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#empty posers
sketiana · 3 months
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tiktok is so funny its like man i wish i had my own car so i can buy car perfume and car wipes and car wheel stickers and rhinestones and car seat covers and car heart shaped exhaust pipe i dont think you wish you owned a car i think you wish endless spending could postpone for at least one more day having to live in the meaning & person you keep borrowing from algorithms of any app you frequent indtead of making sure at least the foundations for that meaning & being come from just you just someplace within you
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ceno8yte · 3 months
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Sometimes I feel like my brain and personality are just… wired for violence, hatred, and vitriol. I’m not just saying this to be edgy, it genuinely feels like this sometimes. I like to argue with people. I like to hate people. I have pretty regular and extremely visceral violent thoughts. And when I forget that this isn’t normal and bring it up in casual conversation, people think I’m fucking weird. It feels alienating.
I think this is why I enjoy the idea of being a combat doll and living weapon so much. That it’s okay to be like this, since it’s why I was made. It’s why I have a Handler to rein in these impulses and control me. It feels good. It feels right. It makes me feel safe from myself.
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thefiresofpompeii · 1 year
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it’s that time of night again lads
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m-4dz · 3 months
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silent hill.
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celestiachan · 3 months
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laying in bed unable to sleep because studyblr posers are now a thing
a few years ago every post would be a picture of notes, several empty coffee cups, and a textbook or two with captions detailing how their school life is doing
now scrolling through the studyblr tag is what i will have to do when i die and go to hell. it's all stolen images. all of it. "credits to Pinterest" do you have a brain that you use? not only that, but I've seen people take a popular Tumblr post, copy and paste it into their own post, and tag it with studyblr. Is this where we're at now. Where blatant theft gets over 10k notes. If you posted shit like that in the studyblr tag in 2018 you'd get 0 notes because people scroll through the studyblr tag to see people's pretty notes, not stolen posts
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sweetestdesire · 1 year
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MR. IRRESISTIBLE
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WARNINGS: hair pulling, choking kink, extreme domination, spanking, mentions of alcohol consumption, sex while under the influence, etc. 18+ readers only
PAIRING(S): Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Rafe Cameron is an arrogant son of a bitch, but at least he’s honest.
Y/N looked around the crowded room, desperately trying to spot a familiar face in the sea of college kids. She hated going to parties where she didn't know anyone. After minutes of searching, she saw only a few people she recognized from her classes. Some were nice enough to wave, while others either pretended not to notice or genuinely didn't recognize her. She sighed, wondering why she even bothered to come out tonight.
School had started four weeks ago and she still hadn't managed to find a group of friends she really clicked with. Y/N really tried those first couple weeks, even forcing herself to strike up conversations with new people everyday. All of it was in an effort that one of those random conversations would turn into a friendship. After weeks of that, she finally gave up knowing that it would happen naturally at some point.
She looked down at the drink she'd been nursing for the past twenty minutes. The drink was a hardcore mix of liquor that Topper had whipped up. He was the one who invited her here, after being invited by someone else. Still, Y/N agreed, only because she couldn't take another night in her single dorm. Topper was chill enough, sparking a conversation one night, but really, the dude seemed like too much of a poser for her to want to get close.
Topper tended to jump between friend groups, almost like he was weighing his options of who he'd rather spend his nights with. Y/N laughed to herself at the fact that even though she didn't want to come with Topper, she still managed to lose him in the crowd. Regardless of wanting to come with him in the first place, she was alone at a party with a shitty drink and playing a game of chicken as to when she'd give up and go home.
Y/N looked around again, doing another lap around the crowded living room when she saw a face that made her stop in her tracks. Out past the drunk college students was a guy who leaned against the wall, wearing a brightly colored button up shirt that was more open than it was closed. A pair of khaki shorts and a backwards hat completed what Y/N considered to be the typical frat boy attire.
She looked back up at the boy's sculpted face and features, accentuated only by the string of Christmas lights that hung across every wall of the place. She daydreamed a little too long, getting caught up in what was underneath the boy's clothes. The pink colored shirt hung low on the boy's chest, giving Y/N a peek at the sculpted pecs. She mentally cursed herself for falling for the stereotype.
Y/N eventually snapped out of it, only to see the boy looking straight at her, noticing that she’d been staring. She blushed redder than the solo cup she was holding, wishing the cheap lights could conceal the look of embarrassment that swept over her as she took a sip of her drink and tried to act normal.
She looked again, too curious to see if maybe the boy hadn't really noticed. But still, the stranger managed to catch her at the right time, matching Y/N’s stare with his own. He turned to his friends, mouthing out some excuse to leave the group and started walking her way.
"Are you having a good time?" The mystery dude asked when he was close enough. He clutched a near empty bottle in hand, backing Y/N into a corner.
"I'm sorry, what?" The girl stammered.
The mystery dude curled his face into a smile. “The party." He turned his head to the blue flag of Greek alphabets hanging just above the mantle. "You having fun?”
"Oh." Y/N said, looking back at the boy, oblivious that she'd ended up at a frat party. "Yeah, I just came here with a friend."
The other guy looked around, seeing that she was alone and that her supposed friend was nowhere to be seen. Mystery dude just smiled. "Piece of advice?" The boy asked, finishing his beer and setting it on a table.
"I guess." She managed to stutter.
The frat boy leaned in, standing dangerously close enough that Y/N could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Be a little more subtle when you stare at the dudes here." He pulled off a little, giving her a wink. "Most people are here to check out the party, not the frat boys."
"No, it’s not what you think.” She tried to muster, but she got caught on her own tongue.
Y/N should have played it cool and brushed it off, but somehow the boy made her nervous. It'd been a while since she'd been so flustered, but the muscled boy turned her into an incoherent mess. She was like a deer caught in front of a train with nowhere to go. She was sure no amount of dim lighting could hide her embarrassment.
She opened her mouth to mutter an apology, but the boy stopped her. "Take it easy, sweetheart. I'm just teasing you.”
Y/N wanted to wipe the cocky grin away from the boy's face. Why did he have to look so good, anyway?
“Yeah." She managed. She was desperate at this point to leave the conversation, and this house, for good. "I'll just see myself out." She mumbled as she turned towards the door.
Y/N must have looked pretty ashamed because the boy softened his voice and turned his head towards the large french doors leading out to the backyard.
“Wait. Come outside with me." He said, not even bothering to ask. "It's quieter out there, so we can talk without people overhearing."
Initially, Y/N wanted to leave and forget that she'd come here in the first place. Don't come back to the Pi Kappa house, she reminded herself in big, bold letters. But yet, somehow she wanted to see what it was the frat boy wanted.
She softly nodded her head as she was led outside, weaving through the sea of college kids as she headed to the large glass doors. The mystery dude disappeared for a few seconds, dipping into the kitchen, and coming back with two beers in hand.
"You're gonna need this.” He insisted as he walked Y/N over to a bench at the edge of the backyard, shrouded in trees and not very well lit.
She looked around, hearing a few conversations from people who'd congregated out there for a smoke. She couldn't make anything out though, giving her a sense that she could talk freely.
"I'm Rafe, by the way." The frat boy said, as he undid the cap on the iron edge.
"Y/N." She replied, giving him a weird look. She took a sip of the beer, thankful that she didn't have to pretend to like her mixed drink anymore.
“So, you really came to a party to try and get lucky with one of the brothers?" Rafe asked, causing the girl to nearly spit out her drink.
"No!" She protested as Rafe laughed. She shook her head, needing to get used to the boy's carefree comments. "I didn't know it was a frat party until we got here. I came with a friend."
Rafe nodded as he took a sip of the cliche red solo cup. To his credit, the boy didn't wince at the nasty concoction. "A friend who clearly doesn't know how to mix drinks. You sure he's not trying to get you fucked up?" He asked, pouring the mix on the grass.
"I guess he's more of an acquaintance, really." Y/N admitted. She looked over at Rafe, still trying to figure the boy out. Most dudes would have ditched her by now, yet the boy was still here, making conversation.
"So, what's your angle here? Or do you enjoy cornering the new girls at parties?" She asked, as her liquid courage seeped into the soil.
Rafe laughed aloud, shaking his head. “I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable." He smiled again. “If anything, you looked like you were having a shitty time and I was hoping to make it a little better."
Y/N’s mind went wild, wondering if the boy meant for his comment to come off like that. She could already see this conversation as the precursor to some poorly directed porn video, complete with the sterotypical frat dude looking to get some action.
She looked over at him. “So, is this the part where you take me up to your room and convince me to suck your dick?" She asked, feeling more comfortable at this point.
Without skipping a beat, Rafe responded, "Nah. The house is too crowded, so there's no way we could sneak in there without anyone noticing."
She tried to find a smirk on the boy's face, but couldn't. Rafe was straight faced and much to her disdain, incredibly sexy.
Y/N’s face turned serious. “You're fucking with me, aren't you?" She put the bottle down, and turned over her palms.
"Not unless that's what you want." He teased, ignoring her accusations.
She looked at him, squinting as if there was some way to tell whether or not he was serious. "What is this, Rafe? Some game you frat boys play on new blood? Is one of your brothers in the bushes recording this so you can post it on your Instagram story later?"
"No games." He shook his head. “And no recording.” He tilted his face. “Unless that's something you're into cause I hear you can make so much cash on Onlyfans.”
Y/N growled loudly as she glared at the boy, curling her fist out of instinct, though she knew she could never actually punch someone.
Rafe couldn't help but laugh, enjoying himself a little too much at the girl’s expense. “I saw you checking me out inside and wanted to see if you were actually down to hook up." He flashed her that same smile that Y/N started to hate. "I actually think you're pretty cute."
"I'm not cute." Y/N said, not wanting to be some little pet. She slumped back into the bench. "I'm the first girl who's shown an interest in you all night and now you expect me to just get on my knees?”
Rafe smiled. “Well, I was picturing us lying down, but standing up works, too."
Y/N rolled her eyes again, ready to walk off.
"Wait." Rafe said, as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. His face may not have looked too intimidating, but the boy had one hell of a grip. "I'm sorry for all the joking, it's kinda my personality. I'm not one for being serious all the time." He saw her face soften as she retook her seat.
She shook her head, turning to face him. “I don't get how you can be so casual about all this."
"Come on, Y/N." Rafe said. “We're in college now. If you want to have sex with someone, then you just ask them."
Now, Y/N wasn't a stranger to hook up culture, having not had many successful relationships in high school. Still, something about this seemed foreign. She brought her face up to Rafe’s and the two of them started a game of chicken to see who'd move first.
Y/N gathered together the last of her courage and brought her lips up to his and kissed him. He couldn't hide his shock when he felt them touch, almost like he was sure he'd have to string her along with every request. He soon kissed back in an effort to prove that he wasn't bullshitting.
