#Camera Straps Rope

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Countdown

I startle awake and I find myself strapped down, on my knees, with my legs straddling a sybian and my arms tied tightly behind me. There are more ropes wrapped around my knees, keeping my body pressed firmly against the machine. I’m naked and I can feel the ridges of the machine pressed harshly against my bare core, the pressure forcing my clit to bear full contact against the smooth material of the machine.

My eyes dart around the room as I struggle uselessly against my bindings. The room is so dimly lit that I can hardly see a few feet in front of me.

“Help! Please! Someone help me!” I scream into the empty space, my voice filled with desperation and fear as the gravity of the situation hits me. Suddenly, as if in response to my plead, lights pierce through the darkness, illuminating everything to full brightness.

I gasp and instinctively squeeze my eyes shut, the sudden light a harsh assault to my senses. When my vision finally adjusts enough for me to look around again, I feel a surge of terror when I see the set up around me.

There are several cameras and microphones laid out surrounding me, clearly set up to get 360 coverage of me. Directly in front of me is a massive screen that show the live camera feeds and I feel a shiver of fear creep down my spine when I see how helpless and vulnerable I look, naked and strapped down. On the bottom half of the screen there’s a blinking red light with the words Livestream Disabled flashing. My stomach clenches when I realize that the live footage of me, tied up and naked like this, could be livestreamed to who knows how many people across the world.

Tears well up in my eyes as panic starts to settle in. I let out a soft sob, wanting nothing more than to curl into myself, away from everything around me. “Please, don’t do this! Please let me go!” My voice is choked with tears and fear as my futile struggles against the bindings are coldly captured by the cameras and my begging is met with absolute silence.

All of a sudden, the machine I’m straddling roars to life. I scream as my back instinctively arches to try to reduce some of the sensation with no effect. The ropes around my legs force my entire weight to sink onto the machine, pressing my pussy mercilessly against the now-vibrating sybian. The vibrations are steady and I feel them wash over me as my clit takes the brunt of it all.

I gasp as the sensation starts to build and my mind wrestles with the juxtaposition of fear and pleasure. The rumbling vibration of the machine is drawing out soft moans and whines from me as I feel the sensations mounting. I writhe as much as I can but there’s nothing I can do to slow the onslaught of pleasure that is very quickly overwhelming me. There’s nothing else in the space around me to distract me from what’s happening to my body, though I’m not sure there’s anything that could distract me right now.

I try my best to shift my weight to take some pressure off my clit but there’s no leverage for me to move my body. I let out a desperate whine as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. My mind is scrambling as I’m trying to rationalize everything that is happening, being strapped to a machine and forcibly brought to an unwanted orgasm. I can’t hold back any longer and I feel my orgasm wash over me, my eyes fluttering shut as I my clit pulses and my pussy clenches. A moan escapes me as I writhe atop the machine, my hips grinding into the vibrations as my release tapers off.

The machine mercifully slows underneath me, the vibrations coming to a halt as I pant, trying to catch my breath and regain my bearings. When I glance up again at the screen, I feel a new wash of terror grip me as I register a few changes.

There’s a new line of text under where Livestream Disabled is written. It says Countdown to Livestream: 1 of 5. It takes me a moment before I register the meaning of the words: if I cum 5 times, the livestream turns on, showcasing my naked, shaking, cumming body to the entire world. I realize that whoever set up this cruel situation has every intention of forcing me to bend to their will so that I helplessly and reluctantly cum my way into putting on a show, my own body betraying me. I don’t have time to process any further before the sybian turns on again, this time at a much higher frequency.

A cry escapes from my lips and my body lurches as I desperately try to escape the stimulation. It’s too soon since my first orgasm and my clit is tingling with sensitivity. The machine doesn’t care as it relentlessly batters my body.

I’m trying to take deep breaths, to distract myself from the vibrations wracking my body. My clit feels hypersensitive and I silently beg my body to please, please don’t cum again.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer to a second orgasm and I’m doing everything in my power to hold it back. I’m determined to hold out, to not let this demented situation bend me to break. The pleasure makes me gasp and whine, my clit turning into a focal point of unadulterated ecstasy. The sound of my own ragged breathing fills the air as I’m drawing in desperate deep breaths to try to calm myself. It’s no match against the machine beneath me as it increases in intensity and I lose the shred of command I held over my body. A scream is wretched out of my throat as I cum.

The text on the screen changes in response: Countdown to Livestream: 2 of 5.

I let out a choked whine and I’m grasping at straws as I beg into the empty space, hoping, praying for a miracle to make this all stop. “Please,” my voice is shaking, “Please, help me. Make this stop, I’m begging you, please!” There’s no miraculous rescue in response to my pleading. This time, there’s not even a break between orgasms. The vibrations only kick up a notch, pulling a gasp from my lips.

“No, no, no, please! Please stop! I don’t want this!” I cry out, unable to stop myself from begging even when I know it’s useless. There’s no sympathy for me. I feel the horrible pleasure start to build again. My hands clench into fists and I dig my nails into my palms, gritting my teeth as I will my body to ignore the pleasure. It didn’t work earlier and it doesn’t work this time. My sheer will is no match against the machine bending my body to its wants. I shatter into a third orgasm, the pleasure rushing through me so intensely that I feel my head spin.

Countdown to Livestream: 3 of 5.

I jerk and struggle uselessly against my bindings. I feel the vibrations start to slow and I gasp in relief as my body comes down from the high it was forced into. There’s a growing feeling of despair as I realize I’m only two orgasms away from the livestream starting. And it doesn’t look like I have any hope to withstanding the pleasure to hold out for much longer. As if on cue, the machine restarts its vibrations.

The previous orgasms have pushed my body into overstimulation and my clit feels raw with pleasure but there’s nothing to give me a break. My pussy is drooling over the sybian, clenching and pulsing as pleasure makes me a slave. I’m being pushed higher and higher as I focus every measure of my mind to holding this orgasm back.

My teeth dig into my lip as I try to ground myself in the pain and my eyes are screwed shut. I teeter over the edge but out of sheer will, I hold myself back, begging my body to comply. For a moment, I manage to force my body to obey, curbing the pleasure. Then, the vibrations increase again.

I let out an anguished cry as the pleasure rushes through me, shattering all of my efforts at containing myself. I feel my cunt spray my release all over myself, my body locked in the throes of my orgasm. The sounds exploding out of me are a combination of pure pleasure and sheer torment.

Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5.

I’m one orgasm away from the point of no return and the terror of being broadcasted to the world makes me want to cry. The vibrations pick up speed and there’s a sense of resigned acceptance that washes over me as my body obeys the machine and begins to inch towards my final release. But this time, it’s so much worse than I could’ve anticipated.

The sybian batters my body as it has with the past four orgasms. It expertly and unrelentingly drives me higher and higher in my pleasure, pulling moans and gasps out of me as it works. My body is barreling towards another all-encompassing orgasm when suddenly, all of the stimulation cuts off just as I’m about to cum. I let out a loud gasp as my body jerks in response to the loss of pleasure. I don’t understand. I was so fucking close and it all stopped. My eyes dart to the screen but there’s nothing there to explain what happened. The words Countdown to Livestream: 4 of 5 seem to taunt me.

My body slowly creeps back from the edge, my breathing stabilizing as the haze of pleasure slowly fades away. And then, the machine restarts. The vibrations are harsh and intense against my clit and I cry out as the previous pleasure suddenly slams back into me. Before long, I’m letting out gasping cries as my body once again is at the very precipice of pleasure. Again, it all stops. I can’t control the whine that slips out. I should be happy. Whatever is making the machine cut off at the very last second is obviously saving me from the livestream starting but the deep, primal, needy part of me wants to cry at the pleasure that’s being withheld from me.

The cycle continues when the machine restarts. At the very last moment, when just one more second of stimulation would push me over the edge, the machine stops. This time, I cry, hot and desperate tears falling down my cheeks.

I can’t even bring myself to care about the livestream anymore. I’m so fucking close, so desperate for the pleasure that I would sell my soul to cum. The last four orgasms do nothing to curb this insatiable desire that’s built up since the edging began and I’m mindless with need. My cunt is clenching around nothing, my clit throbbing in time to my heart beat but there’s nothing I can do to push myself over the edge. I feel my orgasm fading away and I let out a needy whine.

A few moments later, the sybian starts up again and a lewd moan slips from my mouth. My back arches as the pleasure washes over me, the previous edging driving me so close to the brink that even a few seconds of vibrations are enough to push me to the edge again. But again, the machine stops.

“Please! Please, I’m begging you, I need to cum. Please let me cum! Please, I need to cum.” My pleas didn’t work earlier when I was begging for the pleasure to stop and they certainly don’t work when I’m now pleading for an orgasm. It’s a cruel joke to make me such a slave to pleasure that I’m begging for my own demise.

The unrelenting cycle continues as the vibrations resume. There are incoherent babbles of desperation spilling from my lips as the pleasure mounts. Again, I’m held at the torturous edge as the machine plays my body like a familiar instrument.

Again, the vibrations cut off just as I’m about to cum. I scream. “Please! Please let me cum, just start the livestream, please, I just need to cum!”

It seems that I’ve said the magic words because the machine beneath me restarts with a fervor. I barely have time to draw a breath in when my orgasm slams full force into me. I shatter into unrelenting, all-encompassing pleasure as my cunt squirts out my release. Every single cell of my body is flooded with ecstasy and my consciousness shatters under the force of it all.

When I regain my senses again, I glance up at the screen and see the fated words reflecting back towards me: Livestream On, Countdown to Livestream: 5 of 5. I can’t bring myself to care when the machine underneath me increases its power and my eyes roll up as my overstimulated body is forced to react.

[oreo-creampies]

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚; 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cam girl!!reader, gangbang, bondage, fingering, face fucking, dacryphilia, choking you with their cocks, light anal with a tip dragon’s tongue, taking nude pictures, degradation/praise/light mocking, pain kink, biting, toji slaps your face with his cock, begging

oreo: couldn't stop thinking about this idea of them finding out reader is a cam girl and filming with her, I’m thinking of making this a mini series of them filing various acts with the reader, y’all down for that?

The dark red rope binding your wrists to your ankles, strapped and held apart by a short bar. Looping over your shoulders forcing your back into an arch, keeping your head up. You're vulnerable and small surrounded by five massive men.

He glances at the stream's rising numbers, two hundred becoming five becoming one thousand. “Damn these people are fast n' horny, did y’all miss your -what is it-" he smirks, "Princess Buttercup that much?”

Glancing at the chat, gushing in their excitement already suggesting various things for the group to do to you. Toji reads aloud, “Thought she filmed alone only? Release the princess at once?" Wiggling his phone at the camera. "The fuck is this bullshit? I'm cummin' in her cunt and then again on her face 'cause fuck you.” Slapping your ass, tossing his phone onto the middle of the bed.

"More!" Your body lurches forward with the force of Toji's next slap. Crying Satoru stuffs his veiny cock deep into your mouth, choking you. Quickly pumping his hips, his balls hitting your chin.

Satoru croons “Ya'll hear that? Our demanding bratty Princess wants more.” Gliding his cock out. "Tell everyone in chat what you want us to do to you.” Stroking his cock, coaxing out thick pre cum he smears on your lips.

Licking the pre-cum off your lips, looking up at Satoru. "Anything ya'll want, fuck whatever hole you want! Please I wanna be y’all’s cum dump!" Sticking your tongue out, moaning when he stuffs his veiny cock deep into your mouth.

Choso slides two thick fingers along your lips, wetting his fingers. “Let the audience know our safe word, and color system to ease anyone’s worry.” Smearing your slick onto your puffy, sensitive clit. Gently swirling his thumb around your tight hole.

Satoru loudly moans, fucking your mouth with deep, quick strokes. His balls hit your chin. "Nnn fuckin' slut, your mouth is so fucking wet and hot. Your lips are so damn beautiful wrapped around my cock. Nn that's it, beautiful slut." Groaning on his cock, another warm fatter cockhead nudges your cheek smearing pre-cum.

Satoru slips his cock out with a loud pop. "It's mocha to start aftercare, red for a break, yellow for slow down, green for good." Turning your head, mouth open, tongue out, eager to suck on the cock next to you. Taking Sukuna's thicker cock with a moan, his thick cock muffling the sound. A puffy vein glides along your soft tongue with each quick rough thrust.

Choso gently nudging past your lips. You'd moan from the pleasure of his thick fingers filling you up. "Good girl, your cunt's so tight n soft 'round my fingers." Gradually pumping his fingers faster, curling them. Your cunt clenching when he brushes your sweet spot.

Sukuna glides his cock out; you don't have time to catch your breath before Satoru stuffs his cock in. Your computer reads out. "Cumguzzler3 donates 600: white haired one moans like a whore, what's his channel. Or will this become a group channel, I'd pay to see ya'll using her as the house’s glory hole."

Followed by; "Dopedaddy42069 donated 1k: Any1 who cums in her ass gets 2k. She started experimenting with her ass. She has several drawers full of toys; u can find something." You hear a few drawers open.

Suguru wonders, "What should be the first thing we stuff up her ass?" The bed shifts when Toji gets up, joining Suguru by your large drawer. He pulls out a part of a dragon's mouth. Open with its long thick tongue slimming down to a small point. Ridges on the bottom offer another challenge besides the tongue's thickness.

Holding it up between Suguru and himself. "What 'bout this thing? Wonder how deep our pretty whore can take it." Suguru grabs the lube, squirting a generous amount onto the tongue's small tip. Toji smears it down its thickening length, walking over back to where you're hogtied at the edge of your bed.

Satoru and Sukuna are taking turns with fucking your mouth. Choso is restlessly stroking your sweet spot. Trembling, unable to close to legs or twist your hips away. You haven't even cummed yet the pleasure is too intense.

Suguru grabs the camera off its stand, "We have to take turns holding the camrea, I want to be able to jerk off to this later without ya'lls pale ass cheeks getting in the way from it being on a stand still." Your eyes are burning with tears when Satoru pulls his cock out.

You're gasping for air, your lungs burning, a few tears trickling down your cheeks. Sukuna fists his cock faster, your cunt clenching from the slick sound. “Aw our slut is cryin’ already!” He glides his thumb over his head, smearing pre-cum over his head. Sticking your tongue out for Sukuna to easily fuck your mouth.

Satoru suggests, "Let's take a few pictures, I want to change out my Home Screen and background. " He gets his phone, passing Sukuna's to him. He grabs a handful of your hair, holding your head still forcing his thick, veiny cock deep into your mouth.

Holding still with his cock stuffed deep, your nose touching the short dark patch of hair above his cock. Flashes go off as Satoru and Sukuna take pictures. "Dommymommy09 donated 600: post the pictures I'll pay more for them."

You’re getting off on how their taking pictures as you’re cumming on Choso’s thick fingers, with your mouth stuffed full of Sukuna’s cock. So many people are watching, touching themselves, wishing they could be you in between five beautiful, horny, muscular men.

Choso slips his phone out of his gym shorts. Recording the mess of your beautiful cunt getting sloppier. "She's gonna be on the verge of passing out when we are done with her." Choso roughly bites your cheek, groaning when you cry around Sukuna's cock.

Kissing the sharply stinging when before fully pulling away. Slapping your ass, Sukuna glides his cock out, the soft ridge of his head dragging along your tongue. Swirling your tongue around him when he pauses. “Fuck that’s it, cock hungry slut suckin’ on me like that.” Loosening his hold on your hair, letting you bob your head. Spit dripping down your chin.

Choso glides his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth sucking them clean. Suguru gets behind you, giving everyone a close up of your sloppy cunt. Spreading your lips apart. “Look at her poor little cunt clenching nothing.” Choso takes the camera from Suguru, wrapping his hand around his cock.

Smearing his pre cum with thumb, Choso bites his bottom lip trying to keep from moaning right next to the mic. Holding the camera steady, recording the mess Toji, Suguru, Satoru and Sukuna are making of you.

Suguru lines his cock up, slamming his thick, veiny cock into your sensitive, tight cunt. Groaning, taking the toy from Toji, nudging the tip of the dragon’s tongue into your ass.

Sukuna glides his cock out, letting Toji take his place in front. Toji slaps you across the face with his fat cock. Moaning with your tongue stuck out for Toji to use your mouth. “Looks like I’m cumming on ya face first, before I stuff your pretty little ass.” Stuffing his cock into your sore mouth, stuffing his head in deep.

"Lovefatpussy7 donated 300: seeing her play with herself makes my cock hard but I want to see her get treated like the whore she is."

"Spookygothybitchy69 donated 900: first time taking a cock on camera and it's a group, get it girl, i'm dripping wet n’ wishing I was you”

Oreo’s m.list

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. one

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

← 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: You didn’t mean to find her. Not really. But the music is loud, the drinks are strong, and somehow you’re caught in her orbit. A glance turns into a touch, a whisper into something more. The night blurs in heat and tangled sheets, a secret meant to stay buried. But when morning comes and your phone won’t stop buzzing, one thing is clear—last night isn’t staying hidden. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 8,4k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, top!ellie, sub! reader, strap-on sex (r!receiving), oral sex and fingering (r!receiving), hair pulling, praise, pet names, modern au,mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, cursing, violence, afab!reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

There’s a strange feeling in the air tonight— dense, electric, charged with the kind of energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse quicken without reason. The kind of feeling that only comes before things change. Before a shift so subtle, so inevitable, you don’t see it coming until it swallowed you whole. 

Maybe it’s fate sharpening its teeth. Maybe it’s destiny rewriting itself in real time. Or maybe it’s just the way the universe works, pulling you towards something, towards someone, whether you’re ready or not.

You don’t know it yet, but the world you know —the one you’ve mastered, the one that bends to your will— will start slipping through your fingers. The lines you swore you’d never cross will blur into nothing. Not all at once. Just enough to make you wonder if losing it might be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Or the worst.

Either way, by the morning, nothing will ever be the same.

The limousine glides to a stop at the curb, the low purr of the engine nearly drowned out by the deep bass thrumming from behind the club’s velvet-roped entrance. Outside, the city glows. Neon signs flickering against the blacked-out windows, paparazzi cameras flashing like tiny detonations in the dark.

Your dress is custom—something sleek but bright enough to catch the low, moody lights of the club. A perfect deep shade of red, sculpted to hug every curve, paired with heels so high they should be illegal. Your stylist had insisted on the look, calling it “effortlessly sexy”.

But as you step out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders, the silk brushing against your legs, it feels more like armor than fashion.

Your heels click against the pavement. Diamond-studded earrings catch the flashing lights as your name spills from the lips of paparazzi, murmured like a prayer behind metal barricades. Security holds them back, but their cameras? Their cameras never miss.

You inhale deeply, forcing a smile as your friend Olivia loops her arm through yours, her perfume sweet and familiar as she leans in, voice smooth with amusement.

“Ready to have some fun?” 

You nod, but the truth settles low in your stomach.

You don’t know what you’re looking for tonight. A distraction, maybe. A release. Something to remind you that your life is more than a series of curated, picture-perfect moments. More than something to be consumed.

The doorman doesn’t even glance at the list before letting you both in. Past the crowd, past the rules. Straight into the kind of luxury most people only dream about.

Inside, the club is a different world—bathed in gold light, dripping in excess. Crystal chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, their reflections fractured in the glassy surfaces of designer champagne flutes. The air is thick with an intoxicating haze of perfume and liquor and the music is a hypnotic heartbeat, moving through bodies like an electric current.

