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predestinatos · 1 month

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you mean everything - MV1 ೀ⋆｡🌷

summary: max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.

tags: max verstappen x fem!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, max is so whipped, fluff, a bit angsty maybe?, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

notes: i've been writing (and thinking) so much about max... my period is coming please give me a break i'm sensitive. also would love to get some feedback if possible so i know if it's worth making a series out of this!!!!

"If you want to make it believable at least hold my hand" you half-whispered to Max, who was buttoning his blazer while getting out of the car, you behind him.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this with you" he said chuckling. His sweaty palm held yours tightly, and the feeling of it was odd. Knowing Max for so long meant that these romantic gestures felt almost cringeworthy to you both, and you both had to put up award winning performances every time you played this game.

The game in question being fake-dating. It started as a funny joke where you both thought it would be great to test out the Get A Champagne Bottle For Free At This Restaurant If You Propose theory (which worked, by the way). From then onwards, you used each other as dates whenever asked by annoying family members, creepy coworkers, or just because you felt like lying.

The talking wasn't hard - you both felt comfortable in that part, lying with words coming off almost dangerously natural - but when it came to acting the part, both of you felt awkward, like kids who found relationships absolutely repulsive.

This time, though, the performance would last longer than usual: it was a wedding. Max's friend's wedding. Max could've just gone along, or bring a friend (even you as a friend). Yet he had told his friend, after one too many shots on his Bachelor's Party, and after being chosen as The Guy Who'll Take the Longest to Settle, that he had, in fact, a girlfriend. His friends didn't believe him, so he showed a picture of you two together - a selfie really, nothing much. And they still said they didn't believe it. So here you are.

You couldn't blame him, even if you wanted to. You agreed to use each other as a fake partner for as long as you could in as many situations as required, although when it all started none of you ever thought it would lead to wedding attendances.

So now there you were, Max's hand on yours, entering the small church. His eyes locked with the groom, who waved and called for you to sit near the altar.

"So you ARE real" he said, nervousness laced in his voice even as he tried to lighten the mood himself. You giggled at the irony of it, nodding as you said your congratulations.

"Just wait until the guys see this" he continued gesturing towards the bench where 3 other men around his age sat. Men you had seen before in some Instagram pictures, men you spent the previous night trying to memorize basic information about so you didn't sound suspicious.

Max's hand now fell on your waist almost instinctively - it wasn't instinctively, he told himself once he noticed its positioning. And if it was, it was only because he took this so seriously, almost as a sort of method acting. Sitting down next to his friends, he noticed how all of them seemed surprised at your presence, and something like pride filled his chest. He loved winning, loved being right even if he was lying; but most especially, he loved how jealous other men seemed to be over the fact that he was (at least in their minds) dating you.

He couldn't deny - though he tried, really - that you two looked good together. His rougher features mixed with your softer ones gave you both an aura of near unreachability, which yes, was pretentious of him to think but he thought nevertheless.

The ceremony was quick and endearing, a smile spread across everyone's faces at the shared loved between the bride and the groom. As the crowd clapped, Max leaned into you, "don't tell me you're crying". "I am, just to think that I'll have to keep pretending to date YOU for the next 10 hours" you replied, his mocking smile recognizing the joke.

The reception hall was beautifully decorated with shades of soft green and violet orchids. Max tried not to think about how much it matched the shade of your dress, how you looked like you had come to life from a classical novel. He tried to feel like anyone but Mr. Darcy as you felt so much like Elisabeth Bennett to him.

Sitting down next to him, you found this part easier - mingling and socializing was something you enjoyed more than he did - especially with alcohol in the mix. It's a wedding, you thought; this is what weddings are for.

So you drank the wine with the main course and sipper champagne to celebrate and ordered a few cocktails when it was time to dance and talk - and you felt it on your body almost as much as you felt Max's hand occasionally sitting on your thigh, but not even close to how strongly you felt his thumb caress your skin as he did so. Truth was, he too was drunk; his eyes looked smaller and his cheeks were flushed, and the amount of times he ran a hair through his dirty blonde hair had caused it to look messier. As you looked at him, you felt he never looks as attractive as when he is like this - loose and carefree, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face when he notices people laugh at his joke.

