shots for me."

Despite your greatest efforts at resisting, Wooyoung's puppy eyes and Mingi's pouting (those two are unstoppable when they team up) manages to convince you and, half an hour later, you're three shots in. Yunho tries to pass you another one and you grimace, slapping his hand away. He looks offended and cradles the shot to his chest as if it spilling would have been the greatest tragedy of the modern age.

"We don't waste alcohol in this household, Y/N," he explains.

You can't help but roll your eyes. "Right, of course. Anyway," you look to where San is, leaning on the railing of the balcony with his pipe in hand, "I'm gonna go join my boyfriend and get stoned. Alcohol tastes like shit, I can only handle so much."

You practically skip to the balcony, excited to spend some one-on-one time with your boyfriend. It's been nice hanging out with the whole group but all you want right now is to be in San's arms. So, you decide to do exactly that. You bend down slightly and crawl right in between them, letting yourself be caged between his body and the railing. He doesn't get surprised and you let out a sigh of relief, grateful that he's been smoking for a few hours already. You're positive that if he was more sober he would've flinched and the glass pipe would have fallen out of his hand and down twenty-five feet onto the concrete below.

He smiles when he sees you, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his oh-so-precious dimples making an appearance. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss. Smoke fills your mouth and your eyes widen in surprise; you didn't notice him take a hit. He pulls away and you exhale, letting the smoke evaporate into the night air. You cough slightly and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Sorry, angel. I couldn't help myself."

The pet name makes you clench your thighs and San notices, eyes darkening. He knows exactly what the effect is of him saying that and you know he did it on purpose.

Fighting away the blush attempting its way onto your cheeks, you take the pipe from his hand, inhaling. You let the smoke enter your lungs, relishing in the familiar burning feeling. On your exhale, you say, "It's fine, just warn me next time."

Just as you take another hit, Seonghwa peeks his head out past the balcony door. "Hey, Joong and I are tapping out for the night."

San raises an eyebrow. "You mean he's still conscious?"

Chuckling, Seonghwa responds, "Let me rephrase. Hongjoong has passed the fuck out, so I'm taking him to my room to lay him down."

"Typical Joong," you say with a laugh. "He's fun for the first hour or so, and then he just gets tired." You always get stuck looking after a hungover Hongjoong while Seonghwa goes to work and you have a feeling tomorrow morning won't be any different.

Seonghwa nods, agreeing. With a half-wave, he turns to go back inside but suddenly stops, casting you and San one last look. "Oh, also—if you guys are gonna fuck tonight, can you try to be quiet? I have work tomorrow and wanna get a few hours of sleep in so my hangover doesn’t completely decimate me."

You blush and bury your face in San's chest, embarrassed. "Hwa! Can you not?"

Normally, San would be just as embarrassed as you, but not tonight. Without batting an eye, he says, "Alright, we'll try."

You pull back from him and gently swat on his arm. "San!"

He looks at you curiously. "What?" He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you taught against him and leans down to press his forehead against yours. "You want me to lie and tell him that I'm not planning to make a mess of you ton—"

"On that note, I'll take my leave," Seonghwa interrupts, disappearing back into the apartment.

"Oh my god." You pat your cheeks, forcing your blush to die down. "I always forget how much... bolder you get when you're high."

San leans down, placing a soft kiss on your neck. The gesture sends an electric shock throughout the rest of your body, causing your hair to practically stand on end. "Don't pretend you don't love it," he whispers, the heat from his breath ghosting against your skin.

"I don't—"

He cuts you off by taking your chin in between two of his slender fingers and forcing you to look up at him. "No lying, angel."

As if on autopilot, you respond, "Okay, Sir."

The second you close your mouth, you know that you've just set something in motion. You can see the change in San happen, something inside of him switching into gear. He's always had two sides to him—your soft, romantic boyfriend and then the rougher, more possessive side of him that comes out when you call him by that name.

Placing the pipe down on a table, he grabs you by your wrist and drags you inside past all the stragglers left in the living area. Yunho wolf whistles and Mingi and Jongho laugh quietly amongst themselves. Wooyoung, on the other hand, watches the two of you with an expression you can’t quite place.

"You two have fun now," Mingi jokes. Then, addressing the others, says, "Time for us to leave unless you wanna hear them going at it."

Leaving them to their own devices, San brings you to his bedroom. The second the door closes he has you pressed against it, capturing your lips with his own. You press yourself into him, letting out a content hum against his mouth. In this position he towers over you, his frame completely enveloping your own. You don't feel nervous or scared, though; in fact, it turns you on.

You hook your fingers under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against your palms. He helps you out, pulling away from you for just a moment to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere across the room. His lips are back on yours within the next second, as if your mouth is a magnet for his own. You run your hands up and down his back, feeling the muscles tensing under his skin. Just having his skin bared to you is already enough to get you moaning; you need more of him and you need it now.

You pull away from his lips to get some air. In between gasps, you manage to say, "Bed, now."

Your wish is his command. He lifts you up, biceps bulging, and gently places you on the bed. He hovers over top of you, messily leaving open kisses against your skin. You moan, giving into the sensation. It's been so long since you've had him like this and the buzz from the drugs is only making everything so much better.

"Wait." San raises an eyebrow as you crawl out from underneath him, hopping over to his desk. You open the top drawer and rummage around until you find exactly what you're looking for—a freshly made blunt. Picking that up and a lighter, you turn back to your boyfriend with a mischievous look in your eyes.

He smirks, leaning against the pillows. "I like the way you think."

Strolling back over to him, you get on the bed and throw one leg over his lap, straddling it. You give him the blunt and the lighter and, as he ignites it, you take off your shirt to give him a good view of your breasts. You hadn't worn a bra today, knowing that he loves when you don't. He almost chokes on the smoke as his eyes drink in your form, so greedy for a taste.

San's about to take another hit when the door to his bedroom opens. You cover yourself, panicking until you see exactly who's standing there—Wooyoung.

"Woo...?" You murmur, the syllable dropping off into a question.

He closes the door behind him and steps into the room. "Can I... Let me join you."

San chuckles. "I knew this would happen eventually."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Woo has always had a thing for you. He told me a while ago. It's part of the reason he broke up with his ex, besides the fact that she was also a major bitch."

"Is that true, Wooyoung? Do you like me?" you ask, uncovering your breasts. His eyes instantly fall to them and he gulps.

"Yes."

You're sure that his honesty and what you do next is partly because of the drugs and alcohol swimming in your system.

"Alright. Join us."

Wooyoung moves forward, shedding his shirt as he does so, before crawling onto the bed next to you. He takes the blunt San holds out for him, plump lips forming a delectable "o" as he inhales. You watch him with hooded eyes, imaging those lips leaving a trail of blooming marks down your body, between your legs... You'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of this prior to tonight. You lean forward and kiss him and, for the second time that night, smoke transfers into your mouth from another's. This time, however, you're more than ready for it. You close your eyes in ecstasy, french inhaling as you slowly rock your hips against San's crotch, relishing in the groan he releases. You can feel him hardening through his jeans and you instinctively clench, already so desperate to have him—someone—inside of you.

Letting the blunt hang haphazardly out of his lips, Wooyoung grabs your waist and helps you move against San who occasionally lifts his hips, adding to the delectable friction that's making you whine.

Smoke starts to fill the room, making everything hazy. With every inhale, the smell of it invades your senses. You love it more than anything—it makes you feel like you’re floating. You reach over and pluck the blunt from Wooyoung's lips, taking another hit. Leaning down, you kiss San this time, biting his lip. Once he gives you access, you push the smoke into his mouth with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting the smoke evaporate into the air. “It’s so much hotter when you do it to me.”

Placing the blunt into San's mouth, you reach down and unbutton your pants, managing to slip them off of your legs without even having to get off of him. With one less layer of clothing separating you, the friction of his tented jeans rubbing against your core is that much stronger. You throw your head back, sporadically rubbing yourself against him.

He reaches up and grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your nipple in between his fingers. “My angel is needy, huh?” he murmurs, smoke coming out of his mouth along with the words. You whine, nodding. “Alright then. Let me take care of you.” As an afterthought, he looks to Wooyoung who is currently palming himself through his jeans. "Actually, why don't we have Woo do it? I'm sure he's been dreaming about how you taste."

Before you can blink, San places the blunt in the ashtray on the side of his bed and flips you around so that your back is pulled taut against his chest. He nods at Wooyoung who gulps, moving forward and lowering down so that he's lying on the bed between your legs. You're certain that, at this point, your arousal has begun to leak through the fabric of your panties and the way his dark eyes take in the sight makes you squirm in anticipation.

San laughs, placing a sweet kiss against your temple. "Be patient."

Wooyoung begins to lightly trace patterns on your stomach as San attaches his plush lips to your neck, licking and sucking at the skin. The sounds you’re making are absolutely lewd, yet barely anything has even been done to you. Wooyoung leaves a hickey above the lace trim of your panties before hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down, revealing your soaking cunt.

He kisses the inside of your thigh once, twice, before finally licking a strip up your core. Your entire body shudders and you arch your back instinctively. Your ass grinds against San's crotch and he groans, digging his fingers into your sides to keep you still. Your thighs close around Wooyoung's head yet he doesn't seem to have a care in the world, eating you out painfully slowly as if he is savoring every taste. You whine and squirm, fingers and toes searching for purchase within the sheets.

"Please, please, please," you gasp in between ragged breaths.

Wooyoung pauses, mouth hovering right above where you need him most. His breath is enough to make you clench, desperate for anything and everything.

"Please what, angel?" San asks. "Use your words."

"Please let me come."

Wooyoung kisses you right above your clit and you practically scream, tears welling up in your eyes. You're never like this, never this needy or this sensitive—it has to be the weed in your system. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it.

"Please who?" San's voice is deep, demanding.

Your voice is faint, barely a whisper. "Please, Sir."

He looks towards Wooyoung who is still hovering between your legs, lips glistening with your juices. "What do you think, Woo? Should we give her what she wants?"

Wooyoung pushes his hair back off of his forehead, sweat droplets falling onto the mattress below. "I know I'm more than willing to follow through."

San laughs, his chest reverberating against your back. "I'm sure you are. In that case, go for it; see if you can make her come as hard as I can."

Wooyoung takes on the challenge. His mouth attaches to your clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. When he adds a finger, plunging it into your dripping core, you scream his name.

"Fuck, Wooyoung!"

Your hand tangles in his dark hair and you can't help but pull, too lost in your own lust to hold onto any semblance of thought. Wooyoung doesn't seem to mind, though. If anything, it turns him on knowing that you're so far gone.

"Come on, baby," San whispers, hot breath dancing across your ear. "Come for us. Show me how good Wooyoung is making you feel."

Wooyoung adds a second finger and before you know it, you're seeing stars. A blinding wave of heat and pleasure overtakes you and you're shaking but, God, it feels so, so good. Wooyoung guides you through your orgasm with soft, gentle licks against your swollen pussy as San whispers words of praise against your skin. When you come back down from your high, you register the feeling of tears on your cheeks.

Wooyoung, finally satisfied, crawls up to lie beside you on the bed. He chuckles softly when he sees the state you're in and kisses away the wetness on your cheeks with a smile.

"It was so good that you cried, hm? You're so cute." Then, turning to San, he smirks. "You ever make her come like that?"

San rolls his eyes. "Of course I have. Don't get ahead of yourself."

At this point, you can barely find the strength to form a proper sentence but still, you grab onto one of San's biceps, fingernails digging into his tanned skin.

"Why don't you show him?"

San's eyes widen ever so slightly. "Are you sure you can handle it right now?"

You nod fervently. "Yes, God yes."

San still looks hesitant so you take initiative, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his lips down to your own. You kiss him with everything you have, hoping it expresses your wanton need for him. Against his lips, you murmur, "I want you. I want you inside of me, please."

"Fuck, angel..." He groans and closes his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly. "You have no idea what you do to me."

After shimmying out of his pants and the boxers underneath, he reaches behind Wooyoung and searches around in the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a condom. He carefully rips it open and, after blowing into it, begins to roll it down his shaft. He moans at the friction and you frown, realizing how little attention you've given him. Shooing his hand away, you take over, rolling it all the way down to the base. He buries his face in your neck, groaning every time you move. You continue to stroke him, bringing your hand up to the tip of his cock before twisting your wrist and moving back down. He doesn't let you continue your ministrations for long, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop.

"I'm close," he explains, sweat pooling at his brow, "And I would much rather be inside of you right now."

You smile and peck him on the lips. "Okay, I'm ready."

With your consent, he lifts you up and sits you on his cock, pushing past your walls. He stills with a gasp. "Fuck, you're so wet. Wooyoung did a good job of getting you ready for me, didn't he?" You nod and he begins to thrust, making you fall forward and lean against his chest for support. "You always take my cock so well, don't you? It's like you were made for me."

You let out a strangled moan, the praise combined with his actions sending shockwaves straight to your core. You came not so long ago and already you can feel your pleasure coiling once again. "Fuck, yes, I'm yours," you say.

Wooyoung, neglected, takes action and moves forward, tucking a finger under your chin and tilting your head, forcing you to look at him instead of San. "Y/N... kiss me."

You lean forward, stopping a breath away from his lips. "Sir," you whisper, "Can I?"

San shudders as you clench around his cock. "Go for it."

At his word, you capture Wooyoung's lips with your own. The first thing you notice is that you can still taste yourself on him; the second thing is how passionately he responds to you and how eagerly he returns your affection. He tangles his hand in your hair, tugging slightly on the strands. You moan at the sensation, nipping at his lips in the process.

San snaps his hips, slamming into you at a menacing pace that has your thighs shaking from the force of it. You gasp and, unable to keep kissing, grab at Wooyoung wherever you can, searching for support. Your hands find purchase on his biceps and you dig your nails into his skin, too lost in your pleasure to be gentle. However, Wooyoung doesn't seem to mind—in fact, the slight pain causes him to moan.

You can tell San is close by the way his breathing is getting heavier and his thrusts are getting sloppier. You clench around him and he squeezes his eyes shut, groaning.

"Fuck, baby, oh my God—"

"Sir, I want to come with you," you whine, throwing the nickname in there because you know it will help bring him to the edge.

He kisses you and brings a hand to your clit, furiously rubbing it with the pads of his two fingers. "Okay," he pants, "Come with me, angel. Come with me."

The coil building in your abdomen comes undone once he snaps his hips at an angle that hits that one spot inside of you and you impulsively lean forward, biting onto Wooyoung's shoulder to muffle your loud moaning. The spasms of your walls against his cock have San following after you mere seconds later and he eases you off of him, letting you fall to your back against the mattress below.

San places a loving kiss against your temple and turns to Wooyoung, who at some point had taken off his own jeans, freeing his swollen cock. "Woo, come here," he commands, crooking his finger. You frown, realizing that Wooyoung has gone the longest without being touched; how unfair. You reach out a hand, willing to help relieve him, but San stops you. "No, you rest. I'll take care of him."

You watch with wide eyes as your boyfriend goes slack-jawed and takes Wooyoung's leaking cock into his mouth, allowing the other boy to fuck his throat. He sucks him off with the ease of someone who has done it multiple times before, knowing when to move and when to still, when to use his tongue and when to not. Saliva begins to dribble out of the corners of his lips and his eyes tear, but you can tell he's eager to help Wooyoung reach his end what with the way his hands are supportively rubbing the other's thick thighs. If you weren't so exhausted, you think you might have come again just from the sight of it.

It doesn't take long for Wooyoung to come with how long he's been holding off and San takes all of it, swallowing and gently pulling off of him. Wooyoung collapses against the headboard, chest heaving. After catching his breath, he looks at you and smiles.

"Well... this was fun, huh?"

You can't help but laugh, so blown away by the turn this night has taken. "Fun is just one of the words I would use, I think."

Wooyoung reaches out, carefully pushing your hair off of your forehead and the loving action reminds you of a question you had wanted to ask earlier.

"Woo?"

"Hm?"

"How long have you wanted this?"

His ears turn red and you can tell that the question embarrasses him, but he answers anyway. "Since before you and Sannie started dating."

"Wait... back in high school?" He nods. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared," he admits. "You and I had—have—been best friends for so long and I didn't wanna risk ruining that by acting on my feelings. Then I introduced you to Sannie and, well... the rest is history." You punch him on the arm and he whines. "What was that for?!"

"You idiot! I liked you too."

"You... what?" His complexion pales as the information sinks in. "Fuck."

San, silent until now, wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him, kissing your cheek. "Y/N... do you still like Woo?"

"I..." You pause, startled. "Is this a trick question?"

He laughs. "No, it's not. And there's no wrong answer. Just be honest with me, baby."

"M-maybe." Your voice is small, tentative; telling your boyfriend you have feelings for your mutual best friend isn't something you ever saw yourself doing.

"What if I said I did too?" San asks.

Your jaw drops and you search his face for any signs that he's joking, but he looks completely serious. "Really?"

San nods. He gestures for Wooyoung to come closer and he does, scooting forward so that he's sitting right next to you. He rests a hand on your bare thigh, gently caressing the skin there and calming your nerves.

"Yeah. I like both you and Wooyoung and you like both of us, right?" You nod. "What would you think about making this a normal thing?"

"Like... the three of us all being in a relationship?" you ask.

Wooyoung shrugs. "We don't have to have any sort of label. This is just something we can try out. If it doesn't work, that's okay too. I won't mind."

You take a moment to think, weighing the pros and cons. Then, you realize something. “Wait… Did you guys plan this whole thing out?” San and Wooyoung share a guilty look and you laugh, shaking your head exasperatedly. “God, what am I getting myself into?”

Wooyoung’s eyes light up. “So you’re willing to try?”

You nod. “Yeah, I am."

"Great!" San kisses your nose and gets up, discarding the used condom into the trash can underneath his desk. He slips on a pair of sweatpants and goes out the door to presumably get some things from the bathroom, but of course not before throwing the two of you a dimpled smile and assuring that he'll be right back.

He returns shortly, opening the door with one hand as he holds two washcloths and some lotion in the other. He closes it with his foot and practically jumps on the bed, eager to not keep you or Wooyoung waiting any longer. Gingerly, he wipes away with your sweat, starting with what's on your face and not stopping until you are fully refreshed. Then, as he hums under his breath, he squeezes some lotion onto his hands and begins to gently massage you, helping to loosen up any tension and soreness you might feel. He saves your abused core for last, making sure to be extra gentle.

You watch with a content smile as he smothers you in aftercare, letting yourself just sit back and soak in every second of it. You used to feel guilty when he did this, feeling bad you weren't doing anything in return, but he's assured you so many times that he enjoys it and wouldn't do it if he didn't want to that you can't help but just selfishly enjoy it now.

Not wanting Wooyoung to feel left out, he makes sure to give him the same routine. Wooyoung is hesitant at first like you used to be but, before long, he's practically purring. Once San is done, he slides into bed behind you and covers your scantily clad bodies with the previously discarded blanket. Instantly, you slide closer towards him so that your back is against his chest and he sighs contentedly, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Wooyoung turns to face you and San, forehead almost touching your own, and you kiss him, making him laugh.

"I can't believe this is real," he admits.

You smile. "Me neither. It's weird, but it's nice."

San hums in agreement, already drifting off.

"I love you," you say softly, chest aching with just how much you mean those words. "Both of you."

"I love you more," San responds. Just like always.

"I love you, too." The same words Wooyoung has always said, but now with a different meaning.

It's nice, you think, having two people to wish you goodnight.

The following morning, you're the one who wakes up first. Wooyoung is the first thing you see, mouth slightly parted and hair a complete mess. You smile, finding it endearing. San's grip around your waist is tight but you manage to slip out of his hold, getting out of bed and throwing on a pair of underwear and a t-shirt. You open the door and quietly make your way to the kitchen, hoping that Seonghwa and Hongjoong are still asleep. You don't hear any commotion and you let out a relieved breath, glad that you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of facing anyone after—

"Good morning," Seonghwa says, peering up at you over the rim of his coffee mug. You freeze, watching as he takes a sip and then places it down on the counter in front of him.

"Oh, um, hey. Hope we didn't, uh..."

"Keep me up? No, not at all. Not like for a second I thought you were getting murdered from how loud you were screaming or anything like that."

Your entire body seems to burn from the force of your blush. "Fuck. Sorry, Hwa."

"Whatever, it's fine. But, I have to ask... Is that Wooyoung's shirt?"

Looking down, you see that you are most definitely wearing that shirt Wooyoung had on the night before. "Yeah, I... We, um..."

It's at this point that both Wooyoung and San emerge from the bedroom, San still clad only in his sweatpants and Wooyoung in a pair of boxers. San instantly puts his arm around your waist and lovingly pecks your cheek, and Wooyoung smacks your ass as he walks by to get to the coffee pot.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow as he watches the scene play out. "You know what? This weirdly makes a lot of sense." Getting up and putting his now empty coffee mug into the sink, he adds, "Anyway, I'm headed out. You three think you're up for another party tonight?"

Your mind travels back to last night and what incredible things the party led to so, without missing a beat, you respond, "Oh, God yes."

Seonghwa laughs. "Cool. See ya later, Y/N."