A server appears before you even have to ask, pressing a drink into your hand. It’s cold against your lips, smooth and sweet with just enough of a bite to remind you that it’s expensive. You let it linger on your tongue, relishing the way the warmth spreads through your chest.

Everyone’s looking at you. You can feel it. The stolen glances, the whispers behind manicured hands, the way conversations pause when you walk by. The attention used to unnerve you.

It still does.

But you slip into the role effortlessly. Chin high, lips curved in just the right amount of detached amusement, the slit of your dress parting just enough to tease, the subtle sway of your hips deliberate. 

You don’t stop to acknowledge anyone, but you already saw lots of recognizable faces. Eyes track your every move. They want to talk, to be close, to claim even a second of your attention. 

You let Olivia lead you through the pulsing crowd, past velvet ropes and watchful bouncers, into the VIP section—where the real power plays out. The air here is heavier, thick with the kind of confidence that only comes with knowing you belong.

Not even half an hour passes before she nudges you, her perfectly manicured fingers gripping your arm as she tips her head towards a booth across the room.

“Oh, shit,” she murmurs, her eyes flickering with amusement, with something else. Intrigue. Mischief. “Isn’t that the girl from The Fireflies?”

You take a slow sip of your drink, pretending to be unaffected—heavy on the pretending.

“Really? Ellie Williams?”

“Yeah” Olivia exhales, shaking her head, lips curling into a smirk. “Goddamn, she’s hot as fuck.”

Something shifts. A charged pause. The air seems thicker, humming with something you can’t quite name.

You tilt your head, finally allowing yourself to glance over.

And there she is.

And yeah—she’s indeed hot as fuck.

Ellie is sprawled across the leather booth like she owns it—like the whole damn club bends to her presence. The black fabric of her shirt hangs loose on her frame, the top few buttons undone, teasing just enough of the freckled skin of her chest to be unfair. The sleeves are pushed up, exposing tattoos that wind down her forearms, ink bold against pale skin. Silver rings glint on her fingers as she idly swirls the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light.

She’s not alone—the rest of The Fireflies are scattered around her. Dina is perched on the armrest beside her, scrolling through her phone, half-listening to whatever Jesse is saying, who’s deep in conversation with someone you don’t recognize. But Ellie? She’s elsewhere. Detached. Letting the whiskey burn slow in her throat as the bass-heavy music thrums through the club. Until she looks up.

Until her gaze collides with yours.

And then—when she realizes who she’s looking at—something shifts.

She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t break first. Instead, she keeps staring—not in a fleeting, casual way. She’s studying you. Sizing you up. The smirk tugging at her lips is slow, knowing.

Like she’s been expecting you. Like she’s been waiting for this moment.

Like she knew you’d both end up here eventually.

Your fingers tighten around your drink as you exhale, pulse thrumming against your skin.

Ellie takes a lazy drag of her whiskey. In one slow, deliberate movement, she spreads her legs a little wider, drapes an arm across the back of the booth, and raises an eyebrow.

The tension between you stretches—thin as wire, hot as an exposed filament—buzzing as the glances keep coming. Stolen, lingering, and never accidental.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs. You’re playing it cool, but the thrum of adrenaline in your veins says otherwise. You can feel her eyes on you even when you look away, even when Olivia keeps talking in your ear, words blurring into the low hum of music and conversation.

And then, she grabs your wrist. “Come on,” she urges, eyes glinting with mischief. “We didn’t come here to sit around.”

You let her pull you onto the dance floor, slipping into the current of bodies that move around you, the music curling around you like smoke. You move easily, letting the rhythm sink into your bones, letting the world blur.

But you keep looking back.

And Ellie—Ellie is still staring.

Her gaze is heavy-lidded, dim light catching in green irises, turning them darker. She lifts her glass to her lips again, slowly, whiskey kissing her mouth as she watches you move.

She looks like she’s enjoying the show.

So you give her one.

You dance, letting the music drown out everything else—the flashing lights, the faceless bodies. The bass thrums through your bones, heartbeat syncing to the rhythm, but no matter how lost you let yourself get, you can still feel her.

Ellie hasn’t moved. Not yet. But her presence is suffocating, pressing into you from across the room. She’s relaxed—almost too relaxed. Like she’s pretending this isn’t affecting her.

But the way her jaw shifts slightly, the way her grip tightens for half a second before she hides it behind another sip?

Yeah. It’s affecting her.

So you push it further.

You let your movements get a little slower, a little more deliberate. Your dress clings in all the right places, the dim lights casting shadows over your skin, and when you open your eyes again, you catch the exact moment Ellie loses her composure.

It’s the way her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. The way her fingers drum against the table, restless, like she’s debating something.

The way she exhales sharply, sets her glass down, and finally moves.

She stands, pushing off the booth with that same lazy confidence, but there’s a new sharpness to it now, a purpose. She murmurs something to Dina, who only smirks, flicks a glance at you, then waves her off. 

She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t weave through the crowd—she cuts through it, a slow, steady force, people shifting around her without a second thought.

"Alright, superstar" Olivia drawls, her grin nothing short of wicked as she catches your eye. "I’ll leave you to your… situation."

You barely get a chance to react before she downs the rest of her drink, runs a slow hand down the fabric of her dress, and locks onto a guy leaning against the bar—tall, sharp-jawed, the kind she loves to toy with.

"Oh, I see..." you murmur, arching a brow as you watch her shift her weight onto one foot, feigning nonchalance, even though you know better. "Text me later—if you even remember how to type by then."

Olivia leans in, pressing a quick, sticky-sweet kiss to your cheek, her perfume blooming warm against your skin.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do" she purrs, voice light, eyes glinting.

Then she’s gone, slipping into the crowd, leaving only the faintest trace of laughter in her wake.

And just like that, you’re alone.

Well—not exactly.

You feel her before you even see her.

The shift in the air. The weight of a gaze. The way the energy of the room tilts—like gravity itself is bending towards her, like she commands the space around her without ever needing to claim it.

Your pulse stumbles.

Ellie moves like she knows she belongs wherever she stands. She doesn’t even have to touch you; just her presence alone is enough to sink beneath your skin, coil around your ribs, settle deep in your stomach.

Her scent—smoke, leather, and the sharp bite of her cologne—wraps around you as she leans in, voice dropping low, teasing.

"You always put on a show like that, or was that just for me?"

Her breath ghosts along your cheek, close enough to taste the warmth of whiskey lingering on her lips.

You don’t answer right away. You let it sit, let the tension pull tight between you. A slow inhale, the ghost of a smirk playing at your lips as you rake a hand through your hair, finally turning to meet her.

And fuck.

Up close, Ellie is lethal. The kind of beautiful that feels like a setup, like a loaded gun placed in trembling hands. Her green eyes gleam, sharp and unreadable. Her gaze flicks down to your tits for half a second, barely noticeable—but you notice.

“That depends.” you murmur, voice smooth, honeyed. “Did you like the show?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek, and shit that does something to you. She leans just enough for the space between you to practically vanish, the heat of her breath against your skin.

“I don’t think like is the right word”

Oh.

The music pounds around you, but it’s background noise now—distant, unimportant. Because all you care about is the rush of your own heartbeat, the scrape of Ellie’s voice, and the way she’s watching you like she’s already got her next move planned.

You raise a brow, letting your fingers trace the rim of your glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh yeah?”

Ellie’s gaze drops to your mouth. She smirks. That same lazy, knowing smirk from across the room, only now it’s worse. Now it’s right there.

“Yeah,” she says, voice edged with amusement, with challenge. “I think I need a closer look.”

Your stomach tightens.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm. I don’t know. You seemed pretty comfortable back there.”

“I was,” she admits, eyes gleaming. “But you were distracting.”

“Distracting?”

She muses, lips twitching. “It's hard to focus on anything else when you’re in the room.”

Jesus Christ.

You should say something witty, something smooth, but it seems that your mind is short-circuiting and working against you. So you settle for something else that doesn’t require snarky comebacks.

You don’t break eye contact as you set your drink down and reach for her whiskey glass, plucking it from her fingers like it belongs to you.

Slowly, you bring it to your lips, tilting your head back to take a sip. The burn of the whiskey is immediate, rich and smoky, but you barely register it. Because all you can focus on is Ellie watching you—watching your mouth, your throat, the way your fingers wrap around her glass.

“It’s good.” You murmur, licking a stray drop off your bottom lip before offering it back.

Ellie takes it without a word. Her fingers brush against yours—just for a second, just long enough to feel deliberate. Then she drinks, lips meeting the same spot yours just touched. Indirect kiss.

Ellie doesn’t react, not outright. She just watches you over the rim of the glass, half-lidded, unreadable, before swallowing the last sip. She nods toward the backs of the bar, where the booths are tucked away in the dim neon haze, shadows swallowing the edges of the room.

“C’mon.” Her voice is low, sure. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

It’s not a question.

You should hesitate. You should throw something sharp her way, something teasing, a push to match her pull. But you don’t.

Not when the warmth of her touch still lingers against your skin.

So you just follow.

After grabbing fresh drinks, you slide into the booth, expecting Ellie to take the seat across from you. But she doesn’t. Instead, she slips in right beside you, close. Casual, unhurried, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her thigh presses against yours, warm through the fabric of her jeans. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she leans back against the worn leather seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

She takes a slow sip of her drink, the ice shifting with the movement, her other hand resting on her thigh—dangerously close. Close enough that if you shifted even a little, if you so much as exhaled in the wrong direction, her fingers would graze your skin.

You take a sip of your own drink, matching her energy, leaning back just enough that your shoulder presses against her arm, your movements measured.

“You comfortable?” she muses, voice dipping low.

“Yeah,” you turn your head as you answer smoothly “Are you?”

Ellie chuckles, shaking her head, her eyes flicking over your face like she’s figuring out a puzzle she already knows the answer to.

“Oh, I’m real comfortable.” 

She tilts her glass, ice clinking, watching as you drag your fingers along the condensation on yours.

“So…” you hum, drawing out the word and trying to chat a little “What’s next for the great Ellie Williams?”

Ellie exhales, tilting her head back against the booth.

“Studio time. Late nights. Same shit, different album.”

You nod, taking a sip. “Bet it’s gonna be good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You a fan?”

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just said that to be nice.”

Ellie scoffs, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

You laugh, looking at her over the rim of your glass. She studies you for a second, eyes sharp and knowing, then leans in, her voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“What about you, pop princess? More shows? Another album?” she quips. “...maybe a fake PR relationship?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

“I don’t do those.”

Ellie gives you a look—unconvinced. “Sure.”

A beat of silence, thick with something unspoken.

If only you both knew

Then, her hand moves lower, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your shoulder. The touch is featherlight, almost absentminded, but you know better. Her other hand slides down slowly until her palm settles on your thigh, just above your knee. You feel the warmth of it through your skin, a quiet claim. Almost possessive.

She’s testing you. Seeing if you’ll pull away.

And you don’t.

“You nervous?” she murmurs, feeling as goosebumps raise in the skin she's touching.

You exhale, meeting her gaze with a challenge. “Not even a little.”

Ellie hums like she doesn’t believe you. Her fingers tighten just slightly against your thigh, pressing firmer, the weight of them making heat coil even lower in your stomach. 

“Then finish your drink.”

Your brow lifts, matching her grin. “Why?”

She tilts her head, green eyes dark, half-lidded, unreadable.

“’Cause we’re getting out of here.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You know exactly where this is going.

So you knock back the rest of your drink in one smooth motion, the warmth of the alcohol sliding down your throat, mingling with the heat pooling low in your stomach. The sensation is almost dizzying, but not as much as the way Ellie hungrily watches you.

Her fingers remain on your thigh, unmoving except for the lazy brush of her thumb against your skin. A barely-there touch, but still there. When you set the glass down with a soft clink, Ellie smirks.

"Good girl."

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your expression composed, refusing to give her the reaction she wants. Instead, you lean into her touch, letting your thigh press more firmly against her hand. 

And then, just as effortlessly as she slid into the booth beside you, she moves again—standing, slipping out of the seat with an easy grace. Without hesitation, she reaches into her pocket, tosses a couple of bills onto the table, and tilts her head towards the exit.

“My hotel isn’t far.”

Your lips curve, eyes glinting with something playful, but you don’t stand up. Not yet. “Are you always this forward?”

Ellie chuckles, slipping her hands into her pockets, her smirk deepening. “Only when I know what I want.”

You hum, gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes, drawn in by the way she looks at you—steady, unshaken, expectant.

“And what is it that you want?”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate or waver. Her gaze drags over your face, then lower, sweeping over every inch of your body. That look alone answers every question you could possibly have.

She’s eye-fucking you. 

“I think you already know.”

Her voice feels like a dare wrapped in velvet.

She shifts just slightly to let her fingers brush against yours—not quite holding, not quite taking, just enough to make you shiver. To remind you that you’re the one who has to make the next move.

“Last chance, pop star.” Her thumb grazes the inside of your wrist. “You coming or not?

No time to blame the alcohol, the music, her, or even yourself. None of it matters. Not when she’s this close. Not when you’ve already decided—fuck everything.

You don't answer her with words.

Instead, you let your fingers slip fully into hers, a silent answer in the way you squeeze her hand. With unhurried confidence, you rise to your feet, stepping in close, letting her feel the warmth of your body against hers.

Ellie watches you, her smirk deepening, her grip tightening ever so slightly, like she’s making sure you’re real. And then, without another word, she turns, leading you towards the exit, her pace steady, certain— she already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

The elevator ride is painfully slow.

Ellie leans against the mirrored wall, the yellow glow of the overhead lights casting soft shadows along her sharp jawline. You can feel the heat of her gaze, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

“So…” she drawls, tapping a slow rhythm against her thigh. “Have you ever done this before?”

You arch a brow. “Been in an elevator?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “No, smartass. Snuck away in the middle of the night with someone you barely know.”

You hum, pretending to think as you glance at her from beneath your lashes. “Depends” you say. “Do you count as someone I barely know?”

Ellie exhales sharply, something between a laugh and a scoff as she steps closer until there’s barely a breath of space between you.

“You think you’re funny,” she murmurs, voice just above a whisper.

Your pulse thrums. “I know I am.”

She studies you for a moment, head tilted, before her lips twitch into something smug. “Alright then” she muses, tilting her chin towards the soft ding of the elevator reaching the highest floor. 

“Let’s see if you’re still funny in a minute.”

You step inside, your heels clicking softly against the marble, the sound swallowed by the sheer vastness of the room. Ellie follows, closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

The Four Seasons suite is nothing short of breathtaking—the kind of luxury that feels effortless, curated. The living area is sprawling, tastefully minimal, yet undeniably expensive, all clean lines and plush textures. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretches out in a sea of glittering lights, skyscrapers piercing the night sky.

The air is cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood, perfume, whiskey, and something distinctively her. A half-finished whiskey bottle and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts sit on the bar. In the adjoining room, a decadent king-sized bed stands with its pristine sheets rumpled, as if she left in a hurry.

She doesn’t move right away. She just watches you, standing a few steps away, hands in her pockets. She’s giving you a moment to take it all in, to change your mind.

"You sure ‘bout this?" she murmurs, voice lower now, more serious. Less teasing.

Your lips curve, slow and certain. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Ellie exhales a quiet chuckle, running a hand through her auburn mullet before stepping closer. The room feels smaller now, the space between you dissolving into nothing.

“Yeah” she mutters, gaze flickering to your lips. “Didn’t think so.”

And she kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s filled with longing, of knowing about each other without ever really knowing each other, of stolen glances, headlines and rumors that led to this. Her lips are warm, slightly rough from cigarettes and the way she’s been smirking all night.

You match her, hands finding the front of her black shirt, gripping the expensive fabric between your fingers, pulling her closer. Ellie groans against your mouth, low and amused, like she knew you’d be like this— she was just waiting for you to prove it.

She backs you up slowly, guiding without breaking contact, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sink down, breathless, heart hammering, and Ellie follows, bracing herself over you, one knee between your legs, hands settling on either side of you.

Her hands roam, slow but sure, like she’s mapping you out, memorizing every inch of you beneath her fingertips. The room hums with the soft sound of your breaths, the distant city noise barely audible past the pounding in your ears.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat. A quiet exhale escapes you when her teeth graze your pulse point, and she smirks against your skin like she’s won something.

Ellie moves with purpose, like she’s savoring every little reaction you give her. The way your breath stutters when her lips graze just below your jaw, the way your fingers clutch at her shirt, pulling her closer, needing more.

The air between you is electric, charged with something you are too far gone to name, but definitely heavy. Her hands press against your sides, fingers flexing like she’s grounding herself, like she needs to remind herself to take her time, try to draw this out.

But then you move—tilting your chin, brushing your lips against her pulse point—and Ellie falters, just for a second. A sharp inhale, a quiet curse under her breath.

She’s kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. And you know something inside her has finally snapped.

Her hands grip at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a thrill up your spine. Her weight presses against you, firm, unyielding, and you arch into it, meeting her halfway. There’s no space left between you now, just heat, friction and the dizzying sensation of losing yourself in her.

She pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at you, to study your face in the dim light. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, softer than before, more careful. Her pupils are blown wide, her breathing uneven.

And then—just when you think you have her figured out—she shifts, her breath hot against your ear, pressing her knee harder between your thighs.

“Tell me, princess” she murmurs, voice dipped in something dangerously close to amusement. “Still playing the part?”

It would be so easy to keep up the game, to smirk and tell her that she’s the one who’s falling for it. But Ellie’s knee moves again—just enough to steal the thought right out of your head—and you let out a soft gasp instead of answering.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, and she groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating through you. It’s heady, dizzying, the way she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how to unravel you.

“That's what I thought…” 

Her fingers finally find the zipper at the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, the ghost of a touch sending shivers down your skin. She pauses, eyes flicking up to yours, searching, waiting for your approval.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, barely above a whisper—soft, wanting. 

You didn’t mean for it to sound that desperate, but God, you are.

Ellie’s smirk deepens into something downright wicked, her eyes dark with satisfaction. “Fuck…” she mutters, mostly to herself, like she wasn’t expecting you to sound like that, and she wants to hear it again.

Then—slow, torturously slow—she tugs the zipper down, the sound of it impossibly loud in the quiet space between you. The dress pools at your waist before slipping further, guided by her hands, like she’s unwrapping something precious.

And when it finally falls away, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties, Ellie exhales a quiet curse, eyes raking over you like she wants to commit every inch of you to memory.

She can’t quite believe you’re real. But you are. And you are here, beneath her, almost naked and looking up at her like this. Her hands skim up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, dragging heat in their wake. There’s something almost reverent in the way she touches you, like she’s been waiting for this longer than she’d ever admit. 

“You are even better than I imagined,” she murmurs, voice thick, dark and dizzying. Her gaze flickers back up to yours, and the corner of her mouth tugs into a knowing smirk. “And trust me, gorgeous—I imagined a lot.”

It’s like she’s learning, memorizing. And it’s because she is. This is a moment she wants burned into her mind, something she won’t let fade when the night is over.

“You’re still dressed…” you murmur, running your hands up the fabric of her shirt, fingers tracing over the smooth, expensive material.