Even after orchestrating this whole meeting, Rafe seemed to be taken aback as he pulled away from her. "Easy there, we can't get too hot and heavy out here." He said casually while catching his breath. “You got a place we could go that's not full of drunk college kids?"
Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I'm in a single back on campus."
A smile crept across Rafe’s face as if he'd struck gold. "Lead the way, freshman." He said, finishing both of their drinks.
Y/N followed as she was led out of the frat house, stopping a few times whenever Rafe ran into someone he knew. He played it cool and somehow, no one seemed to question why the frat boy was leaving their own party. In those short greetings, she could tell that he was well liked. Somehow, that put her at ease.
Once outside, they walked down the suburban streets back to campus which was only a few blocks away. The pair chatted easily, getting to know each other a little better. Y/N shared a bit about herself too, though was careful not to get too deep. They were, after all, going to hook up and she didn't want the slightest inconvenient detail to ruin that. It had been a while since she'd had sex, still getting used to her new life here.
They eventually made it to Y/N’s dorm and walked right up to the front desk. To no one's surprise, Rafe knew the girl working there, who blushed red at the sight of him. Y/N rolled her eyes, but then again, who could blame her. She watched as Rafe put on his cool facade, leaning into the desk and doing his little playful banter. She stood behind, watching it unfold as the girl gushed before them.
"Why aren't you over at the Pi Kap party?" She asked in a high pitched voice. Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing that if Rafe were to extend an invitation, she'd leave the desk right now and go with him.
Rafe smiled. “We actually just came from there." He leaned into the cheap countertop. “I wanted to make sure my good friend, Y/N here got back okay." He gestured towards Y/N. “It's her first year."
The girl did a cursory turn to her, but didn't even bother to look. "Well, I guess I could let you go up without signing in." She smiled at him. “Being that you're such a sweet friend."
Rafe gave her a wink as Y/N tried her hardest to keep herself from audibly gagging. The girl was trying way too hard, and she could tell that this was all some game Rafe was used to playing. And the boy was damn good at it.
"Thanks again,” He looked over at the nameplate, "Jessica."
The girl blushed red, twirling her hair as she buzzed them in. "See you at the next party.” She said as Rafe closed the door and they got into the elevator.
"One of your fuck buddies?" Y/N dared to ask.
Rafe shook his head. “I've never seen that girl before in my life."
Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Must be nice to be so charming." She muttered, sarcastically.
He got up in her face, able to smell the faint scent of beer coming out of her pursed lips. "You'd be surprised what a smile and some nice words can do, sweetheart."
She stood her ground, looking into his eyes. “Like get a frat boy to come back to your dorm room?" She asked.
Rafe cracked, forming a smile on his face as the elevator buzzed and the doors opened. "You're not so timid after all." He said as they exited and she led them to her room.
Y/N slid her card into the door and welcomed Rafe in. She stood there by the door, like she was waiting to be told what to do.
"Come here." Rafe said as he sat down onto her bed.
She slowly walked over, feeling her pussy become more and more soaked with every step. Somehow, the thought that this was all a ploy and Rafe would bolt out the door at any minute still ran across her head. But until that would happen, she told herself that she'd see it through.
"You really are cute." He said, catching Y/N’s eyes in the bedside lamp.
She couldn't help but blush, replying, "You're pretty cute yourself. For a frat boy, of course.”
Rafe brought his hands up to her face, holding her tight to assert dominance. The pressure on her chin would have been enough for Y/N to submit, but she refused to show him her weakness. She held a face full of longing as he pulled himself in, smashing their lips together. She felt like clay in Rafe’s grip, molding into his touch. She knew that Rafe wouldn't hurt her in any way, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like being roughed around.
Rafe pulled off as they caught their breath, inhaling her scent. "Was that good enough for a frat boy?" He asked, playfully.
She gripped at his shirt, hooking her fingers on the open button and pressing into his chest. "Really good." She admitted while her head spinned.
He flashed a cocky smile as he pushed him back onto the bed. He stood over her, watching her beneath him with her legs and arms stretched out to the edges of the bed. He'd cuff her at each end if he could. Rafe stripped off the last few buttons from his salmon colored shirt and tossed it aside. He slipped out of his shorts, leaving only a pair of white boxer briefs that Y/N thought looked too good against his skin.
Rafe smiled at the attention as he knelt onto the bed and moved towards her. He planted his knees on both sides of her torso, leaving poor Y/N with nowhere to run. She sunk her fingers into his waistband, pulling at the white strap while looking back up at the muscled boy. He nodded at her, who eventually pulled the pair of Calvin's down, setting his cock free. She eagerly grabbed it and gave it a few strokes. She felt like she'd hit the jackpot with Rafe.
"You look surprised." The cocky boy said as he looked down.
"I knew you'd be big.” Y/N said as she reached up to lick the bead of pre-cum that oozed out of the exposed tip. "Just not this big." She kissed the flared tip and looked back up at the boy with her warm eyes.
“What made you think so?" Rafe asked as he felt those soft lips against his shaft.
She stuck out her tongue and slapped the thick cock against it a few times. "Because you wouldn't be this arrogant if you were small." She shot him a wink. “You're hot and you know it."
Rafe chuckled, pleased by her response. As far as partners goes, she proved to be the most unpredictable. “Then isn't it your lucky day?" He asked. “Something tells me you don't know just how hot you truly are, Y/N."
She didn't respond. The banter between them was fun, but it did nothing to satiate how confused she was about Rafe. Still, none of that mattered right now. Rafe watched as she slowly took the dick down her throat, feeling those wet lips slide down his shaft. He felt her tongue swirl underneath his foreskin, paired with the soft look in Y/N’s eyes, telling him that she liked the way it tasted.
"Fuck, Y/N." He said softly, as he watched her take him down.
After a few minutes of making sure that he was watching, she turned her attention to sucking. Ignoring that Rafe, in all his handsome and cocky glory, was even there. It had been over a month since she'd given a proper blow job, having last been with a boy right before the move here. And now she was hungrier than ever. The sight of her taking his cock down with ease sent Rafe’s mind working, thinking of all the possibilities he now had.
“Flip over.” He said to her, who did as she was told without question. Rafe sunk down, laying on top of Y/N as he kissed at her neck. “You gonna be mine for the night?" He asked, as he lodged his cock between her pussy lips, with only the thin fabric of her thong preventing contact.
"Yes.” Y/N replied as he blew over all the places he'd kissed, making the girl shiver.
"What was that? I didn't hear you." He tormented, thrusting his cock into the fabric like he was trying to pierce through.
"Yes, Rafe." Y/N moaned loudly and more clearly.
She lifted her head up, turning to face him and pulling him in for a heated kiss. All of these weeks of refraining from sex had caught up to her, leaving her practically begging for it. Anything that Rafe wanted of her, she'd relinquish.
He bit down on her lip, muttering, "Good,” as he finally pulled away.
Not waiting to be told, Y/N arched her back, eliciting a moan from the boy at the sight. She felt his fingertips curl underneath the elastic and slip them off to her knees. What she couldn't see was Rafe fawning over her beautiful pussy. It took Rafe all he could to not just sink down and dive in, but he knew better. The sight alone made his mouth water.
He must have been staring so long because eventually Y/N turned back, asking, "Do you like what you see?"
Rafe nodded with a smirk. “It's the prettiest fucking pussy I've ever seen." He brought his hands up to her pussy and spread them apart and brought his thumb over the opening, tapping lightly like he was capping off a bottle.
"You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?" Rafe taunted, tracing circles around the hole. He loved to command girls, treating them like his little playthings.
"Please eat my pussy, Rafe." She begged out, not wanting to be teased any longer. If it was any other guy, she'd willingly play this game of cat and mouse, but it had been too long since she'd been with someone, and Rafe was just too hot to drag it out.
He gave her a smack on the ass, muttering, "Good girl," as he sunk down and licked along her pussy. He stuck out his tongue, lapping at the girl’s pussy and tasting it. He licked some more, eating her out until she was squirming and panting before him.
"Fuck." Y/N muttered out, feeling her senses on overload as his expert tongue worked her. She was glad she was in this position so he couldn't see the surprised look on her face as she got eaten out.
Soon, Rafe could feel her hole opening up to him as he stuck a finger inside, scraping against her walls. That made Y/N moan out, which was music to the arrogant boy's ears. He pushed another inside, feeling her hole open then close, gripping onto his digits.
"Please, Rafe.” She begged, feeling her pussy drop all over her sheets. “I can’t take anymore teasing. Please, fuck me already.”
"You beg so nicely.” His voice was dark and possessive, and his hands shot to her thighs, gripping them with bruising force.
Rafe wasted no time and started to push in, careful that he start off slow. He was experienced enough to know that these sorts of things couldn't be rushed, no matter how much the other person begged. He pushed deeper, feeling that hole open for him as he shoved himself inches inside.
"Oh, my God." Y/N moaned out, feeling just how tight those weeks of no sex had made her. "You're really big." She admitted to Rafe, regardless of how much that would inflate his ego.
"Come here." Rafe mumbled as he hooked his hand around the back of her neck and brought her up to his chest.
He played with her breasts with one hand, feeling her body scrunch up when he flicked her nipples. With his other hand, he gripped tightly onto her jaw and brought her closer to him, kissing her on the lips.
"You feel so fucking good, Y/N." Rafe grunted as he slowly thrusted into her. “Way tighter than anyone I've ever been with."
With the pain now subsided, Y/N fucked herself on his dick, grinding her ass onto him. Rafe growled into her ear, giving her a final kiss before he pushed her roughly back down onto the bed. He gave her ass a slap, leaving a mark of his hand that he knew would linger for the rest of the night. She submitted easily, not protesting his tight grips or slight rough-housing. He didn't know this yet, but this is exactly how Y/N liked to get fucked.
Rafe gripped onto her waist and started to really pound into her. Pulling his cock out halfway and shoving it back in quickly. This motion sent the sound of his balls slapping against her cheeks through the air, paired with the low grunts that escaped his mouth. He pounded into her, biting down on his lip every time his cock sunk back down into her tight cunt.
He was fast now, dripping sweat as he pounded into her relentlessly, wondering if there was even a threshold for how much Y/N could take, and whether he’d ever come close to crossing it. He sunk down on his knees a bit, getting into a new angle as his dick jabbed back and forth. This seemed to do it for her, who'd clenched even harder as the cock rocked back and forth.
"Fuck me right there, just like that.” Y/N begged, feeling the tip of Rafe’s cock press into her G-spot. It was like a secret button the boy was pressing, with each bit of contact getting her closer to cumming.
Rafe latched his hand around her throat, holding her tight against his chest. With his hips, he fucked into her, knowing he was getting real deep in her pussy. He knew this was the final stretch after dragging out his own orgasm for the past fifteen minutes. He was close, and the sounds escaping Y/N’s mouth told him that she was, too.