"I have to admit I didn't think it was true" his friend said when Max left to go to the bathroom. He looked drunker than the two of you combined, his words hard to decypher, like a riddle. "He's been talking about you for months now and we never saw you for real so we thought you didn't exist" he laughed, and you laughed back before it registered.

"Months?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed yet attempting to remain composed. You shouldn't have asked it - a supposedly month old girlfriend wouldn't be surprised but you were his fake month old girlfriend and you weren't understanding it anymore.

"Yeah. He talks about you so much all the time I think even we started to date you" he laughed again, yet this time you didn't find the joke so funny. You were frozen in your seat, merely blinking as if trying to put the confusing puzzle together, the pieces not quite fitting the way you thought they would.

A touch on your shoulder unfroze you, almost like magic, like a disney film come to life. You turned around to find the groom, somewhat sober, smiling at you while also looking somewhat concerned. "He's calling for you... And he's also absolutely wasted" he said, pointing to the door of the hall.

"Shit" you cursed, getting up from your seat at a speed you couldn't believe, worry filling your heart, making you forget the conversation you were just having.

Opening the door to the garden outside, you found Max sitting down against the wall, shirt partly unbuttoned and disheveled hair. When he saw you, he grinned, such genuine happiness laced with tipsiness.

"Lightweight" you mocked as you crouched in front of him, trying to balance yourself on your heels, somehow managing it despite your own drunkness.

"You're laughing at my mis- Shit- my misery" his throat bobbed up and down, exaggerating his own agony with a hand on his chest and another on his forehead like a Shakespeare character.

"I have to admit it's quite fun sometimes" you bit your lip as you fixed his hair as best as you could, hands brushing through its soft, blonde mess.

"You're so– you're so sweet" he said, his words dragged and messy. He brought a beer bottle to his lips but you stopped him before any liquid touched them.

"I think that's enough of that for tonight" you grabbed it and placed it behind you, sitting in front of him.

"See now... Now you're being mean" his hand grabbed a strand of your hair and played with it softly as he pouted.

"Okay big boy I'm gonna get you some water" you say, getting up once again, yet his hand stops you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You looked at him, startled. His drunken state is visible, and it felt frustrating that you had to be the one sobering up for him. The music vibrated through the wall he leaned against, somehow tickling him, making him giggle.

"Stay," he managed to say, eyes half closed, "I'm so glad we're- Fuck things are spinning so much" his hands rushed to his eyes and his head hung low, "Ah fuck. I'm so glad we're datin- Fuck, no, oops-" he continued laughing despite how sick he felt, the whole situation sounding hilarious when filtered through alcohol.

You giggled along with him, mostly because you wanted to see if you could convince him to move, scared he might feel worse or pass out on the cold floor if he doesn't do so. "Fake dating. Fake dating, I know. I knowww" he continued, his words dragged and his finger pointing at you before poking your nose with such innocent sweetness you were taken aback.

"Max" you tried to sound more assertive but found it hard to do so, your own intoxicated state making the situation lighter than what it actually was. Your heart racing was a symptom of it, one you wouldn't feel if sobriety was an option, you thought. Max's eyes wouldn't seem to stare at you differently were he sober as well, and the way he scanned your features, his gaze staying on your lips for longer than expected, wouldn't affect you in the slightest had you not drank some alcohol.

"I like it when you say my name" he looked up at you innocently, pleading, almost.

"Want me to say it again?" you asked, smiling. You complied with these demands because you knew they were childish whims of an intoxicated man, his happiness a priority in times like these. Upon his nod, you started saying his name, half teasingly, half reassuringly, the leaves rustling in the garden behind you.

"Max... Max!! Max Max-"

He shouldn't. It would complicate things, and he liked when they were simple, clean and organized. He knew he shouldn't even when his whole vision spun and his brain convinced him that he should do things he would never do otherwise. But every time he refrained from saying something he would stumble across all his words and trip and fall and his head would only hurt more, and it seemed as if he could only focus if he kept listening to you and talking to you and looking at you.