Ellie smirks, tilting her head slightly. “Wanna fix that?” Her voice is teasing as she leans in, pressing a peck to your lips, barely pulling away before adding, “Be my guest.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, starting slowly at first, savoring the way the fabric parts beneath your touch, revealing inch by inch of her skin. But patience has never been your strong suit, and before you know it, your fingers are working faster, making quick work of the last few buttons.

Ellie chuckles softly at your eagerness, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. 

Your breath catches, taking her in—her toned arms, her freckled chest, her abs, the ink sprawled across her skin, the way the dim lighting casts shadows over every sharp edge of her body.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you’re looking at her. “Like what you see?”

You swallow, lips curving into something between a smirk and something much softer. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quieter, breathless. “I really do.”

She smirks, all too proud of herself, before lowering her mouth to your body, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Each press of her mouth sets your skin on fire as she moves lower, finally reaching your breasts.

Her tongue flicks over a hardened nipple before her lips close around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Her other hand moves to your other breast, fingers squeezing, kneading, rolling your sensitive bud between her fingertips with a precision that makes your breath hitch.

A moan escapes you before you can stop it and Ellie groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her movements natural, fluid.

You know she has done this more than a hundred times—but right now, with the way she’s touching you, kissing you, looking at you—it feels like you’re the only one.

And the worst part? She’s barely even started.

“You’re unreal,” she mutters against your skin, voice thick with something reverent, almost amazed. “You sure you’re not the one playing me?”

Your breath catches, a slow smirk forming even as your body betrays you, pressing closer, craving more. “Maybe,” you tease, voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe I just like watching you lose control.”

Ellie exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s something darker in her eyes now—something wild, untamed. She leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw, your throat, before settling just below your ear.

“Then I guess we’re both in trouble.”

Ellie’s fingers trail lower as she reaches the waistband of your panties. With a slow smirk, she hooks her fingers into the lace and tugs them down, the fabric slipping over your thighs in one smooth motion. The cool air kisses your heated core, and she exhales sharply, her gaze flickering downward—taking you in, almost ridiculously soaked for her. Just for her.

“Damn…” she murmurs, voice thick with something between amusement and hunger. “Look at you.”

“Fuck, Ellie...” Heat rushes to your face, her fingers ghost over your thigh. She’s barely touching you, barely doing anything at all, and yet—your body is already responding, arching subtly towards her, silently asking for more.

Ellie chuckles, low and knowing. “You’re so easy to read.” She leans in, lips grazing your jaw, her fingers still dancing just at the edge of your glistening pussy. “And so, so needy.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and when she finally moves—finally gives in to what you both want—you can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from your lips.

Ellie grins against your skin, pleased. “That’s more like it, baby. Keep moaning for me like that.”

Her fingers move like pure sin, circling your clit with practiced ease, each motion precise, calculated. Designed to ruin you, untame you. Your moans spill out freely, and you can feel her eyes on you, dark and burning, primal. 

The sight of you like this—bare, undone, completely at her mercy—makes something in her tighten, makes her want to see just how far she can push you.

So she doesn’t give you a second to prepare. One moment, she’s watching you with that signature smirk, and the next—her mouth is on you, tongue sliding through your folds like she’s been starving for this.

“Oh god! Ellie!” You choke on a gasp, hands flying to the sheets, twisting them between your fingers as her tongue works against you.

Ellie eats you out the same way she plays her guitar—expertly, effortlessly, like she was made for this. Every flick of her tongue is deliberate, every slow drag filled with a deep, unrelenting intensity, she’s savoring you, she wants to make a masterpiece out of your pleasure.

“So sweet…” Ellie groans against your cunt, the sound sending vibrations that make your whole body jolt. Fuck, she thinks, feeling the way your thighs twitch, the way your breath stutters, how quickly you fall apart for her. It’s addictive.

She pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing. A quiet chuckle rumbles in her chest, fingers dragging lazily up your slit, collecting everything you’re giving her.

“You’re fuckin’ messy, babe." She murmurs, half in awe, half just to tease. 

Before you can even think to respond, her tongue is on you again, dragging slow and deliberate licks over your swollen clit while two fingers ease their way inside, stretching you open.

You inhale sharply, your thighs instinctively trying to snap shut around her, but Ellie is quick, her free hand pressing against your hip, keeping you right where she wants you.

She curls her fingers just right, feeling the way your walls flutter around them. She watches you from beneath heavy lids, drinking in the way your head tilts back, lips parting, how every needy sound you make is just for her.

Her lips curve against your heat before she bites down on your clit softly—just enough to make your breath hitch, your fingers tighten in her hair. Her fingers move in tandem, thrusting slow but deep, curling just right against your spongy spot to make pleasure coil tighter and tighter inside you.

You can’t even form words, only breathy, broken sounds slipping past your lips. Your body moves on instinct, rolling against her mouth, chasing that high she’s so effortlessly pulling you towards. Ellie groans at the way you react to her, the vibrations sending a new wave of heat spiraling through you.

“Takin’ it so perfectly, princess,” she muses, her voice rough with satisfaction. One hand smooths along your thigh, grounding, teasing, keeping you exactly where she wants you. The slick, obscene sounds of her fingers and mouth working on you grow louder, matching the frantic pace of your pulse.

You’re so close, you can feel it—electric, unbearable, curling low. Like a thread waiting to snap. 

“I—hah!—Ellie, I’m gonna—” Your voice breaks as pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and dizzying. Your body tightens, trembles, pleasure snapping through every nerve as you cry out, gripping onto her like she’s the only thing anchoring you.

Ellie doesn’t pull away immediately, working you through it, her mouth still lazily exploring, drawing out every last aftershock until your thighs are trembling around her. Only then does she ease back, slow and deliberate, her fingers slipping from you with a quiet, wet sound.

You barely have time to catch your breath before she lifts them to her lips, her eyes locking onto yours, utterly shameless. She slides them past her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

“Too good to waste” she mutters, the rasp in her voice making heat flicker in your belly all over again.

You watch her with a dazed expression, your mind still lost in the aftershocks, chest rising and falling as you try to remember how to breathe.

This is almost too good to be true.

And thank God it is.

Ellie watches you with half-lidded eyes, her breath heavy, chest rising and falling as she takes in the sight of you—disheveled, skin glistening, lips parted as you gasp for air. She knows she’s wrecked you, and fuck, she loves it. Loves the way you look at her, like she’s the only thing that exists in the world right now.

“Shit babe, you soaked the bed…” she murmurs, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips as she drags her fingers up your trembling thighs. “Do I turn you on that badly?”

Your head barely nods, your body still buzzing, heat pooling in your stomach again even though you haven’t fully come down. “Mhmm.”

Ellie huffs out a quiet chuckle, pressing her lips against the inside of your knee before pulling back just enough to unbuckle her belt. Your breath hitches as she unfastens it, sliding her jeans and grey boxers down her hips, revealing the deep purple strap nestled between her thighs.

And It’s almost unfair how good she looks like this. Shirt unbuttoned, muscles flexing as she strokes the length of the toy once, watching you with amused eyes.

And let's just say, you are shocked.

How the hell did you not notice it before? It’s thick, long, and attached to a harness that presses snugly against her lower abdomen—bigger than anything you’ve ever taken.

Your gaze flickers between her face and the toy, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. Ellie notices, her smirk widening. “Something wrong, baby?”

You swallow, your voice coming out weaker than you want it to. “N-no.”

Your breath stutters, eyes widening. “Nervous, pretty girl?” Ellie quirks a brow. She clicks something at the base of the strap, and suddenly, a sound vibrates with a low hum. 

You shake your head, but the anticipation, the way your legs shift, betrays you. Ellie just smirks, gripping your knee and spreading you open. 

“It’s okay” she says, and for a moment, her voice is softer “You can always tell me if it’s too much.”

A thread of something unspoken lingers between you, but then she’s pressing the tip against your soaked entrance, teasing, watching your breath hitch, and any softness vanishes into something much darker.

She pushes in—slow, stretching you inch by inch, letting you feel every single second of it.

You let out a sharp cry, your fingers flying up to grasp at her shoulders, nails digging in. Ellie groans at the sight, her pupils blown wide, her fingers flexing against your thigh as she stills for just a second, letting you adjust. “Shit…” she rasps, voice thick. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Your walls flutter around the length, the feeling making your whole body shudder. “F-fuck…” you whimper, the sound breathy, desperate.

Ellie grips your face with one hand, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to look at her. “Tell me how it feels.” she demands, her thumb brushing over your parted lips.

“Good—so fucking good—Ells…” you gasp, your voice breaking as she bottoms up, letting you feel the thickness of the toy against your walls. Then, she shifts, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you flush against her as she sinks deeper, her thrusts picking up pace.

“Yeah?” Ellie breathes, watching the way your body trembles beneath her. “Gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to think straight,”

Your head tilts back and your eyes dart shut as you moan, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire, but Ellie isn’t having that. “No.” she grits, leaning down, her breath hot against your ear. “Look at me.”

She grips your jaw, tilting your face back toward her, her lips just inches from yours. 

“I want you to look at me fucking you.”

The way she says it—so raw, so commanding—has you clenching around her, has your legs shaking as she fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your mind blank.

Your eyes flutter open, and what you see nearly ruins you. Ellie, flushed and wrecked with desire, watching you fall apart beneath her, completely at her mercy.

Her smirk returns, slow and knowing. “That’s my girl.”

“F-fuck, right there—Ellie, please!” you babble, your voice breaking as she adjusts the angle, pressing your knee up to your chest so she can sink in even deeper and hit that spot that makes you fall apart. Your fingers claw at her back, clinging to her as if letting go would shatter you completely.

Ellie groans, sweat slicking her forehead, the vibrations from the toy sending shocks of pleasure through her own body. She’s close, she knows it, but she wants you there first. Needs to see you unravel beneath her, to make you tighten around her.

Your moans turn into choked sobs of pleasure, your body going rigid as the coil inside you snaps. “I—shitt—I’m gonna—!”

And then it happens. Your back arches, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm crashes through you, your vision going white. The sheer intensity of it rips a cry from your throat, your nails digging deeper into her back as your body spasms.

“Jesus fucking christ…” Ellie curses, watching the way your release splashes everywhere, coating her toy, dripping down between your thighs and her lower abdomen. “Did you just—fuckk—did you just squirt?”

And just like that, with one last deep thrust, she shudders, her own orgasm overtaking her as the toy grinds against her in just the right way. “Oh god, I—”

Her muscles go taut, her forehead dropping against your shoulder as her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale. She rides it out, her body trembling against yours before she finally stills, catching her breath.

She’s careful as she pulls out, the slick sound making both of you shiver. A low whistle leaves her lips as she looks down at the mess between your legs.

You can’t form words, your body still convulsing, overstimulated and spent. Ellie watches you, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. “Goddamn…” she murmurs, grinning lazily as she flops beside you.

“You really did soak the bed.”

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the smell of coffee.

The second thing you notice is that your body hurts—a deep lingering soreness that reminds you exactly how last night went down. And let’s just say, it was a long night.

You stretch lazily against the sheets, tangled almost beyond saving, blinking against the light filtering through the curtains. The room is a mess, whiskey glasses half-empty on the nightstand, your dress discarded in a careless heap on the floor, the air still heavy with the scent of sex.

The steady hum of the shower echoes from the bathroom. You exhale, running a hand through your hair as you sit up, the sheets slipping down your bare skin covered only by your lace panties. Your fingers find the nearest whiskey glass, bringing it to your lips—only to find it empty.

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. Of course. Ellie Williams never does leave you anything to sip on but trouble.

And then she walks in.

A towel slung over her shoulders, fresh boxers hanging low on her hips, a white tank top clinging to her still-damp skin. Her auburn short hair, darker from the shower, is pushed back in that frustratingly effortless way.

Your breath catches.

Maybe it’s the afterglow, or maybe it’s just her—but she looks too good. Unfairly good.

Ellie glances at you, grabbing her coffee cup from the table. “Damn, you survived.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Barely.”

Your body feels wrecked, and you’re painfully aware of exactly why. But there’s no time to dwell on it—your fingers fumble for your phone on the nightstand, and when you check the time, your stomach drops.

Shit. You were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago.

With a sigh, you throw the sheets off and swing over the edge of the bed, standing on shaky legs. Ellie watches, her smirk widening, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shoot her a glare. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She leans back against the dresser, legs spread, mug cradled loosely in her hands, eyes dragging over you in that slow, unhurried way. She’s memorizing every mark she left, every inch of bare skin now illuminated by the light. “Just appreciating the aftermath.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm anyway. Before you can shoot back a response, she tosses something your way—a soft bundle of fabric. You catch it midair, unfolding it. A T-shirt. Hers, obviously.

“This is all I’m getting?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

Ellie flops onto the edge of the bed, pulling on her jeans, that fucking smirk never leaving her lips. “What, you want a medal too?”

“No, dumbass. Pants.” You gesture to your mostly bare legs. “Or am I supposed to just strut out of here in nothing but this?”

Ellie hums, head tilting like she’s actually considering it. “I mean… yeah? Could be a serve.”

You glare. “Ellie.”

She grins, taking another slow sip of coffee. "Alright, alright. You can borrow something.”

You huff, pulling her shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling like her. “Generous.”

She snickers, getting up to rummage through her bag. A moment later, a pair of jeans lands on your lap. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

You unfold them and immediately groan.

“Oh, come on,” you grumble, holding up the jeans.“These are massive. I look like I raided my dad’s closet.”

Ellie, still perched against the dresser, tilts her head, eyes dragging over you in that slow, lazy way that makes your stomach flip. “Nah,” she muses, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you were wearing your dad’s jeans, they wouldn’t make me wanna fuck you all night again.”

Your breath catches—just for a second—before you recover, scoffing as you lob a pillow at her face. She dodges easily, laughing, while you mutter under your breath, pulling the jeans on. They hang ridiculously low on your hips, and you have to roll the waistband several times to make them even somewhat wearable. With a huff, you snatch a belt from the chair, looping it through and cinching it tight.

By the time you’re slipping on your shoes, Ellie is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, her smirk growing by the second. She’s watching you with that barely concealed amusement, like she’s holding back from making some smartass comment.

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

She nods toward your legs, lips twitching. “Nothing,” she says, voice dripping with amusement. “Just… loving the fit.”

You glance down at yourself—the borrowed jeans, the oversized shirt, and all of that paired with heels. The entire disheveled aftermath of last night wrapped up in one ridiculous outfit. It’s not your fault she wears jeans three sizes too big and still manages to look good.

You shoot her a glare, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stealing my clothes.” She takes another sip of her coffee, watching you struggle with your belt. “Might as well start charging you rent.”

You roll your eyes and head for the door, but just as you reach the threshold, her voice stops you.

“Hey.”

You glance back over your shoulder, eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Ellie, standing in the doorway, tilts her head, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hope to see you around, superstar.”

You return the look, shrugging as you take a step backwards into the hallway. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Ellie chuckles under her breath, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“Absolute fucking menace” 

The air outside bites at your skin as you step out of the hotel, the morning sun glaring too bright for your tired eyes. Your phone buzzes in your hand—a quick reminder that your driver is two minutes away.

You glance down at yourself: your own clothes abandoned somewhere in a hotel room you never bothered to retrieve, and Ellie’s oversized t-shirt draped over your frame, hanging just a little too big, screaming that it isn’t yours. Great.

You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the ghost of last night’s lingering touch, the memory of her hands gripping your waist, her lips trailing over your skin. You told yourself it was just fun, a wild one night stand with a hot rockstar to take the edge off. 

But now, you can’t help but feel that your body still hums with the echo of her touch.

You don’t notice the subtle flicker of movement—a camera shutter clicking once, twice, in a quiet, practiced rhythm drowned out by the city noise.

The soft thud of the car door seals you off from the world, and as you settle into the seat, you catch your own scent—a heady mix that unmistakably smells just like her. You rest your head back and inhale slowly, grounding yourself as the car pulls away from the curb.

But you don't know that across the street, a photographer flips through his shots, zooming in on your face. 

You don’t know that in just an hour, your name will be trending worldwide—paired inseparably with hers.

And you don’t know that later, back in the hotel room, Ellie is still standing by the window, scrolling through her phone. She pauses, eyes narrowing as a fresh notification pops up, a text from her manager— with a TMZ headline.

Your name. 

Hers.

“Shit.”

← 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMG OMG OMG THAT SHI WAS INTENSEEE. its so long im sorry lmaooo. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[girlrotterr]

— "𝘚𝛨𝛦 𝛭𝐼𝐺𝛨𝑇 𝛮𐒆𝑇 𝐿𐒆𐒆𝛫 𝐿𝐼𝛫𝛦 𝘚𝛨𝛦 𝐺𝛦𝑇𝘚 𝛣𝐼𝑇𝐶𝛨𝛦𝘚."

𝑃𝛢𝐼𝑅𝐼𝛮𝐺: ellie williams x reader

𝘚𝑌𝛮𐒆𝑃𝘚𝐼𝘚: streamer!ellie headcanons

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose bad posture is only made worse by the massive gaming headset permanently denting her hair. By the end of each stream, there’s a wild, flattened patch on her head. Chat’s constantly telling her to take a break, but she just grins, shaking her head with a stubborn “This is the look, trust.” ignoring the fact that her neck is basically molded to fit the headset

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose mic is almost as old as her setup, hanging off a stand with a few screws loose. It crackles with static if she yells too loudly, but she refuses to upgrade.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose webcam glitches, freezing her mid-sentence in the least flattering positions, like mid-eye roll or tongue out. She’ll smack the side of her screen, muttering. “Oh, fucking come on!” 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose desk is a mess of clutter: tangled cords, stray stickers, and half-finished doodles scattered across the surface. Chat is obsessed with trying to guess what all the random junk is, especially when something odd slips into frame—like an old action figure with a missing arm or an unopened can of Spam.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who leans back in her chair, stretching out her arms with a carefree sigh, her hair falling messily over her face. When suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of her strap-on, casually hanging out in the corner of the screen. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!?!

"DAWG NO WAYYY"

"NO WAY BRO GETS ANY TYPE OF PLAY!!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose chat’s favorite pastime is mocking her everytime she gets cocky. She’ll brag like, “Watch this fucking clutch.” only to immediately fumble, staring straight into her webcam, deadpaned. The chat spamming with messages like: 

"JUST UNINSTALL BRO"

"HOW TF IS SHE THIS BAD?!?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose quick to pick up on any kid’s attitude in the game. The second she hears a high-pitched “You’re trash!” she instantly counters, “YOUR DADS STROKE GAME IS TRASH!” She’ll sit there grinning, hyping herself up as the kids try to come back with more insults. Chat’s losing it, spamming, "BRO HE'S 12?!?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever in the heat of a game, her brows furrow, her jaw sets, and the chat braces for impact. When she misses a shot, her frustrated yell reverberates, echoing through thin walls that neighbors are definitely complaining about. “I’m never playing this shit again!” Spolier: She always plays it again.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever she’s roped into playing with Abby, her chat lights up with anticipation. Abby always manages to take her down, which only amps up her muttered curses and exaggerated sighs. “I WAS FUCKING LAGGING” she yells, while her chat’s ablaze with "IM CRYINGGGFF" and "ELLIES ACUTAL FUCKING CHEEKS BRO" Abby barely has to try; one word and Ellie’s thrown off, dropping all her ammo in the wrong place.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you show up in her game lobby, she clears her throat, trying to play it smooth. She lowers her voice a full octave, attempting some kind of “cool” introduction. But the chat? They’re absolutely losing it.