"Gonna fill you up." Rafe mumbled into her ear in between strokes, firmly squeezing her throat. “Make you my little cum slut."
Y/N was on fire. She was a glass bottle filled up with so much air, she was bound to explode any minute, sending pieces of herself to shatter in every direction.
"Please, Rafe." She pleaded as she held onto the boy's hands that were still attached to her throat. "Please, cum inside me and make me yours." She had no time to mince her words and not enough care to worry about how they made her look in front of him.
Hearing those words, Rafe bit down on her shoulder and unloaded into the girl. He tasted her skin on his tongue, feeling her tight hole clench down on his cock as he shot six or seven loads of cum inside her. He held onto her tight, taking in her scent and the feeling of her damp skin.
She shattered like glass, wrapping a scream into a gasp as she came. It rippled over her in waves, over and over and over again. If she hadn't closed her eyes, her vision would've gone white. Though her legs went limp briefly, he held her up with both hands and she balled her hands into fists.
"You're mine now." He whispered into her ear, not sure if she was coherent enough to make out what he said. She was barely able to balance herself, if not for the strong hands that kept her in place.
Her eyes remained closed as she panted, trying to catch her breath. Exhaustion over took her; her mind and body felt different than they ever had. Rafe eventually loosened his grip from her throat and slowly pulled out of her. She moaned loudly as he pulled his cock out from her throbbing, sensitive pussy.
"Shit." He said, seeing her used hole and river of white cum that contrasted against her skin. "That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."
Rafe reached up and dragged a finger up her thigh, getting some of his load on the tip. He brought it up to her mouth and softly ordered for her to suck, which she happily obliged. He leaned in and gave her a kiss, this time he was soft and caring. He let their tongues dance around for a few seconds before he pulled off, knowing he'd never be able to stop if they kept going.
They sat beside each other on Y/N’s bed as the room fell quiet, leaving only the faint sound of the elevator from across the hall and one of her neighbors playing the newest Drake album from a speaker. This was always the awkward part of hook ups. The time after sex when all that's left are two naked strangers with no idea what comes next.
"I guess you should be getting back to your party." Y/N said, giving the boy an out.
"Yeah." Rafe replied. “Pretty sure they're expecting me." It was a lie, but he felt like staying would complicate things too much, or at least much more than his barely sober brain could handle right now.
He didn't even bother to wipe up the sweat on his chest as he buttoned up his shirt, leaving it just underneath his pecs. Fully dressed, he looked back at Y/N who'd put on a pair of clean panties. She was laying on one side of the bed, careful as the load on her sheets hadn't yet dried.
Rafe opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't quite form the right words. He reached for the door, but turned back.
"I know this is pretty awkward, but I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed this." He looked into her eyes. “Here’s my number. Call me sometime.” He said, as he handed her a piece of paper with his number on it.
Y/N simply nodded, not wanting to add anything else into the conversation that could be used against her later. This was just a hook up after all. She waited for the door to close before sinking back into her bed, desperate to find something else to think about, anything other than this.
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TAGLIST: @lovedetlost @valeriiecameron @tee-swizzle @onmykneesforrafe @outerbankspov @ailee-celeste @pankowperfection @adventuresinobx @drewbooooo @blueicequeen19 @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts @variety-fangirl @fangirlwithlou @thecameronchronicles @lafantasiaworld @drewspisces
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smashalltheguitars · 1 year
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actually i do want to put my tags in their own post
the thing about the alt scene is that its always been, well, alternative. it's a counter culture. by definition, it counters the mainstream culture.
and when my chem started, i feel like a lot of the media and pop culture (or at least what i grew up with, which admittedly was not much) wanted to push the idea of happy happy all the time. bad things happen, but it's okay! watch this comedy show, listen to this pop band, go to the mall and buy frills and ruffles in turquoise and pink - and of course, support the military machine who keeps us all safe so we can have the privilege of tv. and the alt scene in general and my chem in particular said hey, fuck that, there's messed up shit and we can't just sweep it under the pink chevron rug. fuck that, it's allowed to hurt. you're allowed to hurt and scream and bleed, (you're not in this alone,) you're allowed to be ugly and macabre, you're allowed to want better and you're allowed to be angry about it.
and it worked. people loved black and red and vampire fangs.
but now i feel like so much of the world is buying into the misery - and i do mean buying. aren't you depressed? aren't you anxious? we all have panic attacks. we all don't sleep. don't you want a better laptop for your telehealth counseling appointments? don't you want the premium version of the meditation app? don't you want more houseplants, since there's no real human connection? don't you want a better monotone gray apartment that you never leave with neighbors you don't know? hashtag introvert life, amiright.
you can't be quirky without being __core, and you're a fake poser __core if your bedroom isn't chock full of stuff to match. you can't be weird without buying it off of etsy.
so my chemical romance being back, older and beautiful for it, hugging each other and holding their children and smiling so, so much, that's their message now. you're allowed to want better and you're allowed to get better. you must fix your heart. wear what you want, smile and dance, play because you don't want to stop, let your past die if it wants to.
and coming from them, it's not empty, it's not hollow; they were there, too. they wanted better, too. they're letting the light in, too.
you must fix your heart. you're not in this alone.
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angelsanarchy · 6 months
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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 1
Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink
Euronymous saw her everywhere. She worked for the local grocery delivery service during the day and his favorite food place in town. He wishes he could say that it was his favorite only because of the falafal but he enjoyed the banter that they had with one another. He was too focused on Mayhem getting a new singer and getting some shows under their belts to even remotely consider the idea of courting anyone but if he had, Y/n would be the first person he would look up.
"Oystein! Make sure you take that dead plant to the garbage before you leave!" He grabbed the now brown plant and shoved it under his arm as he walked down the front steps. He noticed the grocery bike parked across the street but no sign of Y/n. He tossed the plant just as she came through the gate of the neighbors house and smiled when she saw him.
"Hi there! Heading off to make the devils music?" Y/n knew he was in a band and that metal was his favorite genre. He never understood why she wasn't afraid of him like most normal people he ran across but he wasn't going to question it.
"Of course. Just doing my part to crumble the edification of society." Euronymous said confidently with a smirk.
"Sounds like a busy day. I'd hate to interrupt." She threw her leg over the bike.
"You want a ride? You can put your bike in the back-" He gestured to the empty trunk and she shook her head.
"I'm done with my deliveries for today so I'm heading home, thanks." She appreciated the offer but she knew that wherever he was heading wasn't anywhere close to her house.
"Ah so you don't want me to know where you live? I thought we were kindred souls." Euronymous teased.
"Atheist is not the same as Satanist, Oystein. Not exactly kindred but I'd hate for you to be caught with a poser like me riding shotgun." He had never mentioned he was a Satanist but the band also frequented the Falafal joint and he's sure she's heard them discussing the direction he wanted to take Mayhem in.
And still, that didn't scare her off.
"Euronymous. My name is Euronymous." He corrected firmly. She smiled, scrunching her nose at the name like she always had.
"I'm sorry but I won't ever call you Euronymous. I just don't see it." He paused at the statement.
"See what?" He inquired.
"I know the origin of the name. You just don't give off flesh eating spirit dwelling in the underworld. Your eyes are too pretty for that one." She complimented making him cough into his hand to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
"You don't know me very well. Maybe you should come to one of my shows and you'll change your mind." He tried to sound menacing but Y/n knew just as much about Oystein as he did her.
She knew he was a good son and brother. She knew he used to get pretty decent grades when he was in school and that he's been playing his guitar since he was 10 years old. She could never see him as some cannibalistic nightmare of a person. He might think highly of himself but she had seen such a softer side of him when delivering groceries for his family.
"Maybe." She shrugged. She had often responded to his show invites with a maybe and he was always disappointed when she never showed but he understood how busy she was. She worked two jobs to take care of herself and her family.
"I'll see you around, Y/N" He held his hand up and she mockingly gave him the devil horns she had seen his sister do so often when they were listening to the loud metal music blasting from the upstairs bedroom window. He chuckled and returned the gesture.
"See you around Oystein." She watched him pull down the street and didn't even notice he was already looking at her in the rear view mirror. He would never understand how two people who were so insanely different could have such a good rapport.
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Lords of chaos Euronymous x reader
Reader has always loved metal music and dressing up for concerts. So, when her friend invites her to go see this upcoming band called Mayhem she puts on her shortest skirt and tiniest top and maybe even hooks up with the lead guitarist. 🖤🖤
Eyes on you in the short skirt
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warning : tiny fluff, kissing, making out, implied sex
Lords of chaos ~ masterlist
Rory Culkin's character ~ masterlist
Info : Thanks for the request and a very good outfit choice I must say ;) It was nice to write and have fun reading, everyone else too
Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.
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The illuminated room in the evening was not quiet like her parents. Or accompanied by a children's audio book like her little brother's. Nor was it colourfully lit like the party across the hall. ,,A bunch of posers," she muttered as she pushed aside the dark curtain and looked at the colourfully lit house.
It was a party for the town's well-known cheerleader and student body president. Too colourful, too bright for Y/n's taste.
But she didn't let herself be distracted, instead she pulled the curtain back and listened to her music again. Black metal by Venom was playing very loudly from the record player she had bought herself.The only good way to listen to metal she heard her friend say in her head.
She remembered how they had gone together to every shop that sold music. After that, the metal section was more than empty, that was for sure. But not just buying music, everything black that had leather and studs.
Getting ready for concerts and painting their faces with corpse paint was another thing they liked. Alone or together it was all good. Just as she was about to turn to her record player, she heard her phone ring.
Reaching for the receiver and putting it to her ear she heard her friend's voice. ,,Hey Y/n, what's up? Say, I've got a ticket left for Mayhem, they're playing at the city centre tonight" she heard the words and her lips twisted into a grin.
Mayhem was a relatively new band in this music field and yet they were notorious. Not only for the performances they offered which included blood, death, corpses and pretty much everything evil.
Even the band members were no pure background characters. ,,I'll be with you in fifteen minutes," she said, slamming down the receiver and hurrying to her wardrobe. When she opened it, she was greeted by black clothes. Nothing new and yet she knew exactly what she wanted to wear.
She decided to grab her shortest black skirt and the smallest top she had. Not least because it made her body stand out more than a little and maybe she could show off a little too. Slipping into her new clothes she looked at herself in her broken mirror.
It was tight, short and ,,Perfect" she murmured and lastly fixed her hair and make-up, which she decided to keep sexy. Corpsepaint, maybe he'll paint it for me she thought, thinking of the picture of Euronymous she had seen in the newspaper. "The new Satanist children" was the headline and a smirk came to her lips.
The night would be perfect. Grabbing her boots and trying to go down the stairs quietly, she listened once more inside the house.