The lights shone behind you in a way that made it feel as though he was dreaming, like you were a mirage, too good to be true. Maybe his friends were right - you weren't actually real. He wanted to be sure, in that moment. That you were real and that he wanted you as much as he thought. And though he shouldn't, though it was a terrible idea, he couldn't help but lean over to kiss you.

He tasted like champagne - bubbly and slightly sweet, his movements sloppy given his state, yet you couldn't help but drink it all in. Part of you - a big part - reciprocated the kiss, felt his fingers on the side of your neck, pulling you messily towards him, and tried to steady him, guiding him gently with your own lips.

It was odd, how this felt so right yet the fake hand holding didn't. As Max kissed you, that thought entered his clouded mind - did it feel wrong because it was fake and this was real? Your skin felt so soft, so much softer now he could touch it freely and unapologetically.

"Fuck-" he started, pulling away, his head resting against the wall once again as he stared at you, noticing how it hasn't hit you yet; what you just did, how it affected everything. "I fucking love you" he shrugged as you fixed your hair, pausing with arms raised for a few seconds before smiling softly.

"You're drunk" you replied, looking at his own grin, the gleam in his eyes making him appear both innocent and guilty of so many things.

"I'm drunk and I fucking love you"

"Max..." you started, and he said your name back to you with such tenderness you couldn't believe his lips tasted of alcohol earlier and not something sweet.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" you continued, waiting for the silence to swallow you both.

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eraenaa · 2 months

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Most Ardently

Inspired by Pride and Prejudice

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen had accompanied his younger brother to Highgarden in hopes of securing Daeron a wife— he did not expect he would want to secure a wife for himself as well.

Warning: Not Proofread, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy

Word Count: 3,702

Aemond walked stiffly as he was about to enter a hall filled with merriment. He only wished to go to Old Town with the purpose of visiting and checking upon his younger brother’s well-being as requested by their mother— he had no wish to be dragged to Highgarden and attend a ball hosted by its Lord. Aemond walked behind Daeron as they entered the hall, all eyes upon them. All attendees bowed when they passed— all showing respect to their princes except for one. Aemond saw you by his right, a chalice in your hand, whispering to a girl beside you with a grin on your lips— completely disregarding the presence of royalty.

When you finally realized that everyone around you had grown quiet and the music had stopped, you turned to face forward—locking eyes with the unique gaze of Old Valyria. Quickly curtsying as you remembered it was the protocol, bowing your head and breaking your gaze from the prince who only had one eye. His name seemed to elude you. You knew of Prince Daeron well, the prince having spent the week’s end in your family’s keep, hosted by your lord father because he was courting your elder sister. You seem to forget which brother Prince Daeron now walked with— was it Prince Aegon or Prince Aemond?

“Which prince is that again?” You whispered to your sisters as your father scanned the crowd in search of you two to be presented to the esteemed guests. “That is Prince Aemond,” Your sister answered. “He looks miserable, poor soul,” You whisper, making your sister shake her head in amusement. “Miserable, he may be, but poor, he most certainly is not.” You frowned at your sister’s words. “I was told he has twice the inheritance than any of his brothers— even though he is only the second born, he is greatly favored by his mother and grandfather. That he is set to inherit Dragonstone once Prince Aegon is King.” You hummed and could not think of a reply as you two were finally seen by your father and were whisked away to be presented to the princes.

Music flooded the room once more as you stood before the princes. A lone eye would intermittently fly to your frame as your father spoke. “Prince Daeron, my daughters, you already know of.” Your father began, and you wanted to playfully roll your eyes at your sister as the moment she and the younger prince locked eyes, a blush ran on both cheeks and a giddy smile plastered on their lips. “Of course, and my I introduce you two to my brother, Aemond.” Prince Daeron smiled as he was delighted to be accompanied by his older brother.