"DID ELLIE JUST TURN INTO A FUCKING MAN?!"

"I CANNOTTFF!!"

"PLEASE ELLIE UR EMBARRASSING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie always tries to play it smooth by making some bold promise, like, “Stick with me, and we’ll clutch this.” But then she immediately gets taken out. Chat explodes, throwing in every possible roast, like, "BRO ELLIE PACK IT THE FUCK UP" and "THE HOES ARE RUNNING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who, by the end of the stream, knows you’re still there in chat. So a quick, stumbling sentence slips out, “Uh, if you...you know, ever wanna game or whatever, just hit me up.”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you send over your Instagram, she freezes, her in-game character getting KO’d. But she’s too hyped to care. She jumps out of her chair, nearly flipping it backward, screaming into her mic, “BRO, BRO, BRO, NO WAY—LETS GOOOO!!” She starts pacing, muttering, “CHAT, ARE WE SEEING THIS!?.”

The Chat’s blowing up like: 

"WWWWW!!!!"

"OKAY ELLIE WE SEEE YOUUU!!"

"THERE'S ABSOLUETLY NO WAYYY"

"BROOO!??!?!"

and she’s just laughing, all out of breath. 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s bouncing in her seat, half-yelling at her monitor, “FUCKK ” She’s pointing at your handle in her chat, looking dazed, like she’s still trying to process it. Her hands are shaking, and she’s practically yelling over her poor-quality mic, “I FUCKING DID THAT CHAT!”  Chat’s spamming, "PLEASEEE SHE'S DOING CHAIRTY WORK ELLIE" and "NAHH THATS DEFINITELY AI"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s too hyped to even hear the first few bangs on her door. But then, it’s like her soul leaves her body. “dude, what was that?” She leans closer to the mic, whispering like her neighbors can’t still hear her, “um… chat…?” Chat’s flooding with "NUHHH UHHH" and "AWWWW SHITTT" and she’s just grinning, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, hold on, lemme go check”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie where a moment later, she comes back into frame holding a piece of paper up to the webcam: an eviction notice. She stares at the camera, lips pressed into a thin line as chat explodes, crying.

"NO WAYYYYY!!!!?!??!?!"

"SENDING YOU JOB APPLICATIONS"

"IM FUCKING CRYINGFFFF"

"UR GONNA HAVE TO SELL THAT STRAP"

[yoitsjay]

😈😈😈

The way I got the grinch smile reading all your kinky! reader stuff-

Tuysrsyriseiysurddtdq35qseyud

My ahh HOWLING at the moon from all the good food you serve, chef!

Back to request the batboys (+Damian) wearing lingerie with a dom! reader.

Idk why, but seeing guys in pretty lingerie, it just- It does something to my psyche, my neurons are activated when I see that good stuff-

Also, congrats on 200 followers! Wish you more!

👏👏👏

~😈 anon

OK no more kinky stuff after this cuz I'm gunna get all kinked out- Kebdkdndj

Your lucky fuckers.

It's my favorite color

Summary: your all horny bastards and I hate you /j

Warnings: short and sweet, batboys in lingerie of your favorite color

A/n: IM ALL KINKED OUT 😭 i need angst in my holes

Bruce Wayne:

Seeing him in bed, in lingerie, that was your favourite color- it almost killed you.

You stared at Bruce, wide eyed, mouth agape as you took in his appearance, kneeling on the bed.

Then your nose started bleeding, and he started panicking.

seeing him run in this tight, lacy lingerie.

you passed out.

yeah he'd try it again another night.

Dick Grayson:

You were frantically shedding clothes off of each other, his leg wedged between your thighs as he pinned you to the wall and kissed you feverishly… you slid your hands up his shirt, and your eyebrows furrowed as you felt something lacy up on his chest.

You then slipped your hands down, past the band of his sweatpants and you moved to cup his ass, and again felt the same fabric.

You pulled your head back, pushing against his chest before you roughly tugged down his pants and gasped.

“Lingerie? Really Grayson? You thought that was gonna make me feel better after the shit you pulled on patrol yesterday-”

“I bought you a matching set-”

You pause, staring up at the tall man as you both stand awkwardly In front of each other in the hallway, panting, sweating…

“Get your ass in the bedroom Grayson. And grab my rope.”

Jason Todd:

Jason always seemed to be surprising you. From being alive again, to being a moany little bitch when pegged, to this.

Him in Lingerie, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

“Uhm- i iust- i know this is weird but-” he spoke up as you stared, watching as you silently walked over before tugging on the Lingerie bottoms, and the leather straps around his thick, muscly thighs.

You slowly moved to straddle his lap, then kissed him, softly, holding him close before you pulled back and rested your head against his.

“I want you to set up the camera and rail me Todd, wearing what you're wearing.”

Tim Drake:

It had been late, you and Tim were still at Wayne Enterprises, clocking in those overtime hours.

with some coffee in your hands, you made your way towards Tim’s office. You noticed that the blinds were closed, which you found odd, since he liked to keep them open for the most part.

You approached the door, and adjusted the cups in your hands before knocking on the door. “Timmy? You alright?” You called out to him.

“Yeah baby I'm good! Come in.” He called out to you, and so you did. Opening up the door and stepping inside, keeping your eyes on the coffee as you shut the door behind you, before glancing up at Tim, smiling, then glancing away, only to double back when your eyes clocked what he was wearing.

The coffee slipped from your Hands and clattered to the floor, spilling everywhere.

“UGH! Look what you made me do! If you're gonna dress up like a slut, then you can clean up the problem you made.” You hissed, and gestured To the floor. “On your knees and clean. After that I'll show you what I do to boys who look good in lace.”

Damian Wayne:

This is so unlike him.

Wearing female underwear, let alone your favorite color.

But you had been doing quite a lot together lately, and he accidentally stumbled upon one of your magazines, Which happened to show off men in lingerie.

You had one of the pictures circled

That was the set he bought.

Now he waited in your apartment (he may or may not have a key), and waited impatiently for you to walk in…

And on cue, you did.

“Dami?” you called out, already knowing damn well he was in your apartment. You had that tingly feeling every time he was around you.

Then you spotted him in the living room and you screamed.

From shock, and- yeah no, just shock.

Your boyfriend was wearing lingerie from a catalog and the set was so specific you knew he had read your magazine.

“I told you not to snoop through my things Dami! I mean holy shit- your smoking, this looks really good on you and you definitely deserve a BJ, but privacy!” You squeaked out, dropping your things and making your way over to him.

“It's not even my birthday yet-” you muttered.

Tag list:

All: @only-my-unexistent-fiances @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

BW smut: @ilaiise

DG smut: @ilaiise

JT smut: @ilaiise

TD smut: @ilaiise

DW smut:

[delicatebarness]

You Need Me Now? | Chapter Three

Summary: It's the night of the First Responders Family Fund, and Miss Stark looks a little green. Also, there's a Morgan Stark Cameo

Warnings: This series will be 18+, Minors DNI | MCU Spoilers | Thunderbolts Specific Spoilers | Jealousy | Smut | Dom/Sub Themes | Spit | Oral (M Receiving) | Semi-Public

Word Count: 2326

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The amount of hours I have spent working on this chapter is uncalled for, and I haven't proofread this, but... that's what @lanabuckybarnes is for ♡ - Please leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue; this is just as much yours as mine. - B

You Need Me Now: @carrotlove | @seenthroughmia | @stell404 | @imaginecrushes | @lilulo-12 | @sebbymybaby21 | @rattyfishrock | @danzer8705 | @troubledsoul-black | @sexyvixen7 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @athanasiascourtesy | @baw1066 | @gh0stdyn | @mrsnikstan |

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes | @ruexj283

★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

Outside the First Responders Family Fund—Washington, D.C.

Outside the event was spectacular. The Center glowed with golden light, and camera shutters. Red carpet stretched wide beneath your gold heels, velvet ropes flanked either side, and a queue of sleek black cars. Your shoulders were peppered with cool evening air kisses as you stepped aside from the crowd.

You pulled your phone from the clutch bag you chose for the event, scrolling until you spotted a specific name, and hit call.

It rang once. Twice.

Suddenly, Morgan’s face appeared, her messy hair framing it, the screen casting shadows across her features. “You said you’d show me!” 

“I am, Maguna,” you smiled, flipping the camera around. “Look!” 

You panned the camera slowly across the entrance, letting your younger sister see the theatre of it all. And of course, the massive banner that hung above the doors. 

Morgan’s face lit up. “Whoa! Is that Dad?” 

The banner rippled in the breeze. A full-length print of your dad, Tony Stark’s, silhouette in the classic Iron Man suit, Arc Reactor designed to seem like it was lit up, and text along one side of the banner, reading: Honouring NYC Heroes. 

You flipped the camera back to yourself, spinning so the banner was behind you. “It sure is! He’ll be everywhere tonight, Bug.” 

“As he should be!” she announced proudly, but her smile faltered quickly. Her freckled nose wrinkled. “Do you have to go in now?” 

“In a few minutes, yeah. I just wanted to show you before you went to sleep.” You adjusted the spaghetti strap where it dipped off your shoulder. “I miss you, Morgan.” 

Morgan smiled, her eyes heavy with tiredness. “I miss you, too. And you look really pretty.”

You laugh. “Us Stark’s scrub up well, don’t we?” 

“Yep!” She fell back, her head hitting the pillow. You took a few extra minutes saying your goodbyes and wishing your sister the sweetest of dreams before ending the FaceTime. 

Slowly, you tucked your phone back into your clutch. The gala lights flickering as you let go of your last thread of comfort. 

  You took a slow, deep breath as you turned toward the center. And with one careful heel in front of the other, you walked alone into the pantomime. 

The warm air was filled with the scent of perfume, polished marble, and a lot of champagne. Chandeliers cast golden rains across the room, and everything glittered. There was music, a string quartet drifting in waves. 

People turned as you entered, taking their prying eyes away from the displays of your father’s past. They were already whispering, taking double-takes as you passed. 

You didn’t look at them.

Your eyes found the centerpiece instead—the Avengers Tower ‘A’ glowing at the heart of the hall. Your feet moved on their own toward it, stopping when the entire letter came into view. 

You weren’t the only one drawn to it. Mel—who you recognised as Valentina’s assistant—stood just ahead. She gazed up at the letter like it meant something. Her dark dress, covered by the matching suit jacket, caught bits of gold from the light above. Her hair was pinned back into a low ponytail, her posture proud.

A familiar figure stepping into view caught your attention—Bucky.

The same sharp suit you’d helped him into—and hoped to help out—was still perfect. Every line straight, every button in place. But it was the relaxed, confident way he carried himself that made your breath hitch.

Mel turned toward him, but you couldn’t make out the conversation over the music and the murmur of voices. But you didn’t need to. You saw it in the way Mel tilted her head. The curve of her smile.

The way he smiled back.

It wasn’t the usual practiced, tight-lipped smile he gave to the cameras or strangers. This was softer, warmer.

You didn’t mean to keep watching. 

But you did, and your eyes stayed locked onto them as Bucky reached into his jacket, pulling out a business card. Handing it to Mel, his fingers brushed against hers. A subtle, slightly lingering touch. 

Mel’s brow raised, amused. Or maybe, intrigued.

Your stomach sank.

You weren’t jealous. 

Not exactly. 

But the shift hit you hard and fast. You blinked, dragging your gaze from them. A server passed as you turned slightly, and you snagged a glass of champagne from their silver tray. Giving the man, who couldn’t have been much younger than you, a quick nod.

After swigging the shimmering liquid, you looked back at the ‘A’ that once adorned your home. 

Bucky was gone.

And Mel—Mel has begun walking straight toward you.

With a breezy smile, Mel approached with her tablet and notes tucked neatly to her chest. Her walk was measured, confident. 

But so were you.

Your spine straightened, champagne flute held delicately between your freshly manicured fingers, expression neutral. Mel had a few inches of height on you, and so you didn’t look up to meet her gaze.

“Hi, Miss Stark!” she called out brightly, a little too brightly.

You smiled, taking another swig of champagne before replying. “Melissa… was it?” 

For a moment, the brightness in her expression dimmed. She didn’t correct you—she couldn’t.

“That–That’s right,” she recovered quickly. “It’s an honor to be here tonight. Seeing parts of history.” 

You hummed, taking the last sip of champagne from the glass. “I’m sure it must be,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Is this the first event Val has you monitoring?” 

Her smile twitched. “I wouldn’t stay monitoring per se, more like keeping her on schedule for—”

“Ah,” you said, cutting off the sentence gently. “The assistant.” 

A pause of silence settled between you, but only for a second before Mel spoke again. 

“I was speaking with Sergeant Barnes,” Mel turned her head back toward where she had stood with Bucky previously. “He’s very kind.” 

Your brow arched. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” 

Mel blinked, and you watched as the tip of her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek.

You took a step forward, barely even half a pace, and she had leaned back slightly. 

“He’s charming,” you added. Your gaze flickered to movement by the stairs, then back to her. “But you might want to be careful with that one.”

You smiled, letting that Stark confidence reach your eyes. “It was nice to meet you… Melissa.” 

And with that, you brushed past her. Your golden heels echoed softly against the polished marble floor, and you set the empty champagne flute on a passing tray.

You didn’t look back.

★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

Later in the Evening—Washington, D.C.

You stopped short at the landing, your eyes locking on him, and Mr Gary. Their voices hushed as they moved to a secluded hallway. 

You didn’t interrupt. Instead, you leaned lightly against the wall, arms crossed, just out of their line of sight. You didn’t hear much of what they spoke about. But one word did catch your attention: Assistant.

It was enough to tighten something in your chest.

After one last murmur from Mr. Gary, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. His footsteps were heavy as he didn’t spare you more than a passing glance. 

You waited until he disappeared behind another corner. But then, a strong metallic arm curled around your waist.

Bucky pulled you gently out of sight, back to where he and Mr. Gary had stood. Your back bumped against the wall, your chest heaving. 

He was inches away, brow arched, and looked down at you. “You need to get better at hiding.” His voice was low and dry.

His hand slid over the small of your back, resting against your hip. His hair was slightly disheveled now, you knew he’d been running a hand through it out of frustration. 

His jaw ticked. “You shouldn’t be up here.” 

“And you shouldn’t be gossiping in the shadows where anyone could find you, hear you,” you retorted.

A silent beat passed between you.

His eyes searched yours, and for the first time… you noticed a subtle hint of green and amber within the striking blue. 

“I saw you talking to her, and then I heard you talking about her,” you said, voice low. “Are you keeping information from me?” 

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes darkened. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip with his thumb. “Are you jealous, Miss Stark?” 

You tilted your chin. “No. I don’t get jealous.” 

Another pause.

The space between your bodies pulled you together, heat rolling off you and surrounding him in waves. When Bucky spoke again, his voice rasped.

“Liar.” 

His fingers trailed from your cheek to the base of your throat, wrapping around your neck. His touch was possessive, demanding. From anyone else, you would’ve felt threatened. But from Bucky—it was grounding. Submission, even.

Your lips parted, but you couldn’t find the words to argue. Or lie. Maybe you had been at least the tiniest bit jealous.

“I saw you watching,” he said. “Your whole body shifted when I handed her that card. You wanted to light her up.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You wanted her to burn,” he growled softly. “And you still do.” 

Your brow furrowed, opening your mouth to speak again, but nothing. You couldn’t deny his allegations. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I like it when you get possessive,” he murmured, leaning in closer to whisper directly into your ear. “Almost as much as I like putting you in your place.” 

You inhaled sharply. Heat radiating through your entire body, collecting between your thighs.

“You want to be a good girl for me now?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for debate. He was instructing. 

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding slowly, instinctive. 

“Show me, sweetheart.” 

You didn’t realise you were moving until your knees hit the floor. Your dress pooled slightly around your legs. His jaw was tight, and his hunger bled through his eyes when you looked up, meeting his gaze. 

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he said. His metal hand rested against your cheek before he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm, the Stark heiress, on her knees for me. And, in the hallway of a fucking fund raiser.” 

You flushed. He was obscene, but so perfect.

The click of metal was loud as he slowly undid his belt. Blue eyes never left yours. Pushing down the zipper, he freed his already hardened cock. 

“Open your mouth,” he said.

You obeyed, head tilting up toward him. 

He watched you, unmoving, just taking in the sight of you. “Wider,” he murmured. 

Again, you obeyed. 

His hand cradled your jaw before leaning down slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

And spit. 

You didn’t flinch.

It was warm against your tongue, and you just let it sit there, waiting for your next instruction.

“Swallow it, sweetheart,” he softly ordered.

You did, before parting your lips again for him. Proving to him that you did as you were told. 

His eyes closed slowly for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Good girl.” 

Then, he pressed his tip against your lips. 

“Now,” he said, threading his hand through your hair. “Show me.” 

The first brush your tongue took against him made your lashes flutter. Your brain was already beginning to switch off as your lips wrapped around him, taking him deeper. 

He groaned in a low breath. “That’s it,” he praised, tightening his grip in your hair. “Use that mouth, sweetheart. Show me how you own me.” 

At first, you were slow. Tracing your tongue down every inch of him, your cheeks hollowing when your lips slid down and back up again. Just enough to tease. 

“Take all of me,” he warned.

There was a hiss through his teeth, his hand bracing the wall behind you. His hip began to rock, and you relaxed your throat, letting him push deeper. Fucking your mouth, relentlessly but controlled. Your fingers gripped the back of his thighs as you moaned around him.

“Look at me,” he groaned. 

Your eyes were glossy, lips stretched, and cheeks flushed as you looked up. Your throat vibrated, spurring him. 

“You’re taking me so fucking good,” he said, quickening his pace. “Fuck, I could come just from watching you.” His hips stuttered, and low, animal-like sounds escaped his chest. “God—just a little more, sweetheart,” he rasped, his thick vein pulsating against your tongue. “Just like—”

His hand gripped tighter, pulling your hair as he came. Spurts of his release hitting the back of your throat, and you took it all. 

“That,” he finally stilled, chest heaving as he loosened his grip on your hair.

You pulled back slowly.

His dark, intent gaze dropped to your mouth. Reaching out, his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, tugging it down gently. Another demand. Only this time, it was silent. 

You parted your lips, unashamed, and offered him the evidence of what you just did for him.

His eyes burned into yours, desire. “You’re going to be the death of me, Stark,” he gave you a low chuckle.

Still on your knees, your lips curled into a knowing smile. Then, purposely with unbroken eye contact, you swallowed. 

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whispered back.

Bucky stretched his vibranium hand out for you, helping you rise to your feet. His other hand wiped a stray tear from your cheek before smoothing your hair, his fingers lingering for another moment. “Go freshen up, sweetheart,” he smiled, his voice low. “And then, say your goodbyes.” His gaze held yours before he gestured towards the rest of the function. 

Before you could respond, his arm wrapped around your torso, and his mouth crashed against yours.

He wasn’t soft or sweet. It was bruising, a deep reminder.

His forehead pressed to yours when he pulled back. “Don’t keep me waiting, we’re getting chilli dogs.”