The door closes with a slam behind him and you hear a groan come from the hallway behind you. You take a look around the bend to see a very, very hungover looking Hongjoong hobbling his way out of Seonghwa's room. You smile and share a look with Wooyoung and San, shaking your head. Looks like your prediction was right—you're gonna be stuck taking care of him after all.

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exhaslo · 2 months

Text

Corruption Ch15

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? drug use

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Fifteen Days Until D-Day

"I'm going to have you run and get my morning coffee," Miguel said with a most devilish smirk on his face.

Aaron rolled his eyes as he showed his upmost disgust towards his hated boss.

"Why me and not your assistant?" Aaron questioned, trying to find out where you were.

"(Y/N) has her own matters to take care of. That of which have nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. But, if you truly must know, (Y/N) has been sent to shop for an upcoming event I need her ready for. Does that please you?"

"Sure,"

Aaron just grumbled as he took Miguel's order and proceeded to leave his office. What an asshole, but at least you were going to be no where near Miguel. This worked out perfectly for Aaron. Today was the day his plan was going to be set in motion.

--------

Miguel couldn't resist laughing as he watched Aaron on the cameras, cussing and complaining. What was he to expect? Aaron was the one who put himself in this situation by threatening to quit if he did something as small as this.

Miguel loved being petty and putting people in their place.

It's what they deserve.

Sitting back down on his chair, Miguel reviewed the notes on the last experiment he had with your blood. Finally, there was a success with no horrible side effects. Miguel was just letting the test subject roam around in his cell for any thing to happen.

Right as he was going to tune in on the test subject, you called. Miguel's eyes sparkled for a moment as he answered the video call, wondering what were you going to show him now.

"Miiiiiguel, are you sure I can pick something from here? Everything is so...fancy," You whispered, showing him the price tag, "And expensive!"

"Of course. You are my date to the Share Holders Party next month. I want you looking as perfect as you can be."

"Sooooo....my Spider Suit?" You whispered, giggling into the camera. Miguel couldn't refuse a chuckle,

"Clever, but no." Miguel smiled, watching you pout, "I don't care for the price. Just take your time and pick something you'll like that matches my suit."

"Okay," You pouted once more, "I'll send you pictures of the dresses I try on. Let me know which one you like~"

Miguel cocked a brow as you hung up. Oh, how you tempted him. Miguel was going to bully you when he becomes perfect. No matter how much you cried and begged him to stop, Miguel was going to make sure you thought of nothing but him.

"Shit,"

Just thinking about you becoming a moaning mess got him hard. These frequent sessions of pleasing each other kept getting more and more dangerous. Miguel almost fucked you the last time you gave him a blow job.

Miguel would never admit these feelings. He had to remember that this was all just a ploy to get you to carry his child. To get you to stop playing hero. All of this was so that Miguel could have you as his trophy wife.

"(Y/N)" Miguel cussed lowly as he beat against his cock.

Feelings? The term was foreign to Miguel. Yes, you were attractive. Yes, you were always on Miguel's mind. Yes, you made Miguel do things he wouldn't...but surely, that wasn't love. This was all just Miguel's body acting on instinct...right?

Right???

--------

Aaron made his way back to Alchemax, humming lowly as he held the large coffee in his hand. As he walked, Aaron skillfully reached into his pocket and proceeded to stop at a red light. He undid the lip of the coffee and poured the contents of his pocket into the drink.

"A taste of your own medicine."

--------

Miguel was in the middle of working on a new project for his father when Aaron returned. Not even a mutter of thanks, Miguel took the coffee and proceeded to drink from it. Noticing Aaron still in the corner of his lab, Miguel scoffed.

"You may leave,"

"What? No paperwork needed to be done? No meetings to schedule?" Aaron mocked. Miguel felt a headache form,

"As if you could replace (Y/N). Leave." He hissed.

Drinking more of his coffee, Miguel started to get frustrated again. Why did others have to piss him off? Hearing his phone go off, Miguel sighed in thanks for the distraction. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to smile at your photos.

Right when Miguel went to text you, he felt another headache form. This one stronger than before. Groaning at the feeling, Miguel felt something else wrong. His body felt like it was on fire. In pain. As if he took something he shouldn't.

"Fuck, Lyla, scan the coffee." Miguel cussed, pouring the liquid into one of his machines.

"Sir, there are traces of Rapture in the drink!"

"Ese maldito pequeño- (That fucking little-) LYLA! I want EVERYONE out of this goddamn building before I kill that brat." Miguel spat.

"But sir-"

"I don't CARE! Set the fire alarm off!"

Miguel fell on his knees as he started cursing up a storm. How dare he get exposed to Rapture by a peasant. Miguel could not have any drugs in his system. Every little thing could affect his future child with you.

Trying to think as his vision blurred, Miguel groaned. Everything was spinning and started to morph. This drug was powerful. It was impossible to cure. Rapture clings to the DNA itself, making it one with the person.

"DNA, that's it."

Having a brilliant, yet dangerous idea, Miguel hurried to his labs as everyone fled the building. He winced in pain, holding onto his side as he entered the lab with the genetic splicing machine.

"A failure when mixing in other DNA to humans...but human DNA to human DNA should have no effect on the machine...but cure me as well," Miguel muttered to himself.

Once the input was correct, Miguel strapped himself to the machine. This had to work. It had too.

---------

Aaron watched as everyone fled the building due to the fire alarm. He knew better since by now Miguel must have figured out his drink was laced with Rapture. Before Aaron left, he couldn't help by notice that the elevator stopped on the floor with the labs.

Deciding to make his way up, Aaron soon noticed Miguel in his own lab messing with his genetic splicing machine. Aaron couldn't help but over hear and grew angry. All this time, his coworkers could have had the chance to be cured.

Miguel was truly a villain.

Hurrying inside while Miguel wasn't paying attention, Aaron stood by the controls. He saw the input set to 'human' and cussed lowly. Typing away on the computer, Aaron chuckled lowly as he changed the input to 'spider'.

"Since you love Spiders so much, I hope you enjoy being one." Aaron chuckled as he turned the machine on.

In that moment, right when Miguel was hit with the laser, there was a large explosion. Aaron yelled as he was flung back, hitting the wall in the process. A low groan escaped his lips as he tried to get up, wondering what happened.

There, in the middle of the lab, Miguel stood.

Fangs.

Talons.

Everything that screamed monster. Aaron let out a yell as he tried to run, but he was not fast enough. Miguel appeared before him, taller than before. Buffer than before. More intimidating.

It was at this moment, Aaron knew...he was fucked.

--------

Something went wrong. No? Something went right. Miguel coughed from the explosion, feeling more powerful than before. His vision was still adjusting to the smoke and lights, while his earing grew more keen. There was someone else in here.

Glancing towards the wall, Miguel noticed Aaron. His red eyes sparkled as he appeared before the fool. Miguel felt stronger than before. He felt like he could run marathons.

"What did you do?" Miguel asked with a hiss, feeling fangs poke at his lower lip.

"You're half Spider you freak. Now there's no way (Y/N) will ever see you as a human." Aaron was just digging his own grave.

Half -Spider?

Oh, this was music to Miguel's ears.

"I don't think (Y/N) will care once I fuck the idea out of her mind," Miguel said with a smirk as he grabbed Aaron by the collar, "Oh? Didn't want to hear that? Well, (Y/N) has been riding my dick for months. You never had a chance with her."

Oh, the look of pure despair on Aaron's face. Oh, how Miguel loved it. To break someone down. To have them realize that they were never a match for him. It made things so much more fun!

"Now, for lacing my drink. I must terminate you."

"Can't, I already quit." Aaron said, his words trembling.

Miguel raised a brow as he listen to Aaron's silly plea. His phone was going on, most likely you calling. Poking his head to the side, Miguel noticed the window in the lab. The explosion had broken it. What a shame.

"Guess I'll have to find another way to terminate you."

"What-"

Miguel roared in laughter as he listened to Aaron's screams as Miguel tossed him out the window. As if Miguel was ever going to let him live after nearly damaging his body.

Well, he did make it up in the end. Grabbing his clothes, Miguel proceeded to have Lyla make another explosion. He had a part to play. Before leaving the building, Miguel made sure that the lab with your blood was completely gone and the work erased.

There was no need for it now.

Miguel got what he wanted.

Finally reaching outside, Miguel pretended to cough from the smoke. He watched as the fire fighters hurried to place the flames out, while police questioned about the explosion.

"Miguel! Miguel!" You cried out, hurrying over, "I was so worried! What happened, are you okay?!" You asked, tears threatening to spill.

Miguel just smiled since you didn't come as Spider-Woman. You were behaving quite nicely. Wrapping his lab coat around your shoulders, Miguel smiled as he rubbed your head.

"I'm fine. Looks like someone messed with my genetic splicing machine and blew the place up." Miguel lied, watching you close your eyes to his touch, "Heard someone died."

"Oh no!" You gasped. Miguel chuckled lowly, stroking your cheek some more,

"But, nothing that could have been done."

"But-"

"Nothing," Miguel said firmly, his eyes orbs staring into yours, "Shit, this sun is so bright." He cussed.

You tilted your head as Miguel groaned lowly. He rested his head against your shoulder, causing you to call the EMTs over. Miguel tried to complain, but was growing a headache from the light. You frowned, rubbing your thumbs gently against his eyes,

"Maybe the smoke got to you. Just sit down and relax, okay?"

Miguel grunted in response, holding your hand firmly. He had to run some tests on himself to see what exactly changed in his DNA. Obviously, you didn't have fangs or talons. So Miguel had to make sure he won't hurt you when mating you.

"Miguel?"

"I'm okay,"

Miguel sighed softly as he rested his head against your shoulder. He needed to rest. There was plenty of time for everything. His tests can run later. Right now, Miguel just needed to let his body rest from the sudden change.

Then...He was coming for you.

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

Next Chapter

Lol, I hope some of you noticed Aaron's role. In the original comics, Aaron was a jealous coworker who messed with the genetic splicing machine that turned Miguel into Spider-Man. However, Miguel tried to save him in the comics when he was falling out the window, but his talons ripped Aaron's skin, causing him to fall to his death.

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

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jadeddangel · 3 months

Text

Creepypast & Marble Hornets headcannons:

Jeff the Killer:

100% sneaks into your house/ room just to wake you up randomly to spook you

If he ever took you on a date it would 100% be to the cheapest cinema in town cause my man's is broke

Your the breadwinner, you can make $2 a month and still be the breadwinner

He buys axe body spray and sags his jeans like a middle school boy and you can't convince me otherwise

Opened a nesquick Powdered milk tub with a table saw cause he couldn't get him open

Doesn't know how to undo child proof locks on meds no matter how many times you explain it to him

"No Jeff your not listening. Press down and then turn it," your voice scolded

"I'm trying! Damn you woman!!" Jeff yelled back

Yea, he never opened the jar right

Masky:

It started with you and Tim dating and then when you met masky you trying getting to know him

He ignores you at first, more focused on doing his job then dealing with his other half's lover

He's smart, he'll pick locks open jars and complete puzzles in no time flat

He doesn't make money but Tim does so indirectly he's the breadwinner

He'll start hanging out with you after getting tired of sleeping on the downstairs couch

He's not nice, like at all, he's very blunt and when it comes to any type of criticism, constructive or not, he's pointing out every miniscule flaw

Don't bother lying to him, he can see right through it and it pisses him off

It doesn't matter your gender or your sex. He's turning around when you change any form of your clothes. He's big on privacy

"Masky? C'mon masky, it's just a sweater you don't have to turn. I'm wearing a shirt underneath, " you sighed, pulling your sweater off

Masky shook his head. "I don't care sometimes you don't wear a shirt under them, and i don't wanna see your nipples," masky spoke bluntly

Yeaaaa, if you can't tell your sex life is totally (not) amazing with man

Tim:

As I said before Tim has a job, he Linda needs it to pay for his smoking habits

Speaking of smoking, he hates when you do any kind of drugs, he doesn't want you to end up like he did

He's surprising clingy behind closed doors and really likes being your little spoon

He constantly takes showers and cleans your shared home, even if no one except for you, him and masky will see it.

He has this bad habit of just buying whatever he craves, so when he goes to the store, expect the bill to be rather high

As I said before he's clingy behind closed doors but when it comes to pda the most he'll do is lock your pinkies together

"Tim, pleaseeeee I just wanna hold your hand! Just five minutes, and if you don't like it, you don't have to keep holding my hand. " You tried to bargain

Tim sighed "fine fine but you're giving me your box of cigarettes. Don't think I didn't smell them on you"

He has a sharp nose, so there's no point in trying to hide things from him

Hoodie:

Hoodie was beyond confused when he first met you, he had a whole "who what when where why?" Moment

You and brain both pay for everything so there's not really a breadwinner

Hoodie is rather quiet, it's not because he's awkward or shy, he just has nothing to say

Hoodie Hates coffee, he's more of a tea or energy drink guy

I hate to say this(no I dont), but he's a stoner, he hates all vape or smoking products except for weed

He usually sticks to weed vapes since it's less work and he can be a bit lazy when it comes to that

I mean his hygiene is ok he doesn't really shave or trim any thing but his beard but yknow he do him

Speaking of , he leaves his beard shavings all over the sink and leaves the toilet seat up

"HOODIE! GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE NOW" You shouted to get the man's attention

Hoodie walked in. "What?" He said monotonely

You pointed at the sink and then the toilet "pick up your fucking mess!!"

Hoodie shook his head "Nah I'm good. Thanks for the offer, though. "

You would probably try and beat him up if he couldn't just wollop our ass

Brian:

He's such a sweet boy,it like he's made out of cotton candy

He's mostly did cleaning and cooking on top of his job but after switching back from hoodie, he's out of commission for like a week

He picks up after himself, and does his own laundry and there's never beard trimmings in the sink

He occasionally forgets to put the toilet seat down but it's rather rare

He's not too clingy but he does cuddle up sometimes

HES A FUCKING FURNACE WHEN HE SLEEPS

"Brian pleaseee get off!! It's the middle of summer! It's too hot to be cuddling" you huffed sleepily

"Shhh just let me hold you.." Brian muttered

Ticci Toby:

Your the breadwinner. Period

You think this man has a job? Hah funny

He hates when he tics especially when you are trying to have intimate moments together

You guys have to be silly during sex especially when he has a verbal tic and just yells bird

"Fuck toby right there~" you moaned out holding onto his shoulders tightly

"I'm so c-*whistles* shit sorry~" toby moaned out a bit embarrassed

"Toby it's ok it's normal~.." you muttered a bit trying to keep your voice even

Toby nodded "fuck I lov-Birds!" Toby shouted

You both looked at eachother before bursting out laughing just holding eachother close

Overall aside from Toby's horrible moodswings at times and his "work" you guys have a pretty helpful relationship

Slenderman:

No, Just no

This man is toxic asf when you guys first meet, definitely a manipulator

He tones it down after a bit but still gaslights you into getting what he wants

When he gets angry, please down run from him- he will track you down and may or may not resort to physical violence to get you to learn your lesson

If you ask about the missing children he WILL gaslight you into thinking that's he's told you before and it hurts that you forgot and won't tell you again

Sex? What sex? You think he would let you even get close enought to see that shit happen hah very funny

"Slenderman? Cmon I'm sorry you know I didn't mean to hurt you.." you muttered softly

"No. I already told you, and you forgot.. it is insensitive of you and unwise of me to tell you again, " he responded through your mind. And though he doesn't have eyes, you could only assume he was glaring

He's not healthy for you, but you've got yourself into this for life and there's only 1 way to get out

Eyeless jack:

Just like Jeff he'll sneak into your room

You literally can't get rid of him

He won't talk or anything, just stand and stares

He doesn't cuddle and he barely touches you

He definitely tried to offer you a kidney as a way of telling you he appreciates you

No hygiene whatsoever, he doesn't shave and it takes a month before you even get him to shower

He mostly just grumbles and groans to let you know he understands what your saying

He's really smart, puzzles, locks ,and riddles are no match for him

He's blunt, when he does talk it's rare, bit it's honest and unfiltered

You guys barely have sex and honestly you've probably never seen his face

"Jack, please!! I just wanna see your face, " you whined, laying yourself over his lap

"I said no, and if you keep asking, I'll eat you. Literally, " Jack retorted

Yeaaaa he meant it literally and you could tell

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #eyeless jack #slenderman #tim masky #marble hornets #mh #marble hornets x reader #mh x reader #fluff #headcanon #jaded works🪶

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rafesbby · 1 year

Text

Still Mine

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!kook!reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, cock warming

Word Count: 1.9k+

Summary: Rafe is your ex-boyfriend and loses his shit when he sees you with a certain pogue.

A/N: This is my first post, go easy on me alright?

----------

It's been a whole month since you and Rafe broke up and you finally feel good enough to get out and do something. Which is why when Sarah asked if you were going to the kegger tonight, you said yes.

You're standing with Sarah and the pogues when you see Rafe. He's in a group with Topper and Kelce, beers in hand, talking and laughing with two blonde bitches girls. You feel your fingers clench around the can in your hand.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Kiara is the first to notice your blank state.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You attempt a smile, but the look on her face shows she doesn't believe you.

"I don't know about you guys but I'm ready to get this party started." JJ pulls out his pocketknife, pokes a small hole in his beer can, and effortlessly shotguns the whole thing.

"Cheer up, princess." JJ pokes another can and holds it out to you. "Here."

You turn it and bring it to your mouth, mimicking JJ's previous actions. When you finish, you squeeze the empty can and toss it to the ground.

"Damn, princess. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'm not as lame as you think I am Maybank."

"Me and John B are gonna go get another drink. We'll see you all later." Sarah says as they walk away.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go find Pope." Kiara says as she too walks away.

Leaving just you and JJ.

"Just me and you, princess. Let's go have some fun." JJ smiles and holds out his hand.

"Stop calling me that." You take his hand and JJ interlocks your fingers, swinging your arms as you both walk off.

A little bit later...

By this point, you've had multiple drinks and can feel yourself losing your filter. JJ hasn't left your side since you arrived which you're not complaining about. He's good company.

You're getting another beer when you glance over and see Rafe for the second time tonight. But this time, he sees you too. Both of you are stuck on each other's eyes. After a second, you look away and focus on finding JJ again. But when you turn back, Rafe is still watching your every move.

When you make it back to JJ, you still have the feeling that Rafe is watching you. And if your being honest, all you want to do in your drunken state is make him jealous. He deserves it after everything he has put you through.

Your relationship was toxic. No matter what you said or did or tried, it was still toxic. You're stuck in a never-ending loop. There's always something that pulls you guys back together. And you feel terrible putting all the blame on him, but it really is all Rafe's fault. He's the one who does the drugs. He's the one who screams and initiates the stupid arguments you have almost every time you're together. It gets to the point where you can't handle it anymore. And that's when you end things.

So yes. He deserves everything you're about to do.

You find JJ talking to a random touron by the bonfire. When he sees you approaching, he ends his conversation and turns his attention to you.

"Hey J, you think you're drunk enough you won't remember any of tonight in the morning?"

"Hell yeah. I never remember shit after nights like these. Why?"

You answer him by slamming your lips on his. Slowly moving your hands to the back of his head, tugging at his golden hair. JJ doesn't hesitate to kiss back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and tossing his drink to the side to pull you closer.

You and JJ have been close ever since Sarah and John B got together. And you can't deny the immediate attraction you had towards him. But you knew nothing was ever going to happen. You were still dating Rafe at the time and even after the breakup you felt you still belonged to the kook.

When the two of you break away from each other your faces are still close. JJ's about to ask something when someone comes up from behind you and shoves JJ away.

Rafe.

"What the fuck Rafe?" You yell, moving between him and the pogue that's still trying to get up from the ground.

"You piece of shit. You want to do that again?" JJ is up and around you fast, hands and jaw clenched. Face to face with Rafe.

"Rafe, just walk away." You try and fail to get his attention. The look in his eye tells you he's not backing down.

"Why are you making out with my girlfriend, hm?" Rafe spits in JJ's face.

"She's not your girlfriend anymore now is she?"

Rafe takes another step forward. "What makes you think she wants a dirty pogue like you?"

"Rafe, please just stop! I'm the one who kissed him." This catches Rafe's attention. "Please just leave him alone!"

Rafe purposefully bumps into JJ's shoulder on his way over to you.

"What did you just say?" Rafe is now right in front of you. Looking down at you, his head tilted with a hard stare present on his face.

"Leave him alone."

"No. Before that." Rafe is staring directly into your eyes. Waiting for your response.

You glance at JJ before answering Rafe. "You know what I said Rafe."

"And why the fuck would you do something like that?"

He's angry. You can't help but feel a little turned on when he acts like this. One of the reasons your relationship lasted as long as it did was because of the sex. How good it was. How often you guys got lost in each other's bodies. The way his eyebrows scrunched and that stupid look he gave you made you fall to your knees every single time.

"Did you want my attention? Because you have it. What do you want?" Rafe spat in your face.

"Yeah, Rafe. I admit it. I did want your attention. But now that I have it, I want something else." You look up at him, a small smirk growing on your face.

"I thought you hated me, baby." Rafe brings his hands up to cup your face.

"I thought I did too." You stepped back away from Rafe and turned your head towards the pogue who is still watching the strange interaction between you guys. "I'm gonna go okay?"