You and your sister curtsied once more, smiling expectantly at the newly arrived prince who simply stood stiff as a board and offered no signs of recognition to you nor your sister. Simply blinked as his lone gaze would shift between the two of you. You wanted to frown, but your sister who knew you too well took hold of your arm and lightly pinched it as a communication to keep your expression neutral.

As the song ended and a new one began, you and your sister, along with the prince who courted her, went off to the side to chat whilst your father spoke formally with the One-Eyed prince whose gaze would fly over to your group with each moment passed. “I apologize for my brother— he is just not keen on large parties… nor small ones to be honest,” Prince Daeron explained. “And so you decided to take him to a ball instead?” You asked making your sister nudge your side, fearing that you spoke offense but Prince Daeron simply laughed. You passed your gaze where the older prince stood, seemingly glaring at the room, passing his gaze around the sea of people as if they had wronged him.

Prince Aemond found his way and stood next to his brother once more. Silent as you three were enveloped in conversation. As a new song began, you smiled as you watched the younger prince escort your sister to the floor for a dance. You passed your gaze to the prince, who stood stoically beside you, unmoving except for his eye. “Do you dance, Prince Aemond?” You inquired, his lilac eye still scanning the room filled with glee— judging as everyone around seemed to be intoxicated with joy.

“Not if I could help it,” He coldly responded. Not even turning to you as he spoke. It was then that you finally let the confused frown slip your face. But you shrugged him off and walked away, determined not to let his demeanor dampen your mood. Aemond’s eye followed you as you walked off, a small smile on your lips as you admired the merriment around. It did not matter that you were not asked to dance; you were completely fine to watch your sister get more acquainted with the youngest prince of the realm, who had been courting her for the past three moons.

After two songs passed, you found yourself resting your feet behind a pillar, your presence unbeknownst to anyone who walked past. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld,” You hear the familiar voice of Prince Daeron speak and you could not help but smile at how enamored he was with your sister. You hear Prince Aemond hum, and you peek from behind the pillar to listen more into the princes’ conversation. “And her sister is very agreeable, do you not think so? She is of celebrated beauty here in the Reach.” You smile at the younger prince’s recognition of your beauty but quickly vanishes as you hear Prince Aemond’s response. “Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me.”

You scoff to yourself as you hear their footsteps depart. Greatly offended by the prince’s words. Your tried to proceed with the night and forget you had heard his offensive words. But as you were forced into the chatter of a group with him, you could not help but let a hint of animosity show. “I wondered who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?” You ask as your mother embarrassingly recalls you and your sister's past suitors who were keen on writing you sonnets after sonnets but never fully committing to marriage. “I thought that poetry was the fruit of love?” Prince Aemond asked, the group hiding away their surprise when the prince finally spoke and joined in on the conversation.

“Of a fine, stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination, I’m convened one poor sonnet will it stone dead.” You replied as you gazed at his lone eye that would fleet away, unable to hold the intensity and teasing mirth in your orbs. “So what do you recommend to encourage affection?” He asked, finally holding your gaze as you felt a smirk rising to your lips. “Dancing, my prince. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.” You smiled and curtsied, watching as his eye flooded with the realization that you had heard what he had said. You walked away before he even got a chance to reply. His gaze followed you as you blended into the sea of guests.

When the night ended, you told your sister what you had heard while hiding behind a pillar. “Count your blessing, sissy, if he liked you, you’d have to talk to him.” She says as she brushes your hair, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Precisely, as it is, I wouldn’t have danced with him for the whole kingdom, let alone dreary Dragonstone.” You tried to laugh it off and brush away the wound he had inflicted on your pride. After a few moments of silence, your sister spoke once more. “I still cannot believe what he said about you,” she muttered as she finished brushing the fine locks of your hair. “I could easily forgive the prince’s vanity if he had not wounded mine,” You say as you tucked the strands of your hair behind your ear, gazing at the mirror. “Me? Perfectly tolerable? He’d be lucky if anyone who had half of my beauty would find him tolerable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes, making your sister laugh at your pride and confidence that muddled with each other. You sighed and stood, “I do not wish to think more about the One-eyed Prince. Good night, sister; I shall see you when morning comes.” You say and kiss her cheeks before leaving her room.