★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

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Remember, I have a praise kink; I need validation and attention to survive. Please leave feedback. ♡

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: Anon request - "Could you pleaseeeee make a Colby Brock smut based off of the new picture that he posted on Instagram"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, flirting, friends to lovers, slight insecurity talk, unprotected sex, slight choking, hair pulling, fingering, oral (f rec), biting, scratching, filth

Word count: 3.1k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"I'm coming, I'm coming." You say to yourself as you rush to your constantly dinging phone. You pick it up, smiling as you see a few texts from your friend, Colby.

What are you doing?

Come over

I need help with something

Hello???

Y/n

It's me, Colby.

Colby Brock.

Did you forget about me?

You laugh as you text him back, Sorry, who is this Colby person you're referring to?

You roll your eyes at his response, Not funny. I seriously need your help with something.

You sigh, plopping down onto your couch, what do you need help with?

Your eyes read over his text a few times, Just come over and I'll tell you.

That could mean anything. That's how you got roped into going on that creepy investigation with him and Sam.

You purse your lips, fine, I don't have anything better to do tonight anyway.

You get up, getting your stuff around as you hear your phone go off again. You walk over picking it up, Bring your fancy camera please.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

As you pull up to Sam and Colby's house, you lean your head back. You didn't know what Colby was bringing you in to.

You were kinda nervous because as said, it could be anything and when it comes to not only Colby, but Sam, too, you could never guess.

You get out, walking up to the door. You knock and twist the knob, pushing the door open, "Hello? I'm here."

"I'm upstairs." Colby yells from far away.

"Okay." You yell back as you close the door. You look around and it's quiet.

No sign of Sam, must be just Colby.

"Where ya at?" You yell as you make your way up the stairs.

"My room." He answers loudly. You make your way up to his room and round the corner, slightly caught off guard by a shirtless Colby, "What- ah. Whatcha doin' Colbs?"

He turns towards you and laughs, "I'm trying to take a new picture for Instagram and I can't get it the way I want it."

"Oh so that's why you told me to bring my fancy camera." You let out a sigh, "I thought we were going to some abandoned building."

"No, that's tomorrow." He laughs as your face drops, "I'm kidding, y/n."

"Don't do that." You point to him as you lift the camera strap from across your shoulder, lifting it over your head to set it down on the bed, "So.. do you want me to set up the tripod or.."

You look up at him and he shakes his head, "Can you take them for me?"

You're kind of surprised, "Um, yeah. Yeah I can."

"Your pictures always turn out great." Colby walks over, bringing his phone up, "This is what I have, but I need your professional opinion."

You laugh slightly as you take his phone, swiping through the pictures.

The truth is, you liked Colby - correction.

You were in love with Colby, so no matter what he showed you, you knew you were going to like it anyway.

"Colby." You look up at him, "These are good." You hand him his phone back, "Really good."

He smiles as he takes his phone, "Yeah, but-"

"Get against the wall." You cut him off as you laugh.

He looks at you confused, "What?" He laughs slightly as he looks at the wall you're pointing at, "Go, stand there."

You bring your camera up, taking off the lenses cap before turning it on. You click through the settings, pointing it up at him to make sure it looks right.

"Hey, wait. I'm not ready." He says shyly with a laugh.

"I'm just getting the settings right, Colbs. Relax." You look up at him and smile before looking back down at your camera.

"Okay. I'm ready." You look up, "Are you?"

He moves around slightly, "Yeah, I think so. What do you want me to do?"

"You know what to do." You move over in front of him, bending down a little bit, "Remember when you took me to that place and I about fell through the floor."

Colby laughs and you snap some pictures, "Yeah. I do remember that. Sorry for laughing."

"No it's okay." You smile, "Look to your left."

Colby looks to his right and you laugh, "Your other left, Colby." He laughs and shakes his head, "Fuck. Okay. Sorry."

"No, you're doing great." You bite your lip as you focus. You stand up, "This might be a little weird, but tuck your thumb into the bands of your pants and boxers."

He gives you a weird look, but he obliges, "Oh..Kay.." he slips his thumb into the bands and you move back, "Now drop your other hand."

You snap a few pictures and think about what will make him laugh, "Think of something funny."

He instantly starts laughing and looks down, shaking his head.

"Got it." You whisper to yourself, "What did you think about?" You bring your camera down as you stand up and Colby laughs again, "You almost falling through the floor."

"You're a jerk." You laugh, "But that's why we're friends."

You hated calling him a friend. You wanted more, but you didn't want to risk the friendship because your friendship with Colby was like no other.

"Exactly." He walks over, sitting down on the bed. He grabs the back of your sweatshirt and pulls you back to sit next to him, "Let's see 'em"

You swallow, trying to compose yourself becaus what he just did turned you on.

"Okay." You shift around, clicking through your camera. He leans over and nods at each one, "See, these are better already."

"So. The weird pose I had you do.." You click through, finding that picture, "Take a look."

You hand him your camera and he presses his lips together as he nods "Yep. That's the one." He looks over at you, "That's.. wow."

He smiles and you shrug, "I'm good at my job, what can I say?" You smile and lean in, "I can get these right to my phone so you can look through and send yourself the ones you want."

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and start to load them up, "You know, you have a really beautiful smile."

He tries not to smile so he bites his cheek, "Really?"

You nod, "Really."

You can see his cheeks turning red and he bats the air, "Oh stop it. Making me blush."

You laugh and hold out your phone to him, "Here. Just hit select and then yeah. You know what to do from there." You stand up, "I'm going to go get a drink."

He nods and lays back as he scrolls through.

You leave the room, making your way downstairs and into the kitchen. You lean against the counter for a second because everything about Colby is racing through your mind right now.

You're just friends, you tell yourself over and over again, but a part of you feels like you should be more.

You've come to the painful standstill of just waiting until he makes a move or gives you any hints about him liking you back.

But, sometimes he's just so hard to read because your brain is going frantic with trying to depict whether or not that was a signal.

You take a slow, deep breath before grabbing a drink and heading back towards the stairs. You walk up, making your way to Colby's room.

"Did you pick a picture yet?" You say before taking a sip and he mumbles a quiet, "No."

You tilt your head, studying how his mood changed in the little time you were gone, "Hey." You walk over to him, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, pushing your phone away from him, "I just.."

You knew where he was going, but you decided to try and let him talk first.

"Colby." You lay your hand on his arm, "You can talk to me."

"I'm just nervous to post.." he sits up, turning to face you, "Something in me is just finding little things to knit pick at, not post. You know?"

You nod, "I know what you mean, but what I do know is.." you smile, trying not to laugh, "The hoes are going to loooove this."

"Did.. you just.." he laughs, "Did you just quotes a TikTok sound to me?"

You nod your head a few times, "I sure did, but it's true. You could post a candid picture of yourself, when you're mid blink and body wonky because you're walking and the people that absolutely adore you are still going to find it adorable."

He runs his bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at the floor, "You know.." he sighs, lifting his head to look at the wall, "You're right."

"I know I'm right." You smirk slightly, "You want to know how I'm right?"

He looks at you, leaning back to hold his weight up on his arms, "How?" He tilts his head and you lean in, "Because you're-" you poking his chest with every word, "Colby. Fucking. Brock."

His eyes move to your hand before looking up at you.

"Everyone loves you, Colbs." You lower your voice, "Including me."

He swallows, "You love me?"

"As a friend. Yes. In a more than friend's way, also yes." Your heart was racing.

It felt like it was going to rip a hole in your chest.

"It's about time you tell me." He pulls you over, connecting your lips to his. Your hand moves to the side of his neck, moving closer to him.

He pulls you over, causing you to straddle him as he lays back, lips still on his.

"Mm. Wait." He pushes you back slightly, "Let me post that picture." He smirks and grabs his phone and you smile.

You bite your lip trying not to laugh. Colby moves his phone out of the way and furrows his brows, "What's so funny?"

You laugh slightly, "Nothing.. I was just thinking about, you know, stirring the pot."

He smirks, "How so?"

You sigh, "after you post it, I thought about commenting something like hey, I took that picture."

Colby stares at you for a few seconds, a smile growing wider by the second, "Okay."

"Okay? What?" You look at him as he starts laughing, "What did you do?"

Your eyes move to your phone lighting up with an Instagram notification, "Oh no. Colby." You laugh as you reach over, grabbing your phone to see.

[yourusername]: colbybrock tagged you in a post.

Your mouth drops and you look at him. He smirks and shrugs, "Said you wanted to stir the pot, right?" He grabs your phone, that's about to blow up any second, and tosses it to the side, "Ignore that for right now."

You look back down at him and you nod, "Distract me."

"That I can do." He pulls you back down, connecting your lips to his. His hands slide down your body, gripping your waist before he rolls you over.

His body, now hovering over yours as your legs wrap around his waist.

He moves his head to kiss down your neck, his other hand moving your shirt out of the way. He moves down, your legs falling to the bed as he kisses down your stomach.

He looks up at you and you nod at him. He slips his fingers into the band of your sweats, pulling them down your legs and discarding them to the floor.

You bite your lip as you watch him kiss up your leg, moving to your inner thigh.You let out a gasp as his lips attach to your skin, leaving a bruise to where only you'll be able to find it.

His hands slide up, hooking into your panties as he tugs on them. He leans up, watching as you lift your hips for him to pull them off.

He drops them down on the bed, moving up to kiss up your opposite thigh, sucking a matching bruise into your skin.

You tilt your head back, letting out a moan, "Colby." A louder moan is ripped from your lips as you feel his tongue slip upward between your folds.

He moves to your clit, circling a few times before attaching his lips to suck.

Your eyes roll back, hand moving to the back of his head to tangle your fingers into his hair. You arch your back, feeling his tongue slip down to push into you.

"C-Colby." You whine, looking down at him as your face scrunches up. He tilts his head up, locking eyes with yours as he brings a hand up, sliding two fingers into you.

Your jaw goes slack, arching your back slowly as he curls his fingers up, "You feel so wet." His voice is low, cut by his lips attaching to your clit.

You let out a loud moan, tangling your fingers in his hair as his fingers move in and out of you at a slow and teasing pace.

He lifts his head, looking up at you as you whine, "D-don't stop."

His lips go back to your clit, speeding up the pace of his fingers a little bit, driving you more crazy, "Y-yes." You buck your hips slowly, moaning as Colby brings you close to the edge of orgasm, "F-fuck. Fuck."

You squeeze his fingers, closing your thighs slightly as you cum. A string of moans continuously leaves your mouth as he guides you through your high, pulling his fingers out to get up so he can take the rest of his clothes off.

You take off your top, watching as he crawls up the bed, keeping his eyes on yours as he positions himself between your knees.

"I love you." Colby whispers as he brushes hair from your face.

You smile, "You do?"

He nods, "Yes. I just thought you wanted to be friends, so I didn't say anything."

You laugh slightly, "I promise you, that wasn't the case at all." You lift your head up to kiss him. He slides a hand down, pushing your thigh up as he slips the head of his cock in.

You gasp against his lips, sliding your hand around to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You sling your leg over his waist, pushing him into you, "Please."

He rests his forehead against yours, a groan leaving his lips as he pushes all the way into you. You moan, laying your arm over his neck. He lays his hand on your cheek as he slowly pulls out, thrusting back in.

"F-fuck." He kisses your face, "You feel so good." He kisses down your neck, sucking marks into your shoulder.

You moan, eyes rolling back at the pleasure between your legs and the bruises forming on your skin.

He lifts his head and you kiss back his jaw, down to his neck. You bite down on his neck, earning a deep throaty moan from him as you suck a hicky into his neck.

You tilt your head back, moaning out as he thrusts all the way in and stops. You look up at him, “You’re mine.. and only mine.”

“Always have been, babe.” He smirks, continuing to thrust again, “We just didn’t know it.”

He slides his hand up to your neck, gently closing it as he rests his head against yours, “I’m so close.”

You nod once, “Mhm.” You whimper as he tightens his hand on your neck, “M-me too.”

He kisses your forehead as he slides his hand down to interlock his fingers with yours. He pins your hand by your head, moaning as his thrusts grow sloppy.

You clench his cock, rolling your hips as your chest presses against his, “Fuck, fuck.” You lay your head back, moaning loudly as you cum around him.

Colby is quick to follow, pulling out to cum onto your waist.

He presses a kiss to your lips, “Hang tight.” He gets up and goes to grab a towel, “Okay.” He wipes your waist off and helps you sit up.

You smile up at him, “About time right?”

“About time for what?” He tilts his head and tries not to crack a smile, “I can’t.” He laughs and leans down, his hands on either side of you, “I know what you mean.”

He presses a few kisses to your lips and smirks, “Should we check and see how much damage stirring the pot did?”

You bite your lip, “Oh yeah.” You move back up his bed, getting under the covers as he grabs both phones.

He hands you yours before climbing into bed behind you. You cuddle back into his chest and take a deep breath, “Ready?”

He nods, “No, but I’m curious.” He chuckles as you click on to Instagram, smiling as Colby’s post is the first one that pops up.

Your eyes go wide, “over thirteen thousand comments. Holy fuck.” You heart it and you can tell he smiles, “I had to heart it. I mean, I’m tagging in it, right?”

He chuckles and nods, “Would be rude if you didn’t.”

You click onto the comments and you immediately laugh when you see Sam’s comment.

samgolbach bros tryna break the internet

User1 petition for Colby to be a Calvin Klein ad

User2 dont you dare touch that delete button

zachjustice My mom wants your number

User3 im suing if you delete

User4 thank you

User5 OH MY LANTA

solhardymusic It’s working

User6 he’s so pretty I want to cry

You bite down on your lip as you move to tap the comment bar. You giggle slightly as you hit send.

Yourusername whoever took this is lucky

Colby shakes his head as he laughs and brings his phone over in front of your face, “Well see about that.”

Since you’re lying on his other arm, you see what he’s typing in reply to your comment.

colbybrock my good luck charm

You shake your head, setting your phone down before you turn to face him, “Aren’t you sweet.”

“When I want to be.” He drops his phone and pulls you onto him, “Ready to go again?”

You smile and nod your head, “Again.” You lean down to kiss him, “And again.” You smile against his lips, “And again.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thanks for reading! Let me know how you liked it, and yes.. those are actual comments from Colby’s actual Instagram post.

Love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[starboye]

pairing: vinnie hacker x male reader

request: reader cock warming vinnie during stream, and vinnie tells him to sit still like a good boy and reader gets needy and bratty and starts bouncing so vinnie either ends stream / or keeps it on (ur choice) and spanks and punishes him by leaving him tied to the bed with a vibrator on his dick to overstim him

warnings: smut, over stimulation, cursing, pet names, spanking

to say you were needy right now would be an understatement, you were feral for the man currently under you, although you were on a stream being broadcasted to the world vinnie wanted you to cock warm him, so here you were sat on his lap with his dick snugly inside your hole basically making it it's second home with the way it stretched you out, but you wanted mo- no you needed more.

so what would really be the harm in rolling your hips a little while your boyfriend plays a game you know nothing about and care even less about, but you hear vinnie wince a little before grabbing your hips with his hand "be a good boy for daddy and sit still" vinnies whispers in your ear just low enough that the viewers don't hear, but you couldn't resist (who would be able to) you resumed your antics and rolled your hips against vinnies lap to feel any friction against his dick.

this time you started slightly bouncing up and down on his dick, but just enough to where you could get some satisfaction out of it and not raise suspicion, vinnie tries to focus on the game but he cant with a needy slut like you trying to fuck yourself on his cock so he quickly ends stream "what did i tell you, huh" vinnie asks wrapping his hand around your throat "to not move" you say shyly "so then why'd you move" vinnie question harshly smacking your ass "i need you cock so badly, i need to cum" you whimper.

"well since you wanna cum so badly i can arrange that" vinnie smirks as he picks you up and takes you to his room, he lays you on the bed, your gaping wet hole briefly catching his eyes but he gets back to what he was doing, he looks around in his drawers and pulls out some rope, a vibrator, and a butt plug and i think you can guess what happens next.

vinnie ties your hands and feet to the bed, just tight enough to know you couldn't break them, he shoves in the butt plug to make some room for him later on when he comes back, and the cherry on top he straps the vibrator to your dick and sets it at maximum setting "v-vinnie" you whine pulling against your restraints "what's the matter baby i thought you wanted to cum so badly" vinnie tease toying with your butt plug.

"no... please don't leave me like this" you beg "don't worry i'll be watching you" vinnie says pointing to the camera in the coner of the room as he gets up and walks to the door "wait vinnie please" you cry out as you cum your first load, the vibrator overstimulating you and keeping you going "you were the one who disobeyed me now these are the consequences" vinnie says closing the door behind him and walking back to his set up, hearing your whines and moans as he does so.

"hey everybody, i'm sorry we just had some technical difficulties" vinnie smiles turning back on the stream, everybody asking where you are "oh don't worry about y/n he's just... taking care of something" vinnie says watching you moan and squirm through the camera before putting that into a little box in the corner of his computer to watch you sink deeper and deeper into over stimulation.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat

[rafesplaymate]

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Rafe Cameron x Glamourmodel!Reader

❀⋆.ೃ࿔ navigation. ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ masterlist

warnings: stalking. obsessive / possessive behavior. emotional infidelity (by topper). objectification / sexualization. non-descriptive smut. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: i could not get this idea out of my head since i sent it in to @bunnyrafe. so, i decided to create my own little universe about it. imagine playboy is still big and making magazines + social media post (w/o all the dark history). reader has a boob job (yk playboy)

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafe thanks whatever higher power decided to make sure he was at this exact location at this exact time. Almost feeling like he needs to thank God for guiding him here or some shit.

His curiosity peaked when he was driving down the one way road near the cut. His eyes going immediately to the ropes blocking off and a sign stating “Closed,” on one of the prettiest parts of the beach. Pfft, nothing’s ever private for the self-crowned King of Kildare. So Rafe does what comes natural to him; he inserts his nose in business that has nothing to do with him, with an arrogance that states it’s his right to know and parks his freshly-washed truck. Immediately sneaking under the ropes and walking a short distance until he sees something that for once in a long, long while. Leaves him struck.

He’s watching from afar as a crew sets up various reflectors. There’s slight chaos, people buzzing around and setting up. A photographer adjusting the lens on his camera. Women decked in casual clothing, going through a rack with various pieces of barely-there lingerie and bikinis.

But that’s not what catches Rafe’s attention.

It’s her.

There she’s sat in a pink directors chair. Her hair in a pretty blowout, flowing long behind her with the beach breeze. Her pretty legs peeking out from the white robe wrapped around her. Smooth and glowing, stretching down to pretty manicured toes. Makeup artist buzz around her, adding finishing touches to her flawless face, slathering gloss against plump, pouty lips and adjusting the tousled loose curls flowing around her gorgeous face.

Even from afar Rafe can see the long, wispy lashes adorning pretty eyes, staring up at the woman standing over her, brushing a makeup brush lightly over the smooth skin of her face.

He knows who she is, he knows exactly who she is. She’s been the figment in his imagination whenever he’s desperate and withering, stroking himself. Eyes shut tightly imagining her perfect figure withering under him or staring harshly at his phone screen at the skimpy photo she’s posing for.

He’d never in his life imagine he’d be standing right in front of his biggest fantasy. Albeit from afar, but so close. He feels like a creep, like a peeping tom lurking on what he knows is going to be another one of the various, scandalous shoots she’s so famous for. He can’t help it, even with all the chaos surrounding her he’s zoned in on her and her only.