But her parents were asleep and so was her brother. She was free. Rushing out of the house and taking the short way to her friend's house, she couldn't help but cheer with delight.
Not only would she see her friend, again at a concert together. No, she would also see Mayhem. The walk to her friend's house was quickly done and from there they walked the rest of the short way to their destination.
The city centre or rather the Aulla of the city was big, not huge but big enough to hold a good concert. Showing their tickets, they eagerly mingled with the crowd, grabbed a beer and gazed at the many different people.
All of them looked darker, more satanic and more frightening than the other. But none of this mattered when the band came on stage and the first note was played.
The crowd went wild, screaming and singing along, the first carcasses were thrown into the crowd and Y/n even thought he got blood from somewhere. But it could not have been better. Especially when she was sure that she felt Euronymou's gaze on her. More than once.
But the point where she almost thought she felt the dark magic and Satan was when one of the band members came up to her. She was about to leave and her friend wanted to make a quick stop at the merch stand.
When the band leader came up to them and said, ,,Euronymous wants to see you". No sooner had she said the words than her friend practically pushed her back towards the stage and said, ,,Call me later, I want to know every detail," before she happily continued to pop as if she hadn't noticed anything. But now Y/n was on stage where the band had been a few minutes ago.
It was exciting to look back at the now empty space. Maybe I'll stand here one day? she thought with a smile and had to think back to her bad attempts which included breaking several guitars.
But of course she was a natural. ,,Just go down the corridor, through the black door," he said and showed her the way with his hand. Hastily walking down the corridor, she adjusted her clothes, feeling her heart beat faster in anticipation. Before she arrived at the door, knocked lightly and went inside.
Inside the room, she immediately smelled cigarettes and beer. ,,You're here," murmured a voice she knew only too well. Euronymous, the founder of Mayhem, was sitting on a black, old, worn leather sofa. In his hand was the dark beer bottle as his eyes settled on it. ,,You wanted it," she countered and saw that he was holding onto her bust.
He didn't hide it, he didn't have to because that was what she wanted. He nodded briefly as if her answer was heavy and philosophical before taking another sip of his beer.
Before he put it down on the small table and pointed to his leg with his hand. ,,That's what you're here for with the founder of Mayhem...since I saw you tonight" he said and watched as she came closer slowly almost reverently watching him. Waiting for him to do something she didn't see coming. But he sat still, grabbing her hips as she settled onto his lap.
His grip was not painful but the small circles and the scratching of his fingers over her warm soft skin let her know that she should stay. Shouldn't dare pull away now. ,,You were incredible," she murmured, reaching unbidden for his beer bottle and taking a sip. Saw his eyes watching her body.
The short skirt that pushed up slightly with the new position, the top that followed, the obviousness that she wasn't wearing a bra. His eyes showed more than interest and fascination. It was lust.
Taking the bottle from her lips she put it back, but barely looking back at him she felt his hand buried in her hair. Pulling her closer, no matter the compressed position, he engaged her in an intimate kiss. A kiss in which she felt more than just clearly what he wanted, if it wasn't already clear.
The hand that had not wrapped itself in her hair to pull her against him moved down her hip to her bottom. She twitched and smirked slightly as she felt him tighten the lace on her panties.
One by one they slowly moved closer to her centre, almost making her squeal. ,,I knew it, the little top, the short skirt...you're going to be the perfect night," he murmured to her before pulling her off him and onto the cool couch. ,,Gladly," she replied before pulling him close and wrapping him in another kiss. Knowing that the night had many hours to offer.
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@mayhem-things , @bvg-w1res , @icarus-star
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amsmasterjohn · 10 months
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The posers looked so much better empty. He was so thankful to Coach for suggesting the operation.
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ouroborosgirlcocks · 24 days
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Oh you “love her” and “cherish her”?
Then why is she alive?
She just keeps getting older
She just keeps suffering
Kill that cunt and eat out her corpse you fucking poser
Think how pretty she’s gonna be with those empty eyes
That pale, cold skin, her blood staining it only making it prettier
Show her what she’s perfect for
A dead trophy that you’ll love forever
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shewrites444 · 1 year
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watch me [sub! xavier thorpe x reader smut]
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[ so this is different than how i usually portray xavier in one shots so far, but i figured a kind of submissive xavier would be an interesting change. enjoy (•؎ •) ]
word count - 2.8k
[summary: the reader helps an insecure and inexperienced xavier through masturbation and foreplay.]
[warnings: female masturbation, female receiving oral, submissive xavier, some deeper discussion of insecurities and mental health]
-
no matter how popular xavier thorpe was amongst our student body, he didn’t care much for relationships. bianca had been out of the picture since the rave’n of last year, and wednesday, respectfully, was so focused on herself that xavier stopped pursuing her once the semester was over with.
xavier and i weren’t friends, and never had been, but deciding to work with him as his essay tutor seemed like it would be interesting. he wasn’t a bad writer, or frankly, bad at school at all, so when he texted me over instagram and begged me to help him, i figured something must be up.
when it grew closer to nighttime and there was darkness slowly coloring the sky, i made my way to his dorm, which was still empty of a roommate from last semester, so we’d have the peace and quiet we needed.
i knocked on the wooden door and felt it unlock after a few seconds, where i was greeted by the tall boy, his hair tied into his usual bun, his black shirt hanging loosely on his lanky body with a pair of grey sweatpants to compliment it.
i never denied that he was attractive from the day i met him, but he seemed like he was a hit of a poser. it’s not like i was analyzing everyone at nevermore’s sex lives, but xavier was so mysterious about it, it kind of made me nosy. obviously, he and wednesday did nothing, and the only other girl he was publicly with was bianca, who i overheard many weeks ago in botany that xavier wasn’t the best. ouch for him.
i walked through the door and tried to push those irrelevant thoughts out of my head, hearing him shut it behind me before walking over to his bed, grabbing the laptop and setting it in his lap. i plop down beside him, sliding my converse off before glancing at the screen.
“so, what seems to be the issue? the prompt? proofreading? writers block?”
he looks to me with wide eyes, pulling up the tab where his essay was about a paragraph deep written. “getting straight into it, huh.”
“i mean, you did pull up your laptop immediately, and it’s not like there is a need in small talk when it comes to tutoring. we’ve talked outside of this like, maybe once, anyway.” i justify, rubbing the back of my neck a bit awkwardly at how tense this encounter already was. “i’m not trying to be rude. i’m sorry if it came off that way, xavier.”
he sighs, looking through his downloaded documents in an attempt to find the document with the prompt and rubric. “it’s fine. i know it must’ve been weird that i texted you about this. i just heard you were a good writer from enid one day in class, and i figured if you were willing to help, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“you’re right.” i smile softly as he pulls up the prompt, and i gesture my hands out for him to hand me the laptop. i scan it for a few moments before laughing a bit to myself, and looking up to xavier with a grin. “you’re stuck on writing an essay on how we can better women’s rights in jericho? seriously, xavier? that’s pretty much a given.”
xavier’s hands cover his reddened face in embarrassment and he takes the laptop, setting it next to him and turning to face me. “it’s an important topic, and i don’t want it to seem like i don’t care, you know. enid already had the whole class laughing at me last week when i said that one of my points was to start a march here during women’s history month.”
“that’s actually a really good idea.” i turn my legs onto the bed and cross them, leaning across the boy to grab the laptop again, and type it down as a point. “anything else you thought of? and you can always use a point of another student that you agree with, you just have to make it your own.”
he shrugged lightly, pinching his forehead as he thought. “not really, [y/n]. this sounds really stupid, but i’ve only ever truly interacted with like, bianca, wednesday, and enid, who’s solely from class and knowing wednesday, so i’m pretty bad when it comes to knowing what women would like to have around here when the only ones i know were pretty toxic.”
“well you know me now.” i say gently, looking up to him with a sympathetic smile. “and i know that you’ve only had experiences with those girls, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t research more about this essay. i think you’re mixing two things into one and it’s giving you a huge writers block.” i laugh a bit to myself, “so let’s try to separate the two.”
“it’s just hard.” he sighs, “i don’t know my mom closely, or much at all, so i’m kind of surrounded by guys. and there’s nothing wrong with that, but like i said, i just don’t know what women around here want to help them out.”
i knew what i wanted, and it really wasn’t what xavier was talking about. while i didn't know xavier that well, there was something so gentle and unknown about him that intrigued a side of me i typically didn't let come out of me.
i sort of felt bad for him, because it was clear that he was in some sort of funk from the way he was venting to me within minutes of personally meeting me, but then again, i did have some strange type of therapeutic touch that most of the douchbags at nevermore didn’t have.
“well, im a woman.” i begin, closing the laptop and setting it down next to me. i shrug lightly. “what do you think would help me as a girl on our campus, and in jericho?”
he purses his lips together, looking down to me and thinking. “i don’t know… uhm..” he pauses as our eyes lock, and shakes his head after a few seconds of staring blankly at me. “fuck, sorry. that was weird.”
“not really.” i giggle, talking his pale, anxious hand and squeezing it lightly. “you’re not a bad dude for not knowing much about women’s rights. i don’t expect you to, and i don’t think your teacher does either, when you’re new to the idea of it anyway. i’m not judging you, okay? you seem sweet."
xavier nodded, just staring at me for a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips against my own, cupping my cheeks gently with the kiss. my eyes widened and i pushed him off of me almost instantly, not even wanting a taste of his lips before i got anymore ideas, and any more turned on. this was a bad idea. no matter how attractive i thought he was, i really didn’t want him to feel like that’s all i came here for.
“woah.. woah.." i blush, standing up and glancing down at the horrifically embarrassed boy. "i don't think we should let that escalate. you're clearly in an emotional state right now."
xavier grabbed his laptop and opened it, staring at the tab and starting to type. "yeah, you're right. i'm sorry, fuck." he closed it again in his lap before burying his face into his hands, sighing heavily to himself. "that was stupid. i'm sorry."
i sat down next to him, a frown on my face as i reached over to hold him gently across his back. "it's okay.. i get it, we all have things come over us and sometimes we can't control little things like that.."
"i just kissed you and barely know you even though we've been going to school together for years, [y/n]. shouldn't you be upset?" xavier asked, confused, as he pulled his face out of his hands and raised a brow to my oddly calm nature.
i purse my lips together and look up to meet his eyes, breathing nervously through my nostrils.
"i didn't say i was upset." i mutter quietly. "just that it was not a good idea."
he nodded, setting the laptop on the nightstand beside his side of the bed before gently patting my thigh and standing up, adjusting his posture and gesturing to the door. "i can walk you out, i'm sorry i even asked you to come here."
i raise my brown with a confused expression, taking his hand and helping him to sit back down on the bed. "xavier, i get that we don't know each other the best, but i'm not just going to leave someone in their room after that just happened. do you want to maybe talk more about it?"
he shook his head. "no way. it's really embarrassing."