"Yeah, ok. Do you want me to take you?" JJ runs his fingers down the length of your arm. You hear Rafe clear his throat from behind you.

You snicker at Rafe's impatient jealousy. "I'll be okay."

Concern flashes through JJ's eyes. "Call me. For any reason at all, got it?"

"Thanks, J." You wrap your arms around JJ, resting your head on his chest. "Thanks for looking out for me tonight."

Everyone seems more sober now that the kegger has come to an end. You can't help but feel bad for JJ. After all, you kissed him, then Rafe got involved, and now you're leaving with Rafe instead of him.

But who were you kidding? You always found yourself going back to Rafe. No matter what happened that caused you guys to separate. This would make the third time you have left one of these parties with Rafe.

Rafe opens the door to his house and motions for you to go inside.

As soon as the door is shut, Rafe slams you against the closet wall. One hand resting on the wall by your head and the other tracing up and down the side of your face.

"I'm so ready to make you mine all over again." With that he kisses you. The kiss holds so much emotion. It's hard and deep and feels better than any other kiss you guys have shared. As he pulls away, he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He slips his arms under your legs and carries you all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him. He throws you down on his bed and quickly yanks his shirt up and over his head.

"I need to feel you, baby. I've missed you. Missed this." He's now on top of you, sliding his hands underneath your shirt. The contrast of his warm hands and cold rings on your skin makes you shiver. He finds the strap to your bra and unclasps it, bringing it out from under your shirt. Tossing it on the floor, he repositions himself so his face is down where you need him the most.

Two of his fingers hook around the sides of your shorts and tugs them all the way down your legs. Revealing your underwear. His favorite underwear.

"Fuck, Y/n. You're going to drive me insane." In no time at all, your underwear has joined your bra and shorts on the floor. The only thing still clinging to your body being your shirt. "Get this fucking thing off." Rafe grunts lifting your shirt.

You're now completely bare and vulnerable to Rafe. You can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs.

Rafe's mouth starts on your core, moving his tongue in between your folds. "So sweet for me." As he fucks you with his tongue, he begins rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb.

The moans you were trying to suppress so the sleeping Cameron's wouldn't hear come out the harder Rafe sucks.

Rafe pauses to look up at your face. "You trying to get us caught, baby?" His fingers replace his mouth. Moving in and out of you at a speed he knows you to enjoy.

"I'm gonna cum, Rafe."

"You understand you're mine, right?"

"Rafe, please-" Your need for release was getting stronger.

"Not that dirty pogue's. You're mine."

"Rafe." You stammer.

"Say it, baby. You're still mine. You will always be mine."

"Fuck, Rafe. Yes. I'm yours. Only yours. Always yours."

"You can cum, baby." His fingers speed up as you release all over them. He brings them up to his lips and sucks them clean of your juices.

He lifts off the bed to remove his shorts and briefs that should have been gone ages ago and climbs on top of you once again. He catches your lips with his in a feverish kiss, his tongue dominating the inside of your mouth. And then he's inside you. Moving in and out at an ungodly pace. Reaching farther than you could ever imagine.

"Shit, you feel so good. Take my cock so well, baby." Rafe hides his face in your neck as he continues to thrust into you. He nibbles at your skin eliciting a moan out of you. He's so big.

"Rafe, don't stop. Never stop." You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm close, Rafe." You moan. Rafe kisses your lips and begins to overstimulate you by adding his thumb to your clit.

"Wait for me, baby. I'm almost there." His fingers rubbing you and his sloppy movements in and out of you is too much.

"Rafe, please. I can't-"

"Ok, baby. I'm ready. It's okay." A few more thrusts and you're releasing together.

"Fuck, baby." You're both breathing hard, coming back down from your highs.

Rafe doesn't pull out his cock. Instead, he lays down on top of you, stroking the hair out of your eyes.

"You're so beautiful." He lightly brushes his lips over your forehead. "My beautiful girl."

He moves off of you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer so you're chest to chest looking into each other's eyes.

"I love you." He puts his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

Your hand scratches up and down his exposed back. "I love you. So much."

You knew it was a bad idea. To be here with Rafe...again. But it seemed like whatever you did to stay away, it never worked. You never really wanted it to work anyway. Hopefully this time it would end differently. Being with him tonight felt different than all the times before. And you can't help but hope it truly does end differently. You hope it will be better this time.

Because you really do love him. So much it hurts.

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks #obx #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic

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r1vrsefx · 8 months

Text

party

rafe cameron x reader

summary: yn decides to end things with rafe… but can she?

warning: toxic relationships, drug abuse, coke, drinking, kissing and implied sex

"I just don't know what to do." y/n sighed from the passenger seat. "I know you don't want to hear this but he's toxic and he treats you like shit half of the time. And that's coming from his sister." Sarah looked over at the girl.

y/n and Rafe have been dating for a good six months. for the first few months of their relationship it was great, he would buy her flowers, take her on dates, basically just spoil her.

That was until he started using. When he was high he could care less about her. It was very rare when he was sober and good to y/n. She couldn't put up with the constant fighting, him disappearing for days and his aggression towards her.

She's been thinking for the last couple of weeks if he is really worth her time and energy. "I mean it's not the best to hear but it's true" y/n sighed as they parked. "I know. I'm sorry." They got out. The music was loud and could be heard from down the street. The smell of weed and alcohol could be smelt through the air.

Sarah and y/n always went to Toppers annual end of school party . Everyone knew Topper threw the best parties in the OBX. And everyone always went , the kooks, the pogues and even the tourist who are just visiting.

They step foot into Toppers big ass house and went straight to the coolers for beer. "Hiya." Topper came up behind Sarah wrapping his arm around the girl. "Hi." She giggled.

"Hey Top, have you seen Rafe?" y/n questioned. "Uh yeah he's down in the basement." He motioned to the door leading down there.

"Good luck." Sarah smiled. y/n flashed her a smile before going down there. Music rang through her ears. She tried her best to get down there successfully with out tripping over any people sitting on the stairs.

She spotted Rafe, sadly snorting coke, sitting at a table with girls surrounding him. She sighed and made her way over there.

"Hey baby!" He shouted over the music. She sat in his lap as he drank. "Why don't you let me do some lines off your stomach, yeah?" He lifted her shirt a little. She grabbed his wrist, "No let's go talk."

"No we don't need to talk." He scoffed. "Rafe come on." She got up and he followed. She pulled him into one of the guest rooms. She sat on the bed and he sat next to her.

"You're scaring me." He laughed. "We can't keep doing this." She told him quietly. "What are you talking about? We are fine." He scoffed.

"No Rafe, we aren't. We're toxic. You couldn't give two shits about how feel anymore. All you care about is drugs and your stupid fri-" She was cut short.

"You know that's not true! You know I love you!” He raised his voice. "Not the way you used too." She looked away tears pricking her eyes.

"Come on baby." He placed his hand on her thigh. She removed his hand, “Don't call me that." She got up. "Please don't leave me. I need you." He pleaded. "Stop making this difficult Rafe." She let a tear fall.

"I love you." He grabbed her hands. "No you don't." She couldn't look at him. "You have no idea what I'm feeling." He shook his head. "Please give me another chance. I promise I'll be better. I'll do whatever you need me to do. I'll- I’ll get sober." He used his hands to talk.

"You say that every time." She turned around so she was facing him, running her hands through her hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and started to plant soft kisses on her neck. "Rafe." She groaned. "Mhm?" He continued.

"Stop making it hard to hate you." She turned around. "One more chance, please." He smiled willing. No matter how many time Rafe messed up she would always love him. No matter what, it would always be him."One more. Than that's it, I mean it." He hugged her.

"Let's go to your place yeah? I'll make it up too you." He smiled.

#obx #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #obx netflix #obx fic #obx smut #drew starkey x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader

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chaotic-archaeologist · 10 months

Note

got a question for ya regarding sex and online safety.

Background; I am an adulty adult. I have been able to and have voted in more than 3 elections. [I know you take interactions with minors seriously]. I am also ace and autistic. as a result I have never felt the urge to date and I normally don't mind having friends close by.

However, I also just moved for the 4th time since 2019 and would like to meet people.

So I downloaded Grindr. already got my first dickpic lol. I have also been chatting with a fellow who I like and would like to be friends with and I also wouldn't mind exploring my kinks with people... but I have never had to worry about safe online sexy stuff before so I don't know the basics beyond normal internet safety.

What do I do‽‽‽

Okay first, thanks for clarifying the adulty part. This is an awesome question, and here's the advice/steps that I personally follow for situations like this.

Have your first meeting in a public place. Go for coffee or ice cream or lunch or dinner or whatever. But don't meet them alone. This way, if you get uncomfortable with anything that's happening, they're much less likely to continue with that behavior after you attempt to extricate yourself.

Make sure there are no expectations. Plan not to have sex on the first date/meet up. Grindr often tends to ignore this rule since it's very hookup centric, but you're absolutely within your rights to insist on taking things as slowly as you want to.

Don't rely on the other person for transportation. If you choose to meet someone, get yourself there and plan to get yourself back. Walk, bike, drive, public transportation, unicycle, it's all good. But there's much less room for pressure if you're not depending on them for a ride home. This segues nicely into my next point:

Do not tell them where you live. At least, not right now. Plenty of people on Grindr are willing to "host" meaning you can come to their place. That's fine for them, but I err on the side of never giving anyone my address until I've had a thorough chance to assess their character and meet them a few times.

Tell someone where you will be. Let someone who cares about you know that you're going out, where you'll be, and what time you expect to return. Establish a time to check in when you're going home/if you choose to extend the meeting. There are also apps like Noonlight that can function similarly.

Be careful about what you consume. If you're going to enjoy and mind alternating substances, be very, very careful. This goes for anything from getting drinks at a bar to any and all of the recreational drugs on the market.

Be prepared for a little bit of awkwardness. Meeting someone in person is often very different than chatting online. If the conversation is awkward or halting, that's okay. Give it a little time (but also don't be afraid to trust your gut if it's telling you something is wrong).

Communicate clearly. If you have any needs—which can range from an allergy, not being able to stand for long periods of time, needing them to speak loudly so you can hear them, safety concerns—the best way to get those met is to be upfront. You don't need to disclose the reason why you need something if it makes you uncomfortable, just state what you need. People worth spending time with will respect that. The same thing goes for your wants.

Use protection. Maybe this isn't applicable for you specifically, but I think it belongs on this list. Condoms. Dental dams. Gloves. Someone on an app telling you they're negative for any number of things is not an actual guarantee they're not lying to you. Not wanting to use protection (not just for anal/vaginal intercourse, but for oral sex as well) is a huge red flag. Decide in advance what your boundaries are and stick to them.

If it sucks, hit da bricks. Fundamentally, you owe this person nothing. There is no consequence for saying "you know what, I'm not feeling this and I'm going to leave." Be as polite as you want to, but put yourself first.

At the end of the day, the only thing you have control over is you. How you react, where you meet this person, what you do—that's what you control. Hopefully any meet ups will be fun and relatively safe, but just in case, set yourself up for success by maintaining what control you can.

From one adult to another, these are all suggestions rather than rules. Many people on Grindr choose not to follow various ones, and that's fine. Take some time to think about what you're comfortable with and make your decisions accordingly.

Also, best practice for someone sending an unsolicited dick pic (if you don't want them) is just to block that person. But sending a return picture like this one is a hilarious option.

-Reid

#he speaks #sex advice #sex education #internet advice #life advice #grindr #internet etiquette #internet brother

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bubblegyu00 · 2 months

Text

ZB1 LEGAL LINE AS FRAT BOYS

a/n : i lost the ask 💔

tw : mentions of drinking, drugs, sex (?), suggestive content, cussing, nsfw

mdni !!

• jiwoong

- the biggest asshole out of them i don't care fight me 💔

- will obsses over you at basically stalker level until you sleep with him cus he's delusional

- but the minute he gets you in bed he'll act like he doesn't even know your name — or he genuinely forgets a day later

- he probably doesn't remember half of the times he's ever fucked anyone cus it's not a big deal to him he was just horny

- has multiple girls thinking " guys i slept with jiwoong last night i think we might get together!! " but he's doesn't even remember what you look like 🙁

• hanbin

- a literal girl magnet

- like he could just sit there drinking and he'd get like three girls numbers in the span of an hour

- has a girlfriend for everyday of the week ( @lunicho is friday 😛 )

- he just has this certain charm to him that all the girls want a piece of him

- he's not as outgoing as the others, but he gets a good fraction of the girls

• zhanghao

- born to be valedictorian forced ( by ricky ) to be a man whore 🙁🙁

- no but frl i don't think he knows how insanely attractive and alluring he is — which is hard cus he lit has one girl on his lap, one girl under each arm, and like six other girls in the room wanting to talk to him ??

- but zhanghao is also rlly wanted because he is a man of mystery

- once you get into his pants ( which is a rlly hard thing to do — you go girl ) he's never speaking to you again

- like the minute he cums, he won't even look at you. like he'll literally go make a sandwich or something ??

- but out of all the ( 7 ) girls he's slept with, they say he's they best they've ever had. so now EVERYONE needs to experience zhanghao

• matthew

- DONT FALL FOR HIS TRICKS ‼️‼️‼️‼️

- has fucked the most girls.

- he likes to trick people with his sweet and caring demeanor, but really just wants his dick sucked 😛

- i feel like he'd be the only one to actually take you out on a date before he fucks you and then ghosts you 🥰 ( my standards are low..... )

- he's the most heartbreaking one cus he actually seems like such boyfriend materiel before he leaves you on read until he wants head again 💔

- but the girls always come back because he's literally in watch mojo for top 3 pussy eaters in the world

• taerae

- HE DOESNT GHOST YOU AFTER YOU FUCK 🎉🎉🎉🎉

- oh but he does fuck like twenty other girls while he's " dating " you

- he dates bunches of girls at the same time and they're all aware, but at least they're one of kim taerae's girlfriends ⁉️

- will take you on really good, perfect dates, but he's doing it to nineteen other people so it's not special 💔

- basically rotates girlfriends every two months, so that's sixty girls he's dating per year... you go rae 🥰

- his schedule is honestly so serious for him so the minute the two month mark hits you're cut off.

- but he's a good guy besides all that 🤗

• ricky

- is basically the leader of the fraternity like idk 🗣️🗣️

- the longest he's gone without taking a girl home is like.... three days ( i was last tuesday 🥰 )

- has fucked like every girl on campus like it's not even an exaggeration at this point

- kind of an asshole but it's okay i love when they're hot and toxic 🥰 ( can you tell i have relationship trauma )

- SUCH AN ASSHOLE WAIT CUS NOW IM THINKING..... he'd like flex his rolex while taking a picture on his family owned yacht that his rich ceo mom bought for him while wearing gucci....

- he's honestly such a smooth talker?? like he could def get you to sleep with him in under ten minutes of speaking, that's how good he is

- professional frat boy 😛

• gyuvin

- he's actually insane

- like he's going around snorting cocaine from girls' tits kind of insane

- he's the person everyone is chanting " CHUG! " for like ??

- LIFE OF THE PARTYYY

- if you show him any signs that you want to fuck he'll pull you into the nearest closet cus he'll buss it down anywhere

- NO BUT THE THING IS, HES SUCH A GOOD STUDENT NO ONE EVEN TRIES TO REPORT HIM FOR DOING DRUGS CUS THE TEACHERS WONT BELIEVE IT

- he's honestly the nicest cus he's actually such a fun guy to have around

#bubblegyu00 #zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 frat boys #zb1 ricky #zb1 matthew #zb1 jiwoong #zb1 hanbin #zb1 zhang hao #zb1 gyuvin #zb1 taerae

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

► Modern Headcanons | 「AU」

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon | Aegon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (the famous big three).

a/n: This is situated in college and I hope you all like it. English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.

warnings: mentions of alchool, drunking and sex.

Modern headcanons masterlist

— Aegon ↺

We must begin with Aegon. The dude changes of graduations like he's changing clothes. He never knew what field to choose, he never had a big dream to fulfill or an aspiration to something — perhaps because his family was flying in money.

In high school he was the typical popular boy who part of the team and dated one cheerleader a month, in college it's no different.

He's a fuckboy, living in a frat (even though he doesn't have to) and throwing a thousand parties. He loves all girls, but freshmen, exchange students or super smart girls get his special attention. And some boys.

When I said that he changes courses like he changes clothes, I wasn't exaggerating.

First he tried physical education (why? He don't know), then computing at Luke's insistence (lots of numbers, he fucking hated it), then he tried law (WHY DOES A BOOK HAVE 800 PAGES?), he considered international relations and end tourism.

He wanted to do an exchange, but Alicent forbade it until he settled on something.

He just wanted to be an heir :(

He would probably meet you at a party and flirt compulsively. He wouldn't rest until he had your number, or kissed you, or better yet, performed obscenities in his room.

Eventually he would rent an apartment to have more privacy for his one night fucks.

Aegon would try to steal Jace's girls — why not?

He's used every drug you can imagine.

He would wake up drunk in the middle of campus.

He's a himbo.

— Aemond ↺

You know that handsome and mysterious guy that you would definitely have a crush on? Well, it's probably Aemond.

Among the areas he could choose, in addition to history and philosophy, I see physics or some impeccable academic career.

Unlike Aegon, the opportunity to run the family business would eventually excite him, so studying business administration is also a high possibility for our boy.

He would attend the best colleges.

He's intimidating at first sight and likes to do things alone, which makes you reluctant to try to get close.

But damn, he's super charming and seems to give off attractive pheromones and you can't pay attention to anything but him.

It's like Edward — you thought he was a vampire too.

He is super stylish and has an impossible presence to divert attention.

He would NEVER live in a frat. The idea of sharing a house with other guys his age is a nightmare. Seven Hells, he thinks he'd throw up at the smell of alcohol, drugs, and bed sheets after sex. Fucking gross.

He would rent an apartment close to university and other things that can enrich his routine.

He goes to some parties (not like Aegon) but getting drunk is not an option.

Maybe he'd try marijuana at a certain point, just to prove it.

He would always be with a book or phone in hand, or just contemplating the environment.

You'd meet him at some party or the library or any other part of college.

He was the best kiss you've had in years.

He makes you feel stupid with his intelligence and eloquence, even if he doesn't mean to. When you tell him you feel inferior, he'd take your hand and grope your face and say there's nothing that makes you any less than him.

— Jace ↺

I confess that choosing an area for Jace was the HARDEST thing about this headcanon, so he was the last.

I see him as a sports guy, but it would hardly go from a hobby. He could do business administration like Aemond to take care of the family business, but I also see him doing architecture. (If you have another option please enlighten me).

He would be a frat boy, BUT, with BIG caveats. He would be the boys' dad, guiding them not to drink too much, use illicit drugs and not take girls to his room (the latter mainly).

He's all sweet, kind, and protective with girls, unlike most frat boys.

He loves parties but tends to stay sober at most of them (sometimes he allows himself to get so fucking crazy and he turns cute and red when he's drunk).

He would smoke marijuana a few times and would definitely be a smiling high. Afterwards he would feel a little guilty.

You would also meet him at some party and be suspicious of him. Respectful, sweet and handsome? Just one low blow to get into your pants.

However, he's kind of hard to resist and by the end of the night he has your number and Instagram. Maybe even an excited kiss.

He's such a great kisser, it's so fucking unfair.

He would take you to a candy store or anywhere you want to go. Totally a good boy who treats you like a queen.

He would try to hide you from Aegon's clutches at family meetings.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon headcanons #headcanons #aegon targaryen headcanons #aemond targaryen headcanons #modern hotd #modern aemond #modern jace #modern aegon

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marleyybluu · 2 years

Text

Double Date

Pairings: Oscar x black!OC

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, use of drugs (marijuana), my smut writing skills

Word count: 4.5k

this is the longest thing I've ever written but I'm sorry I was not splitting it so if your attention span runs long enough to read this, enjoy 😂also I didn't re-read or re-edit the beginning cus I'm too high rn so sorry in advance

ALSO some of this was inspired by Entergalactic on Netflix. If you guys haven't seen it I highly recommend that you check it out, it's a fucking masterpiece, the soundtrack is bomb, storyline is cute and it's so visually pleasing omg. Kid Cudi really did his thing.

"So, look I know you're in your post-breakup mourning period... but.." Carmen took her hoodie off her head to give a full scowl to her sister, she could already feel the question about to come out of her mouth and she was in no mood. Fresh out of a long relationship, Carmen was a weeping mess that barely saw the light of day for almost a month. The man she thought she would marry and live her life with seemed to have had enough of her and made it clear in those exact words. Harsh. And that's what really hurt the most. Not the typical "I don't think we're working out." But a gut-wrenching "I've had enough." With no explanation.

When she told her sister, Vanessa, she suggested that they burned his things before he came to collect them but she couldn't find it in herself to be that girl— her sister said that didn't have anything to do with her and decided she'd perform the act herself but Carmen did find it funny to see his reaction when he saw the pile of charred clothing on the sidewalk. She was appreciative of her sister, her built-in best friend.