When she stands up, the white fluffy robe falling erotically off her shoulder, exposing more of her smooth skin, it has him huffing deeply out of his nose. His eyes zoned in on her behind his wayfarers, hand slightly clenching.

It’s when she begins untying the lose knot on the straps of her robe that his him tensing up the most. The smooth skin of her back being revealed down to her pert, plump butt and slim thighs. He feels like he’s dreaming, almost like he wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. But the blaring heat of the sun, the sweat dripping down his tan forehead, making his shirt stick to his back and the painful ache of his stiffened cock brings him back to reality.

She hands the robe to the woman next to her, throwing her tousled curls behind her back. Her back is still facing him but when she turns around … that’s when Rafe really feels like he’s died and gone straight to erotic heaven. He runs his gaze down the entirety of the beach goddess standing right in front of him. His slightly clenched fist now turning white at the knuckles and blunt nails digging into his palm.

He runs his eyes over her perfect, incredibly busty perky tits and perfect upturned nipples. Down to her smooth, flat stomach which pinches in perfectly at the waist and rounds out to beautiful hips he wants to grip into and leave bruised. Her skin glowing, flawless. Slathered in some kind of oil or lotion, making her glisten exquisitely under the North Carolina sun.

But it’s when he sees the perfect V sat inbetween her slightly muscular, yet plush thighs that he lets out a deep heavy groan. The perfectly groomed landing strip waxed there teasing him and making him want to feel it tickle his nose as he buries his face into the most perfect cunt he’s seen in his life.

She’s looking down at her stomach, smoothing her pretty hands over it and then flipping her head back adjusting her hair with both hands, eyes closed. It’s like she knows he’s right there and like she’s putting on a show for him and he revels in it.

He watches as she turns back around and prances confidently forward, walking on the tips of her french-tipped toes slightly kicking the sand. Walking toward the shore and dipping her toes in it.

“Alright everybody! Let’s get this going!” Shouts the older man with frosted tips, dressed flamboyantly. An enthusiastic smile on his slightly wrinkled face.

Rafe watches as men on the crew adjust the reflectors, and he especially watches as his dream girl faces the crowd once behind her. And all he can wonder is how she can feel so comfortable standing so bare in front of so many people. Her hands coming to her pretty hips, cocking them to one side as she digs her french-tipped nails into her smooth-tanned skin.

Rafe gets closer and ducks behind one of the various palms trees hiding his tall figure, needing to get a closer look and hear whatever the fuck they’re talking about.

“Okay y/n, we’re gonna do a couple prints with the blowout and then a good few in the water with your hair slicked back. Sound good?” states, who he’s positive by now is, the photographer.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” she replies back, light and airy with a sweet giggle. Fuck, even though he can barely hear what’s going on just the cadence of the way she speaks sends his nerves into overdrive.

“Perfect.” chips the photographer, “Let’s get a roll on it while the sun is still out.”

Rafe stays there the entire time. The ache in his cock growing bigger, his chest tightened and body tense watching her maneuver herself into various poses. And in his sick mind he feels as if she’s posing for him, and him only. Teasing him with that perfect body and flawless face, seductively bending and prancing around as various clicks and murmurs of praise clamor near.

It’s when the sun starts bleeding into the ocean like lovers reuniting and leaving a warm orange haze across the beach as the photographer shouts “aaaanddd that’s a wrap!” that Rafe realizes he’s been there the entire time. His once neat and primped, plaid button up now soaked through with sweat.

“You did great! I think this is one of your best editorials yet! Absolutely stunning my dear, as always.” praises the flamboyant man as he embraces the now covered model, giving her a slight squeeze and she returns his affections with a warm smile on her face.

“It’s always the best time working with you Stephen, you make it great.” she quips genuinely. Pretty lips turning up on a sweet smile. “Nonsense, you make my job easy being as perfect as you are. My star! Now get some rest, you’ve earned it. And maybe visit around the Island, I know you love places like this.” He pinches her smooth cheek endearingly.

“Maybe! We’ll see. Goodnight everyone thank you!”

Various voices shouting “goodnight y/n” and “be safe,” reply back. As if he would let anything happen to his precious gift, thinks Rafe.

The beach princess of his dreams now changed into a baby pink, ‘Juicy’ velour jumpsuit and light-brown uggs. Her drying hair clipped back in a light pink claw clip, walking her way up the designated path back to the main road.

Rafe jumps into action, making it back quickly to his truck and speeding out of there before anyone catches him. Debating if he should have followed her to make sure she got back to wherever she’s staying safely. But his cock was so hard it was almost painful. He needed to get home. Driving all the way with only one thought in his mind. Her.

That night, Rafe fist his cock till he can’t anymore under the shower head until the once hot water turns freezing cold. His eyes shut tightly replaying the events he’ll forever have ingrained into his mind, from earlier.

And once he finishes up and steps out of the shower, drying himself off and staring at himself in the mirror. He’s only got one thought in his head. His methodical brain going into overdrive with plots. That no matter what it takes, she’ll be his. Under his thumb, and he’ll never let her go. Ever.

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Did you hear who’s on the island? Everyone’s talking about it man.” quips Topper straightening himself quickly with excitement. The country club is lively, Kooks in every corner and constant murmurs of conversation all around.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been dying to see her, I want to know if she’s as sexy in real life as she is in pictures and on social media.” states Kelce, fully catching onto Topper’s direction of conversation with the same enthusiasm.

She is. Thinks Rafe, knowing exactly who they’re talking about. His stomach filling with that possessiveness he’s so well-known for. His eyes glaring at his friends behind his shades, who talk animatedly about you. He catches slight statements of “she’s the ultimate wet dream” and “i’d do anything for just one night,” as his ears ring with brewing rage.

Ha! He thinks. He’d bash their heads in before they even got near you. His perverted mind already convincing himself that you belong solely to him. And he’s not letting his grip loose.

“Aren’t you dating my sister, bro?” drawls Rafe in his deep, nasally cadence. His legs spread wide as he leans back confidently with his arms over the chairs handles. His demeanor threatening and protective. The boys assuming over Sarah, but in his mind it’s because they’re speaking about his woman.

“Yeah-I mean-c’mon man this is Y/N Y/LN we’re talking about. She’s like the ultimate sex symbol and besides she’s basically famous. We probably won’t see her, let a man drea-holy shit.” Topper’s eyes widen comically, staring straight behind Rafe as Kelce turns in the same direction, jaw dropping slightly and body sitting forward quickly. Eyes bulging in the same comedic manner as Topper.

Rafe’s brows furrow as he watches people in his line of vision all turn in the same direction, eyes of lust, shock, curiosity and even envy from the various men and women around. And when Rafe tilts his head to the side, eyeing whatever is behind him from his peripheral vision that has people, including his friends so starstruck, does he see the girl who’s been invading his mind since yesterday.

There she is. In the prettiest, skimpiest little off-white sundress. Her statuesque figure shown off by the scrap of clothing and contrasting perfectly against her skin-tone. Her skin is glowing just like it was yesterday, stunning legs on display and her pretty feet sitting beautifully in clear platform mules. Shiny hair pinned up in a messy up-do with wispy hairs framing her face beautifully. Big squared glasses perched on her perfect nose and a small smile on her luscious lips as she listens to- is that fucking Sarah?

People’s eyes follow his sister and his future woman as they make their way over to the table resided by the 3 boys. Men and women’s eyes lowering down to her backside and he can only imagine what they’re leering at if the shortness in the front of her dress is any indicator for the length in the back. All the attention quickly dividing elsewhere when Sarah reaches them and speaks up.

“Hey guys!” says his sister enthusiastically as she catches them in her line of sight, immediately reaching back and holding her hand out to guide you along with her. “This is y/n. I met her at the market.” Idiot, thinks Rafe. Why would Sarah think they’d need to be introduced to someone that even his own Dad, has admitted to finding attractive. Rafe shudders at the thought.

Both Kelce and Topper shoot straight up, hands sticking out cheerfully shouting out overlapping “Hi’s” wearing smiles so big it looks like their cheeks hurt. Idiots, thinks Rafe. Why would they make it so obvious? Especially Topper in front of Sarah?

“Hi…” the model says shyly, reaching her hand out and placing it delicately in Topper’s. Giving him a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“This is my boyfriend Topper, who by the way is a big fan!” says Sarah gives Topper a playful eye roll and smug smile, to which he bashfully looks to the side with a cough to clear his throat, cheeks reddening. “This is Kelce, and this,” Sarah turns to point “is my brother Rafe,” to a still-sitting Rafe. Who now rises slowly, shades hiding his pretty cobalt eyes. He stands to full height, towering over the 4 of you and inching a bit closer to you, taking off his glasses as he hangs them on the collar of his white polo.

When y/n turns to look at him, it’s like something struck in both of them. Rafe already felt someway, he stalked her all day yesterday for fucks-sake! But being near her is making his body and mind go haywire. He watches as she pulls her glasses off, exposing those pretty eyes and long wispy lashes. Perching them on her head.

When y/n looks at him though, her breath stops and she’s looking at him with a love-struck look that has Rafe smirking. Hook.

“Hello,” drawls Rafe, his voice deep and nasally, reaching his hand out, “nice to meet you.” He says with the same smug smirk sat on his pretty face. He watches as she places her delicate hand in his palm, beautiful eyes still stuck on him and now locking with his piercing ones. He brings her small hand up to his lips, holding eye contact and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. Taking in the creamy, vanilla scent radiating off of her and smooth skin of her palm.

“Hiiii..” she whispers, airy voice as light as ever. Eyes still stuck on him in a daze and glazed over with… is that lust? Rafe convinces himself it is, and he’s almost sure it is. Only deepening his para social infatuation with her. “It’s nice to meet you ..Rafe.” He swears he can drop dead right there, hearing his name roll off her tongue in that pretty voice he imagined moaning into his ear all night.

“Ahem!” Sarah clears her throat inquisitively. Breaking the veil that lifted over the both of them for that single moment, like two lovers destined to meet. Topper and Kelce watching the interaction with wide eyes. “Well, now that you’ve got acquainted with a couple people around here and have pretty much seen all there is to this area, that’s interesting anyway. How about we go down to the Outer Ban-“

“No.” quips Rafe sternly. Voice firm. Leaving no room for argument with just a single word. His eyes cutting deeply into Sarah, whose face now scrunches with defensive attitude, “what is your problem?” she bites back.

The two boys still watching with wide eyes, but glancing over unabashedly at the model whose eyes are still focused on the man who’s got heat building between her thighs very quickly. And her heart pounding in her chest.

“You wanna take her to the Cut? Around those filthy fucking pogues?” bites back Rafe with the same animosity, inching forward threateningly as if daring Sarah. As if she ever gave a fuck what her brother thought. “Yeah.” she bites back firmly, “And what? She did a photoshoot there just last night.” Oh, I know. “She wants to see the area outside of working, besides I’m her tour guide and I promised to show her the whole island and that’s what I’m gonna do.” scoffs Sarah, rolling her eyes at her brother’s ingrained dominance.

“Nah. You’re not.” quips back Rafe, arrogance radiating off of his big and tall frame. “Nah, you know what. I’ll take it upon myself to show this sweet little princess around, if she wants to see the Cut or play in the water it’s better she’s with someone who can take care of her. Protect her from those fucking weirdos you like so much. Like me.” says Rafe with that smug smile on his face that Sarah wants to smack off 100% of the time. “Who do you even think you are-“

“So you wanna see the Outer Banks, beautiful? How about I show you around?” He cuts off Sarah, ignoring the anger radiating off of her as he turns his full attention to his proclaimed little princess. Who had been watching the whole time, struck by the sexy man who she now knows as Sarah’s brother and who’s got her inner thighs squeezing together and slick. His causal dominance over her, making her head hazy, and stomach flip.

Line.

Sarah, Topper and Kelce stand stunned by Rafe’s casual display of dominance but more-so by the fact that they can see that she liked it. A flirty giggle falling from her lips as she nods her head quickly. Leaning her body into him. Rafe smiles at the sweet sound, throwing his arm over her shoulders and turning his back to his sister and friends. Completely over-taking her attention and asserting his claim. She immediately nuzzles into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist and giving Rafe her undivided attention as she looks up at him with doe-eyes hanging onto every word that falls from his pretty pink lips.

“Yeah? You Like that?” He brings his other hand to pinch her chin, then giving it a slight knock with his index finger as he smirks down at her. “You stick with me and I’ll show you exactly everything you’ve been missing and whatever you want to see. I’ll take such good care of you, princess. Don’t worry.”

Sinker.

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Read Part 2 here.

a/n: phew! he’s so dreamy ugh! i hope you all enjoy!

[sohighsohaii]

APCA: First this one's on top, and then the other: ITZY(ft. a mystery Guest)

Series Masterlist

(Part 1 of the Itzy Arc: Ryujin, Yeji and Yuna's breaking is begun. Lia and Chaeryoung's breaking begins in the next part. Still not that much smut, I promise it comes soon)

TW! The aforementioned sexual exploitation, pretty much non-con, slight torture, drugging. (DO NOT READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Send her as soon as you can. She'll be instrumental." You say into the phone, hearing Aegis agree on the other side of the phone.

Hanging up, you looked around the room, ensuring the room was clear, before sighing. This was a part of your life you had hoped not to reignite. Before you joined the force, you had a...troubled past, with problematic habits and compulsions. All that was shed once you donned the uniform, but now, as you shed the uniform, you are also forced to go back to your problematic habits. You knew this was meant for the sake of ending the suffering. That's what you told yourself, you had to insist, because to end this suffering, countless idols had to suffer, and ultimately break. What's worse, it was going to be by your hand. You prayed that this would work, or else the demons you let back out of you would have been freed for naught, and there was no escape.

Hearing a knock on the door, you quickly recomposed yourself. "Come in." You say, a bespectacled man entered the room, his seemingly elegant and posh tone in stark contrast to his bulky build more akin to a wrestler than a noble as his voice would suggest.

"The preparations you've requested are in place."

"Very well, wait for me outside room 4, and enter when I call for you" You command, the man nodding, turning to walk out.

Turning to the table, you look through 4 cameras, your very own dollhouse.

In Camera 1, Shin Yuna sat on a huge bed, you would argue more extravagant then the room in her own dorm. She was clearly confused, looking around the room trying to find any traps, but no, it seemed like a normal bedroom, much more comfortable than the warehouse floor that she had found herself chained down to not too long ago. The only weird thing she had on was a chastity belt, but in her terrified state, she didn't question it. She would rather have it on than be defiled by some asshole. In your few recordings of Aegis' half assed attempted training of her, you knew you needed to play the long game with her.

In Camera 2, Lee Chaeryoung found herself caught in a spider's web, her hands and feet bound to a web of rope behind her, with her eyes impaired by a blindfold, completely naked except for a collar and leash, also a vibrator lightly stimulating her. She needed a more direct approach than Yuna, a perfect whirlwind of shock, terror and protectiveness.

In Cameras 3 and 4, there were two different rooms, though both rooms could see each other. In the first, Choi Lia, held in place by leather bounds, body locked in a kneeling position, hands locked behind her back, causing her tits to jut out. Her mouth was stuffed with a red ball gag, with a large shock collar around her neck, but her eyesight was not impaired, though she almost wished she was. She didn't know what to make of the sight before her.

Hwang Yeji and Shin Ryujin, on a seesaw, but one straight out of a shitty fetish film. Weirdly enough, you did by that from a porn set, well, then modified to suit what you needed it for. On both ends, laid a white silicone dildo, lined up to the honeypots of the two idols in distress, looking at each other in confusion and fear. These two were the ones you anticipated taking the longest, with the most fight. So you had to go the route of protectiveness but also, distrust. It was probably going to help break Lia too. The two idols were bound tightly, strapped securely to the seesaw.

from Putting on a face of a sadistic "master", you walked into the room, the two idols eyes immediately darting to you. You felt a wave of pity rush over you, a shameful rush of excitement too, but you had to push it down. Means to an end, you insisted "What the fuck do you want, bastard." Ryujin immediately spat out, causing you to shake your head animatedly. Pulling a remote out of your pocket, you flourished it in front of the two idols. Pressing a button, you could hear the muffled scream of Lia from behind you as the two idols screamed in fear. After an initial shock, Lia's body relaxed, though her body heaved from the pain, struggling to catch her breath. "What the fuck did you do to her you asshole!" Yeji shouted, as you sighed. Good lord. Another scream emerged from behind you, and you could see tear well up in Yeji's eyes, and fear flicker across Ryujin's face. "Now now girls, no need for name calling. We're here to play a game, and what is a game without some rules. Show some decorum, will you ladies?" You ask almost tauntingly. Realizing what you meant, the two of them held their tongue. They didn't want risk antagonizing you any further. "So, b-. you, what game are we playing?" Yeji asked, her voice almost a sneer. A little close, but you didn't want to hurt Lia too much, so you chose to ignore it. "We're playing a little game called, well, SeeSaw. I'm sure you've noticed the dildos underneath you. In a moment, once the game starts, it'll begin to vibrate, and rest assured my ladies, it'll only grow stronger as it goes." You explain. "That's not a game." Ryujin spat back. "How rude, interrupting me. I wasn't done. So, the game, Miss Shin, Miss Hwang, is a battle of trust, sacrifice, and endurance. Over the next 2 hours, you'll be competing over who orgasms the least. The winner is rewarded, and the loser will be swapped into the hot seat. As you can see, currently, Miss Choi is in the hot seat. Not only does your orgasms determine who wins, it also determines how well Miss Choi will enjoy the game. Whenever one of you orgasms, a shock will be delivered to Miss Choi. It's non fatal, that much I assure you, but I promise you it hurts more than a little." Behind you, you hear a muffled whimper, seeing Lia begin to cry. "So for Miss Choi's sake, I hope you two ladies are well trained. Now for the games element. You'll find in your hands, a remote. The top button sends your side of the seesaw up, and the bottom button sends your side of the seesaw down. Me personally, considering how close you girls are, I'm sure you girls will only be using the bottom button to save the other. However, if at any moment should you choose to grow competitive, the top button is always available for you to relieve yourself of the dildo. Don't fight each other though, sitting on it is probably better than constantly getting impaled by it." You run a hand down Yeji and Ryujin's thighs, lightly patting their pussies as they both lightly growled. "And if it serves as any motivation, this is the reward." You pulled a tablet out, showing them a live feed of Yuna's room. Yuna had made herself comfortable, body clad in a purple silk negligee, lying on the bed watching TV. "Winning has it's benefits." You remind the girls, as you moved to the two girls, shoving a ball gag into their mouths, covering their eyes with a blindfold. "The game begins in a minute. Godspeed ladies." You say Before you left the room, you decided to have some fun, walking up to Ryujin, leaning down as you ran a tongue across her puffy slit, and you could tell she was trying her best not to moan. That defiant look on her face. You had seen it many times before. And you've seen them all break before. Moving to Yeji, you did the same, though Yeji reacted much differently, your tongue illiciting a moan from the leader. You smirk, feeling your emotions overrun you as you lean in, nibbling on her nipples as you felt her contort. That was enough though. The game must begin, and the show must go on

You left the room, seeing the man from earlier. Fishing a controller out from your pocket, you hand it to him. "Let them control it first, maybe around 10 minutes, then, take control, just go crazy with it, make it akin to a seesaw. Up and down and up and down. Understood?" You say as you noticed a gleeful smile crack across his face. "How devious, sir. I understand. About Miss Choi?" He asked. Looking down to the control, you hesitated. "Go easy on her, I don't want her too tired to be broken." You give a quick excuse, which the man bought. You'd join them again in around an hour, but for now, you had to begin with Yuna and Chaeryoung. First, Yuna.