"that you kissed me?" i say with a frown.
"no! definitely not." xavier frantically said back with defense, before taking a short, uncomfortable pause. "look, [y/n], please don't tell anyone this, but i'm a virgin. i never did anything with bianca besides the most amateur foreplay known to this horny campus. i didn't trust her fully, number one, but i also was horrified i'd fuck up since i didn't know squat about the female anatomy."
i smile softly, sitting back on the bed comfortably before speaking up. "that's not that big of a deal, trust me. tons of people here are still virgins. it's not embarrassing, and it's better to wait than sleep with someone, or do anything with someone, that you don't feel fully comfortable with. right?"
xavier nods, "yeah, i guess you're right. i just don't even know where to start. maybe that's why this essay is so hard. i'm thinking more of how i can't pleasure a woman in the bedroom than politically."
laughingly, i move towards the backboard of his bed and rest my back against it. "well, what have you done before to a girl?"
"well.." xavier coughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids eye contact with me. "i mean, i fingered her, but like, once. i was told i couldn't find the clit, so that made me kind of discouraged."
my cheeks heat up at the mention of those words rolling of his tongue, and i bite my bottom lip, running over what i should say carefully. i breathe heavily, and shakingly, before looking up to him.
"i mean, i could show you. if you want.."
he looked to me with widening eyes, and nodded silently at my offer.
i look down to my black shorts and slide them down slowly, along with my panties, letting them rest before my feet as i spread my legs and watch xavier adjust himself in front of me. he sat with his legs sprawled, on each side of my own, while he eyes attached to my fingers as they dipped into my wet, warm folds to get wet, and slide up to my clit.
"see." i say quietly, planting my middle finger on the bud before starting to rub softly. "you can feel it when you touch it. that how you know you're on it. and you just keep rubbing in circles, not too harshly, but just enough so that she is stimulated. it'll be pretty clear, by her reaction, that you found it.."
he nodded, his length beginning to grow visibly hard in his grey pants as he moved his hand to cover it, watching while i touch myself before him.
"and if you want, you could always finger a girl, or eat her out, at the same time." i say nervously, while i look up to meet our eyes, "or, you could lick her clit, and flick it with your tongue."
"i.. i'll try.." he leans closer, and moves his body to where he laid on his flat stomach, pulling himself closer to where his mouth was inches away from my entrance, as his long, pink tongue slid into my folds and he began to explore my insides.
my eyes widen and i arch my back a little at the sensation, my finger pressing harder against my clit. "see.. you're not bad at this, at all.. oh, god..."
xavier reached over to hold each of my legs while he pushed his tongue in deeper, before he pulled away to suck on my outer folds, pressing a gentle kiss against the entrance before looking up to me, almost for approval.
"was that okay?" he said softly, after pulling himself back up.
"yes." i look down, pulling my finger away from my clit. "now you try there.." i gesture, sitting up and moving a bit closer to him.
he sat up and moved his finger inside of me gently, penetrating me just enough to dampen his digit before moving it upwards, feeling my skin before it meets the bud, and lightly pressing against it, beginning to rub. i moan softly, nodding with a soft smirk as i look up to him. "you got it, xavier."
he smiled softly, leaning closer to meet his lips against mine, kissing me softly while he stimulated me. i pulled away to look down at the bulge in his pants before gently taking his hand off me.
"okay.. now watch me, again." i instruct, watching him nod as he sat back once more. "i'm gonna cum for you."
i sit back again on the headboard, spreading my legs further and moving my middle and ring fingers inside of my folds, beginning to finger myself before the boy while he sat back, sighing heavily as he watched my body react to each thrust of my fingers.
"fingering feels good, but typically, a girl is going to cum better, or easier, from clit stimulation. obviously, when you're having sex, it's going to a little harder to rub her clit, but it's not impossible. that'll just make it feel better for the both of you, if you do.."
i use my free hand to slide my tank top up, exposing my breasts while the shirt rest above them, my nipples hardening at the cold air and the overall stimulation before me.
"have you ever done any sort of nipple play?" i ask, watching him shake his head 'no'. "come try."
he once again leans closer, closing his eyes as he attaches his soft lips to my left bud, sucking softly while his hand reaches over to hold my right breast, and after a few moments, began to play with my nipple. i moan, moving my hand out of my folds and up to my clit once more, rubbing aggressively to pick up my pace, and lower my stamina, as i begin to approach my orgasm.
xavier pulled away again, and he leaned down to my entrance, with a clear sense of confidence washing over him, as he slid two fingers in, pumping them in and out of me. i looked up to him, our eyes locked and mouths both hung open.
"yeah, just like that.. that feels really good, xav.." i blush, nodding with approval to him as he smiled confidently.
i close my eyes as my moans grow louder and louder, feeling his lips press against my neck while he curls his fingers inside me, and i yelp, my walls tightening around him and my climax reaching upon it, as fluids begin to drip out of my walls and onto the blue bedsheets, soaking his fingers in the process.
he pulls his digits out of me and looks to me with a flustered face, a small grin forming on his lips.
"w-wow.." he said quietly, watching as i began to pull my top down. "that was.. uhm.. amazing, and very helpful.."
i lean up to peck his lips softly. "feel better about pleasuring a woman now?" i tease, weakly moving my exhausted legs to grab my underwear and shorts, slipping them both on.
he nods, sitting up and attempting to disregard the slight erection that was still in his pants. "much better.. you are just so amazing, and beautiful.. and so, just comforting.."
"oh stop." i smirk, reaching over him to grab the laptop. i open it and click on the essay before handing it back to him. he sat down next to me and sighed, resting his head on my own. "guess you're my tutor for two different things, huh?"
"don't get too ahead of yourself." i laugh, watching him pull up the prompt once more on the screen. "all i did was teach you the basics. i think the rest you may have to figure out yourself."
he smiled at me before leaning down to peck my lips. "maybe. but i wouldn't complain if you taught me how to do a bit more."
"i'll think about it. let's finish this paper first and we'll go from there." i kiss him once again, before glancing back at the screen and putting my focus towards what i originally came here for, no matter how hard it was to stop thinking about what it would feel like to have xavier thorpe between my legs right now, again.
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bangaveragewhitewine · 9 months
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Clean Slate
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Steve Harrington X Reader 
It’s summer in Chicago, 1994. Being single in the city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You feel less strong single independent woman, and more like the lonely teenager who floated between friend groups. A blind date with a familiar face might just be the clean slate you didn’t know you needed.
Clean Slate playlist
Word count: 2.3k
Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties. Some mentions of anxiety and feeling lonely. Other than that, flirting. Steve being dreamy. No use of Y/N and the reader is referenced as a being woman.
Author’s Note: Being in your late twenties sucks, huh? I’m just getting back into writing again, inspired by the amazing authors who have made me fall in love with Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson again and again. I had such fun writing this and fucking around on Canva 💖
Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.
(divider by me, that’s why it sucks)
edit: Read Pinch Me a follow up to Clean Slate
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This was a bad idea. With every step you took from the subway, your desire to be back on your sofa eating pasta in your pyjamas grew more and more. A blind date? You definitely hadn’t been in your right mind when you agreed to this. Thinking back on it, when had being wine-drunk with your best friend ever cultivated a good decision?
After a steady stream of bad first dates, disappointing situationships and one walking red-flag you had called your boyfriend for eight months, Annie had finally taken pity on you and took charge of setting you up with someone. Over almost room-temperature white wine and an empty pizza box, she had made you pinky-promise to trust her as Mermaids played in the background. She couldn’t stand any longer to see you cry over preppy yuppies and wannabe grungers who only wanted to meet you to hook-up or string you along (alongside several other women who also deserved better). She had seen how deep it cut when you were stood up, left waiting by the phone by some mediocre poser who had already moved on. Slurring her words, Annie had held your tear-stained face and told you that you were wasting the best years of your life on idiots who stamped on your big heart and dimmed your light. Bolstered by her words, and more wine, you ended up dancing and scream-singing in your little studio apartment to a mixtape of songs from your college days and fell asleep on your second-hand sofa with your pinky fingers linked.
A few days later, after the hangover had subsided and you had done your best to forget your tearful confession of just how lonely you felt in the city, Annie called you up to ask if you were free on Friday night. Thinking another girl’s night was on the cards, you said yes. 
“Great. I have someone I want you to meet, he works with my brother. Does Hardy’s at 8 work for you?” 
The pinky-promise with your best friend since college could categorically not be taken back and so you found yourself reluctantly agreeing. As long as he wasn’t a murderer, or as emotionally unavailable as your last three suitors, how bad could it be? 
“Well when you fall in love and have beautiful babies, just remember who set you up, m’kay?” Annie had said when you called her up, considering cancelling. “You’re going!”
After going away to college from your small town upbringing, a move to Chicago was supposed to be the ultimate dream, but inside you still felt like the awkward teenager from Hawkins, Indiana. The outsider at every party, every hang-out at the mall or the arcade. The add-on to every friend group who said ‘you can come with us if you want to’ instead of an actual invitation. When you called your mom on the phone, she insisted that you had it all, that you were a real modern woman. She had been married and was already a mother at your age, and she was proud that you had the opportunity to be the bright independent woman you always wanted to be. It just didn’t seem so shiny now that it was your reality. 
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With the bar in your sights, you took a deep breath and swiped the tiny beads of sweat that gathered over the bridge of your nose. Summer in the city was heavy with humidity; you could feel the lining of your long slip dress clinging to your thighs, riding up under the delicate black floral. The claw-clip holding up your hair was truly doing the lord's work, keeping your freshly washed blow-dry blind date-ready. 
You knew very little about your date - his name was Steve, he was a teacher with great hair. He was going to be wearing a blue shirt and would be on the lookout for the girl with the pink rose embroidered on her bag. Your entire outfit had been put together around the one piece you loved that could be picked out in the Friday night crowd of the bar. Classic first date; Annie was committed to helping you live the rom-com fantasy you deserved.
Des’ree’s words of wisdom, and your best friend’s blunt insistence that you were a hot bitch, echoed in your head as you took a moment to compose yourself and let your hair down over your clammy neck. Inside the bar was barely any cooler as you made your way through the stragglers from after-work drinks mingling with those who were just starting their night out. The desire to go home had never been stronger as you propped yourself by the jukebox and waited, trying not to cringe as you thought about what you looked like to the couples and groups of friends drinking and laughing around you. It felt far too similar to the house parties of your youth. What if he didn’t turn up? Or worse, what if he did and turned on his heel after realising you were his date? What could be best described as an overwhelming feeling of dread crept over you as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying not to look too eager for the mystery that was Steve. 