Vanessa looked at her with puppy eyes. "But what?" Carmen answered. "Okay so there's this guy that I've been talking to, his name is Jose, and he wants to meet but I'm kinda nervous so I asked if it could be a double date and he said yeah that's cool-"

"Nessaaaaa." She groaned. She was in no mood to even see a man let alone go on a double date with one. "Pleeeease! Please Mini." She pouted using the nickname she gave her since she was born. Carmen rolled her eyes tossing her head back as she looked at the ceiling to weigh her options, she'd been cooped up in her apartment for a while and she was starting to miss going out for a little drink here and there but she just didn't want to see the opposite sex for a bit. But it was for her sister and her sister would do the same if the roles were switched.

"When is this?"

"Tonight."

"For fuck sake Nessa."

"Sorry. But please?"

Carmen sighed. "Fine."

"Yes!" Vanessa cheered. "What does he look like?"

The older sister scrolled through her conversation finally coming across a picture of the two men, pointing to Jose and the other guy who'd be joining them. Carmen took the phone to get a closer look. He wore a completely shaved head, moustache and goatee which suited him well in her opinion— her eyes darted between the two men noticing the matching tattoos on their neck, and her date with a teardrop one under his eye.

"Vanessa..."

Her sister grimaced. "Yeah?"

"Are they in a fucking gang?"

"...maybe."

She mentally cussed her sister out, she should've known that this was what she was getting into since Vanessa always had a type, but she already agreed to this predictable catastrophe.

The time for the date came quickly and Carmen was thoroughly underwhelmed as she got ready, already planning out what could go wrong in terms of her lack of social skills— she felt like she was already lucky enough to get a boyfriend the first time around due to her awkwardness and now she was being launched back into the dating pool. Sort of.

The sisters arrived at Dwayne's Joint, it was a new spot in town that they had talked about trying out and Vanessa figured tonight would be a good night as any. They sat inside a booth waiting for the boys to arrive, the two sisters giving off very different energies. Vanessa was excited while Carmen sulked ready to get this over with so she could go home, light a blunt, and go to sleep. "You look pretty." Vanessa complimented. Carmen tried her best to make the most of it, she did dress up in a casual black halter top and paired it with a brown skirt, around her waist were her regular waist beads with one sitting above her belly button and the other below it so her belly piercing could be seen. She threw a white knitted cardigan over it but would most likely take it off soon because she was getting a bit hot already.

Her locs, that haven't been retwisted in the month, had been brushed and put up in a ponytail so they'd be out of her face and look somewhat neat. If she had to say so herself, and she did, she looked good.

"Thanks. You look pretty too girly." Carmen smiled. Her expression soon faded when the bell above the door rang signalling a customer had walked in, her heart fell to her stomach when it was the two men they were meeting with. "Here come your boys." She mumbled. "Hush." Vanessa scooted out of the booth and opened her arms to Jose, her sister stood almost stunned that the man almost ran to her scooping her up in his arms and off the floor.

She grumbled at them. Is this what she was going to endure all night?

She and his friend stood awkwardly not knowing if to introduce themselves to each other or wait for their counterparts to do it. The two broke the hug and Vanessa smiled. "José, Spooky, this is my sister Carmen. Carmen this is Jose and Spooky."

Carmen delivered a small wave only to receive a nod from Spooky, he looked like he wanted to be there as much as she did. The four sat down, Vanessa sitting beside her date and Carmen with hers. For the first few minutes it felt like a normal double date as far as those go, Jose did ask Carmen a few questions and made conversation with the two girls but soon all his attention went to Vaness which was fine because that's who he came for anyway.

She didn't know what to say to this "Spooky" guy, every time she looked over at him he was just staring at everything else not even making the gesture to look at her plus he didn't look like he wanted to be bothered anyway so she just went on her phone until their food arrived.

There was constant giggling across the table and consistent compliments and it made her miss her relationship even more-- she used to be like that too and she wished she still was. Her thumb hovered over his contact name, she knew she should've gotten rid of it by now but she didn't want to, she contemplated texting him even if it was to have a conversation for the moment but she didn't so instead she put her phone down on the table and placed her hands in her lap.

"So..." A shockingly deep voice said next to her, she was surprised he could speak at all. "So... you don't say much."

Spooky chuckled. "Neither do you. Guess we have something in common."

"That and friends who drag us to blind dates I guess."

"That too."

Saving the tension in the air was the waitress holding their tray of food, Carmen was grateful for the interruption plus she was mad hungry. The group ate and chatted a bit. She was enjoying her food until her eyes wandered off to the door, she gasped and slid down in her chair causing all eyes from the table to be on her. "What? What's wrong?" Her sister asked. "Damien." She whispered.

Vanessa turned around spotting the ex-boyfriend with a new girl on his arm, she looked over at her sister. "Who's Damien?" Jose asked. "Um, he's someone she used to date."

"What are you scared of him?" He joked. Carmen shook her head, she sat up straight frowning at the new girl. It'd only been a month out of a four-year relationship, how come he had someone already? Was she always there?

She couldn't see it but Spooky saw her expression and the way her mood changed especially when she saw that they were walking toward them to get to a table behind them. "Of all the places." He heard her mumble. He sighed and decided to do her a favour. "Come closer."

"What?"

"Come closer." Carmen listened and shuffled as close as she could, Spooky swung his arm over her shoulder catching her by surprise but she wasn't so stiff anymore she kind of relaxed under him. Damien and his date were getting closer, his smile turning into a frown once he saw her and Spooky.

They stopped in front of her table. "Carmen?" She looked up and fake smiled. "Damien, hey. What's up?"

His eyes shifted over to Spooky who was giving him a death stare. "Nothing, just hanging out, decided to try this new spot."

The air was thick once again, he nodded at the boys who didn't even blink at him, he cleared his throat mustering "See you around." Before going about his business. Carmen let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, her eyes stung as tears that she didn't want threatened to break their barrier. "You okay?" Spooky asked, she nodded going back to her food only able to take one bite before she knew that her tears were about to embarrass her.

She snatched her sister's car keys off the table and said. "I'll be back." Spooky got out so that she could, he watched her walk out of the establishment the last thing he heard was her whimpers.

"Aww, what's her problem?"

Vanessa's ears found that snarky tone. "Maybe she didn't wanna smell your funky asses sitting right behind her."

Damien's date turned around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me dog tits." She laughed. The girl gasped. "Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Before Damian could answer he looked up at Spooky who was still giving him a look of disdain. He closed his mouth and asked her to sit down before anything got worse. Spooky took it upon himself to go check on her, he wandered off into the parking lot and not too far from the door did he see her with her head down with fog around her and smoke coming from the windows with the smell of weed in the air.

Inside, Carmen's eyes were red from both the Indica and her tears, she sniffled closing her eyes and rested her head back. She knew coming out tonight would be a mistake. Willing to Trust by Kid Cudi played while the weed took over she felt herself being carried off somewhere else, floating around in her head until a small tap on the window disrupted her peace, she looked over to the passenger's side and to her surprise it was Spooky.

She unlocked the door inviting him inside, she turned down the music taking another hit of her blunt. Carmen sighed putting her feet up on the dashboard. Spooky noticed her Scooby-Doo socks and laughed, she scrunched up her nose stifling her laugh too but she couldn't help it. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." He snorted. She looked over at him, her eyes falling on the details of the tattoo on his neck-- the crucifix that you'd more so see in Catholic churches but instead of Jesus and them on it the word Santos was etched into his skin, she scanned him until she landed on the other tattoo of the teardrop under his eye. "Something you wanna ask me?"

Spooky watched as she took another puff, checking her out just as much as she did him. She handed him her blunt and he gladly took it. "What's your real name?"

A dimple poked out when he smiled. "Oscar,"

"Hm, what caused Jose to drag you out of the house Oscar?"

He licked his lips and she didn't know if it was the weed but it made her tingle when he did that. "Eh, he's my hermano, just trynna be his wingman so he could get some pussy you know?"

He handed it back to her. "Gross." She giggled taking a hit. "Yeah? Like you're not helping your sister get some dick?"

"Fair enough."

The two sat in the car and talked for a surprisingly long time as if they were on their own separate date. It was a nice conversation and it helped take her mind off of her troubles for a bit, they hadn't even noticed how long they'd been gone until Jose and Vanessa came out hand in hand with containers sitting in a plastic bag.

Oscar saw them making their way to the car and if he was being honest it was a bit disappointing, he was enjoying Carmen's company she was a fun person to talk to, she was funny, she had some pretty crazy stories to tell and he liked getting to know her. She rolled down the window to greet her sister. "Thanks for dining and dashing."

"No problem." Carmen winked. "Alright let's get you home girl."

She looked over at Oscar and back at her sister and whispered. "Are you and Jose not... you know?"

"I want to but I mean I can just take you home."

She lightly shook her head, her sister getting the hint and smirking. "Um, Spooky do you mind taking my sister home? I mean if that's okay with you, Carmen?"

"Yeah, that's cool with me." She looked over at Oscar with hopeful eyes and he agreed to take her so they switched cars and were left in the parking lot watching the other pair get into the car and drive off. He walked her over to his Red Impala and she was sort of impressed by it, it was a beautiful vehicle and the interior was just as nice.

They wasted no time falling back into the conversation they were having before, leaving the venue and driving around with no destination in particular until Carmen suggested ice cream-- her munchies were kicking in and she was craving something sweet. They pulled up to an ice cream parlour that wasn't too far from her apartment complex, it was sort of empty except for maybe a group of drunks who were in the same predicament as they were.

"So, this Damien guy..." He started. Carmen saw that he was asking for permission to talk about and she nodded granting it. "How long was that?"

"Four years."

"Damn."

She laughed, that was almost everyone's reaction, assuming it was because that was getting rare nowadays. "I know. Hm, I thought everything was fine and perfect and one day it wasn't." She sighed drawing circles on the table with her nails. "You know, you plan your life together, everything is we and ours and us... then it's not and you're being told how they've had enough."

Oscar half smiled. "Well, that guy's fucking stupid for letting you go ma. Stop dating these square-ass bitches."

Carmen burst out at his attempt to console her, it was funny and it was cute and maybe he was right, maybe she needed someone who wasn't so uptight she did find that being with Damien sometimes required treading lightly on things and it could be annoying but she just accepted it, maybe now she needed someone who was more like... Oscar. So far she found him to be fun, and he sounded like he was down for anything as long as it was amusing.

A text came in on her phone lighting the screen, instead of reading the text she read the time and her eyes widened. It was almost 2 am. "Everything okay?" He asked. "Uh, yeah, just Nessa asking if I got home okay."

He slowly nodded looking at her lips, her septum piercing sitting just above her Cupid's bow another piercing planted on her right nostril, the light freckles scattered across her pretty brown skin, the subtle makeup on her face and her pretty natural lashes coated in mascara— he felt like he was staring at an angel. She started to blush and looked down at her lap.

"You ready to call it a night?"

She wasn't, but it was already late as hell. "Yeah, guess we should go."

They left the shop and once again entered the car, the ride was kind of silent aside from her giving him directions to her place but it wasn't a weird silence like how the night started, they were officially comfortable with each other. The ride was short considering she did live by the ice cream place. Oscar turned off the car and opened his door, Carmen sat a bit confused.

"What? You thought I was letting you go up there by yourself? Come on, ma."

She beamed, the little nickname growing on her, she trailed behind him like a lost puppy into the building and inside the elevator, she clicked for the fifth floor and leaned against the handrail. She looked at him noticing one of the buttons on his flannel shirt was unbuttoned, without processing it she reached over and fixed it for him. Oscar thought the minor detail was sweet, made his heart jump a little when she got close, close enough for him to really smell her perfume that didn't fade away for the whole night— sweet like mangoes.

The doors parted and she went ahead of him to find her place. Apartment 504. He made a mental note, you know... just in case.

She fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door swinging it open and turning to face him.

Invite him in. Invite. Him. In.

"I-I had fun tonight. Really."

"Me too." He agreed. The two stood looking at each other not sure what to say or do, not knowing if they would be on the same page if action took place.

Kiss him. Just fucking grab him and drag him inside and just fuck the sh-

"I... um... I'll see you around?" He nodded wishing her goodnight before he crept down the hall and disappeared back into the elevator. Carmen closed her door and banged her fist against it. "So fucking stupid."

----

It was a nice and breezy afternoon in Freeridge but Carmen couldn't take notice, the events from two nights ago, though small, were playing through her mind, their conversations and laughter going on like a broken record. Vanessa sat across from her younger sister still in a bit of disbelief at what she was told earlier.

"So... no kiss?"

"No." She murmured. "No, dick?"

Carmen glared. "Bitch if we didn't kiss what makes you think we fucked?" Vanessa put her hands up in defence. "People fuck without kissing."

"Yeah, weirdos."

There was a moment of silence before she asked another question. "Not even a hug!?"

"For fuck sake Ness, no!" She completely folded over resting her forehead on the park table, she was frustrated at herself for not bringing him inside that night even if they didn't end up getting intimate she would've enjoyed just talking or even smoking until the sun rose. Doubts played in her head that maybe she was only feeling this way because she just got out of a relationship and he was the first guy in her line of sight, but last night felt so nice and relaxing, they got along so easily once it was just to the two of them.

Vanessa smirked taking a sip of her drink. "Okay, I'll be serious, why didn't you invite him in?"

She shrugged sitting up straight, she played with the straw in her cup. "Are you scared of him?"

"No."

"Do you think he's ugly?" Vanessa teased. "I don't."

"Girl, I know you haven't been in the streets for a long time but it's okay to think with your punani sometimes. No disrespect you've come to me complaining about your sex life sometimes, so if this is an opportunity to get some good dick, you better jump on it. Pun intended." Carmen ran her hands over her face letting out the longest groan knowing her sister was kind of right, she hadn't had to think with her punani in so long because if she wanted dick it was right there. She sighed. "Can you ask Jose for his number?"

A devilish smile spread across Vanessa's face. "I sure can."

The sun set as quickly as it rose and Carmen was back in her apartment after spending the day with her sibling, she was successful in getting Spooky's number but had yet to text him, every time she opened the empty thread her thumbs would ghost over the keyboard and she'd chicken out turning off her phone. She decided to leave her phone alone and took a quick shower to cool her down but it wasn't helping.

After her shower, she doused herself in cocoa butter and sprayed a little perfume to feel extra good before putting on her oversized grey sweater with the Space Jam characters scattered over it.

"Alexa, play Angel by Kid Cudi." It had recently become her favourite song to smoke to.

"Playing... Angel by Kid Cudi."

Perfect.

She lit a spliff she had rolled earlier and made a mental note to hit her plug for some more loud since this was her last. A moment to herself in this big-ass apartment, she was getting used to being by herself and in some way found peace in it. Her phone buzzed and she looked down at a text from her sister.

LochNess🐍: Did you text him yet?

Carmen put her phone down telling herself she'd answer once she was done having her moment, until another interruption came, this time it was a knock on her door. She was confused, no one really came to see her unless it was her sister. She sighed outing the last bit of her spliff in the ashtray and trotted to the door, she looked through the people and gasped when she saw who was on the other side. She quickly unlocked her entrance revealing Spooky on the other side.

"Spooky... hi."

She didn't know it but Spooky was nervous, he came over after Jose told him he gave Carmen his number he didn't have much of a plan or a script of what he was going to say to her. On the other hand, she was thinking about what her sister had said earlier, it was okay to think with her pussy for once and she did. It took both of them by surprise when she pulled him down by his black shirt connecting their lips, like a scene straight out of a book she tugged him inside and he reached back closing the door behind him.

He glided his palms across her lower back and down her bum grabbing a handful of her bare supple skin, she was soft and smelled so sweet. Carmen giggled feeling her feet leave the floor, legs soon wrapped around his waist. He slid off his shoes and walked over to her couch. Surprisingly none of this affected their kiss, chasing each other in desperate neediness. He sat with her in his lap, hands resting on her hips. They pulled apart for less than a second before he began to nibble at her neck, she smiled lazily letting out a hazy laugh at his facial hair tickling her skin.

Oscar gave her one last kiss on the neck before leaning back on the couch, she caught his eyes running down her body. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Heard you been thinking about me." Carmen groaned and buried her face in her hands, he chuckled at her sudden shyness. "I'm gonna kill that woman." She whined. Oscar moved her hands away and held them in his own. "Don't. I been thinking about you too." He said before cupping her chin, pulling her down this time.

Clothes were in a rush to be removed, tossing every piece on the floor until the cool breeze came in touch with their bare skin. Carmen hummed feeling his teeth graze against her sweet brown skin, his thick fingers padding down her torso and dipping between her legs. Oscar groaned at the feeling of her slickness coating his fingers, a light gasp followed by a whimper graced him as he pushed his fingers inside her cove. Her nails lightly dug at his biceps. If she was being honest, she just was willing to skip the foreplay, she wanted him and she wanted him now.

She whined wrapping her legs around his hips, he laughed breathlessly knowing what she was asking for so he stopped playing and gave it to her. He removed his fingers and lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his chain dangled in her face as he hovered over her his eyes gracing her every feature. A slick remark was about to come out of her mouth but was quickly shut down and replaced with a quiet moan feeling him fill her up completely.

Their chests pressed together as he returned to his position, his lips back on her neck adding to the feeling below. She whimpered feeling that first stroke, the second one so slow and delicate he wanted her to feel him against her walls, the third really hit-- it was a hard thrust, an erotic groan sounding from both of them. Carmen held him close, with every collision a new sound spilled from her plump lips, sounds she didn't even know she could make.

"Feels so fucking good, oh yes!"

He left sloppy kisses on her skin. "How are you so fucking wet? Hm?" His tone was cocky and she couldn't lie, the pleasure he was giving her had earned him that right. Her trembling legs never left from around his waist, using her body to beg him to go deeper. His hand collided with her hip squeezing her tattooed flesh in his grip. "Where's my answer mama?"

"You made me so wet." Carmen whimpered. "Shit! Right there!"

Oscar was pounding into her soft spot so hard her eyes disappeared to the back of her head, her legs came loose as she tried to push him off but he wasn't budging, he smirked ignoring her plea for him to ease up, she was close anyway he could feel it. Her pussy gripping him like she owned him and from now on it did. He was hooked, he was dizzy, he was ready for round after round— he never wanted to leave inside her.

He leaned down capturing her shivering lips in a slow kiss, tongues sliding past each other. He groaned when she would struggle to kiss back. "Spooky... fuck I'm cumming!"

Her nails clawed up his sides and dug into his skin once her hands reached his back. "Cum for me princesa." The words barely left his mouth when her back arched, her nails dragging down his back until her hands were right above his cheeks, she was pulsating around him. He slowed down his thrusts dragging out her orgasm for as long as he could and until she tapped out. They lay there out of breath and in a lustful aura. Carmen had finally started to breathe normally before Oscar picked her up and carried her off to an open room that he assumed was hers. She laughed when he tossed her onto the mattress.

"I'm not done with you yet, hm, I want you to always think about me."

I know I promised Rio but i finished this first so boooo

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs help and are deeply appreciated

be cool as always🤙🏾

#oscar diaz #black!OC #spooky #spooky x OC #spooky x black!OC #oscar diaz x black!OC #oscar diaz x OC #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #poc OC #smut #oscar diaz smut #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #Spotify

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nikkisheep · 1 year

Text

YOU PART 3

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Warnings: SMUT, based off the sex scene in Don't worry Darling, cursing, Dean comes home in an FBI uniform, Dean and Reader has their own house, fluff, oral (f), Dean's eyes, housewife kink (kinda, dean likes coming home to the reader dressed all nice and everything is done like a housewife does)

Summary: When Dean comes home in an FBI suit, your home cooked meal can wait after dessert.

Tag list: @rachiem4-blog @suckitands33 @b1chcave @dead-thing200 @deansbbyxbyy @lanassmarty @buhlenciagas @samanddeansannoyingsis

Cleaning the windows of their dust, your dress flows behind you. It was the 3rd anniversary of the day that you moved into the house you owned with your beloved husband Dean. He hunted, you took care of the house and yourself. He tried to spoil you when he could because he understood how his girl got when he leaves for a two week hunt. That's the longest he can handle being away from you, any longer might just kill him.

Dinner was ready and plated on the dining table, ready for Dean to come home and eat. Which as if a timer was set, Dean slammed the door shut to Baby. Grabbing him a beer, you walked up to the door to wait for him. You made a habit of this because you liked to see Dean's smile when he sees you. It hasn't dimmed since the first date he ever took you on. Dean walks in, dressed in an FBI suit. God, were you not expecting that. Normally he was dressed back as his huntery self but not this time.

"How was the hunt?" You ask, handing him the beer.

"It was just a ghost playing tricks on his wife who cheated on him before she killed him,'' He says, drinking the open beer.

"I made dinner." He kisses your lips gently before going to shrug off his coat.

"What you make?" He kisses you once again.

"I made a cheeseburger," You kiss him back, undoing his tie like the good little wife you are.

"What else, sweetheart?" He kisses you more fiercely and throws the tie behind him. You hands slipping under his white shirt. You giggle when he pinches your side a little.

"And fries with your favorite seasoning."

His lips find your neck, walking you backward into the dining room. Your back bumps the table and you giggle at it.

"What else?" His lips not leaving your jaw.

"And pie," He moves away from you so he can toss the chair at the table away to make room for the both of you.