Going to Room 1, you picked up the tray of food left by the man earlier, then knocking on the door.

From behind the door, you heard Yuna hesitantly reply, "Come in."

Opening the door, you saw Yuna curl up under the blanket, not wanting to expose herself to this stranger. "Why am I here, where are my girls?" Yuna asked, slightly defiantly. This trick required some acting, well, it was close enough to the actual truth. "Please, let me explain, Miss Shin. I'm a business partner of the man who...did this to you. He knew I'm a big fan of you girls, and he offered for me to come and, well, sample you girls." Hearing that, Yuna instinctively pulled the blanket higher, inching away from you. "No, Miss Shin, I'm not here to do that, I assure you. I'm not involved in any of this, and suffice to say I was more than shocked to hear what was being done to you girls. I'm working on freeing you girls, but...it's complicated, the man is stubborn. For now, this is all I can give you girls. Comfortable housing, and no one touches you girls until this deal is finally done and I can set you girls free." You say, and you saw Yuna's doe eyes widen, and you could tell what she was thinking. Though a thousand questions swirled in her head, you knew the imperative question was, can I trust this man? "Are you telling the truth?" Yuna asked, and there, she was on the hook. "I promise you Miss Shin. I'l-" You began to say, but she quickly cut you off. "Yuna. You can call me Yuna." She said, with a hesitant but small smile. You felt your heart suddenly flutter, what was this? You couldn't afford to get softhearted in this mission. "Okay, Yuna, I promise you. I'll do what I can, as soon as I can. For now, all I can do is bring you your meals once in a while, maybe accompany you a little to help you pass the time. Well, other than the K Dramas. That was a weirdly hard sell to the man on top." You say, acting sheepish as Yuna let out a soft giggle, seemingly finding a small reprieve from this horror. Turning around, you took the tray you had brought in, opening it to reveal a pizza. Yuna hungrily grabbed at the Pizza, it must have been so long since she had last eaten proper food. "This is delicious" Yuna barely mumbled out, her words muffled by the pizza. You were glad you could bring happiness to her, but you were also secretly happy at your scheme going well. Unbeknownst to Yuna, the Pizza contained trace amounts of aphrodisiac. A small dose for the first day, but it'll slowly increase, driving her insane. As you sat with her, you allowed your fanboy side to come out, allowing Yuna to take her mind off her current situation. After around 30 minutes, Yuna had finished the pizza, and you received a message. She was on her way, you had to wrap it up. "I'm sorry Yuna, I have to go now. I told them to make sure they serve you and your groupmates good food, so eat up alright?" You shoot her a reassuring smile, and she hesitantly smiles back, before leaning toward you, leaving a kiss on your cheek. "I'll see you soon." She whispered.

Going back to your office, you saw a giant metal frame on wheels, the woman bound to it similar to how Chaeryoung was. Smiling in satisfaction, you took a moment, giving into desire as you leaned down, toying with the woman, a sudden burst of impulsiveness leading you to kneel down, shoving two fingers up her moist snatch as you roughly fingered her pussy, causing her body to thrash against the frame. Your fingers toyed with her till she finally came, squirting all over the floor. Coming back to your senses, you try to shake it off, slight shame overrunning you. You didn't want to take any pleasure from this.

Going into room 2, you saw Chaeryoung lightly panting, a light coat of sweat over her skin as she tried to stifle her arousal from the vibrator.

Setting up the woman you had brought in, you placed her right opposite to Chaeryoung, then moving to Chaeryoung, ripping her blindfold off.

As Chaeryoung's vision steadied, she could vaguely make out a figure who she assumed to be Ryujin, or Yuna maybe, but as her vision cleared, she almost screamed in terror.

Across from Chaeryoung, hung in a similar fashion, and in the same exact fashion, was her sister, Lee Chaeyeon.

[v1x3n]

T O Y S

꒰ PAIRING : johnny 'soap' mctavish x reader.

꒰ SYNOPSIS : your boyfriend strapped you to the bed and punished you! how cruel is he! didn't even give you his cock!

꒰ TAGS : smut - toys : vibrator, dildo, nipples clamps. tying up, dubcon filming / recording (?), punishment, no penetration, overstimulation, praise.

navigation ⸝⸝ kinktober masterlist ⸝⸝ taglist

You could hear your boyfriends laugh as you weep out, trying to free yourself from the rope that holds your hands to the frames of the bed, your ankles in the same position, you try to wiggle but the restraints halt you. A vibrator strapped to your clit and a large dildo daring to escape your wet pussy, your eyes are covered with  a blindfold - not that you would be able to see anyways with the way tears flooded your eyes from both the lack of intimacy and the overstimulation. 

Your swollen nipples sting as Johnny's fingers hold onto the dangling nipple clamps, pulling them up and stretching your sore nubs. You whine and squirm, the pain jolting through your body. Tears wetten the blindfold even more as you hear the man, who you assume is ligering above you right now, laugh - again. “So pretty” he hums, letting go of the clamp and trailing his fingers along your  stomach. His digits moving over te bulge from the dildo deep inside of you. “J-johnny!” you whimper out, spit drooling from your lips.

Your body twitches as he turns up the vibrator using an app on his phone, your body jerks and back arches. Trying to get away from the buzzing that stimulates your overstimulated clit. Due to your wriggling the dildo slips, falling from your crying cunt. “Anyways, m thinking of going on a walk, so I'll be back, Bonnie,” he smirks and bends down to kiss your head. You gulp and shake your head, “w-wait no p-please” you sputter out, the vibrations running through you as your wetness drools down your arse. Probably staining the bed but right now neither of you cared. 

“Be a good girl” he smirks after grabbing the end of the dildo and shoving it so deep inside of you. You felt it deep inside of your guts, your eyes rolling back when it hit your gooey spot. Body twitches and your hands try to clench onto the bed sheets. You whimper out whilst your legs quiver, “d-dont- dont leave plea- hah!!” your spit pools beside you as your too fucked out to stop it! 

“You know the safe word” Johnny tells you before you can hear the door click closed, your tears fall and your face is left with a sticky mess of snot, saliva and tears. Its disgusting but it still made your boyfriends cock so fucking hard. 

He stands outside of the bedroom,, the door closed, looking down at the straining bulge that pokes from his trousers. Picking up his phone and opening the app connected to the camera inside of the room. He can see the way your legs squirm around, trying to close to slow down the repetitive pleasure but due to your ankles tied - you were unsuccessful. Your whines fill out the room, the sound of your pained moans echoing through the device. 

Everything was too much. The clamps that held your nipples so tightly, if it were any more painful it would turn your nubs into smush. The vibrator that stuck to your swollen clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves too overworked, the buzz buzz buzzing sending pleasure through your tired body. The dildo that was lodged inside of your guts, the feeling of being so full but not being pleasured by penetration was harsh, he knew you loved him fast and hard, but not moving at all was so horrible! And finally your tied up ankles and wrists, unable to do anything but take the punishment your boyfriend gave you. 

You shake your head and cry out loudly, harsh tears striking down your face, “johnnnnyy! Hhng!” your moans fill johnny's ears. All of the toys pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, yes they were orgasms but they felt weak. Johnny knew you couldn't properly cum without him, no matter how many toys he gave you - he trained you that your perfect cunt wouldn't be able to have a good, tiring orgasm without his fingers, tongue or cock. You just want your boyfriend!!

Your body went numb after an hour of constant torture, when you were on the verge of passing out, your eyes blinking shut thats when your body spasms awake when you hear the door opening. Johnny walked through it, shiving slightly due to the cold air outside. “J-johnny , i-is-” you hiccup, “that you?” your breathing was heavy as you felt your boyfriend's warmth next to you, his calloused hand wandering down to the vibrator hooked onto your clit. He quickly takes it off, causing you a gasp. “Been such a good girl” he coos. 

Wetness spewing from your cunt as he pulls out the soken dildo, he looks up at your face, lips bitten by your teeth were shown by the bite marks and then slight red tint. Taking off your blindfold and your eyes blink with tears, “j-johnny” you breathe out, “hiya baby” the man smiles, his hands trailing down to your breasts and the white nipples which were smushed to a rectangle shape. He chuckles and with a fast pace snaps the clamps off, your loud moan crowds his ears and your hips jerk back into the stained sheets.

“Youre so loud” johnny laughs and pulls himself on top of you, leaving the torture devices beside you two, “wanna help me with the mess you made?” he unzips his trousers, the bulging red tip leaking cum through his boxers. Fuck. Did he cum? “Couldn't help myself with the way you moaned and squirmed,” he  hummed, answering your question which you accidentally said aloud. He grabs his phone and shows you the recording of the two hours which you were tied to the bed,  he winks, “pretty little thing, saved it for later.” cheeky. 

[mediocre-shark-tales]

US Texas GP

Masterlist

Walking into the paddock at the Circuit of the Americas for the first time as a driver at my home Grand Prix was nothing short of surreal. The hum of the crowd, the familiar twang of American accents, and the sea of red, white, and blue paraphernalia felt different—this wasn’t just any race. This was my race.

Billboards and posters with my face adorned the venue, some with bold captions like “Homegrown Talent” or “The Lone Star of Formula 1.” I couldn’t help but smile as fans called out my name, waving signs and flags in support. For all the challenges I’d faced this season, this moment made it worth it.

I’d spent weeks planning my outfit for this race, knowing it would be scrutinized and remembered. I wanted something that paid homage to my American roots but also represented me—a mix of boldness, resilience, and a little flair.

The first piece I chose was the hat: a sharp, black Western hat with a silver band that caught the light with every step I took. Centered on the band was a bull head emblem, strong and unmistakably Texan.

Underneath, I kept it simple with a crisp white shirt, its fabric soft and well-worn, tucked neatly into high-waisted dark denim. The belt was a statement piece—a leather strap with an ornate rodeo buckle that glinted as I moved. Draped over my shoulders was a suede jacket with fringe, its design both practical and eye-catching.

The boots were my favorite part. Worn-in leather, scuffed just enough to show their authenticity, they echoed the long road I’d traveled to get here. And the lasso? A playful touch, slung over one shoulder, reminding everyone that I was here to rope in the competition.

The outfit wasn’t just clothing—it was a statement. It said, This is who I am. Take it or leave it.

As I walked through the paddock, I felt the energy shift. Journalists turned their heads, cameras clicked furiously, and fans cheered louder.

“She’s gone full Texan!” someone shouted, eliciting laughter and applause.

Franco was the first to greet me, his grin as wide as ever. “Hermosa, you’re stealing the show already. Lando’s going to be jealous.”

Lando appeared not far behind, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “You’ve outdone us all. I should’ve worn a cowboy hat.”

“You couldn’t pull it off,” I teased, adjusting the brim of mine.

“True,” he admitted, with a playful shrug.

As part of the home race experience, my media duties were doubled, if not tripled. I made my way to the press conference room, where a mix of local and international journalists eagerly awaited.

The questions were predictable at first:

“What does it mean to race at your home Grand Prix?” “How do you feel about the fan support here in the U.S.?”

I answered them all with the same passion I’d carried all week. “It’s incredible to see the support from my fellow Americans. Racing here is a dream come true, and I want to make everyone proud.”

But then, as always, the conversation shifted.

“Your outfit today—does it symbolize anything about your journey?”

I smiled, tipping the brim of my hat slightly. “It’s a nod to where I come from. I wanted to bring a little piece of home to the paddock, and, well, I think it worked.”

Another journalist asked, “With all the pressure of a home race, how do you plan to stay focused?”

I paused thoughtfully before answering. “Every race has pressure, but this one is special. I’m not just racing for myself—I’m racing for everyone out there who’s ever been told they couldn’t do something. That’s the focus.”

As the day wore on, I walked the grid with my team, taking in the sights and sounds of the track. The familiar roar of engines echoed in the background, and the smell of rubber on asphalt filled the air.

Fans leaned over barriers, waving hats and flags. Some called out personal messages—encouragement, gratitude, even a few heartfelt wishes of luck.

One little girl, no older than six, caught my eye. She was wearing a tiny cowboy hat and holding a handmade sign that read, “Girls can race too!”

I walked over, crouching to her level. “You’re absolutely right,” I said, signing the brim of her hat. “And one day, I’ll be watching you out here.”

Her eyes lit up, and her parents thanked me profusely. It was a small moment, but it reminded me why I fought so hard to be here.

By the time I returned to my motorhome, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the paddock. I took a moment to stand on the balcony, looking out at the track. Tomorrow, the real work would begin—practice sessions, debriefs, and the constant grind of preparation.

But for now, I allowed myself a moment to soak it all in. This was my home race, and I was ready to give it everything I had.

The atmosphere in the garage buzzed with energy as I stepped in, already suited up for FP1. It was my only practice session before heading into a jam-packed sprint weekend schedule. With just one hour to learn the track and figure out how the car would handle here in Texas, there was no room for error. Every lap counted.

The familiar weight of my regular helmet rested in my hands as I made my way to my car. This one wasn’t flashy, but it was comfortable—a trusted companion that had been with me all season. I planned to save the special designs for later, where they’d make the biggest impact.

My team had worked closely with me to craft two helmets that truly represented what this weekend meant to me.

For the sprint race, I wanted something bold—something that screamed America without apology. The design featured an angry eagle, its wings stretched wide as it tore through the imagined sound barrier, painted to resemble the American flag. The sunset hues blended seamlessly with the imagery, creating a helmet that felt larger than life.

On the top sat a reimagined Route 66 sign, reshaped into my race number, 66. It wasn’t just a nod to my roots, but a symbol of the journey I’d taken to get here.

The race helmet, however, held an entirely different meaning. It was a replica of Logan Sargeant’s design. Though I didn’t know Logan personally, I respected his journey and the fact that he, too, had carried the weight of representing America on the grid.

We made only subtle changes: swapping out his name and number for mine, adjusting the sponsors to reflect my team, and making sure the craftsmanship was impeccable. I’d asked for it to remain a complete surprise, something for the fans and paddock alike to discover only once I stepped out onto the track.

Sliding into the cockpit, I felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. The team gave me the all-clear, and I fired up the engine. The Texas heat radiated off the tarmac as I rolled out of the garage, ready to get a feel for the track.

The Circuit of the Americas was a beast of a circuit. Long straights, tricky esses, and elevation changes that could throw off anyone not paying attention. But I loved it. There was something about racing in my home country that made me want to push just a little harder, take the corners a little sharper.

FP1 was productive, though not without its challenges. The car felt decent, but there were a few areas where balance issues cropped up. I spent the session giving constant feedback, running through different setups to prepare for both the sprint and the race.

“Car feels a little light in the rear through Sector 1,” I said over the radio after my third lap. “We’ll need to stabilize it for the race pace.”

By the end of the hour, I felt confident. There were still improvements to be made, but I had a solid foundation to work from.

I returned to the garage as the session wrapped up, my mind already switching gears for the upcoming sprint qualifying. With about an hour to spare, I decided to stretch my legs and shake off the lingering tension. The Texas sun was relentless, but the walk between garages helped me cool off while keeping my muscles loose.

With my racing overalls tied around my waist and a water bottle in hand, I jogged lightly from one end of the paddock to the other, weaving through the crowd of team personnel and fans. Just as I rounded a corner, someone barreled straight into me at full speed.

The collision sent me sprawling onto the pavement. I landed hard on my backside, groaning as I caught my breath. The other person, however, was already profusely apologizing, their accent immediately familiar.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

I blinked, looking up into the grinning face of none other than Liam Lawson.

“Liam?” I exclaimed, my surprise quickly morphing into delight.

Liam Lawson—the guy I’d been through hell and back with during my karting days, my confidant, my pseudo-brother—stood there, a sheepish grin plastered across his face. We’d been inseparable as kids, supporting each other through the highs and lows of our careers. Even now, as we both fought tooth and nail for a permanent seat in F1, there was never an ounce of jealousy between us. Just unrelenting pride for one another.

Liam extended a hand to help me up, his laughter bubbling over as I dusted myself off. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teased.

I smirked, immediately falling into our usual rhythm of playful banter. “Look who it is—newly promoted F1 driver Liam Lawson. The same guy who conveniently forgot to tell his best friend about said promotion, so she had to hear about it through the media.”

Liam winced dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Ouch. Straight for the heart.”

“You deserve it,” I shot back, crossing my arms but unable to hide the grin spreading across my face. “Seriously, Liam, how could you not tell me?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking genuinely apologetic. “It all happened so fast. I was going to call, I swear, but then everything blew up, and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stay mad at him for long. This was Liam, after all—the same guy who had stayed up all night helping me perfect a karting setup before a big race and had cheered the loudest when I’d landed my reserve driver role.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” I said, pulling him into a quick hug. “Even if you’re a terrible best friend.”

“Thanks,” he said with a laugh, stepping back. “But I’m not that terrible. I brought something for you.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small container. “Hannah made cookies, and she insisted I bring you some.”

I couldn’t help but grin. His girlfriend, Hannah, was amazing—kind, funny, and incredible in the kitchen. She was the one person I could see Liam settling down with, and I secretly hoped they’d make it official someday.

“You’re forgiven,” I said, grabbing the container and popping the lid open to sneak a cookie. “Barely.”

We spent the next few minutes catching up, trading stories and laughs like no time had passed. Seeing Liam here, in this moment, reminded me just how far we’d both come. The journey hadn’t been easy, but having someone like him in my corner made it all worth it.

As the clock ticked closer to sprint qualifying, I reluctantly said goodbye, knowing I had to refocus.

“Good luck out there,” Liam said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Show them why you’re a part of the future of this sport.”

“You too,” I replied with a wink. “And next time, don’t make me find out through a press release, Lawson.”

He laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes Sir.”

As I jogged back toward my garage, the encounter left me feeling lighter, a renewed sense of determination coursing through me. Having Liam there was a reminder of why I loved this sport and the friendships it had given me along the way. Now, it was time to focus and make the most of my home race weekend.

The moment I strapped back into the car, all the outside noise disappeared. The roar of the crowd, the hum of conversations, even the buzz in the garage faded into the background. It was just me, the machine, and the track ahead. The familiar ritual of adjusting my gloves, checking my visor, and gripping the steering wheel calmed my nerves. I was ready.

The green light for Sprint Qualifying flicked on, and the engines roared to life. The Texas air was dry and crisp, the track shimmering under the afternoon sun. I was hyper-aware of every little detail—the vibrations under my seat, the hum of the car as I weaved through the out-lap, and the occasional crackle of my engineer's voice over the radio.

“Let’s bring it home today, 66. Focus and execute,” my race engineer, Landon, reminded me.

The first run was solid but unspectacular. My times were competitive, but not groundbreaking—hovering around P8. The team made quick adjustments to the car, tweaking the front wing and tire pressures to give me just that little bit more grip. I sat in the cockpit as the mechanics worked around me, closing my eyes and replaying the corners in my head.

Stay calm. Be smooth. Push where it counts.