Hearing your name brought you back to reality and out of your doom-spiral. As if. Steve Harrington was making his way over, the crowd parting with ease for him. Surely you had hit your head and this was some sort of dream…
“Hey…” A smile crept onto his face as his eyes darted between you and the beacon that was the rose embroidered on your bag. A city of millions and your blind date was the boy who had defended your honour at the age of five years old after Daniel P. pushed you in the playground; Steve had called him a ‘butthead’ and told Mrs Holland on the other boy.
You hoped that the dim light of the bar hid your pink cheeks as Steve stopped in front of you, looking even more dreamy than he had at junior prom. The blue shirt made him glow golden, fitting just right over the breadth of his shoulders. His hair was coiffed perfectly, defying humidity and gravity and giving him a few more inches of height. 
“Steve..” You couldn’t help a shaky laugh as the realisation washed over you both. It was easier to tune out the rest of the bar as he pulled you in for a quick but tight hug. You could have sighed at the feeling of his arms around you; you might have done just that, melted into a puddle of a girl had he not peeled away to get a good look at you. An irritating little pocket of anxiety in your chest could hardly believe he remembered you. 
“Nice bag. I think you’re the girl I’ve been looking for.” 
You felt like you could swoon. Or moan. Steve Harrington was effortlessly charming, more so than when he reigned in Hawkins High. Losing his crown had humbled him, that and working retail in your dead-end hometown. He looked genuinely pleased to see you, someone familiar in a city of strangers. You feel your teeth sink into the dusty-rose of your lip as you smile. 
“Thanks.” You will your voice not to shake as your heart pounds hard. “Annie told me you had great hair. I should’ve known it was going to be you.”
His laugh is soft, but you can still hear it over the music and voices in the bar. With one huge gentle hand on your elbow, he steers you to the bar to order drinks, standing close enough to see the sprinkling of moles and freckles on his neck and cheek and the hair peeking from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. Steve Harrington was a man now, all grown up. 
“She did, huh? I think I’ve met her once, I work with her brother,” Steve edges closer so that you could hear him. “How long’ve you been in Chicago?” 
“She didn’t even know you were ‘The Hair’.” You smiled and felt the weight of his gaze; you couldn’t ignore the sparkling feeling in your tummy. “Um I left Hawkins in ‘86, went to college in Indy. Moved here in ‘93.” Steve leans in to hear you, nodding as you count up the years in your head. “You’re a teacher? So are you more Scott Clark or Coach Kelly?” 
Steve laughs again and shakes his head as he pays for your drinks. “Neither. Maybe a little Clarke, without the sweater vests. I teach third grade so they would definitely roast me if I did.” He runs a hand through his hair, smirking, “But I do coach basketball after school too, you got me.” He spots a seat and steers you to a little high-top table, pulls out the stool for you before sitting opposite, visibly relaxed. There’s something about how you have bypassed the awkward introductions part of the date that makes you feel a little more at ease. But this is Steve Harrington. Any minute now he’ll make a polite excuse to leave after remembering how bookish and weird you were in school. 
Except he doesn’t. 
“I still can’t believe it’s you. You look great,” he says, not trying to flirt too hard. Steve is looking at you like he’s happy you’re here. Happy you’re his date. 
“I can’t believe you remember me. I was.. so boring,” you laugh at your own expense before sipping your drink, looking at the ice clicking against the glass. 
“Quiet maybe. Not boring though,” he ducked his head, making you look into his golden brown eyes. “Hey. Clean slate? That’s why we left Hawkins. If you can forget how much of an ass I was in high school, I can forget…” Steve pauses and hums as he thinks back. 
Forgettable. Unremarkable. That’s how you felt, blending into the background everywhere you went. You hadn’t been a cheerleader, or even a band-geek. Yeah you went to parties, but usually left early. You didn’t monologue on the lunchroom tables or get detention, and in the one play you auditioned for, they asked you to paint the sets - you couldn’t fade any further into the background if you tried. 
And Steve had never been an ass to you; his kingly confidence had burned fast and bright in the school halls until his fall from grace. He had always been polite, kind even; he asked to borrow a pen a few times, scolded Carol Perkins when she pushed past you and made you drop your lunch one time. He did just enough on a group project on Macbeth to keep him on your good side…
“Huh.” Steve frowns, looking a little fond as you snap yourself back to reality. “I can’t remember anything embarrassing about you. All good.” 
Your cheeks flamed and you couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled up from your chest. “Smooth, Harrington. Wow, remind me how you’re single?” He was definitely just being nice. You could remind him about the time you drank way too much peach schnapps and lemonade at Tammy Thompson’s 18th birthday and had to be picked up by your mom, or when you said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’ in ninth grade - both of which still haunted you when you tried to fall asleep. But Steve just grins back at you. 
“I mean it! You had that pink scrunchie permanently attached to your body, and a little snort laugh. Totally cute, not embarrassing at all.” He stays smiling as he sips his beer, seeing how you’re stunned that he remembers. Not smug, totally hot and he’s not even trying. You’re aghast.
“You remember my fucking scrunchie…?”  “If you tell me you still have it…” “Steve, it’s literally on my bedside table.”
Steve’s laughter makes you join in, snorting involuntarily as your shoulders shake, which just makes him laugh more. It's been a long time since a date made you laugh like this, let alone feel like you’re floating. 
When you both settle, Steve reaches over and takes your hand. You remember how you had wondered how holding his hand might feel when you saw him walk Nancy Wheeler to class way back when. It felt better than you ever dreamed it might. 
“Hey. Lemme tell you something, when I saw you over there I wanted to come right up and say hi. And then I saw your bag…it made my week.” 
Butterflies soar in your belly and you feel your cheeks heat up again. “Steve..”
“But just know, I thought you were cute in school. I just.. had my own shit going on and I was pretty shitty for a few years. So if you can give a reformed asshole a chance, I’d love to hear about how you’ve been, and actually get to know you.”
Steve squeezes your hand as CeCe Peniston sings Finally to the bar. The song totally sinks in now as you squeeze Steve’s hand in return, making him beam a smile your way. 
“Okay, Clean slate. But Steve? I totally had a crush on you. Even when you were doing keg stands and goofing around in math.” You make him smile even brighter, even as he shakes his head. 
“So cute. Damn, you’re definitely trouble.”
“Guess you’ll have to find out.” You raise a brow and sip your drink again, feeling less anxious now. The drink helped, but knowing that you could make an impression on Hawkins High royalty was certainly bolstering. 
“One question. Very important.” You straighten up before leaning toward him, almost conspiratorially. You don’t miss how his eyes dip to your lips before meeting your gaze. 
“Go for it.” “Are you sure about the sweater vests? I think you could really make them work.”
Now it’s your turn to grin into your glass as Steve throws his head back. “Oh I’m so in trouble with you.” 
He lifts his glass, meeting you in the middle to clink it against yours with a signature Steve Harrington wink. Maybe something good could come from a wine-soaked pinky promise.
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bonus Steve inspo for the girlies who made it to the end - ily💖
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transformation4life · 10 months
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Protein Makes the Body Grow Bigger
Suggested by: @bigwishes
The man at the gym promised instant results. The man promised you would grow beyond belief and those promises came true at a cost...
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You used to be a scrawny young man wanting to get big for such a long time. You idolized the strong men you saw on tv.
"I wanna be just like them!" You said thinking it'd be easy.
Quite the contrary it was quite hard. Your entire life had to adapt to the challenge of becoming big and you were not handling it well. That's when HE arrived.
"Hey bro you look like you need help there," It was someone that looked to be a gymbro.
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You politely said no but the gymbro continued to pester you.
"I got the thing just you need bro... Come on...." The gymbro pulled out a container of something called "Big Protein".
"Instant results bro...." The gymbro leaned really close to you and gave a look that almost scared you a bit.
You wanted him to go away so you promptly grabbed the container so he could go away. You opened the container as the smell of protein overcome you. It was quite euphoric, but now's not the time for that. You used the provided scooper to scoop the protein into the bottle you've been using with some milk and shook the contained substance. After a couple seconds you gulped a bit of the protein infused drink ending the experience with an "ah". The gymbro was gone and you were alone in the gym. Then without warning you could feel your body heating up. In seconds you were gaining huge amounts of muscle. The drink worked?!?!?!?
Meaty pecs, large pythons for arms, shredded arms, thick thighs, a manly beard, a hot ass, and thighs to die for along with big hands and feet. You couldn't believe when you lifted your tank top in front of the mirror as a tattoo appeared on your right arm.
You were astounded the drink actually worked. You looked completely different than who you just a minute ago! You looked at the protein container and smirked.
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"You and I are pals now~" Your new deepened voice spoke to the container.
From that day forth you would consume the protein powder at least once a day. You would get mildly bigger and bigger with each consumption. Your clothes were getting hard to fit into, but you managed for now. With that new body you enlisted into bodybuilding competitions to show off to the masses your new physique and you were rocking it just look at you!
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Months passed like this with your new life and your clothes were becoming harder and harder to fit in. An entire pile of ripped clothes began to stockpile all across your living space. The only things that fit were the posers you would use for competitions. That didn't stop you from consuming that entire container of protein was empty and not a crumb was left. At that point it was final the only clothes fitting you were your posers. You looked at the mirror in your room as it set in that this is your wardrobe till the end of your days.
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Even when you tried to stop eating the protein your bulky physique never wavered even when you scarfed down tons of fatty foods if you could even enter any with the strict No shirt no service policy. Competitions were the only place where you felt like you belonged now. This is your life now and there's no going back.
The life you wanted but to an insane degree...
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illicit affairs
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(pt 2 of my self proclaimed taylor swift verse)
content: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v,  unprotected sex! (be smart babies) more semi-public sex because you and matty are insatiable, alcohol consumption, more miscommunication and an obviously jealous matty and reader. 
matty is sick to his stomach.
well not literally. he���s a bit dramatic in that sense; as he’s been told multiple times by his mates, family members (both close and estranged), the internet, his fans, that random cashier at tesco, and you. god, how all of his thoughts turn back to you. he’s intoxicated by you, and can feel your presence everywhere he goes. and now, he’s forced to watch you curl up with some poser on this god-forsaken red carpet.
he knows it's all a stunt for the movie you’re in. you had mentioned it the last time you were in town, almost as if you were warning him in a sense seeing as he and george were helping with the soundtracking and all. you were adamant that he not be blindsided. you didn’t have to do that. you weren’t his. he wasn’t yours. it was as simple as that.
knowing that it's all a false narrative doesn’t dull the ache in his chest as he watches you wrap yourself around your co-star. you’re kissing his cheek and beaming up at him. it feels like a knife directly to his gut, but also sends fire running through his veins. it's relentless. over and over. his stomach is twisting and he very well could be sick.
that’s not the way to make an entrance to a movie premiere, though. and he’s sure that the interviewer would rather him not empty the contents of his stomach on her designer heels. so he’s chalking it all up to him being dramatic, and he tries his best not to think about the way your co-star (what was his name? will? sam? not that he even cares, he just wants to be cordial when you inevitably introduce him.), is dipping his head down into your neck and whispering something in your ear. whatever he’s said sends you into a fit of laughter, giggles ringing through the air. matty’s gut binds in jealousy. and it is sick the way his subconscious reminds him that you’re not his. you never were.
those late nights in parking lots were a thing of the past, small little luminescent moments showcasing what could have been. what should have been? he feels the bile rise to his throat as you and what’s-his-name begin walking towards where the group is situated on the carpet. he tenses.
it isn’t until he hears the interviewer welcoming the both of you over that he turns his head up to meet your eyes. you’re a vision in anything you wear, he’s certain of it, but this dress looks as if it was made for you. it hugs your body in ways that he can only dream of doing himself.