He kisses you roughly, wanting to taste and feel every part of your sweet mouth. He picks you up to rest you on the table and you gasp when you knocked over a plate. He swallows the moan that pours out of your mouth. His stubble that he left on his face feels ticklish but so heavenly at the same time.

"What else?" He mummers into your skin before dropping to his knees. He bundled your dress up and leaned forward. He wanted to see every part of you that was his. He knew that you would be a good girl and play pretty wife for him. You would do anything he says or asks of you. Anything for him to put his hot mouth on your body.

You moan when he finally dives in. One of his rules is to not wear panties under your dresses if it is just the two of you or you were alone. He wanted to have access to you always because you are just so damn irresistible to him. You were his drug and he was an addict.

His tongue swirls around your clit while he grips your thighs. Your heels are digging into his shirt clad back as he ate you like he was dying for something to drink or eat. He was always happy to give you pleasure because it made him feel good knowing that he made you feel good. He always wanted you to feel good. He never wanted you to be unsatisfied.

"Fuck, Dean. Oh...right there...Fuuuuck!"

You moved your hips against his face and he grabbed your thighs in hope to keep you from moving. It was no use because the way he made pleasure rush through your body was enough to have you levitating. You never wanted him to stop but soon, your core started to blaze with heat and tighten inward as Dean's tongue moved against your soaked pussy in hopes to taste that sweet release that your body gives.

"Dean," You try to warn him as his hands grip the sides of the table for purchase. Your hands seek a grip on the table but end up throwing everything to the floor. Your orgasm hits you and you lose control of your body for a second, shaking and moaning as Dean drags your climax for as long as he can. He licks everything you give, as if it was a testament from God above to do so.

His lips sucked at your clit one last time before he stood up from your trembling body.

"Guess I made a mess," He chuckles.

The food, plates, silverware, napkins, bowls, the pan with the pie had been thrown onto the floor were the tiled floor laid neatly. Dean shook his head at you.

"I'm sorry. Let me clean it up," You get down and start trying to clean it up with the discarded apron you were wearing.

After the two of you showered and went to bed, you apologized for the mess you made and how the pie got ruined by your wandering hands.

"Honey, your pussy was better than any pie you could ever make."

"Are you sure?" He loved how he was just eating your cunt like a starved man and here you are cuddling into his side, hiding your face from him when he said those words.

"I'm sorry I have been gone so long and honestly, I just wanted to love on my wife," Dean said but you had already fallen asleep to his heartbeat.

"Love you sweetheart," He kissed your forehead before going to sleep with you in his arms.

#dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester #spn #YOU series #you nikkisheep #dean winchester smut #spn x reader #supernatural x reader smut #spn x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female!reader smut

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shayyprasad · 5 months

Text

games // part one | peter parker

(the spacing is so weird... don't worry about it...)

masterlist to this here!

tw: underage drinking, angst kinda, mentions of sex and underage drug use, making out, y/n

just y/n

that's all i can say

kinda trash but whateverrr (i didn't really proofread-)

will probably have multiple parts that aren't that long?? idk

this one's 1.1k+ words

peter's p.o.v.

y/n stark had never fallen in love. she had everything she needed, all the money, right in the palm of her hand.

yes, she was smart. one of the top students at midtown high. her grades spelt that out. so why wasn't she doing anything with herself? why didn't she put effort into the things she did? why was she always making questionable decisons? smoking? drinking? parties? drugs and one-night stands?

because she didn't care.

she didn't care simply since she would take over her father's company, anyways. no college or anything, simply a one-way ticket to be the c.e.o. of stark industries. that was her life plan.

plus hook-ups on weekends.

most nights were spent partying, drinking, and doing drugs. and the longest she'd ever dated a guy was 6 days (more or less).

to say the least, she had a reputation.

peter knew that, so he wasn't quite sure why he let himself fall in love with her, even though they'd never talked.

he glanced over to her figure that was slumped over her desk slightly, as she bit her lip in concentration. peter felt his heart beating a little faster.

"-once you finish that, turn it in. though," ms. cartwright paused, "you may, actually probably will, have to work with your partner outside of school to complete this. choose your person carefully, and don't forget, you have 'til wednesday. go ahead and find a partner."

"really, ms. cartwright? a project? aren't you supposed to be the cool teacher?" y/n quipped, not really meaning to make it sound like a joke, but some people, including himself, chuckled.

but peter's mood dropped again as he sighed, because he didn't have any friends in this class, so he prepared himself to plead the teacher to let him work alone.

suddenly, someone sat down next to him, making peter look up.

"hey, parker." his eyes immediately widened.

"oh! uh, h-hi, y/n."

she nodded briefly, "wanna partner up?"

"with- with me?" he asked, looking around.

"um, yes?" y/n raised an eyebrow. "who else?"

"right, right." it was awkward for a second, and he wanted to break the silence so bad. clearing his throat, "so i was thinking that we could do maybe... something for thermodynamic properties of atomic defects for quantum technologies? a model paired with a thesis, or, like, prediction for, uh, it, or," he looked up as he was writing to make sure she was still listening, "and add some sorta... emitter?"

"that's... actually really smart. maybe workshop on the defects part though, but i think we can make it work. let's blow them away, parker."

peter couldn't stop the grin that made it's way onto his face.

a girl was talking to him. a pretty girl. one that wasn't aunt may or mj. sure, yeah, it was for a group project, but still.

it counted, he decided.

the rest of class was spent brainstorming, and then he felt a little sad once the bell rung and she had to leave, before that, though, y/n wrote her number on his paper, adding a little heart.

"wanna meet up after school? we can work on it and get it out of the way."

"yes, please!" he said, a little too happily, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "um, yeah, th- that's cool. i guess."

y/n laughed, and he decided it was the prettiest sound ever. "solid, babes." he froze momentarily, but he knew she didn't mean it sexually. but he still blushed, and y/n caught that but said nothing for his sake.

"'kay, see you then. text you the deets."

only aunt may ever used the word "deets," but when y/n said it, it sounded... cool, and it made him want to start using it, too.

he couldn't wait to brag to ned.

now who's the female-less dweeb?

his next period was lunch, so he could tell. ned. everything. peter was honestly still surprised that out of everyone in the whole classroom, she picked him.

unless she's using you for answers, a little voice rang at the his back of his head.

he shook it away. why would she need his help? or answers? y/n was equally smart, if not smarter.

right.

she came to me because i'm not 100% of a loser. i'm worth something as peter.

peter sat down at his normal seat on the lunchroom, right by ned.

"god, ned, you'll never believe it! ned, bro! guess, guess!"

"uh... the water fountain doesn't make the hallway smell like farts every time someone uses it because it's fixed now?"

"that... that was specific."

"hey, man, i gotta get water from somewhere."

"okay, well, either way, no."

"ooh! you- you... i don't know. just tell me!"

"alright, alright. get ready. are you ready now?"

"yeah! say it!"

"100% ready?"

"yes!"

"i got," peter started, pausing for dramatic effect, "a pretty girl's number!"

"really? no way!"

"and, and, it's not just any pretty girl! it's y/n! yeah! y/n stark!”

"no. way. oh my gosh, peter! that's insane!"

"i know, i know, i know!"

"so? now what?"

"what do you mean?"

"like... are you gonna meet up with her?"

"uh. maybe? i dunno. i've seen her at the tower, like, once."

"won't mr. stark," he shrugged, "not want you dating... his daughter?"

peter paused, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "i... don't think we're quite there, ned," he answered honestly.

he decided not to mention the fact that it was for a group project.

peter spent the rest of lunch tuning out ned and day-dreaming about her. and then when he got home, he stared at his phone. maybe he was waiting for a text from her?

it didn't matter.

why would she willingly do that?

then another thought popped into his mind, was she waiting for him?

that's stupid. there's no reason for her to wait. if she wanted to talk to me, she would've done so.

but what if she is? then i should message her.

wait, no, i can't look desperate!

maybe-

shut up conscious!

he felt so silly, stressing over such a small thing. but then again, this was high school. practically everything you said or did mattered. finally, he decided he'd text her first.

peter: hi. it's|

the cursor blinked in front of him, mocking peter. he erased it and tried again.

peter: hey, it's|

or did "hi" sound better? no, no, hey was cooler. but he didn't want her to think it was hey, because it wasn't hey. it was just hey.

well, now he had another problem. "hey" didn't look like a word anymore. it looked like hay misspelled. peter dragged a hand down his face, frustrated.

peter: hi y/n i'm hopelessly in love with you and overjoyed that you picked me to be your partner marry me now? please|

that was most likely not better.

he settled for, at last;

peter: hey, it's peter. when do you wanna meet up?

delivered at 5:31

#spiderman #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #games part one

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 month

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Hi Steph, how are you lovely? Thank you again for everything you do for us! I'm sort of in the mood for fun Johnlock marijuana fics. John and Sherlock accidentally or not so accidentally getting high (and preferably naughty). I just finished lifeonmars' 'Smoke' and itching for more 🤭

Hi Nonny!

AHHHH okay I honestly don't think I HAVE any that I've read? If I do they'll be on one of my Drugs lists:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Drugs and Drugging Pt 2

Drugs and Drugging Pt 3

I did a quick look on my MFL list and here is what showed up when I did a tag search... I haven't read them so I don't know if the drugs referenced IS pot/weed... If anyone has others that they can or would like to add, please do!

RECREATIONAL DRUG USE (MFLs)

Smoke by lifeonmars (T, 4,827 w., 1 Ch. || Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Fluff, Humour, Rock and Roll) – Sometimes time and space collide to show you something you've been missing. Sherlock's pipe helps.

Better Than by pandoras_chaos (E, 9,869 w. || Marijuana / Drug Use, Oral / Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Pining) – Mrs Hudson looked up at him and started giggling, seemingly unable to help herself as she clutched at her stomach and leaned back into the sofa cushions. Sherlock felt his face twitch, and he tried to contain the rumbling chuckles as they spilled forth from his throat, but it was useless. "The thing about John...?" she prompted after a few minutes of breathless laughter. "Ah! Yes," Sherlock sighed, reaching for the ashtray and collecting the expertly rolled joint, "The thing about John is..." he brought the lighter up to the end of the paper, took a drag and held it for a moment, feeling his chest expand with the fragrant smoke. "He's..." he exhaled long and low. "He's fucking brilliant." Mrs Hudson let loose a bark of high, girlish laughter. "You mean he's brilliant at fucking, dear," she corrected, reaching for the bag of crisps on the table. Sherlock felt his cheeks flush, but his face split into a sly grin. "I wouldn't know, Hudders." He sighed a bit wistfully, "I really wouldn't know."

Sit Pretty For Me by LipstickDaddy (E, 19,502 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting Pre-S1, Recreational Drug Use, Light BDSM, Strangers to Lovers, Matchmaker Mike, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – What if John and Sherlock met once before, at an underground sex club, a decade before Mike Stamford introduced them that afternoon at Bart’s?

On Dates, Drugs, and Destiny by squire (T, 20,055 w., 3 Ch. || ASiP Divergence, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Crack, Humour, Fluff, Angst, Misunderstandings, Love Confessions, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Jealousy, Friends to Lovers, Courting, Drugs / Recreational Drug use, Case-Related Drug Use, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Meddling Mycroft) – When Sherlock Holmes and John Watson first meet in the lab at Bart's, it isn't actually for the first time. But why does only one of them know this - and should the other one keep the secret, or will revealing the truth ruin their friendship forever? A story of John being not Sherlock's date, of Sherlock being around way too much drugs, and a Destiny that always has to have the last word.

Heart on a String by AngelSpirit (E, 23,257 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, First Kiss / Time, Infidelity, Angst, Fluff, Kidlock/Teenlock, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use) – John and Sherlock got married with Cracker Jack rings when they were 7 yrs old. It wasn’t official, but for their whole lives they took it very seriously.

Gilded Cages by MaryLouLeach (E, 52,323 w., 21 Ch. || Supernatural Creatures AU || Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Violence, Suicide Attempt, Attempted Murder, Vampires and Werewolves, Blood Drinking, Slavery, Dom/Sub Undertones, Torture, Anal Sex, Turning, Recreational Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Dark Sherlock, Protective Mycroft, Possessive Sherlock, Bonding, War, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Child Abuse) – The vampire remained motionless in the dark of his prison; his eyes clasped shut as if he were sleeping. However Vampires didn’t sleep, or rather this one did not. Sleeping would bring dreams; dreams were solely a human condition, whereas nightmares, nightmares were what plagued the sleep of the immortal. Sherlock knew he was a monster, and even now in this hellish prison locked in the unfurnished room, he felt the darkness of soul start to fester. Pushing at him and all he wished to do was silence it, he needed his fix needed more. The last addict he fed on wasn’t enough. He needed more, needed to shut out the screaming that plagued him that weighed him down and kept him shackled to his hunger. Part 1 of the GILDED series

Your Many Tendencies Series by apliddell (T, 52,222+ w. across 5 works || WiP || Femlock, POC Characters, Enby Character, Sherlock’s Violin, YouTuber John, UST, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Domesticity, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss, Love Confessions, John’s Family, Christmas, Anxious Sherlock, Hurt / Comfort, Institutional Racism) – John Watson returns to London after a long absence, somewhat the worse for wear. She meets Sherlock Holmes, and starts feeling excited about life again.

Save Me or Let Me Drown by GubraithianFire (E, 72,986 w., 16 Ch. || Shameless AU || Dysfunctional Family, Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Humour, Clubbing, Bipolar Disorder, Custody Battle, Mutual Pining, Family Fluff, Smut, Handcuffs, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Rimming, Come Shot, Angst With Happy Ending) – How Sherlock escaped from his family, John sacrificed everything to his, and how, together, they built their own. Part 1 of the The Watsons series

Filthy/Gorgeous by MirabileLectu (E, 87,951 w., 12 Ch. || Prostitution, Alternate First Meeting, First Time, Recreational Drug Use, Drugs, Angst, Drama)– Even if this was legal, even if there was nothing technically wrong with what he was doing he knew that if he were caught, or if he were seen by someone he knew, or if he were found out in any way the shame would never, ever die. What would his regiment say? What would his family say? What would anyone say if they discovered that John was currently in a cab on the way to pick up a male prostitute for the evening?

To Light Another's Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w., 19 Ch. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John's care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #drugs and drugging fics #drugs cw #recreational drugs fics

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

VI ║ Confute

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

{ << Part 5: Confound | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 7: Contrary >> }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: As the weeks tick down to the end of filming, tensions go up - until the bubble bursts.

Warnings: Dieter being mean to Canada (but only because he's throwing a tantrum), angst, fighting, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), safe unprotected sex (be smart kids!), light cum play, yearning, mentions of food, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Note: This is only a day late... happy birthday weekend my lovely Ash @mandoblowmybackout! You deserve all the Dieter 😘 And darling Kat @doin-stuff, this Pete cameo was written for you because you love him so much, and it makes me so happy 🥺 More notes at the end.

Ever the crowd-pleaser, Dieter holds his hands up and agrees. ‘Fine, fine. If we lose, I go on a date with Ruth. But,’ he pauses dramatically, then points straight at you. ‘If your team loses, you go on a date with me, sweetheart.’

Week 9

The machine is whirring and spitting coffee into a paper cup when Ana, one of the makeup girls you've gotten close to over the past two months, corners you.

You're in the break room getting your elevenses (Oreos and caffeine) during the brief window in which Dieter changes costumes for his next scene. She sidles up to you and leans on the table next to the sugar and cream.

'The girls and I came by your room last night to see if you wanted to go out for drinks, but you didn't answer the door. Where were you?' she asks over the noise of the coffee machine.

'Oh, I must have been doing laundry,' you shrug while you pour cream into your coffee.

She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at you. 'At 11 o'clock at night?'

You reply noncommittally, 'I have weird habits.'

Ana snorts. 'You're not that weird, hon.'

You try to change the topic. 'You know Dieter's next scene is in ten minutes, right? Don't you have to touch up his hair or something?'

She gives you a mischievous side eye and bumps her shoulder against yours. 'Alright, hon, keep your secrets to yourself. Because it’s always so easy to keep secrets on set.'

You let out a silent sigh of relief when she disappears from the doorway.

Truth is, you haven't even set foot in your own room in - you count the days in your head - damn, has it really been two weeks? Maybe two and a half?

The machine stops hissing and you tip in the sugar, chewing on the inside of your cheek pensively as you stir. Well, his hotel is a lot closer to the studio, shaves a good thirty to forty minutes off your daily commute, which means more sleep. You're not averse to the laundry service or in-room breakfast either.

Or him.

If the hotel has noticed an additional person's presence, they've been discreet about it. Your toothbrush sits next to his (definitely not electric one, can’t mess with his brain waves and shit) in between the double marble sinks. Your drugstore brand shampoo is on the same shelf of his expensive (gifted, of course) hair products. Your clothes hang in the closet (his are everywhere but), and your shoes are lined up neatly next to his (haphazardly kicked off) by the door.

At least your car is parked in the garage at the back of the hotel building to maintain some semblance of secrecy, in case any of the cast or crew spots it from the road while driving to and from the studio.

Dieter's suite also has a proper work station in the living room, which is far kinder on your back than the little coffee table you have to stoop over at yours. He lets you use it - he never does anyway, other than as a depository for any and all kinds of knick knacks.

You had to clear away empty cigarette boxes, lighters, Kit Kat wrappers and obscure drug paraphernalia to even find the surface of the wooden desk. But you've made it yours now, with your laptop plugged in on top of notebooks, scripts and bits of paper next to tea-stained mugs.

That's where you are most evenings after dinner - almost always Deliveroo, you order on even days and him on odd days. You would go over the director’s notes for the day before working on the choreography for upcoming scenes. Dieter would be on the couch across the room, leaning back on cushions with his feet up, holding a script above his face. Every so often, he records voice memos which he would replay to you for a second opinion, until either one of you calls it a night.

Sometimes, it’s him. Tossing his script noisily onto the coffee table, you’d hear him pad across the hardwood floor in his squeaky Crocs until he stops behind you and places his large hands on the desk, caging you in between his arms while you tap busily on your laptop. He’d patiently mouth at your ear, your neck, your shoulder until your fingers stumble, and when you finally breathe an exasperated Dieter, he’d turn you in your swivel chair and lean down to kiss you properly. If his back is holding up that day, he’d hoist you up into his arms, your legs around his waist, and carry you to the bedroom.

Last night, he was already in bed when you called it. He was half-sunken into the pillows, his reading glasses on, the duvet very white against his tan skin. He has a script with ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ in large letters blazoned on the cover in his hands, as he usually does these days. With five weeks till the scheduled end of principal photography, Rebecca has been dropping off shortlisted scripts for his next project, and they’ve been piling up on his already chaotic nightstand.

He didn’t even look up when you got into bed, which was a sign that he was reading something he liked. Not wanting to disturb him, you fiddled with your phone, setting you alarms and checking the weather for the next day, when the fine print on the front caught your eye.

Dieter actually jumped out of his skin when you shrieked and flung yourself onto him, grabbing the script. ‘Richard fucking Linklater? You’re in the running for a Richard Linklater project?’

He clutched at his chest, eyes round and staring at you above the black frame of his glasses in alarm. ‘Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you nearly gave me an aneurysm.’

You ducked your head and sheepishly tried to move away, but Dieter wrapped his arm around you and dragged you to his side. You said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just a huge fan.’

He grinned at you, taking his glasses off and chucked them in the general direction of his nightstand without looking. ‘It’s alright, you’re cute when you shout. Didn’t know you were a Linklater fan. Which of his films do you like?’

‘Before Sunrise. Before Sunset. Before Midnight. All of them,’ you rattled off without taking a breath.

Dieter pursed his lips in surprise. ‘Really? Wouldn't have pegged you for a romantic, sweetheart.’

You pinched him on the shoulder, making him yelp. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Pinning your hands to the mattress before you could do any more damage, he replied matter-of-factly, ‘No offence, but you're the least romantic person I've ever met. With your rules and shit. Thought you’d turn your nose up to something as sappy as Before Sunrise.’

You gasped in affront, struggling against his hold. ‘Do not call Before Sunrise sappy! Take it back!’

He chuckled at your reaction. ‘Not as much of a hardass as you pretend to be huh, sweetheart?’

You huffed, wriggling out of his hold to pluck the script from his lap and you smoothed your palm over the crisp pages in reverence. ‘I can’t believe I’m holding a Richard Linklater script. Where will this be filmed?’

He shrugged, sliding down the bed to lean back against the pillows, his fingers on your bare thigh under the duvet. ‘Somewhere in Italy in the summer. Not too many details yet.’

Your eyes skimmed over the words, not really reading, your mind somewhere else. You told him quietly, ‘I've never been to Italy before.’

He hummed and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. ‘We'll see about that, sweetheart.’

You notice the stack of scripts on his bedside table thinning, until there’s only one left. He’s been taking calls at odd times behind closed doors, and a couple of times this week, he disappeared after dinner to meet with Rebecca other agency suits, not coming back until you’d already fallen asleep.

He doesn’t have to tell you what’s going on.

And he doesn’t.

It shouldn’t bother you.

But it does.

It doesn’t come up until Week 10 drinks.