When morning came, Prince Daeron was quick to send an invitation to you and your sister to visit him in Old Town. An invitation your sister giddily accepted, and you politely declined— no want to see the One-Eyed Prince once more. But as your beloved sister was taken by fever whilst on her journey there, you had no choice but to follow her.

“Lady Tyrell, Your Highnesses,” They announced your arrival, and you walked into the room. Biting the inside of your cheeks when Prince Aemond abruptly stood from his chair and bowed. You quickly curtsied and turned to his brother, “So good of you to come so quickly; your sister has missed you terribly.” Prince Daeron said and walked towards you. “Follow me, and I’ll escort you to where she rests.” He said, and you followed him out of the room but gave one last look at his older brother before doing so.

Aemond silently trailed behind the two of you. His mind was plagued by your eyes, by your voice, by your smile. His brother had no intention of sending an invitation for you to come to Old Town, but he had infiltrated his thoughts and lightly manipulated him to send the invitation, which you declined, disappointing the prince. It would be cruel to him to admit that he saw your sister’s illness as optimal because now you had no choice but to join them in Old Town. “Oh, sissy,” You fretted as you saw her lying on the bed, pale and had a damp cloth on her forehead.

“Thank you for taking care of my sister so diligently,” You said to Prince Daeron, who gave a nod and a smile. “Of course, it’s a pleasure she’s here,” You smile at the prince you suspect would be your brother through marriage soon enough. “I shall give you two privacy— if you are in need of anything, do not hesitate to ask,” you smile and nod, watching as Prince Daeron reluctantly removes his gaze from your sister. “He is completely in love with you; I’m quite certain of it.” You smiled at your sister and took her cold hands in yours to warm them. “I’m so glad you’re here; I feel such a terrible imposition.” You laugh, “Please, the prince seemed thrilled that you are here being ill.” You smile, and your sister shakes her head.

“I’ve come to know of something the other day,” She said, piquing your interest as you thought she would share gossip. “Apparently, your invitation was sent for by Prince Aemond,” Your sister smiled, but you did not mirror it. “He is the one who sent you an invitation— he wishes for your presence.” Your sister further explained as she saw concussion in your eyes. “What for? To insult me once more?” You say bitterly. “Oh, sissy, you cannot let one’s transgression sully your entire image of them. People are bound to make mistakes— I’m certain Prince Aemond did not mean what he had said.” You rolled your eyes and stubbornly shook your head. “It does not matter if he is the one to send the invitation or not— my only purpose of coming here is to see how you are.” You said, and thankfully, your sister no longer brought the subject up.

Days passed as you were in the presence of the Princes as you waited for your sister to recover. You found yourself engaging in more arguments than conversations with the Prince, whom your sister said was the one to send you the invitation. If not engaged in lively arguments, both of you would simply catch each other’s eyes. Gazing at each other silently, secretively until caught.

You were in the parlor with Prince Daeron, playing a round of cards, when his brother came in with a book. “You waste your time with the frivolity of gambling,” You feel yourself frown but quickly take hold of your expression, turning to the younger prince whose turn it was to disagree with his brother. “It is just a bit of fun, brother. Not everything in life must be overly serious. Come, join us,” Daeron said and discarded in the middle of the velvet table.

“I’d rather read of civility than play cards and be at the threshold of a scoundrel,” Prince Aemond stated, his eye flying to you. Resisting the urge to smirk as the furrow in your brow returned as well as the pout on your plump lips. When your eyes locked, he raised his brow in question. “Anything to share, Lady Tyrell? Any musings or disagreement you’d wish to discuss with your prince?” He hummed, tone almost teasing. You knew he was baiting you, and if you had more energy that day, you’d happily take it, but you shook your head. “None, Your Highness.” You say, slightly disappointing the prince, for the only opportunity he had to speak with you and keep your attention with him was through your arguments.