“hi everyone,” you breathe out shakily, a small giddy laugh falling from your lips. the guys boast their own “hellos”. all except matty who stands there, eyes having a hard time moving from yours. he’s going to chalk it all up to nerves and red-carpet fright when the guys give him grief over it later. but in reality, he can’t even think straight. not when you’re standing here, looking like that and wrapped around your co-star's arm like a pair of old-hollywood lovers. he’s nauseated.
“it's so wonderful to see you both! how are you guys feeling making your red carpet debut as a couple?” the interviewer is beaming. but all you can focus on is matty. he’s so close to you. you can smell the remnants of a cigarette and his aftershave in the air. the suit he’s wearing looks perfectly tailored and he’s got his typical sunglasses situated on his nose. he looks amazing. but all the radio silence is confusing following you telling him about the stunt relationship you were entering into.
you let your costar, josh, take the lead on answering the questions. the small shooters of alcohol you both downed on the ride over to the theatre had made it easier to pretend to be a couple, and they sure as hell make it easier to be this close to matty and not be able to do anything about it. josh’s arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist, and matty’s eyes are still burning a hole into your face. you would feel his stare anywhere and it takes everything in you to not do something about the way your stomach is burning with pent-up desire for him. you’re supposed to be mad at him and loved up on your costar, but you know deep down that the way you and matty are looking at each other is going to raise the eyebrows of those with trained eyes. it’ll be plastered on some gossip twitter account by tomorrow morning.
that’s why you two usually left your illicit affairs behind closed doors and under the covers or in desolate parking lots at odd hours of the night. places where you would lie to your friends about your locations, where no cameras could pierce through and disrupt the haven you two had made for each other. you know you’re making out your four am “you up?” texts between you and matty out to be a lot more romantic than they are. but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to act out the unspeakable things you’ve been thinking.
when the hustle and bustle of the red carpet is over and the movie’s end credits have finally echoed out throughout the theatre, you find yourself tucked into the corner of the after-party. you’ve been fielding questions about your newfound “relationship” with josh all night, slightly irritated that no one’s cared to ask much about the movie or your part in it. its tiring and leaves you feeling unsettled. all of the happiness you’ve felt since walking in here has almost left your body, especially as your trained eyes are keyed in on a certain lead singer chatting up a cocktail waitress.
your heeled foot is tapping on the floor almost impatiently. you watch indignantly as the two of them laugh and smile at each other. it sends a chill down your spine as your eyes bore into the side of matty’s head. there’s venom in your stare, and you’re out for some form of vengeance. his eyes drift over towards you, a firm smirk on his plush lips, before he’s diving back into the conversation with the woman in front of him. you don’t even realize the way your manicured nails are digging into the sensitive skin at your palms until a sharp sting shoots from those nerves up to your brain. you look down and stare at the indents on your skin, huffing to yourself.
two can play that game, but you’re not even sure you want to play anymore.
you’re off to find solace in someplace else, any place else. figure crossing in his line of sight. you feel his eyes follow you. the air shifts and there’s an unspoken yet undeniable understanding between the two of you. you watch from your peripheral as he excuses himself from the conversation. your pace quickens as you make sharp turns and brash decisions that lead you to the long, empty hallway near the lavatories.
matty is hot on your heels and you’re both giggling to each other like two people who had gotten away with murder. you can’t even bring yourself to care that someone might have seen you both leave together. it takes only a second before he’s got you pressed up against the wall directly next to the bathroom. his lips crash into yours and you let out a low moan of contentment, arms looping loosely around his neck as his own feverish hands begin exploring your body over your dress. he’s got you right where he wants you; pressed up against him and feeling you up through that dress that he’s been fantasizing taking you out of all goddamned night.
“fucking need you so bad. can you feel it?” he groans against your lips, hips pressing into yours.
you’re nodding, grinding your hips back into his. his hips stutter a bit against yours, teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging at it. the whine you let out is sinful music to his ears and he’s willing to risk it all and just take you in the middle of the hallway.
“just fuck me already,” you purr against his lips. he’s reluctantly pulling away from your lips, pressing a soft kiss to your nose as he drags you into the empty bathroom.
the door is locked behind him.
and that’s when you pounce. your lips are melded with his again, fingers combing through his hair. you tug gently at it, wanting nothing more than to `illicit some kind of reaction from him. you get what you were after, his lips vibrating against your own. his nails dig into your hips through the thin material of your dress.
he’s growing impatient though, and the time is ticking. people are going to notice your absence. his lithe fingers trail up your thighs and then your torso. you’re shuddering against him. finally, he unties the straps of your dress and pulls down the top. matty pulls away again. your lips are chasing after his, a soft laugh coming from deep in his chest.
he sighs at the sight of you bare breasts, head dipping down to press his lips to the soft skin languorously. matty’s lips wrap around one of your nipples, his free hand coming up to cup and pinch at your other breast. he sucks gently on the erect bud, teeth grazing ever so slightly. you’re dizzy and it feels like someone’s raised the temperature of the room about ten degrees since you both entered. you moan out, albeit a bit loud for your location, soaking in the pleasure that’s finally radiating through your veins.
your own hands get busy reaching down and undoing his belt. you make quick of the button of his trousers, reaching up to lick at your hand before you’re dipping it below the waistband of his boxers. your fingers curl around the base of his cock. he all but shudders at the feeling, a low throaty moan reverberating over your skin with each stroke. matty’s eyes shift up hazily to meet yours. you’re sure you could come on the spot from that look alone. his eyes are half-lidded, pupils are blown out with lust. he pulls back from your chest after one last nip to your tender nipple.
“need to be inside of you,” his words stumble out of his lips, hips bucking into your hand that’s still working over his cock. your thumb swipes over the sensitive tip and he all but loses it. he growls, hoisting you over his shoulder and shuffling the two of you toward the marble countertop. it’s a beautiful piece, and he’s about to desecrate you on it.
your hands grab at his boxers, shoving the material down. matty’s pushing the material of your dress up past the curvature of your ass, fingers dragging the crotch of your panties to the side. he firmly grasps the base of his cock in his hands, letting the tip drag up and down your slick folds. he plunges himself into you with little to no warning. a loud moan falls from your lips, you’re grabbing onto his shoulders.
“gotta be quiet, baby. don’t want anyone to come find us, do we?”
his lips attach themselves to your neck almost immediately. your head is rolling back, thumping against the mirror as he sucks and nips and soothes the sensitive area at the base of your throat. he’s everywhere; groaning against your skin with his arms holding you close to him. he’s inside of you. he’s intoxicating, more so than any cocktail you could have binged on that night.
“you... fuck.. you didn’t answer my calls,” you murmur out, biting back moan after moan as his hips slam into yours harder. you know its not the place or the time for this. but this is the one instance where you’ve got him right where you want him. he isn’t about to just leave you there. at least you hope he won’t. it's the first thing you’ve uttered to him other than the occasional whimper of his name since entering the bathroom. your hands find purchase on the edge of the counter, white knuckles as you grip hard onto it in an attempt to not fly into the wall behind you.
“didn’t have anything to say,” he scoffs.
“you always have something to say,” you retort.
“are we going to converse about our lack of communication or am i allowed to continue fucking you within an inch of your life?”
“is that what you’re doing?”
“brat.” he all but growls out. his hands grip your hips, small crescent indents left in the wake of his nails. matty’s thrusts increase in intensity and speed and your rebuttal is caught in your throat in an almost too-loud whine. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back. he’s shifting his hips up a bit and that’s when he finds it. you know for a fact that he knows your body better than yourself, and light years better than anyone else you’ve ever been with. your eyes are rolling back into your head, its hard to ignore the smirk that seems permanently etched onto his lips; swollen and rouged from your own doing.
“thats the spot, isn’t it? hm? tell me how it feels, baby,” he’s grunting and groaning in your ear. matty’s tempting you, testing you. a lewd moan falls from your lips as he nips at your earlobe, “hm? didn’t quite hear you, baby. c’mon, let me hear it.” matty slams his hips into yours, his thrusts punctuating his words.
“feels so good. you’re so good,” you all but wail at him. the loud shriek that leaves your lips is enough to fuel him on. the tip of his cock is piercing that spot over and over again, leaving matty as the only thing on your mind. he’s all consuming with his eyes locked on yours and his hand coming up to caress your cheek, a soft comparison to the onslaught of his hips rutting against you.  
matty brings a hand between you both, his thumb seeking solace on your clit as he grins down at you, “that wasn’t so hard, huh?”
you’re trying your best to glower at him, but the way he’s filling you, the way he’s touching you, you can hardly even catch your breath. if it wasn’t for his other hand gripping onto your hip, you’re sure you would be thrashing around underneath him. the coil in the pit of your stomach is getting tighter and tighter and you feel as if you’re about to burst. he’s all-encompassing, everywhere all at once. without so much as a warning to matty, or yourself for that matter, the coil breaks and you’re coming around him. hands reaching up to grip onto his shoulders as you lose yourself in the pleasure, loud moans falling from your lips.
a shocked sob falls from matty’s lips as his eyes rake over your body, watching as you arch and moan and whine. he’s not sure he’s seen anything as beautiful as the sight laid out in from of him. his hips stutter as he continues drilling into you. his thumb doesn’t halt on your clit and you’re pretty sure you’re seeing stars as you convulse around him. the pleasure is white hot, searing through your veins. you feel the coil wind up tight in the pit of your stomach again, unbashful whines of pleasure falling from your lips once more.
“think you got one more in there for me, pretty baby?” his unoccupied hand comes up to cup at your cheek, the complete antithesis of what he’s perpetrating between your legs. you can tell he’s close by the way his voice tolls throughout the room; sounding completely strained as he just barely can hold back his own inevitable albeit pleasurable end. matty’s working you harder and faster than before, chasing after your second climax before he’s even had a chance at his own. the epitome of a modern-day gentleman.