These Friday night drinks have been happening every two or three weeks, depending on the workload of the crew. You’ve made friends with a couple of casting directors in these get-togethers, and you’re catching up with them when you’re suddenly pitched forward by a heavy hand landing on your shoulder, and a shout of your name in your ear.

Tobias is practically humming with energy, toasting your little circle with gusto. ‘We're almost there! I’ve never directed a movie that’s been this on schedule before. What are your plans after this, my dear?’

You shake drops of spilled champagne from your fingers, exchanging amused glances with your companions. ‘I don’t have anything lined up yet. Intimacy coordinator roles are a bit thin on the ground in film right now. I think I may have a better shot at TV, to be honest.’

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ replies Tobias. Then he clicks his fingers, as if an idea just came to him. ‘This reminds me. My friend at HBO was asking me for a reference for an intimacy coordinator just yesterday. If you want, I could put you in touch. It’s for a show that starts shooting in Canada in a couple of months.’

A raspy voice pipes up somewhere behind your left shoulder. ‘What about Canada?’

Fuck. When did he sneak up on you?

He ambles into your line of sight. He’s wearing his shaggy brown coat again, underneath is a t-shirt worn thin by time and too many washes, and loose grey sweatpants.

Tobias greets him with a chummy handshake, pulling him into your circle. ‘I was just telling our intimacy coordinator about a TV project she might be interested in.’

Dieter scrunches his eyebrows together, confused. ‘What TV project?’

Tobias claps you on the back again. ‘She’s looking for a job after we wrap, and I know of one that might just be the perfect fit for her in Canada.’

‘Wait, TV?’ Dieter asks, eyes squinting. ‘Why would she want to do TV? She’s in film.’

Your sweater gets too warm for you as your temper flares at him talking about you as if you weren’t standing right there. You cross your arms. ‘Why wouldn't I? It would be a fantastic opportunity and it’s a good time in my career to try something new. Thank you for your offer Tobias, I'd really appreciate it if you could put a good word in for me.’

He raises his glass to you and you clink it, a bit too aggressively. ‘Great! I’ll link you up first thing tomorrow morning. Rumour is HBO’s going to commit to a second season before filming has even started. They've signed on Woody Harrelson, you know. What a coup!’

Dieter scoffs, contempt dripping from every word. ‘Woody Harrelson? That grandpa? He's what, seventy?’

You shoot back. ‘He's sixty and he's a wonderful actor.’

He snorts condescendingly. ‘Has he won an Oscar, sweetheart?’

You roll your eyes. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘I’m a better actor than him. Admit it.’

You throw your hands up in disbelief. ‘How are you making this about you right now?’

He ignores you and goes off on another tangent. ‘Why would you go into TV? Shows could tie you up for years! You really want to live in Canada?’ He spits the word out like it tastes funny.

Tobias raises one hand gingerly. ‘Um, I’m actually Canadian. It’s consistently ranked as one of the best countries in the world to live in -’

At the same time Dieter snaps, ‘No one asked you, Tobias!’, you retort, ‘It’s none of your fucking business, Bravo!’

Your circle lapses into an awkward silence as the crossfire of words between you two comes to a screeching halt. You glare at Dieter while Tobias and the casting directors trade uncomfortable glances over the rims of their champagne flutes.

Dieter takes a big mouthful of his whiskey, then asks in a more composed tone, ‘Can I talk to you outside?’

‘No,’ you reply flippantly, just to push his buttons.

Something in the air shifts.

The word rumbles deep and dark in his chest. ‘No?’

You lift your chin in defiance. ‘You heard me, Bravo. Whatever you have to say, you can say it to me right here.’

A shiver runs down your spine unbidden when your name slips through his lips in a loaded warning, but you hold your ground. You have to. You need to.

His nostrils flare and something snaps behind his eyes. He downs his whiskey in one swallow - you stare at his Adam’s apple as it bobs in the column of his thick, exposed neck - before he slams the empty crystal tumbler on the bar counter.

With one last scowl thrown your way, he turns and storms out of the soiree.

Dieter’s in his trailer, sulking.

He's sitting at the makeup table, all the lights are on, and an open bottle of whiskey sits in front of him. His coat is flung carelessly on the couch by the door, his sunglasses clipped to the front of his raggedy t-shirt. He stares unseeingly at a jar of hair mousse as he reaches for the neck of the bottle and takes another swig.

There's a knock at the door. He doesn't answer, but it swings open anyway and lets you in before slamming shut with a bang that shakes the trailer. Four steps and you’re right behind him, buzzing with champagne and adrenaline.

‘What the fuck, Bravo?’

He doesn’t need to look at you to feel the literal heat of your glare, but it seems to refract and bounce off the mirror anyway. You continue, ‘You have no right to talk to me like that in front of other people. You have no right to talk to me like that, period. You understand me?’

He still says nothing, but he does lift his gaze lazily to hold yours in the reflection, not looking away when he brings the bottle up to his mouth again.

You’re upset. You’ve been upset for days, he knows it. You're so painfully obvious and he's pretty sure that you don't even know it. It’s been building, like a wall around you, brick by brick. Suddenly you’re shying away from his touch, dodging him when he tries to pull you close. When he asks what’s wrong, you pinch your lips and insist you’re fine.

At least you’re not pretending you’re fine now. He’s seen you angry, of course - and you’re angry now, but that’s not all it is. There’s something else to the stiff way you’re holding your shoulders and the tremour in your hands.

Dieter smacks his lips, breaking the tense silence with a drawl. ‘So… Canada? When were you going to tell me?’

Your jaw drops, and you look taken aback, before your mouth curves into a sarcastic smile, brows reaching for your hairline. ‘Wow. Really, Bravo?’

He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

You echo his words back at him mockingly. ‘So… Italy? When were you going to tell me?’

He spins around in his chair to study you. Is that why you’ve been mad?

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he says plainly.

‘Sure. I’ve been imagining all those secret phone calls and late-night meetings.’

He leans forward, and he catches you before you can move away. ‘Hey,’ he reprimands sharply as you try to pull back, which only makes him tighten his hold on your wrists. ‘Knock it off, sweetheart. There’s nothing to tell because I haven’t said yes - yet.’

‘Yet?’ you echo blankly. ‘So - you’ve been offered the role?’

He nods.

‘Why haven’t you said yes?’

He exhales, shoulders slumping. ‘You know why.’

The three little words immobilise you completely. He doesn’t expect you to be happy about this. Angry, sure. He can handle angry. Any other person would be flattered, only you’re not any other person.

But then you’re shaking your head, and there’s panic in your eyes. Your voice shakes, and you bring a trembling hand to your forehead, as if to anchor yourself. ‘What the fuck? You can’t do that, Dieter. You can’t. This is why we had the fucking rules in the first place!’

Dieter coughs a sardonic laugh, leaning back in his chair and linking his fingers behind his head. ‘Rules? You’re one to talk, sweetheart. You moved in with me a month and a half ago.’

You stare at him for a beat, wringing your hands anxiously, your eyes flitting everywhere but at him. Then you clear your throat. ‘Do you want to stop, then?’

His fingers slip, and they grip the arms of the chair where they fall. ‘What?’

‘Do you want to stop?’ you repeat, enunciating your words. ‘This is clearly getting in the way.’

This is accompanied by a nonchalant wave of your hand in the space between you.

Dieter breathes out audibly through his nose. Getting in the way. That’s a fucking punch to the gut. He nods slowly, once, twice, then he tilts his face upwards to meet your stare, regarding you from under his curls. ‘Do you want to stop?’

‘I mean, if you think it's easier -’

‘Cut the clever semantics, sweetheart,’ he interrupts harshly and grabs you by the wrists, his expression deadly serious. ‘I asked - do you want to stop?’

The skin-on-skin contact jolts you, and you snap at him. ‘Clever semantics? What the fuck are you implying, Bravo?’

He abruptly lets go of your wrists, and you feel the indentation of his grip on your skin. His eyes are hard when he shakes his head at you. ‘You want to end this? You do it. Don't use me to do it for you.’

His ultimatum lingers, clinging to the thick tension thrumming between you. He takes in your parted lips, and you’re breathing heavily, eyes glassy.

He’s about to turn around for the whiskey he desperately needs when you crash into him in a hard kiss.

The chair slides back on its wheels when you climb onto him, tilting on its axis at a dangerous angle as it creaks under both of your weight. It’s a crude kiss, tongue and teeth and spit until he pulls your thick sweater off of you. You rake your nails through his hair, tugging on the soft curls until he makes a guttural sound. Face burrowed in your neck, he yanks your bra down, straps and all, cups turned inside out, not bothering to find the clasp.

‘Yes, fuck, yes,’ you whimper as he sucks hard on one nipple, while he squeezes and pulls on your other breast. Your body slips into a rhythm of its own, hips grinding against him. When your tongue finds his left earlobe, the wet tip curling around the metal of his earring, he shudders violently and lunges for your lips, craving your taste again.

You squeak when for a second, the chair teeters on its back wheels and is this close to toppling over - but Dieter spins the chair in the nick of time and shoves you up against the table. Your breath is knocked out of you when you hit the wooden edge, and he wastes no time draping you backwards onto the cool surface, your tits pushed forwards as your back arches to accommodate the position, the top of your head bumping into the mirror.

Still seated, Dieter pushes up your cosy knit skirt around your waist. He traces the tip of his thumb over your clothed clit and you jerk into the contact, your fingers finding purchase on the rounded edge of the table, knees splayed open.

He watches you, a smirk on his lips as he teases you, your hips chasing his touch. ‘You want me to prove I’m worth keeping around? Is that it, sweetheart?’

‘Please,’ you plead, rubbing your thighs together to find some relief.

He chuckles darkly, tearing your panties off and wrenching your legs apart, which draws a sharp, needy cry from you. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he holds you open for him, ankles on his shoulders, his hot breath brushing your pussy, making you whine.

‘Eyes on me, baby,’ he orders, and drags his tongue through your folds.

There’s a dull thud when your head hits the mirror as you writhe beneath him, and he smirks into your pussy. He fucking loves eating you out. You’re never more his than when you’re on his tongue. He knows he has you.

You need and want so little from him. But when he’s on his knees - or right now, in this chair - the playing field is levelled. You demand everything, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it to you.

He pushes your thighs back against your body so that your knees are pinned together, changing the angle, your pussy lips now pursed and glistening under him. He groans and looks up at you as he laves your clit, up and down as you buck against him, your hands on your tits tucked underneath your legs.

He can feel your slick soaking his beard and his moustache, marking him with your scent and your want. In moments like this, he doesn’t have to convince himself that he’s enough for you.

Suckling gently on your clit, he eases one finger into your cunt. You jerk like a live wire, calling out his name with abandon, not caring who might be walking past.

‘That’s it, baby,’ he hums, lips brushing your folds as he pumps one more finger into you. ‘You can take it. You always take me so well.’

His already rock hard cock jumps when you grip his hair roughly, pushing him harder into your pussy.

‘Dieter, fuck, I’m gonna come so hard,’ you mewl, your voice echoing in the small space of the trailer.

He doesn’t answer you, too preoccupied with the way your pussy is coiling tighter and tighter around his fingers, slick all over his rings and dripping down to his wrist. He plunges them in up to the knuckle, gritting his teeth at the dirty, squelching sounds your pussy makes as you suck him in. Flattening out his tongue, he quickens the pace, lapping at your clit in fast, broad strokes until you’re keening.

‘Oh my god,’ you pant, arching off the table. ‘I’m gonna - I’m gonna - coming - '

He moans when you finally clamp down on him, your hips lifting clean off the table as you whimper and thrash, your hands pushing his face away when it gets too much. But he keeps his fingers inside you, sliding slowly, relishing the stranglehold of your cunt until your high passes.

Picking up the bottom hem of his t-shirt, he swipes at his chin, saturating the fabric with your cum. You watch in a daze as he hovers above you, taking your lips in a deep kiss, his thumbs skating over your cheekbones as he swipes his tongue inside your mouth, making sure you taste yourself on him.

Then, without giving you any reprieve, Dieter pulls you off the table by the hips and flips your limp body over. You feel his erection nudge the cleft of your cheeks through his sweatpants, which makes him hiss. He meets your unfocused gaze in the mirror, breath grazing your ear as he tells you on no uncertain terms. ‘I want you to watch, ok, sweetheart? Watch how well I fuck you.’

Your jaw goes slack at his words, and he licks his lips while you process his ask. Slowly, you bend forwards in his grasp, ass in the air, holding his gaze in the reflection the entire time. A harsh fuck falls from his lips as he drops his eyes to watch you part your legs. With rushed movements, he pushes down his sweatpants and boxers, but doesn’t bother stepping out of them.

You enjoy the power of seeing his pupils go completely dark. You squirm and your words come across as more of a plea than an order. ‘Fill me up, Dieter.’

His breath stutters, but he recoups and pulls roughly on your hair, so you’re leaning on your palms instead of your forearms. ‘Hold yourself up, sweetheart. I want to see those pretty tits bounce.’

With that, he thrusts into you.

You gasp, shoved forwards by the force, back bowed so far back it hurts, and it’s too much, too quickly - your eyes closing shut of their own accord while Dieter rails into you.

‘I said eyes on me,’ he growls and there’s a sharp snap when his palm meets the side of your ass.

You choke at the sting, and your eyes snap open. There’s a deep frown of concentration under his wild curls as he fucks into you, fingers digging into your ass to pull you backwards onto him, grunting when he bottoms out each time.

He’s not rushing. Each thrust is deliberate, making you feel the full heft of him before he pulls out, until he’s just clinging precariously on the edge, and then he inches back in until he’s fully seated. He inhales raggedly when he watches his cock emerge from you, glossy with your cum.

‘You feel that?’ He asks as he pushes into you again. ‘Feel your pussy just opening up for me, swallowing my cock whole?’

You whine, your knees nearly caving when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. ‘Yes!’

He pushes your right leg up on the table, opening you up even wider for him. You gasp at the new sensations this position creates, your hands scrabbling for purchase but finding none. He fucks you harder now, the rhythmic, wet slap of skin intensifying over your panting breaths.

‘Such a good girl,’ he leans down, his still clothed chest against your back, and murmurs against your ear. ‘Gonna take my time with you, sweetheart. I want the whole fucking studio to hear you. Can you do that for me?’

You bite your bottom lip so hard that it swells immediately, and in a moment of dire need he drives harshly into you without warning, making you cry out as he strokes somewhere deep inside.

‘Louder,’ he demands, pulling out only to bury himself inside at an unforgiving pace.

‘Fuck, oh my god, fuuuu-ck,’ you wail, words having abandoned you. Your arms tremble as you try to keep yourself upright, your tits jiggling back and forth heavily as you take him.

With a growl, Dieter hauls you up so your back is against his chest, your arms reaching backwards to wind around his neck, fingers twisted in his hair. One of his thick arms is tight on your waist, the other hand brushing away your hair to bite your neck, so hard you’re sure there will be marks tomorrow. He chuckles darkly at your squeal and runs his tongue over where you feel the imprint of his teeth.

You can see his thick cock in the mirror now, disappearing between your thighs as he buries himself into you over and over again, and he watches too, eyelids hooded and heavy.

‘Show me how touch yourself, baby,’ he orders, hot breath on your ear. ‘Make yourself come on my dick.’

You nod, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, and he moans at your face - you look well and truly fucked. By him. With unsteady fingers, you start to rub your clit - it’s tender from your first orgasm, slippery from his spit and your cum, but it doesn’t take much before you’re grinding your hips to the pleasure building between your thighs.

He groans and his hips falter, both palms coming up to knead and push your breasts together. ‘So fucking hot. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum, sweetheart.’

‘Dieter,’ you moan when you feel your insides start to twist. ‘Come with me. I’m so close. Please please please.’

‘Fuck, I love it when you beg for my cock,’ he mumbles against your neck, a deep possessiveness taking hold of him. He means to taunt you, but when he attempts to throw the same words in your face, the hitch in his voice gives it away. ‘Tell me - do you want to stop, sweetheart?’

The double meaning hangs heavy between you, but you’re too far gone to care. You shake your head adamantly, hips twisting and your fingers drawing frenzied circles now. ‘No, no, don’t stop, please, I’m so close - I don’t want to stop -’

‘Fuck,’ Dieter chokes as you start to toss and turn in his grip, your nails digging half-moons into his skin when you come, shuddering and fucking throttling his dick. He has to physically hold you up now as your bones go. ‘That’s it, that’s a good fucking girl - not gonna stop - '

His climax sneaks up on him. One second he’s driving into you, and the next, he’s pumping his release - hot and thick and obscene - into your spasming pussy. He can’t get deep enough inside the liquid heat of your cunt, groaning brokenly into your neck as he collapses forward, pinning you to the table while he fights to get his breathing under control.

He comes around when he feels your gentle clutch in his hair, anchoring him to you. He exhales hard against your skin, eyes screwed shut until he feels your palm on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch.

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, he pulls you off the table and presses a wet kiss to the side of your mouth, heaving a heavy sigh as his grip on you loosens. He sees red marks blooming on your chest and your hips, and he runs gentle hands over them apologetically.

‘You ok?’ he asks, leaning his face into yours.

‘Yeah,’ you nod, eyes wild but sated.

Gently, he pulls your bra up, righting the straps. Then he feels his now soft cock slip out of you, which makes you shudder. His watches with dark eyes when thick, white strings of his cum drip from your pussy, before you squeeze your legs together to stem the flow. It’s much hotter than it should be and even having emptied everything inside you, his cock twitches regardless.

Reaching down, beyond your bunched up skirt that still sits around your waist, he swipes at the cum that’s run down your inner thigh with the tips of his index and middle fingers, and brings them up to your lips. He moans when you lean forward to take them in your mouth, licking them clean.

‘Did you mean it?’ His question quiet in your ear, his chin on your shoulder. ‘Do you want to stop?’

Your lips quirk, your eyes soft. ‘Fuck no.’

He grins. Taking your chin in his fingers, he turns your head and presses his lips to yours in a firm kiss. ‘Good. Let’s clean you up and get you home, sweetheart.’

Week 11

‘I look ridiculous,’ you gripe, trying to dislodge the interminable wedgie from the borrowed neon green hot pants you’re wearing.

‘You look hot, hon!’ giggles Ana, herself in a faux fur coat with a spandex swimsuit and leggings underneath. ‘C’mon, our Uber is here!’

For her birthday, Ana wanted you all to dress up and go to a dive bar with a bowling alley. The hotpants were, unfortunately, the only thing that fit you in the bag of thrifted second-hand 80s costumes and wigs she brought to work earlier in the day.

Pete slings an arm on your shoulders, resplendent in a highlighter orange tracksuit, royal blue headband and matching sweatbands. ‘How’s great aunt Dierdre, babe?’ he asks with a wink.

‘Ha-dee-ha,’ you deadpan.

Spotting someone across the parking lot, Pete’s face lights up and he bellows. ‘Speak of the devil - BRAVO! Over here, man!’

Ana shrieks excitedly, jumping up and down to get his attention. 'DIETER! Come party with us, it's my birthday!'

The door to his car is open, and he looks like he’s ready to call it a night. But Dieter takes one look at your purple legwarmers and tacky pink lipstick, and he grins. 'I'm in.'

The drinks are cheap, cheerful and free-flowing - Dieter's treat. When you shift your feet, the soles of your ankle boots peel off the floor with a sticky thwack. The bass shakes the entire place with cheesy 80’s tunes. It’s a true dive bar - you haven’t been anywhere this grimy since college.

You look across the counter, where Dieter is hanging with Pete and other post guys, fitting right in. He let Ana dress him in a form-fitting wifebeater in a loud neon print, the complete opposite of his normal loose silhouette and earthy tones. You can’t help it - your stare lingers on the lines of his broad shoulders and the bare muscle of his arm, bent at the elbow, a red cup of beer in his hand.

When two bowling lanes free up, your group migrates over and Dieter claps his hands together with a playful wriggle of his eyebrows. ‘Ok, people. Shall we say - boys vs girls?’

Over the catcalling and whistling, Ana asks, ‘What are we playing for?’

‘Money?’ someone suggests.

Pete boos. ‘Boring! Come on, people, the stakes gotta be higher, more humiliating!’

You’ve obviously had more to drink than you realised, because suddenly, you point a challenging finger at Dieter, and say, ‘I got it! If your team loses, you have to go on a date with Ruth.’

There are screams of delight as Dieter’s face falls. Ruth is one of the lunch ladies, and she’s obsessed with Dieter. She’s a sweet and harmless thing, but her behaviour arguably borders on uncomfortable. Everyone on set knows about Ruth, it’s hard to miss the phone numbers and crooked hearts she scrawls all over Dieter’s paper coffee cup every lunch time.

‘Fuck yeah!’ shouts Pete over the good-natured applause and whistling, nudging you so hard that you trip and spill your vodka soda. In your annoyance, you don’t notice him exchanging a meaningful glance with Ana above your head while you wipe up.

Nose in the air, you extend your hand to Dieter, and he shakes it. You smirk at him. ‘You're on, mister.’

So you really only have yourself to blame, when an hour and a whole bottle of tequila later, Dieter and the boys are clamouring at the top of their lungs at Pete, while he makes a show of selecting his bowling ball for the tie-breaker, blowing imaginary dust off of it.