When supper came, you entered the dining room expecting two princes, just like the other nights. But only the One-Eyed Prince waited for you. You quickly curtsied as he stood, “Where is Prince Daeron, your Highness?” You inquired as you were assisted to sit by one of the footmen. “My brother says he wishes to retire early tonight— it would be just us… if that is agreeable with you. If not, then say so, and I’ll take my supper in the servant’s quarters.” You looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out why he was still challenging you. “I am completely fine with any arrangement, my prince,” You say and proceed with the overly quiet meal as the prince and you shared no word but only stare at each other— challenging gazes that neither fell victim to.

The following morning, your sister had recovered enough for the both of you to head home. No anger wanting to impose and overwelcome your stay with the princes. “Prince Daeron, I do not know how to thank you,” You hear your sister say in gratitude, “You’re welcome anytime you feel the least bit poorly,” You bit back your smile as you followed your sister to the carriage. “Prince Aemond,” You cursed stoically— only doing it as he was a prince, and it would be impertinent not to note his presence. You turned to Prince Daeron and let a smile slip your lips, curtsying to the prince you hoped to be your brother in marriage in the near future.

You raised your leg to step foot in the carriage but were slightly startled as you felt someone take hold of your left hand, assisting you in boarding the wheelhouse. You turned to the prince, who took hold of your hand. Aemond quickly savored the surprise in your eyes and how your plump lips parted before relinquishing his hold of your hand and returning to the keep without another word, stretched his hand that touched yours as an unfamiliar tingle consumed it.

It was not a week later that you returned to Hightower, where another ball was to commence. You and your sister walked, arms linked, you wearing the green of your house whilst her the yellow, both of you had flowers adorned in your hair. “Will this perhaps be the night you will finally be a prince’s betrothed?” You teased and laughed as your sister’s cheeks bloomed with color. “Do not get my hopes up, sissy; it has been three moons since the Prince had first started courting me… in all honesty, my faith is running thin.” You frowned and shook your head. “Do not speak as such, sister. He is in love with you— I am quite certain of it,”

You straightened your back as you neared the hall's threshold, the hosts standing before it to welcome their guests. “I—I’m so pleased you’re here,” Prince Daeron told your sister whilst your gaze was traveling the room, distracted and trying to ignore the challenging yet indifferent gaze of a lone lilac eye. “And how are you tonight, my lady?” Prince Daeron asked, but you were too preoccupied. “My lady?” He called once more, and your sister elbowed your side. “Are you looking for someone?” Prince Aemond drawled, and you shook your head at his inquiring eye, glancing over to where your gaze was. “No, not at all,” You said and quickly curtsied to enter the hall, an eye following you as walked away.

Aemond tried to refocus his gaze to anywhere or anyone else but he could not. It had been steady on you since the moment you arrived, watching you whilst you were chatting with a group of girls you had known since childhood, when suddenly you were approached by a young man from house Redwyne, and a gnawing feeling in his gut announced itself as he saw a smile bloom into your pink lips as you gave your hand to the young man who escorted you to dance. Aemond’s hold on his chalice tightened as he saw you giggle with the man who spun you around and dared to keep his hold on your waist. The prince saw red as he watched the man dip down and whisper something in your ear, earning a sweet, bashful blush on your cheeks.

The prince dug his nails into his palm, quickly moving to the sea of dancers to take your partner's spot before anyone else would have a chance to dance with you— before anyone else would have a chance to hold you. “May I have the next dance, lady Tyrell?” The prince asked the moment the first song ended. You looked around the room as most eyes were on you, a peculiar scene as the stoic prince, who seemed to detest dancing and preferred to stand by the side, asked you for a dance. You licked your lips before answering, “You may,” You quietly said.

“Did I just agree to dance with Prince Aemond?” You whispered to your sister, who had a teasing smile on her lips. “I dare say you will find him very amiable, sissy.” Your sister smiled, and you shook your head. Stubborn and still holding a bias against the second-born prince of the realm. “It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity!” You rambled but could not help but laugh at your fate. Your sister joined along and pulled you towards the dance floor as the second song was to start, and two princes waited for the two of you.