“fuck, please,” you whimper out, feeling yourself teeter over the edge again. he’s watching you, mouth agape, and allowing his sinister cries of pleasure to escape now. you’ve both got no care in the world, the only thing stuck in your mind is the animalistic drive to fall into your pleasure once more.
“give it to me, baby. wanna feel you again. c’mon,” he’s practically whining as he drills into you. you’re gripping hard onto his shoulders, head rolling back, and barring your neck to him. the desire for him to lean forward and liter your neck with the remnants of him is strong, but he knows the repercussions of his actions for the both of you.
the fucked out moans coming from your throat send him into an indulgent fury. he wants nothing more than to feel you convulse and writhe around him. if he had it his way, he would never leave this spot; cock piercing through your cunt with such fervor. he loves watching you come, loves making you come.
“i’m right there,” you plead, nails digging into his skin. he feels the bite from your nails through the material of his dress shirt and it only pushes him to practically drag you down onto his cock, over and over and over and over and-
the pleasure rips through your veins, it's stronger than the last time. you pleasure-filled sobs of his name are the only thing that can be heard, aside from the slapping of skin as he works you through this blissful climax. he’s not far behind you, hips coming to a faltering stop as he spills inside of you with a loud cry.
you’re both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling and sticky with sweat and god only knows what else. your body is shuddering with the aftershocks. his forehead presses down onto yours and you can’t help but smile up at him through baited breaths. matty returns the gesture, leaning down to smash his lips into yours. the kiss is more controlled then the last one, there’s something more behind it. something you can’t quite put your finger on.
after you both wordlessly fix your clothes and clean up the mess you’ve made, it feels a bit tense between you. like all of that pining and desperation, all of the pleasure and satiation has led to its climax coming straight for the both of you. there’s so much you want to say to him, so much lingering in the sticky air. but you bite your tongue.
little do you know that he’s teetering right on the edge of falling from this mercurial high you’ve entranced him in. matty wants nothing more than to expose his true feelings to you, but much like yourself, he stops before he can. leaving you with one last, lingering and addictive kiss before he’s opening the door for you and letting you out into the much cooler hallway.
not much is spoken as you return to the main affair.
the party has begun to wind down quite a bit and you’re about to ask matty what his plans are later when you realize his looming presence is absent from next to you. you blink back the tears that begin to sting at the sides of your eyes. you’re fighting back the impending thoughts in your brain as you walk yourself over to josh who’s just as much ready to head out as you. part of you wants to find matty, tell him how much it hurt to be abandoned like that. but you know this wasn’t his thing, or at least you assumed. from the first longing stare across the room, to the most recent illicit meeting behind the bathroom door, you’re inevitably his. you can’t tell him though, because there’s no way he feels the same. you’re left a godforsaken mess with erratic thoughts and quiet sobs falling from your mouth, arm curled around josh’s as he leads you outside.
matty’s watching from the corner of the room, nursing a drink that he has no interest in consuming. he’s going to see the pictures of you leaving with josh tomorrow, knowing fully well that only minutes prior he had you contorted on top of a bathroom counter and writhing for him. he’s pretty sure his cum is still dripping down your thigh. the smug thoughts don’t dull the ache he has in his chest though. no matter how many times he reminds himself that the relationship between you and your co-star is contractual, it doesn’t help. because he’s then reminded of your radiant, effervescent being and knows just how easy it is to actually fall in love with you. 
he’s nothing more than an idiotic mess when it comes to you.
you see, that’s the problem with illicit affairs. they always leave someone, in this case, two people, wanting more and ruining themselves a million little times.
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Sealed With A Kiss - Charles Leclerc x Reader
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Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader
Word Count - 1.6k
Content Warning - References to death
Synopsis - Charles had a bad day, but you come to him with an offer he simply can’t refuse.
Author’s Note - It’s been a while, huh? Honestly I wasn’t feeling so inspired but now I’m back in the swing of things and here with some spooky fics for the Halloween season! I’m such a Halloween girlie (gn) and I’ve wanted to write something like this for a while. So stay tuned for more spooky fics coming soon!
You approach him with tenacity in your step; the man sat alone at the bar, an empty glass beside his head that rested forlornly in his own arms. He was perfect, just what you needed.
You pull out the stool beside him and take a seat, tapping your talon-like red nails on the bar to attract the attention of the bartender.
“I’ll take a white russian, and another of whatever he’s having.” You say in a silky tone.
The bartender nods and busies himself with preparing the drinks, and you turn your attention to your new depressed drinking buddy.
“Cheer up, darling. One can never be so miserable when someone buys you a drink. It’s simply not polite.” You say, and he looks up at you, taking in your appearance.
You didn’t look like the other patrons of the bar. Most of them insisted on displaying their wealth, showing it off in tasteless and gaudy garments and jewellery that only served as a status symbol and nothing more. But you sat there, understated, in a simple black cocktail dress, with a ruby necklace resting around your neck. Somehow you seemed even more expensive than all the other posers in the bar, you didn’t feel the need to flash your cash, and Charles couldn’t help but be intrigued by you.
“Sorry, I, uh… had a bad day.” He says. “Thank you, though, for the drink.”
Your red lips curl into a smile, and you nod in appreciation.
“Bad day? Care to share your woes with with a complete stranger? A problem shared is a problem halved, or so they say.”
“I suppose. Uh, where to start? It’s my job, I guess. Things haven’t been going so well and my dream seems to be falling further and further out of reach, no matter how hard I try.” He says with a sigh.
You raise your eyebrow at him as the bartender returns with your drinks, and you pause for a moment to take a sip.
“That must be rather hard to deal with, yes? The human mind is a funny thing, often it is its own biggest enemy. You create aspirations and goals for yourself, and as you fail to achieve them, the battle with your mind only becomes more intense, distracting you from your true goal and rendering you further from ever achieving it.”
Charles takes a sip of his drink, “yes, I suppose so. We fight our own demons so much that we get distracted from the real fight.”
You chuckle slightly at his comment, and he looks at you in confusion.
“Then perhaps you should stop fighting those demons? Embrace them, maybe, listen to them.” You say, and you take a small pause to take another sip of your drink. “I think I could help you, Charles Leclerc.”
Charles looks at you, his eyes wide. “You know who I am?”
“I know of you, yes. And I think that I could help you achieve those dreams of yours. But I would require something in return.” You say with a sly smile.
The background noise of the bar suddenly falls silent, and Charles looks around to notice that everyone else around him had disappeared. He looks back at you, only to find that you, too, had disappeared.
“I suppose you would like to know the conditions of my deal.” You say, appearing from thin air behind the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to top up Charles’ drink.
“Who… who are you?” He asks, and you smile at him once again, your eyes becoming black for just a second, before flashing back to their usual colour so quickly that Charles wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not.
“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” He asks, and you chuckle.
“Darling, I’m not just a demon… I’m the demon.” You respond.
You appear behind him and tap him on the shoulder with your sharp red nails, and he jumps, turning to face you.
“The name bestowed upon me by Lord Lucifer himself was Mephistopheles, however, unlike many of my demonic counterparts, I have elected to move with the times, so call me (y/n).” You say.
“Okay, (y/n).” Charles says, not looking entirely convinced by your existence.
“I have spent millennia assisting humans like yourself to achieve their dreams. Other demons will grant the wishes of any human who summons them at some dusty crossroads, but I am a little more… selective. The rewards I receive from these deals are much more satisfying.”
“The rewards?” Charles says, and you roll your eyes.
“Human souls.” You say, and Charles’ mouth drops open. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m a demon, not a witch, I’m not about to kidnap your firstborn or do anything else as grotesque. What in hell would I want with a human infant?”
“You want me to give you my soul?” Charles asks.
“Not immediately, no. The typical deal my kind offer to humans is ten years of life in which they experience no pain or suffering, either mentally or physically. We will fix whatever they require us to fix and they can live out those years the way they wish. And come the end, the demon will reap their soul and it provides them sustenance. However, due to my high status in hell, my deals work a little differently.” You say, and Charles looks at you, perplexed.
“I realise this is a lot to take in for a human. But I guarantee you that my offer is indeed worthwhile to you.” You say, and Charles suddenly appears as if deep in thought. It seemed that he was considering your offer.
“What is your offer?” He asks, and your red lips curl into a smile.
“A human soul like yours is worth far more to a demon than the usual soul. So I come to you with a greater deal. I will allow you to live out the entirety of your lifespan, in which you achieve that little dream of yours and live happily ever after. But when the time comes, I will reap your soul and consume it.” You say, and Charles looks rather confused.
“But that could be fifty or sixty years before you get your end of the deal?” He says, and you nod.
“When you’ve been alive for millennia, a single human lifespan feels like mere moments do to you. Trust me when I say, your soul is worth the wait.”
“How can I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain? You’re a demon, you could reap my soul right now and leave me dead in this bar.” Charles says.
“A demon can only reap a soul directly once the human has entered into a direct contract with them. Hell is, well, a bureaucratic hell.” You chuckle, “We are all bound to the contracts we sign, as are you humans. Once the contract is signed I have to deliver, and when you die, so will you.”
“This means I have no chance of getting into heaven, yes?” Charles says, and you roll your eyes.
“How many humans do you think actually make it to heaven? And even so, what makes you think that you’re destined for the pearly gates right now? I assure you, my deal will only serve to enhance your life, and yes, it does remove the infinitesimally small possibility that St. Peter might allow you entrance to that puritanically perfect borefest, but isn’t it worth the gamble? Is that minute chance of heaven really worth giving up everything you have ever dreamed of?” You say, resting your hands on his shoulders.
You lean into his ear ever so slightly, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you speak in a soft tone. “Don’t you want to be world champion? Don’t you want to bring pride to your family, your country, and your beloved team? Charles Leclerc deserves to be etched into the books of history as one of the greats, and I can make it happen. All you have to do, darling, is say the word.”
Charles turns towards you, his face practically touching yours as he speaks, “Yes. I want that.”
“Then allow me to give it to you.” You whisper, your eyes flickering into darkness once again. Charles can’t help but stare deeply into them. It was as if he could see into eternity itself, and he was truly captivated.
He nods, and you capture his lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. In that moment, you get a taste, your first taste of his pure and perfect soul, completely untouched by malice or hate. It was sweet, like ambrosia, and you felt a surge of strength and power run through your body as the contract was signed, binding the two of you eternally.
As you finally pull away, Charles finds himself once again alone amongst the excited conversations of the other patrons of the bar. There was no sign of you, besides the half empty White Russian on the counter, and his own glass, still filled with whiskey, the large ice cube slowly melting into the amber drink.
He quickly downs the beverage and slams his glass on the counter, before walking out of the bar with a sense of determination in his step. He no longer had to fight his inner demons, they didn’t matter anymore. He had a demon on his side now, and all he had to do was win, and in the end, that was all that truly mattered to him.
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