The second run felt different right from the start. The track was warming up, the grip improving, and the car responding beautifully. As I hurtled down the long back straight, the roar of the home crowd grew louder. Even inside the car, I could feel the energy.

“Purple Sector 1,” Landon’s voice came through, even-toned but with a hint of excitement.

My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay focused. The esses flowed under the car like a rhythm, and I nailed the exit onto the next straight.

“Good exit,” Landon confirmed.

The car was alive under me, every input translating perfectly to the track. I pushed through Sector 2, catching a slight slide out of Turn 12 but recovering without losing much time.

“Green Sector 2. Keep it clean,” Landon instructed.

The final sector was always the trickiest, but I braked late and hard into Turn 15, carrying just enough speed without overshooting the apex. The last few corners blurred together in a haze of precision and adrenaline as I blasted toward the finish line.

As I crossed the line, I held my breath, waiting for Landon’s voice.

“You’re P4!”

For a second, I didn’t believe him. “Repeat that?”

“P4, P4! Excellent job!” Landon’s voice was louder this time, barely containing his excitement.

The realization hit me like a tidal wave. P4. My best qualifying result yet. I was on the second row of the grid, closer to a podium than I’d ever been. And in my home race, no less.

“YES!” I screamed into the radio, pounding my fists on the steering wheel. “YES, YES, YES!”

The emotions bubbled over as I slowed the car and brought it back to the garage. Pride, excitement, disbelief—it all hit me at once. My engineer’s voice was drowned out by the cheers of my team as I rolled into the pit lane. The Aston Martin Team near the entrance of Parc Fermé were alive with energy, mechanics and engineers high-fiving each other, their faces beaming with pride.

As I climbed out of the car, the roar of the American crowd greeted me. I pulled off my helmet, letting the cheers wash over me. My home race, my people, and they were celebrating with me.

Lando appeared out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear. “P4? Are you kidding me? That’s insane!”

I laughed, still trying to catch my breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“You better start believing,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Because that was incredible.”

Franco rushed over next, practically tackling me in a hug. “That’s my girl! P4 at home? You’re a legend!”

The overwhelming support from my team, my friends, and the fans brought tears to my eyes. I wiped them away quickly, not wanting to let the moment overwhelm me too much.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion as I waved to the crowd. “Thank you so much.”

As I basked in the energy of the moment, a familiar voice called out from behind me, cutting through the noise of the garage.

“Well, well, look at you!”

I turned to see Liam Lawson striding toward me, his ever-present grin plastered across his face. Right beside him was his girlfriend, Hannah, looking just as thrilled. Liam wasted no time, wrapping me in a bear hug that nearly lifted me off the ground.

“P4!” he exclaimed, shaking me slightly. “In your home race! That’s huge!”

I laughed, squeezing him back. “I know! I still can’t believe it.”

Hannah stepped forward as Liam let go, her expression warm. “We’re so proud of you,” she said, pulling me into a gentler hug. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and it’s amazing to see it paying off.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking slightly as the emotions started to creep in again.

Liam ruffled my hair playfully. “Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous. But seriously, this is your moment, and no one deserves it more. You’ve proven all those doubters wrong today.”

“Thanks, Liam,” I said, grinning. “Now you just have to catch up and get P4 for yourself.”

“Oh, I will,” he shot back with a wink. “But don’t think I won’t brag about this for you in the meantime.”

Hannah chuckled, giving me an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Just soak it all in. You’ve earned it.”

As they stepped back to let me continue celebrating with my team, I watched them go with a full heart. Liam and Hannah had been constants in my life for years, and having their support on a day like this meant the world.

With their words still echoing in my mind, I turned back toward the garage, taking in the scene around me. Mechanics and engineers buzzing with excitement, Lando and Franco trading jokes, the hum of the crowd still faintly audible in the background—it was all so surreal.

For the first time, I felt like I truly belonged here. This wasn’t just about making a mark in F1 anymore—it was about showing the world, my team, and myself what I was capable of.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the garage buzzed with post-qualifying excitement, I let myself savor the moment. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight, I was living my dream.

[tinytalkingtina]

Why Does It Ring a Bell?

Written for both the May 2025 @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "delay" and 408 words and the May 17th @strangerthingswritersguild's daily prompt "going viral"

Rating T | Ao3 link

Tags: Idiot4idiot steddie, tiktok, Eddie has ADHD, flirting, LotR references, getting together, Steve has a nice ass, matchingmaking because Robin is at the end of her rope

Thank you to @blubblesandink for the prompt, @madaboutmunson for this extremely silly idea, and saradika for the LotR-themed divider!

"'I was delayed,' Gandalf uttered," Eddie's voice narrated from off-camera. Tiny Frodo grabbed the edges of the blanket and drew them onto his pale rounded bed. In the background, some ferny-looking fake plant waved in the breeze.

"Did you glue the plant in place or something?"

Eddie turned alarmingly redder. Normally Robin would be concerned but right now she didn't mind turning the screws a little.

"I might have used his...y'know."

Robin wasn't gonna let him off that easy.

"Pretend I don't know."

"I stuck them in his butt crack." Robin was convinced she could light something on fire off Eddie's nose.

Robin glanced at the stats for "Lord of the Rings if Middle Earth was a Butt." KastheBetrayer86 had racked up 6.9 million views in a week.

The video was still paused on two symmetrical moles. The ones labeled as "the twins" in the album she'd convinced Steve to keep photos in to get a baseline for his dermatologist. Moles that Eddie should NOT know about because they were on the underside of Steve's left—

"Okay, so. Let's review your life choices here. Steve decides to sunbathe in the nude while you're hanging out."

"Yup, he said all athletes do it to 'keep an even tan under their jock straps'."

Robin closed her eyes and groaned. She'd told Steve Eddie wouldn't be stupid enough to buy that. And yet.

"Alright, sure. So please explain to me how this happened?" She shook her phone in his face.

"Um, well, you see, he fell asleep?" Eddie stuttered. "I was worried he'd get sunburnt so I moved the umbrella. And the pole. Kind of looked like Orthanc, which is Saruman's tower-"

"Focus Munson!"

"Right, sorry. His ass was right there. And I was freaking out and started narrating some Fellowship to calm down but then I had an idea. I'm but a weak homosexual man Buckley, have mercy."

Robin grabbed Eddie's face.

"Please, go on a date like normal people, I am begging you."

Two weeks later

Steve tossed another M&M into the air while he complained:

"And then he starts talking about this weird tom bombshell guy. The dude wasn't in the movies and, get this, he isn't even hot, so why is his name bombshell?" Like come on, I tanned on my stomach for two hours to film an action scene, not some lame ugly gnome-man."

Robin threw up her hands. The dinguses were made for each other.

[ynscrazylife]

trouble (colt seavers x stunt double!reader)

Colt considers himself a pretty laid back man. He gets along well with a lot of people. Most people. It’s been a while, since his work with Tom, that he has had to deal with someone who really irked him. Until he meets you. The both of you are stunt doubles for the leads of a new, fast-paced action movie.

At first, he thinks you’re cute (well, as much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, he still does). The first stunt he does for the movie is one with you and that’s what gets you all in trouble. You don’t like what you see as a careless attitude he has when it came to stunts and he makes the mistake of joking that you should “take things more easily”. From then on, you guys are always squabbling over something.

It doesn’t help that when he finds out that you have a cool motorcycle stunt, he talks to the director in hopes that he’ll get the stunt instead. You find out about that and you’re not happy.

Well, the motorcycle stunt gets done. He can’t deny that you look great wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, expertly performing the stunt in one take.

Now, he’s watching from behind the cameras as you perform another stunt, this time a car one. Your character’s involved in a car chase on a beach and you’re supposed to go barreling down the dock, only to stop right before the end of it.

The stunt’s going great, you’re getting on the dock, and then—

“It won’t stop. The brakes won’t—!” You yell into your mic, before the car pummels into the water and disappears.

For a split second, everything seems to be going in slow motion. Colt looks up from the camera to the actual dock—and you’re just gone. His heart begins to hammer as it sets in what really has happened. He can hardly think before he’s sprinting off, along with the medics on the set and other professionals, who are on standby in case anything goes wrong. And something has gone really, really wrong.

Someone grabs his arm, pulling him back to let the guys do what they have to do. They’re gathering equipment together, one person tying a rope around another person’s waist.

Colt feels sick to his stomach as he watches the man dive into the water, your panicked voice replaying in his mind. He’s heard you annoyed, exasperated, but never this. He’s seen stunts go wrong, but not to this extent.

He’ll save the thinking about whatever brake thing went wrong for later. His mind’s filled with you, your image, your fear.

The man with the rope resurfaces and there’s commotion about the angle the car’s at. He needs something that enables him to breathe longer underwater. Colt wants to scream as they fumble around with goddamn snorkeling equipment — you’re sinking underwater! He’ll go in himself if he has to.

Finally, the man dives in again, and after a tense minute, he emerges, carrying you.

He runs with the medics, unable to do much aside from stand there. One of the medics pounds on your chest and, when he sees that you aren’t breathing, he begins to feel like he can’t either. Colt snatches a blanket out of someone’s hands and kneels down beside you, begging for you silently to wake up.

After the second round of rescue breaths and CPR, you wake with a desperate gasp for air, for life. It’s the most beautiful sound Colt has ever heard. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders, helping you sit up as you focus on getting as much the air in as possible.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. Nothing needs to be said in this moment. Colt rubs your back with the towel as a gurney is brought to you. “Up you go,” he murmurs, lifting you onto the gurney.

Your eyes stick on him as you’re strapped onto the gurney, a silent plea to not be left alone. Colt understands, he’s not about to leave you alone for a second. He follows the gurney towards the ambulance, as paramedics have now arrived.

He helps them lift the gurney into the ambulance and sits down inside, watching as the paramedics flock around you. One takes your vitals, the other places an oxygen mask over your mouth. He hears them talk about the possibility of hypothermia and takes a hold of your hand.

“I know you’re scared, but you’re gonna be just fine and I’m going to be here for you,” he whispers. He pushed people away when he had his back injury, but he’s not going to let you be alone while you recover. He promises himself that.

The ambulance arrives at the hospital and you’re whisked away. Despite knowing that you’re awake, Colt still worries. He tries to distract himself by updating the movie crew and talking to the hospital staff, continuously asking for any updates they might have on you.

Eventually a nurse out comes out and tells him that you’re asking for him. He practically runs to your room, having to force himself to slow down right before he enters. He has to be collected.

He’s not, at all, collected on the inside.

“Hey, troublemaker,” Colt greets as he saunters in, smiling because you’re all bundled up in blankets and you look absolutely adorable. He sits down in a chair next to you.

“Hi,” you say quietly, mustering up a smile.

He asks you about how you’re feeling, if you’re okay, about the monitors, practically interrogating you. He eases up when he sees you start to get overwhelmed with all the questions, though.

“God, that . . . That was scary,” he finally admits.

“I know,” you agree, gazing at him. How could a man you found to be so annoying be so sweet at the same time?

“That’s never gonna happen again. They’re gonna investigate and see what went wrong,” he assures you. He’d sent a very demanding text to the director about that.

You nod and he can see that you’re tired, which you have every right to be.

“You know, they say that body heat is the best way to warm someone up,” he says, smirking and only half-joking.

You roll your eyes at him. “Just sit with me, okay?” You ask him, patting the empty space on your bed.

He nods, taking his place. He stays until the nurses come to kick him out, and even then, with his charm, manages to negotiate a few more minutes. When you doze off on his shoulder, the nurses don’t have the heart to make him leave. He’s not gonna leave your side again.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Masterpiece

Photography Professor!Fem!Reader x subby!student!Wanda

Summary: Spending the weekend with her professor means Wanda will be worshipped

Word Count: 624

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, use of strap-on (R), photography during sex, ropes, tying up(W), Use of pet names, R is referred to as Daddy by W, some fluff sprinkled in there

Over the weekend Wanda found herself in your lovely home. All the photos that lined the walls of not just your own photos, but others including some from your parents collection that the rest of the world never saw.

Wanda was currently walking around in nothing, but your oversized shirt, panties, and thigh high stockings. 

You smiled at her, watching from your kitchen island as you worked away on your laptop never wanting to shut yourself away in your office while she was here.

“I'll never get tired of looking at all the photographs you have Y/N.” Wanda spoke, voice almost echoing off the walls in the quiet space.

“Come here baby.” You pushed your glasses to the top of your head as she walked over and you pulled her into your lap. “I'd love to add a few more to my walls of you pretty girl.” You smirked as her face grew hot and she tried to hide from you. “No, no, show me that pretty face that I fell for.” She stops hiding, 

“I'm not that pretty Y/N…I'm a photographer not a model…”

“You are the most beautiful model I've ever had the pleasure to work with.” You smiled, rubbing her thighs. “I want to tie you up with my prettiest ropes, use my cutest gag, and stuff you full with my strap as I take pictures of your beautiful body.” you tell her.

“D-Daddy…” she grinds against you even if her words deny you, her body tells you all you need to know.

“Okay that's it, break time from school work,” You pick her up, bringing her to your bedroom. “I'm going to fuck you until you can't think properly and take the most beautiful photos of that blissed out face that you make only for me.” You tell her as you set her down, going over to your toy closet, pulling out some of your favorites along with your Mamiya Leaf Credo camera. 

As you fucked her all tied up and full of one of your biggest straps you take your pictures. “So beautiful. My beautiful slut. You love when I take photo's of you like this, don't you?” You ask, watching her face the whole time.

“Yes Daddy! Yes! Please don't stop!” She begs.

“I'm not stopping anytime soon. Not until I'm satisfied with my photo's and then I'll let you cum so I can take photos of that beautiful face that you make.” She's a moaning, squirming mess beneath you. You know half if not more of these photos will be blurry, but that's fine. The ones that won't be are going to be masterpieces.

“You're my masterpiece, you know that?” You say, catching her off guard with how soft your voice is. 

“R-really?” She asks in disbelief.

“Yes baby. No one compares to your beauty. You are my masterpiece. The photos I take of you are the best in my collection. Nothing even comes close to them.” you tell her, setting your camera down, forgetting about it as you drive your cock into her fast and rough making her moan out, gripping and clawing at you. Every noise she makes threatens to send you over the edge.

“D-Daddy can I please cum? I know you put your camera down, but please can I? Daddy's cock is too good!” She moans out.

“Yes baby go on Daddy's going to come with you.” You tell her, not caring about the photo at this moment. You use the best camera you have, your eyes, to capture this moment and keep it with me forever.

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Overstimulation All Diaboys x s/o

(how long each of the DIABOYS would lead you tied up and overstimulated with toys)

Shu – 4 to 5 hours

Shu’s lazy but deeply territorial. He’d leave his S/O cuffed in silk, legs spread wide with a pulsing toy inside her, sighing, “Don’t expect me to rescue you if you can’t handle it.” He dozes off in the same room or listens to her moans through a gramophone. When he finally returns, he says, “Still squirming? Tch… I’ll turn it higher next time.”

Reiji – 8+ hours

Reiji is methodical and cruel. He sets everything with magical precision—rotating settings, delay pulses, sensitivity spells. He leaves his S/O tied down for hours, using it as a punishment or “lesson in control.” When he returns, he examines her flushed body like an experiment and calmly says, “Still not broken? Let’s continue your training.”

Ayato – 6 hours

Ayato is obsessed with owning her. He straps her down proudly, calls it “Ore sama’s reward system,” and leaves her crying, twitching while he plays basketball or brags about her helpless state to his brothers. He’s pissed if she comes without permission. When he returns? He makes her come again under his tongue—mocking how needy she is for him.

Kanato – Indefinitely

Kanato doesn’t track time. He binds her tightly, giggling as he inserts multiple toys and watches the first few orgasms. Then he vanishes—to sing to Teddy, eat sweets, or scream in another room. When he returns hours later, he’s furious she didn’t “wait pretty.” He might punish her further—then hold her and cry with her afterward.

Laito – 7 to 10 hours

Laito makes overstimulation a religion. He sets up toys, gags her, and whispers every filthy thing he’s going to do when he gets back. He wants her teary, overstimulated, and still begging. He watches her through secret cameras and touches himself to her suffering. When he returns? He slips inside her without removing anything and purrs, “Didn’t I say you belong to me, Bitch-chan?”

Subaru – 2 to 3 hours

Subaru fights his urges. He ties her up, trembling, unable to stop himself—but panics halfway through his day and rushes back early. When he sees her shaking and crying, he loses it—slamming the toy off and holding her tight. “You’re not allowed to break without me,” he growls, before kissing her roughly and letting her cry in his arms.

Ruki – 8 hours

Ruki believes in discipline. He straps her down with a vibrating wand and plugs, leaving her for hours, calling it a “correction session.” When he returns, he observes her quietly, then says, “You’ve proven your devotion. Now, beg properly.” She doesn’t come without his command, and that power dynamic turns him on immensely.

Kou – 4 to 6 hours

Kou livestreams the audio. He sets her up, turns on a hidden mic, and broadcasts her moans as he smiles for his fans. He wants everyone to hear how pathetic and needy his kitten is without him. He calls in between commercials: “Still crying, pretty thing? Good. Keep going.” When he gets home, he uses her overstimulated body like a doll.

Yuma – 5 hours

Yuma uses thick rope and primal gags. He leaves her there like a garden he’s “tending,” with aggressive toys buzzing inside. He comes back covered in dirt and sweat, saying, “Hope you didn’t cum, sow. That would piss me off.” Then he uses his weight to push her down and take what’s his—growling and possessive.

Azusa – 3 to 4 hours

Azusa is soft in voice, cruel in action. He whispers, “This’ll hurt… but you’ll... feel good… for me…” He binds her gently, with blades nearby but untouched. He leaves, counting every minute. When he returns, he watches her shake, then traces her overstimulated skin with a knife—not to cut, but to remind her she’s his to ruin.

Carla – 12 hours+

Carla leaves his S/O in ancient magical restraints with cursed vibrators that edge and overstimulate without release. It’s not just physical—it’s spiritual dominance. When he returns from his royal duties, he looks down at her wrecked body and says, “Still alive, I see. You endure well… for a lower being.”

Shin – 5 to 6 hours

Shin is all impulse and possessiveness. He ties her down fast and rough, smirks at her helplessness, and says, “You’ll scream my name until your voice breaks.” Then he leaves, tail swaying, only to return hours later—smug and hard. He teases her overstimulated body for a long time before giving her any relief.

Kino – 3 hours

Kino turns it into a twisted game. He straps her down, sets a pattern of random stim bursts, and gives her a camera to watch herself. “Record yourself breaking,” he says. “I want to see what I missed.” When he returns, he watches the video with her, licking his lips and whispering what he’ll do to her next.

Karlheinz – Timeless

Time means nothing to him. He’ll suspend her in a magical stasis—still conscious, still feeling—overstimulated endlessly in a dark chamber while centuries pass. He returns when he feels like it. When he does, he strokes her face like a doll and murmurs, “You have suffered beautifully. Shall we begin again?”

Richter – 6 to 8 hours

Richter is refined but cruel. He makes her beg for the privilege of overstimulation, then leaves her with relic-bound devices that pulse to her heartbeat. He views her broken body as art. When he returns, he unbinds her slowly, licking up her tears and whispering, “You’ll beg me to tie you up again soon, won’t you?”