You were stood across the One-Eyed Prince. His stance is still stiff, and you began to wonder if he’d be any good at dancing. Aemond bit his tongue as you curtsied before him, your dress and lowered stance giving him a slight view of your bosom. He clenched his jaw and willed any thought of impropriety may leave his thoughts and body.

“I love this dance,” you say as you circle around the prince, his eye following your every movement. Aemond would note that they would waver upon his gaze if it were anyone else but not you. “Indeed, it is most invigorating,” he answered, slightly cringing to himself if that was the proper response. There was another moment of tense silence between the two of you, you sighing as you were starting to grow accustomed to it, but in all honesty, you’d rather talk that night, even if it were with him. “I believe it is your turn to say something, my prince.” You say and feel your lips twitch upward as you have the devilish thought to tease him.

“I talked about the dance; now, you ought to remark on the size of the room or the couples present.” You say as you feel his hold on your hand tighten ever so lightly. “I am perfectly happy to oblige you, my lady. Please advise me of what you would like most to hear,” You let a smirk slip your lips at his sardonic response. “That reply will do for now,” You said as you focused on the dance. But you could not truly do so because it seems your whole being was intent on focussing itself on the prince. The way he stared you down, the way his lithe body gracefully glided with the dance, the way it felt to hold his hand. It would shame you to say that after the dance, your body felt alight, and the beat of your heart ran almost alarmingly in your chest.

You excused yourself from the crowded room, finding calm outside in a marble gazebo. The structure barely lit and only illuminated by the light of the moon. You rested your back on the cool pillar, hoping it would ease the inner heat that torched your body. You closed your eyes and tried to control your ragged breathing and raging thoughts of the One-Eyed Prince.

“Lady Tyrell,” You jumped in your spot, eyes growing wide as you were startled by the prince's presence. “My prince,” You breathed out, uncertain why he had followed you. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do.” He began to speak rendering you more confused. “What… your highness, I—“ He shook his head and dared to step forward. You stared at his eye, lilac darker in the dim light.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell I admire and love you.” Aemond watched you as your lips parted and your fine eyes filled with utter shock. “Most Ardently.”

#house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #pride and predjudice 2005 #pride and prejudice #jane austen #house tyrell #house targaryen #enemies to lovers #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #mr darcy #elizabeth bennet

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fadedncity · 7 months

Text

mask off

wc: 2.5k

pairing: jisung x fem!reader

cw: smut, bf!jisung, non idol au, mentions of other idols, semi public sex, knife play, role play, fingering, choking, manhandling, praise and degradation kink, pet names, teasing, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol consumption and use of marijuana, horror movie references

a/n: not really relevant but thought i’d clarify reader is dressed as tiffany valentine from bride of chucky.

You checked your phone for what seems like the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, you rechecked your call log to make sure you didn't miss one from him.

You sigh, locking your phone, and look over the balcony. Scanning the crowd below you, taking over Ningning's backyard, you search for Jisung. But you knew it would be no use between there being too many people and you not knowing what he was dressed as.

It wasn't until your eyes stopped on one person.

The Ghostface mask had initially caught your attention and caused you to do a double take, as it's surprisingly the first and only you've seen tonight. But you also realize they're looking back at you. With everyone else too intoxicated to notice you even up on the balcony, they were the only one looking up at you.

The masked individual doesn't do or say anything, remaining still as the party carries on around them. You straighten up when a bit of paranoia creeps up your spine.

Just as you start retrieving back into the house, you jump at the sound of a knock on the balcony door and snap your head in its direction.

"Hey," Yunjin slides the door shut behind her, joining you outside, "you okay?" she asks.

You peer back over the balcony and no longer see this Ghostface anywhere outside.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you tell her, also telling yourself it was nothing, "Have you seen Jisung? He was supposed to be here a while ago but I haven't heard from him and his phone's probably on do not disturb again."

"No, but Alyssa said she just saw Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, and Ghostface pull up, pretty sure it was Chenle, Jisung, and Yangyang. So he's probably just around here somewhere."