‘Steady now, boy, steady!’ calls out Dieter, clapping his hands as if he’s coaching a football team. ‘It’s all on you now. A strike is all we need to win.’

'Aye, aye, sir!' Pete shouts and salutes his team, and they stand to attention, saluting him right back. He then spins on his heels, the bowling ball held at eye level, and he steps forward towards the lane.

You watch, in slow motion, when the pink bowling ball leaves Pete’s fingers and rolls down the glossy alley. For a second, it looks like it’s going to skid to the side and miss - but at the last second, it veers back onto course, taking all the pins down in a victorious clang.

Pete jumps into Dieter’s arms like he’s won the fucking Super Bowl, and he hoists the hero of the hour into the air, spinning in a circle while the guys dance around them, pumping their fists and chanting ‘Pete, Pete, Pete’. As much as you hate losing, you can’t help the laughter that bubbles in your throat at the scene of unrestrained jubilation.

Having transplanted Pete onto the shoulders of another guy, the rest of your group heads for the bar for more celebratory drinks, leaving you two alone. Dieter saunters up to you, smiling smugly, and raising his plastic cup of tequila mixer at you.

‘Hope you didn’t sprain your back there, Bravo,’ you goad him.

‘Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I just wanna know - did you lose on purpose so you could finally go on a date with me?’

He lets out a pained yelp when you elbow him in the ribs, making his drink spill. You retort, ‘You know I wouldn’t.’

‘That only makes it better,’ chuckles Dieter, now leaning in far too close to be considered decent, his liquor-laced breath hot on your cheek. ‘I won you fair and square, sweetheart.’

‘You didn’t win me, you won a fake date with me,’ you correct him, pinching his chin with a sarcastic smile. ‘Besides, your team only won because of Pete. If anything, I should be going on a date with him.’

A low growl rumbles in his throat, and with his broad frame, he shields you from view of the bar behind him. He snakes an arm around your waist, fingers slipping downwards to squeeze your ass, before nipping your earlobe. ‘Oh no, you’re all mine, sweetheart. And believe me, there won’t be anything fake about this date.’

Then he leaves you standing there, your chest tight and cheeks hot.

Great. Now you’re wet and that doesn’t help with the wedgie at all.

Week 12

Your ‘date’ with Dieter is the talk of the set. There’s been a dearth of on-set gossip, so as tame as this is, it will have to do. You agree to go out on the Friday night, since this part of town pretty much empties once the studio employees head home for the weekend.

Pete is beside himself - honestly, he might be more excited than you are.

‘Do you want to go on this date instead?’ you ask him dryly.

Ana insists on dressing you and doing your hair and makeup before dispatching you in an Uber, as if she's worried that you'll skip the date.

Not wanting the attention on set, you agreed beforehand to meet at the restaurant. It’s a very understated French bistro, with a tiny storefront of dark, weather-worn wood and a cosy wine bar just next to the entrance.

When you step inside, Dieter is leaning on the bar, sleeves up and bunched around his elbows, cradling the curves of a red wine glass with his thick fingers. He sweeps his gaze over you, top to bottom, then up again, before giving you a toothy smile and stepping into your space.

You have to physically restrain yourself from backpedalling from his proximity out of habit. You’re on a date. In your head, it doesn’t really count as a real date, but for all intents and purposes, it’s still a date.

He looms over you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. ‘You look beautiful, sweetheart.’

You don’t say anything, and with one hand on the small of your back, he guides you into the empty restaurant. If you’re being honest with yourself, your mind is drawing a blank because he looks so damn good tonight. He’s chosen dark jeans and a crew neck sweater that actually fits him in an olive green, but it still looks cosy and comfortable, like most of his wardrobe. The fabric stretches across his chest and shoulders as he moves, and the tattoos on his forearms shift as his muscles flex, pulling out the chair for you to sit down.

You’re in a secluded nook a good distance away from other tables, which are empty anyway. You wonder for a second if he’s booked out the restaurant for tonight. The table you’re sharing is tiny, and your bare knees bump into his denim-covered ones underneath the wooden surface. It’s so dark that you would've had to use your phone light to read the menu, but mercifully, the owner of the restaurant introduces himself and promptly takes care of your orders, promising plenty of food and wine.

When you’re left alone, you realise with a start that you’ve never spent any one-on-one time together with Dieter outside of the privacy of your respective hotel rooms. You're nervous and it shows.

‘Relax,’ he chuckles, covering your hand with his. He doesn't let you pull back. ‘There’s no one around, and even if there was, it's so dark in here it's impossible for anyone to take any photos anyway.’

You don’t fight him, which obviously pleases him. He traces patterns on your palm, and you ask, ‘Is this one of your first date moves, Bravo? Hand-holding?’

He lets out a bark of laughter. ‘It’s cute you think that, sweetheart. This isn't really a first date though, is it?’

You shrug. ‘Might be a last date.’

‘Ouch, sweetheart,’ he chides, one hand on his chest as if wounded.

‘You're going to Italy. I'm hopefully going to Canada.’

He takes a second to reply, and chooses to throw a light-hearted jab at you. ‘Well, this is definitely the most depressing date I've ever been on.’

The waiter cuts in with a bottle, leaving you with two full glasses of full-bodied red wine. Dieter holds his glass to you, and asks, ‘Will you at least miss me, sweetheart?’

You clink his glass delicately, and smile. ‘Maybe.’ You take a sip, then tap your fingers on the table, your curiosity getting the better of you. ‘So… what are your first date moves, then?’

He smirks cockily. ‘Wouldn’t you have liked to find out.’

You pin him with a roll of your eyes. ‘Please, you would never have asked me out on a date.’

‘Why would you say that?’ he protests.

‘Oh, don’t you go all revisionist on me, Bravo. You were out to get me from day one. Remember?’

He tangles his fingers in yours and admits, ‘Okay. You’re not wrong. I probably wouldn’t have, if all this hadn’t happened.’

You have no right to be hurt, but it still stings a little bit. You chew on your bottom lip, and he reaches over to dislodge it. ‘Don’t pout, sweetheart. You still want to hear about my first date moves?’

You huff a sigh. ‘Sure.’

He leans forward conspiratorially, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. ‘Ok, this one is my favourite.’

He pauses and takes a mouthful of wine, and you can’t help but shift to the edge of your seat, your full attention on him. When Dieter Bravo wants you to listen, you just do.

His fingers dance on the table as he continues, his rings catching the low lights. ‘First, I make sure my date shows up at a particular location, preferably a private one. Then, I arrange for her to catch me getting blown by another girl - ’ he grins when you choke on your wine. ‘ - and then I make her get on her knees and jerk off in her face.’

You’re coughing violently now, smacking your palm on the table as the wine goes down the wrong way. To your horror, you feel it coming up your nose, and you hastily wipe it away with your napkin. You squeak, ‘For fuck’s sake, Dieter!’

He laughs so hard that his whole body shakes, his smile lines softening his face. He presses a cheeky kiss to your palm. ‘And what do you know - it worked like a charm.’

The food is excellent and the conversation easy. You share a millefeuille for dessert and when you’re putting on your jackets, the owner insists on gifting you an extra bottle of the red wine you shared as a memento.

The nights are getting milder, and with his hotel only a few blocks away, you two decide to forego the Uber. The streets are deserted as you walk side by side, your movements loosened by the wine. You keep bumping into each other until Dieter slips his arm around you, fingers curling into the side of your waist to hold you against him, so you're walking hip to hip.

Your heart rate picks up when you lean fully into him, and you sneak your left hand into his back pocket. You walk in comfortable silence, your steps in sync and your bodies intertwined.

'I like this,' Dieter says quietly when you stop at a crossing, resting his chin on the top of your head. There are no cars at all and you can easily just cross the street, but you stand on the curb, neither of you moving.

You look up at him, the warmth in the pit of your belly tempering the winter chill, and the streetlights blur into orange, backlighting his soft curls. Tipping your face upwards, you stand on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

You feel him smile and tighten his grip on your waist, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. He just slides his mouth against yours, the tips of your noses brushing. You break apart when the green man comes on.

'I'll miss this,' you whisper, and it’s as much as you're prepared to admit.

He'll take it.

You're jolted out of sleep by a frantic banging on the door. It takes you a minute to groggily push off Dieter’s heavy arm on you and sit up, rubbing your eyes. You look at the clock - goddamnit, it’s 7:32am on a Saturday.

‘What the fuck,’ Dieter croaks into his pillow, pulling the duvet up and over his head.

You roll your eyes, petting around the bed to try and find your pyjama top when the banging stops abruptly, and you hear the digital jingle of a key card unlocking the front door. You barely have time to pull up the sheets to shield your naked front before Rebecca bursts into the bedroom.

To his credit, Dieter does instinctively leap across the bed in an attempt to fend off the potential danger. Only that his morning reflexes are about ten seconds too slow, and you’re already waving at Rebecca by the time he lands heavily in front of you, knotted in sheets.

How this woman is fully dressed in a sharply tailored sky blue suit and high heels with her hair and makeup on point at before 8am on a Saturday is beyond you. You’re about to ask when she announces in rapid fire, ‘So, good news and bad news. Good news first. We kept your name out of the headlines, darling - for now. That buys us a couple of hours. Bad news, we couldn't keep the picture out.'

Your brain is still fuzzy from the wine you had at dinner last night and you can’t keep up. You grimace, utterly confused. 'Sorry Rebecca, but - what?'

She click-clacks towards the bed and shoves her phone towards you.

It's that alien feeling when you look at a photo of yourself that you didn’t know existed. Like finding previously undiscovered childhood photos while going through dusty family photo albums after Thanksgiving dinner.

You stare at the screen. Your brain knows that it's you on it, but you have absolutely no idea how or where or oh my god -

'It was - it was just -' you stammer, your whole person seizing up in panic.

Dieter grabs the phone from you. It’s a given that he has a lifetime of experience to draw on in dealing with something like this, and he doesn’t seem fazed at all. But seeing your reaction, his face twists in worry and he sits up to gather you into his arms. 'Sweetheart? Hey, you ok?'

Rebecca takes her phone back and crosses her arms. 'Someone caught you canoodling on the street last night and sold the picture to TMZ. The article will drop this morning.'

Things seem to slow and drag, like you’re underwater, and you hear Rebecca say, 'A heads up would've been nice. I didn't know you guys were actually dating.'

'We're not,' you reply robotically.

Rebecca tuts. 'Well, it’s too late now, anyway. We need to issue a statement and you need to tell me exactly what's going on.'

You bury your face in your hands. Why did you do it? Why did you kiss him?

Dieter smooths one palm over your back, and explains, ‘We went partying with the crew last week. She lost a bet and had to go on a date with me. That’s it.’

'You sure? A bet?' asks Rebecca, not at all convinced, perceptive eyes darting around the room. 'Darling, she’s obviously moved in.'

Dieter says her name in a warning. ‘Becks -’

She raises her hands in surrender. 'Alright, it’s none of my business. Text me who you went partying with, it’ll help to have the crew corroborate your story.’ Turning to you, she says, ‘They haven't identified you yet, darling, but it's only a matter of time until they find your phone number and which hotel you're at. You two lie low for now. Stay here while I sort things out. Understood?'

You nod meekly, and Dieter mumbles, ‘Thanks, Becks.’

The door closes behind her and your eyes immediately well with tears, pressing your hand to your mouth.

Dieter shifts to sit behind you, his legs on either side, and wraps his whole body around you. He nuzzles the side of your face, his voice scratchy. 'Hey, sweetheart, Becks wasn't yelling at you, ok? She was just in crisis mode. She’ll take care of it. Remember the whole Sundance thing? No one ever talks about it anymore. This will blow over in no time.’

The rational side of you nods, but the tears keep coming as he rocks you back and forth. Have you fucked it up? What will people think when they see the article? What if they think you’re sleeping together - except, well, you actually already are, but - why does this whole thing have to be so fucking meta -

Dieter’s firm voice cuts into your thoughts. ‘Sweetheart, hey, look at me. Look at me.’

Snapping out of your stupor, you twist around and look up at him over your shoulder. He gently thumbs your bottom lip, which feels swollen from your crying, and he promises you, ‘Listen, I'll take care of it. You're alright.’

Something buzzes. Dieter reaches for his phone immediately, in case it’s an urgent message from Rebecca. He brings it around so that you can see the screen too, clicking on the notification for a message from Rebecca.

There it is again.

You really look at the photo this time. It’s taken from a height, probably from the second floor of the building next to the crossing. Even from that angle, it’s indisputably Dieter in the photo. You can see the rings on his fingers reflecting the streetlights, and the contours of his profile are unmistakable. His eyes are closed, lips sealed to yours. Your hands are on his chest, gripping the front of his sweater.

Dieter interrupts the silence. ‘At least it’s a cute picture of us.’

You sniff nasally, but a small, watery smile pushes the corner of your mouth up, and he grins when he sees it.

He turns your face to his and kisses you sweetly. ‘I got you, sweetheart.’

You know he does.

You sigh when your phone buzzes for the umpteenth time today. You pad across the wide expanse of what is now your living room for the remainder of filming in your fuzzy socks, and grab the phone from the coffee table, where it’s charging.

Turns out that the battery dies really quickly when people don’t stop calling or texting you.

Rebecca offered to let you stay in one of her own apartments that she usually lets out, but is currently sitting vacant. You were spirited out of Dieter’s hotel in a cap and sunglasses via the back door, and she was right to do so - there were paparazzi camped at the hotel entrance already.

Your new apartment’s an easy 15-minute drive from the studio, with an underground parking lot and 24/7 security. It’s fancy, in a nondescript, Hollywood way. It’s all glass and chrome and monotone. The best thing is the lovely kitchen, which is the one thing you really miss when you’re in a hotel room for a job.

You look at the newest message that pops up on your phone and you groan aloud. ‘Oh, for fuck's sake!’

It’s a message from your mum. Great. Even your parents have seen the photo, probably sent to them by some meddling distant relative.

You’re half-heartedly drafting a vague reply when there’s a knock on the door. It must be the rest of your stuff from your old hotel room. Rebecca did say that she’ll send someone over to pack it up for you.

You open the door and your eyes go wide at the sight of Dieter on the doorstep, a suitcase and a weekender bag in tow.

‘What are you doing? Rebecca said we should lie low for now,’ you remind him, gripping the door tightly. ‘You can’t be here.’

'It's Week 12,’ he says with a shrug. ‘Fuck lying low.’

You blink, stunned for a second.

Then you grab him by the cuff of his collar and haul him into the apartment, his suitcase and bag clattering onto the marble floor. You take just one second to make sure the door is firmly shut, then you throw your arms around his neck and drag him in for a kiss.

He backs you up onto the couch, crawling over you when you lie down, cradling him between your thighs. His trainers hit the floor behind him when he kicks them off.

Pulling back from his lips, you take a deep breath as the realisation sinks in. ‘It’s Week 12. We have two weeks left.’

Cupping your face in his large hands, Dieter presses his forehead to yours. ‘And we’ll make them fucking count, sweetheart.’

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 7: Contrary >> }

Note: I had fun leaning into the fluff - I hope you enjoyed this unapologetically soft chapter! We have one more chapter to go, and this part of Consent comes to an end 😭 As I mentioned here, I have many more ideas for our actor and intimacy coordinator couple, so I will continue to write for them after Consent wraps!

I will be on holiday for the whole of July, so I’ll most probably finish Consent in August. I will still be online while on vacation, so I will post updates on my progress.

Thank you everyone for your amazing support for these two idiots, always ❤️ You guys are the best readers a writer can ask for. I'm so glad there are new readers here too. As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

P.S. FYI I’m sobbing uncontrollably inside at the thought of having to write the finale. Very delicate at the moment lol, please be gentle with me 🥺

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #cliff beasts 6 #dieter bravo self insert #dieter bravo x fem!reader

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starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

soooo how would you feel about possibly writing about Robin and Steve tag teaming us? 👀 Robin said she and Steve should “combine” because they would essentially make one function human being together and idk about you but I would love to suck his d while she eats my p.

Her Best Friend's Girl

“don’t cover you’re face, i want to see you”

AN: Hoooooooooooooly fuck friend, I know this has taken me so long, but I still remember when I got this one because I fucking choked so hard during my zoom class that I had to turn off my camera. Anyways, I adjusted the prompt a little bit because I'm a selfish little bitch but I hope you still like it.

Robin Buckley x Femme! Reader x Steve Harrington

Warnings: Drug use and underage drinking, Steve's girlfriend! reader, Robin experiences homophobia, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), a wee bit of a daddy kink, reader's got some pillow princess vibes, it’s so long (for me at least, it’s like 6K). I started writing this in between volume 1 and volume 2 so it kind of takes place in an imaginary world where volume 2 had a good ending.

Robin's never felt like this before.

Besides a few sips of somebody's parents' wine at a band sleepover (and whatever the Russian's injected her with), Robin's stayed straight-laced and sober her entire high school career. But after the past few weeks, she couldn't argue with Steve when he told her they both deserved a fucking break.

The view from Steve's car is hazy, the lazy afternoon sun filtering through the smoke from his lips as he passes her the joint between two fingers. There's a Bowie song playing quietly through the speakers, but in her current state, Robin can't pick out the lyrics from the melody.

Her lungs have relaxed enough that she doesn't cough on the exhale anymore, letting the golden-warm smoke inside and breathing it out with a giggle.

"I just don't, like, get it though," she says, turning toward her best friend with a sigh, "like how do you even know what to do."

In the back of her mind, there's a little alarm going off, quietly reminding her that normally sex was an off-limits topic with Steve, although that feels like a silly barrier now. As much as she hated to admit it, Steve had the kind of experience she was severely lacking.

"It's like," he says, twisting in his seat—swaying a little— "it's like, it's different with every girl, you know? Like, with my girl—"

Robin groans, rolling her head back against the upholstery. Steve had only been dating you for a couple of weeks, but it was definitely his new favorite topic. Well, my girl and I went to see that new David Bowie movie . . . My girl was telling me about this thing she was reading . . . you know, my girl would love that.

And it's not like Robin doesn't like you. She likes you a lot—actually—and she likes seeing how happy Steve is when you're around. She can't even find it in herself to make gagging noises when you guys are cuddled together on the couch, or let out a snide comment any of the times she's relegated to the back seat so Steve can drive with his hand on your thigh.

Robin just wishes she didn't have to hear about you all the time.

"As I was saying," Steve continues, shooting her a tempered glare for the interruption, "with my girl, she likes it when I—"

He does a complicated movement with the hand not holding the joint, and then shakes his fingers, like they're not listening. "No, it's more like—"

Robin watches the wiggling of his fingers, grimacing. Maybe she's gayer than she thought, but it doesn't look like it would feel very good at all.

Steve frowns at his own hand, and then brushes the confusion away with a puff of smoke. "It's too hard to describe. It'd be easier if I just showed you."

"Ewwww. Steve!"

Robin slaps him hard enough that he almost drops the joint, but even her disgust is tempered by the high—punctuated by a deep, throaty laugh.

"Gross, no. Not like that—" Steve's laughing too, falling over until his hair brushes her shoulder. "No, god no. I meant, you know, on my girl."

He shrugs, like it's totally not a big deal. Like he hadn't suggested something insane.

Sweat collects underneath her palms, pressed tight against her jeans, and she rubs her hands rhythmically back and forth over the rough denim, letting the texture soothe her.

"Wait . . . seriously?"

And, okay. Robin thought you were hot. A total babe, really, but not in the obvious way, nothing flashy—no hey, look at me features. It was understated, the kind of beauty you really had to look at and know to appreciate.

Robin had been looking at her best friend's girl more than she should have.

"I mean, yeah." Steve drums his hands on the steering wheel, and Robin wonders if he's even totally here right now, or if this conversation will fade in a few hours along with the smoke, "I'd have to ask her first, obviously, but after I told her about you—"

"Hold on,"—a sinking fear forms a pit in her stomach, swallowing some of the buzz—"told her what about me?"

Steve's eyes go wide, and he puts on a dismissive tone that Robin can see through immediately. "You know, that you like . . . girls."

"Steve!" Robin shouts, and she hits him again, but harder this time, "You cannot just out me to every girl you talk to."

He just rubs at his arm, big eyes looking hurt. "Hey, she's not just some girl! And, for the record, I was just telling her that there was no reason for her to worry about us—you know, 'platonic with a capital P' or whatever—and I may have let it slip that you, you know, were definitely uninterested in, uh, boys."

"Steve." Robin threads her fingers through her roots and tugs, but not even the sting can pull her out of this spiral.

"Listen! I just didn't want her to get jealous, you know, since we spend so much time together. Or think she couldn't trust me."

That piques her interest. "Was she jealous?"

"No, but I was trying to be proactive," —he stubs out the joint, dropping it in the cup holder to save for later, a harsh hand combing through his hair— "anyway, the point of all that is after I told her she told me that she actually likes girls, too."

Holy shit.

"Wait, what?" Robin's a mess of emotions, but two are at the forefront: an uneasy jealousy—because of course Steve would find the only other queer girl in the whole fucking state before she did—and a deep and abiding want in the pit of her stomach.

"Yup," —he pops the p at the end— "and she told me that she thinks you're pretty cute."

"Oh."

Pretty cute. Steve's watching her too closely, and Robin's skin feels sheer and sparkling, like he can see inside her head, can see how much she likes the idea, and how bad she wants to hear you say it yourself.

Her hands on your waist, tasting the cherry lip gloss you always wear, hearing you sigh those words again again again.

Pretty. Cute.

Robin interlaces her shaking fingers, stroking one thumb over the edge of the other, fizzing nerves around her heart. "I mean, do you think it would be . . . okay?"

"I'd have to ask her, like I said, but if she's down . . ."

He's staring at her, but Robin can't meet his gaze just yet, watching the rhythmic waves of Lover's Lake catch the light.

Steve sighs, putting a hand on her shoulder. When Robin finally looks at him, she's surprised to find so much warmth and understanding in his deep brown eyes.

"Listen, Munson told me about some party happening on the edge of town tonight—a bunch of freaks will be there, for sure—probably nobody we know. I'll talk to her about it before hand, and," —he gestures, like he's ushering her through an open door— "we'll see what happens."

Tramping through the muggy air, Robin locates the party by sound and—unfortunately—by smell, the soft green scent of the forest disappearing into something heavy and dirtier. Weed and cigarettes, bonfire smoke and beer, body odor and sex.

She looks at Steve as the heavy metal screech reaches them and he just rolls his eyes, taking a few more loping steps forward until the pyre at the middle of the clearing is visible through the trees.

Robin nudges him on the shoulder. "She said she's going to meet us here, right?"

Steve nods, scanning the crowd with his eyes from the edge of the party. Robin does the same, and there are no familiar faces, just like he'd said—a bunch of freaks. She tugs at the end of her t-shirt, craning her neck, but you're nowhere to be seen.

"Have you thought about, you know, what we talked about, uh, any more?" Steve's mumbled question reaches her over the music.

A fist of panic clenches tightly in the center of Robin's stomach, talking about you again now that she's sober. It strikes her that Steve is just nervous, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck while he waits for her reply.

"Yeah, no, definitely,"—Robin's thought about it all day . . . a few different times, "and you're absolutely positive it's okay?"

"She said she wanted to," Steve says, "and I'm good if you're good."

Robin can't help the way her voice squeaks. "Yeah, no, I'm good. I'm definitely good."

"Steve!"

Robin turns to the sound of your voice—even if it's not her name you're calling—and her heart starts to race.

You're dressed casually, which puts her at ease, although she can't understand how you can make a t-shirt and a denim jacket look so undeniably cool, smiling wide as you approach.

Steve is on you as soon as you're within his reach, wrapping you in his arms, wasting no time before pulling you into an almost grossly-affectionate kiss.

Normally this was the point when Robin would look away. It's not that PDA bothered her so much; it was just that—while you didn't seem to care who was around when Steve stuck his tongue down your throat—Robin had always assumed that you probably didn't want an invested audience. And she could never tell how her looking would be interpreted, especially by perceptive little shits like Dustin.

But Dustin isn't here right now, and so Robin watches Steve's cupped hand stroke along your jaw, watches your wet, pink tongue slip into his mouth just before you bite down on his swollen bottom lip.

She hasn't parsed through the feelings that it gives her before you've pulled back.

"Hey, Robin!"

You've got her in your grip, arms around her waist until she's pressed up against all of you, warm skin and tits and perfume that makes her head spin.

You lean back, but only half way, hips still connected—the shape of you tangible through her jeans—smiling wide. "You want a drink?"

Robin doesn't want a drink, but the idea of having something to do with her hands appeals to her. "Uh, yeah, sure."

You glance over you shoulder, catching Steve's eye. "Why don't you go find us something, please?"

Steve just smiles, walking off with a raise of his eyebrows and a two-fingered salute in Robin's direction. You're not even looking at him, stroking your palms over Robin's wrists, intertwining your fingers.

"You're like fucking ice, babe. Let's go stand by the fire."

You weave expertly though the party, leading Robin by the hand. The fire's huge—stacked high with pallets and cardboard boxes and branches like thick, charred arms reaching towards the sky. It warms her skin like the sun never set, just got small and decided to join a party in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

You're still touching her, leaning in close so you can whisper right up against her ear.

"I hope you don't mind that Steve told me about you."

"No, it's fine," every breath she takes is hot and full of smoke, but that's not why her lungs are burning, "I was totally fine with it, obviously. I mean it's not like it's a big deal or anything—"

The tip of your finger traces up over the back of her arm, across her neck, and anything else she could have or should have said is miles out of orbit. Robin shivers as you secure a few loose hairs behind her ear.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, studying her with fire-lit eyes.

Robin's adrenaline spikes as she glances around, skin crawling, searching for the familiar burn of a disapproving glare. "Here?"

You take her chin in your hand, turning her back to you. "Nobody's looking."

But that's not true. With a glance over your shoulder, Robin can see that people are looking, and—even stranger—none of them seem to care that there are two girls standing this close, staring at each others lips.

"Yeah. Okay."

You've got soft hands and soft eyes and a soft smile, fingers laced at the back of Robin's neck as you pull her in closer, catching the edge of her mouth against your own.

Robin leans in, kissing you back, her lips parting—from shock, and from need—tasting that cherry lip gloss and beer and your hot, soft mouth.

Robin's kissed boys before. Or at least, she's been kissed by boys before, twice exactly—back when she was young and afraid and had no idea how to say no. And it always left her with a sick feeling in her stomach after, tossing and turning as she tried to fall asleep later that night, tears leaking into her pillow because it didn't feel the way she knew it was supposed to, and what if that meant she was broken?

The first time she kissed a girl was different. Cast party after the school play her freshman year—Robin had only been in the ensemble but Nicky Kramer was the leading lady, a little loud and ditzy but the kind of pretty that got her heart racing, and the voice of a goddamn angel.

They'd been playing spin-the-bottle with a little self-awareness, giggling more about how stupid it was to play a game for middle-schoolers than the chaste (or sometimes not-so chaste) kisses between friends. When Robin spun, she'd been so sure she imagined the tip of the prop coke bottle pointing directly at Nicky—a fever dream where she got what she wanted.

"You have to spin again," someone called out, "it landed on a girl."

She knows now that Nicky wanted the attention—wanted to do something that would shock and impress, even if it was at Robin's expense—but she still can't shake the image of her in that big, white wedding dress that somebody's mom donated for the final act, shuffling across the backstage on her knees until they brushed against her own.

The racing of Robin's heart was the final confirmation to what she had already known—she was different. She wanted this. And for five glorious seconds, she had it.

Then Nicky had fallen back with a dramatic squeal, wiping at her lips with both silk-gloved hands, screaming eww while the others laughed and Robin tried to hold back tears.

After that, she'd been certain that she'd never want to kiss someone who wanted to kiss her back.

So maybe she's a little aggressive, taking your face in both her hands, pressing her lips hard enough to yours that it must hurt, but that doesn't matter because it gets you to part your lips, and now Robin can feel your breath in her mouth, taste the air from your lungs. Your slick, silky tongue slides across her own, and her knees shake, threatening to buckle at the feeling. Your lips shine with her spit when you pull away.

"Woah."

Steve is back, staring wide-eyed, the two red solo cups in his hands slipping from his grip, practically forgotten.

"Thanks babe," you peck him on the cheek, taking one of the cups in his hand before it drops and passing it to Robin. "I'm gonna find something to smoke. Be right back."

Robin watches Steve—waiting for him to say something about this being a bad idea—but he just laughs, knocking the plastic edge of his cup against her own.

"Yeah, okay—take it easy there, tiger. The night is still young."

And it goes on like that, hours passing by in emptied cups of beer and joints rolled by Eddie's slim, talented fingers shrinking into ash. You stay sandwiched between Robin and Steve, kisses shared evenly, his mouth buried against your neck while you peck at Robin's lips, your hands at her waist and it feels even better than she thought it might. She can hear your whisper in her bones.

"Wanna get out of here?"

Steve drives. You join Robin in the back seat, straddling her hips, her back pressed hard against the leather seats as she mouths at your neck, occasionally catching flashes of street lights and Steve's eyes in the rear view.

"You're really good at this," you whisper, knees squeezing her hips as Steve pulls the car to a stop.

"Oh, wow. Really?"

You laugh at her disbelieving tone, brushing some hair from her eyes. "Yeah."

Steve helps you from the car. You're steady on your feet, walking up the long driveway to Steve's unlit front porch. Robin feels wired, clenching an unclenching her hands into fists—testing to make sure she's still real while Steve gets the door.

His room is still dark when Robin reaches it, slatted moonlight drawing lines across his bedspread. You're spread out across the top leaning back on your elbows, ankles crossed, posed like a pinup girl in a magazine ad.

"So," you ask, shooting her a wink, "how do you want me?"

Robin's looking for guidance, but Steve's giving her free reign. Leaning up against his dresser, he just watches, hands pressed deep inside his pockets. "It's up to you, dude."

"You could- you could take your top off . . . I mean, if that's okay?"

"Whatever you want," you just smile, patting the bed beside you, "wanna help me?"

Robin sits on the mattress beside you, trying not to think about all the time Steve's undressed you in this same place. Help must mean do it for me, because you're kissing her again, guiding one hand to the hem of your t-shirt.

Robin's fingers are cold, but you don't seem to mind, a little sigh on your lips at the way they brush up against your rib cage, over the band of your bra.

You have to pull away to fit your head through the neck hole, and then Robin's stuck with your still-warm top balled up in her hands and her eyes on your tits.

"Oh. Wow."

You press your arms in tighter against your chest, exaggerating the line of cleavage for her benefit. Robin gasps at the way you start to spill from the lace cups, at the slightest hint of perky nipple she can see past the fabric.

"And—and the bra?"

You reach for the clasp, shimmying one strap forward, and then the other.

"Holy shit."

She's trying not to be a creep, but Robin already knows she's never gonna stop staring at your tits. Not when she knows that they look just as good as she thought they might without all those clothes covering them up, not when she's watching your nipples pebble up in the chill air.

"Right?"

Robin jumps; she hadn't felt Steve climb onto the mattress beside her, watching you with the same admiration. He nods towards your chest. "You can touch her, if you want."

Yeah, she wants. You lean toward her open palm until skin meets skin, her hand chill against the warm weight of your breast, squeezing a little until she can hear your slow breaths grow faster.

Robin's always suspected that Steve had been over-hyping certain aspects of sex, (nothing could be that good) but titties definitely deserved more credit than he'd given them.

Steve is watching, hungry-eyed, slapping his palms against his jeans until he can't resist any longer.

"Try this," he tells her, as he leans forward, fingers pinching at the nipple on your other breast. Robin's about to shove him off before she sees how you react, the tense muscles in your neck and the thick swallow that makes way for a breath so weighted its almost a moan.

"Yeah, okay," she quickly agrees, focusing her attention on the dark bud, mimicking Steve's movements, pinching and rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, ghosting the pad of her thumb over the tip.

And the sound you make this time is a moan.

"Use your mouth."

The throaty command comes from you, as you slide your body closer. Robin doesn't need to be told twice, dipping her head down until she can wrap her lips around where she'd just had her fingers.

Your skin is soft on her tongue, pillowing against her lips as she slowly sucks on the swollen bud. You press up against her mouth, fingers curling in her hair. She can feel your heartbeat fluttering against her cheek.

"God, just like that."

Steve pulls his hand back when he sees Robin coming for your other breast, cupping it in her palm before she kisses her way around the center, her fingers tugging at your other nipple, spreading her spit across your skin.

"Fuck, Robin," —she feels like she's dying when you say her name like that— "don't stop."

She won't. Dying with a pair of titties in her mouth seems like the only good way to go.

Steve is moving beside her; a big hand sneaking over your waist, down past the band of your jeans until it's swallowed between your thighs.

"That feel good, baby?"

Steve's voice is deep—raspier than Robin's ever heard it—and she feels the shape of him over her, kissing down along your jaw as you bump your hips up into his hand.

There's the wet sound of your mouth on his, and heavy breaths broken by your hum of agreement. The button of your pants slides from its place with a shining whisper between Steve's clever fingers.

"Let's get these off, yeah?"

Robin pulls back, watching as Steve slips your shorts down your hips, revealing the soft blue cotton you wear underneath, edged with lace and decorated with a sweet little bow.

Steve strokes his thumb across the top of your panties, just beneath the shadowed curve of your stomach, his hand planted at your hip.

His eyes are big and wide and totally fixed on this small point of contact, on the way your hips shift in anticipation against his sheets.

He looks up at you through heavy lashes. "Can I show Robin how to make you feel good?"

You nod, and he slips the fabric down, exposing the patch of curls between your legs. Robin's totally mesmerized, a little gasp on her lips when your thighs part and she can see the shiny, plush stretch of your pussy.

"Why don't you get these wet for me?"

Steve holds out two of his fingers, and you catch them between your lips, bobbing a little to until spit soaks the corners of your mouth. You take them almost all the way to the hilt, only gagging a little when Steve curls them at the back of your throat. There's moonlight caught in the tears at the corners of your eyes.

"Such a good girl."

Robin's not sure if it's those words that make you whine, or the gentle prodding of Steve's fingers, stroking smoothly up and down your lips until they're puffy and slick.

The tip of his middle finger slips just inside your entrance; Robin watches the way you open for him, the way your stomach goes tight, eyes wide with adoration. He pumps his hand slowly, growing wetter and shinier each time he pulls it out, squishy sounds echoing from your cunt when he finally reaches the hilt.

"You wanna start slow," Steve says, narrating his movements for Robin, although both of them can't seem to look away from your slowly leaking pussy, "start with one finger, then work your way up to two."

He takes his own advice, sliding a second finger in past your lips. Your back arches, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. Robin's whole body feels like static, like a TV screen gone fuzzy.

"Tell her how it feels," Steve commands, and you whimper, falling back on your elbows.

"So good, daddy. Don't stop."

Robin's eyes flash, mouth puckered in delighted surprise, and for a second she forgets there's a fucking naked woman in the room, watching Steve's cheeks turn ruddy.

Daddy? She mouths the word, eyebrows raised. Steve ignores her, focusing all his attention on the place where his fingers meet your cunt.

"This is the clit," he says quickly, brushing his thumb over the apex of your pussy.

"I know where the clit is, Steve," Robin snaps, momentarily distracted from the whole daddy thing. Whatever—she'd bring it up later.

"You wanna be gentle here, too, 'cause you can always go harder if they ask, but it ruins the mood if you hurt them."

His other hand snakes over from the place it had been resting on your thigh. "Once you've worked up to it though, pinching at it really drives her wild."

He traps your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the little bud, and your steady moans are growing louder until Robin can't hear anything else besides her own heartbeat in her ears.

"Gonna cum," you tell Steve, clutching at your own breasts, fingers playing expertly with your nipples, still sticky with Robin's spit.

Robin's frozen in place, hands curled into tight fists and plunged deep into Steve's mattress. Her lungs have gone shallow, and it's impossible to take enough air in, watching you cum around Steve's fingers.

Fuck.

Steve wastes no time slipping his hand from between your thighs, sucking the taste of you from his skin, like it's totally not even a big deal. Like he does this all the time.

He probably does.

He must not notice that Robin's only a few seconds away from combusting, or she's better at hiding than she gives herself credit for.

"You wanna try?" he asks casually, hand stroking up and down your inner thigh while you twitch against the sheets.

Robin's almost too stunned to speak. "Are- are you sure that's okay?"

Steve just shrugs. "Of course. She'll be looser after the first one, so the second will come easier. Or you know," —he grins— "however many she wants."

God, is this the fucking Twilight Zone? Robin's got a little more than a fifty percent success rate making herself cum, and Steve's been out here giving you multiple orgasms a night.

How had it taken him so long to find a girlfriend?

He let's Robin ponder that question, leaning down over you, one big hand poised at your waist as he kisses you sweetly. Your breathing is steady again, chest done heaving, but sweat still shines across your skin and down your stomach—remnants of the way he'd been making you feel.

"Do you want Robin to make you cum?" he whispers, strands of his hair falling into your face from the way he's laying over you, brushing against your forehead as you nod.

You stare at her with the biggest, wettest eyes she’s ever seen, another needy whine on your lips.

As if she could say no to that.

Robin shifts onto the sheets, parting your legs around her waist and situating herself as close as she can stand to your bare pussy. Steve's moved across from her on the other side, your head cradled in his lap.

He brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, pets a gentle hand down your shoulder. The look in his eyes seems to ask Robin if she's ready, and she nods, feeling anything but.

The salty tang of her fingers melts across her tongue; she'd have let you wet them, the same way you'd done for Steve, but she's trying to keep her focus. And that's the kind of distraction she doesn't need right now.

Robin wonders how all of your skin is so soft when she rests a tentative hand on your hip. She wonders if all girls have bodies that would dent this beautifully under her hand, or if that's just one more thing that makes you special.

She strokes lower, brushing the patch of hair between your thighs. If she wants to hear anymore of the noises you make, she'll have to hold her breath.

Her first finger slips between your lips, just brushing the wet opening of your cunt, and she swallows hard, trying and failing to catalogue all of the things she notices: the burn of your skin and the slippery wetness and little fluttering contractions.

"Keep going," Steve urges.

As Robin slips her first finger inside, she has a feeling she must be doing this wrong. There's none of the confidence she'd seen in Steve's movements—all tentative and shaky where he had been self-assured. His fingers are bigger than hers, each of his thrusts smoother and deeper.

But still, you clench around her and there's no denying it, a soft sigh on your lips when she brushes the pad of her pointer finger up against the soft front wall, curling just like Steve had told her to.

Your hips twitch on the bed, skin denting against her hand.

"God, Robin, don't stop."

That spurs her on, tentatively brushing her thumb against your swollen, red clit until you moan. It's not like how Steve had done it—not hard and confident and rough—but she's doing the job and you're reacting to her, desperate for her touch and that makes the confidence in her belly burn.

"Could I," —god, just saying the words have her sweating, and she hopes you won't notice how wet her palm is where she's holding your hip, "can I taste you?"

She'd been thinking about the idea all day. Hand shoved under the waistband of her jeans, she'd thought about burying her face between your thighs, about circling her tongue around your clit until you sobbed and begged her for more.

Robin's shoulders sink without her thinking about, hips shifting until she's at eye-level with your juicy cunt, watching it stain the bedspread a darker blue with each thrust of her fingers.

Her eyes meet yours past the swell of your stomach, past Steve's hands kneading each of your tits, chest rising and falling with the heaving breaths you take.

"Yeah," you nod wide-eyed, licking your lips. Robin's never seen you shy like this, quiet with want as your hands twist into the sheets.

She bends her head down, smelling sweat and skin and leftover traces of campfire, pressing a kiss to the junction between your stomach and your thigh, trailing lower, growing bolder. Your skin squishes perfectly between her lips and the nip of her teeth, her nose buried in the coarse hair of your cunt.

Her tongue just breaches her lips, stealing the salt from your skin before pressing deeper, stroking against your swollen bud. She familiarizes herself with the shape of it, circles it with her tongue. The muscles in her hand grow sore when she tries to keep you still.

"Uh uh, baby," —she hears Steve's voice past the crush of your thighs, and she glances up, watching as he peels your wrists away from your face— "you gotta let me see you. I wanna see how good Robin is making you feel."

Steve pins your hands to the sheets, and Robin goes molten, uncontainable, as you squirm against both her hold and Steve's, absolutely overwhelmed by the pleasure of their attention.

She latches onto your cunt with renewed vigor, sucking deeply at your clit, pumping her fingers in and out of you until you've soaked her hand and you can't stay still when she’s touching you, just like she'd hoped.

"Tell Robin how good she's doing, baby, " Steve's low voice commands, and Robin's in flames at your high, keening praise.

"So good, fuck, Robin. Gonna make me cum- gonna cum."

She can feel it. Feels you trembling around her, the tight anticipation in every facet of your skin, and her own hips rut against the sheets because making you feel good makes her feel good.

You cum on her fingers with a gush and a throaty moan, curling around her until her head is cradled in your lap.

Her breathing is almost as shaky as yours.

"Was- was that good?" she asks. There's laughter on your lips when you pull her in for a kiss.

She's vaguely aware that Steve's climbed off the bed when the mattress springs up without his weight, feels the brush of the t-shirt he tosses in your direction.

You pull the fabric over your top until it kisses your thighs, and Robin can't help but be fascinated by the domestic intimacy she's seeing—watching Steve brush his teeth with the bathroom door, how you bring him his glasses from the bedside table without being asked.

"Are you gonna stay the night?" you ask before drying your face in a towel.

She shifts, sitting on her hands. "Would that be . . . okay?"

And she's looking at Steve now because sharing his girlfriend might be one thing but sharing his bed could be another.

He just shrugs, grabbing another t-shirt from his closet, and a pair of sweats.

"You should stay," he tells her, tossing the clothes in her direction, "then I don't have to drive you home."

You peek around Steve, a playful smile on your face when you jump beside her on the bed. "If you stay, you can use my tits as a pillow."

And that's all the convincing she needs.

#robin buckley x reader x steve harrington #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #minors dni #my writing #requests #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington x you #robin buckley x you

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