"Alright," you say, heading back inside.

"We're about to smoke if you wanna join us, by the way."

"Let me head to the bathroom first."

"You need me to come with?" Yunjin asks.

"Nah, I won't be long. Just make sure Hyuck doesn't leave me with just the roach," you say.

. . .

You were humming along to the melody of the song you could hear playing outside of the bathroom as you reapplied your lipstick.

Your phone buzzed on the countertop with a text from Yunjin telling you to hurry up before you miss the cyph. You take one last look in the mirror, making sure your hair remains intact in its updo before collecting yourself and heading out.

Since you were looking down at your phone as you exited the bathroom, you didn't realize someone was standing in the corridor.

When you do finally notice them, you almost jump out of your skin, having been unaware of your surroundings.

"Holy fuck," you hold your hand over your rapidly beating heart.

With the poor lighting, you can barely make out the face of the robed figure until they take a step closer, and you see the Ghostface mask.

"Jisung?" you call out to him, "First you can't text me back, then you go and scare me half to death?" you laugh.

He still didn't say anything, just silently standing there, the soulless black eyes of the mask staring back at you. His gloved hands reach into the pockets of his jeans, revealing the knife.

You were almost positive that it was Jisung, for sure, once you saw the familiar blade.

Again, you laugh, "We're really doing this? 'Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me. I wanna be in the sequel.'" you joke.

He remained quiet, your recital of Tatum's last words in the movie, seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"Is everything okay?" you ask.

Still no response. He tilted his head and took a step forward.

"Alright, babe, you're starting to scare me," you say, backing away from him while clutching your phone.

He was backing you back toward the bathroom, and you were running out of room to go.

"Jisung, seriously, you're freaking me the fuck out," you say once your back hits the door. The space between you gets smaller and smaller, with you nowhere left to go.

Is it even really Jisung?

You're breathing so heavily, that every time you inhale, your chest hits his as his face inches closer to yours.

"Boo!"

Your anxiety dissipates once you hear the switchblade click shut, and Jisung drops his hood, pulling the mask from over his head. He's laughing, so you punch him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Jisung rubs his arm.

"Fuck you! That wasn't funny," you say.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Jisung holds your waist, "but it was almost too perfect of a chance I had to take." he says, and you cross your arms over your chest. "Come on, if I really was some serial killer you think I'd do it in a house full of witnesses."

"Have you learned nothing from the movies?" you furrow your brows.

"All I'm saying is if I really was Ghostface…" he takes out the voice modulator, holding it up to his mouth, "I'd give you a better death than just bleeding out in some dark hallway."

Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and your breathing became shallow. You're embarrassed to admit how much hearing Jisung's voice through the modifier turned you on.

"How thoughtful," your lashes flutter, "But I'm pretty sure I'd be able to take you as Ghostface."

"You weren't putting up much of a fight five seconds ago."

"Who said anything about taking you in a fight?"

"Oh?" he raises a brow, "Is that so?"

Jisung opens the bathroom door behind you, pushing you inside the confined space. Once he locks the door shut, he connects his lips to yours. He lifts you by your waist, settling you on the countertop, and you wrap your legs around his hips.

You roughly fist Jisung's hair, the kiss quickly becoming heated. His hands are all over you, sending goosebumps all over your skin. Jisung's tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the lingering bitterness of smoke from your last hit a while ago, mixing with the drink he had before finding you still on his lips.

One of his hands find their way between your legs, swiping his fingers over your clothed pussy. You shutter, attempting to close your legs around his hand to keep him there. Even through his gloves, he can tell you're already soaked through your panties and smirks at you.

"What's got you this wet, Ms. Valentine?"

"You, Ji," you answer.

"All me for me huh?" he asks, and your brows furrow in confusion, "You sure it wasn't Ghostface who's got you this wet?"

Oh, shit.

"I uh-"

"After making me watch all six movies on only our second date, I didn't really think much of it," he says, and you sheepishly laugh, "But it all started to make sense when I overheard you on the phone with Chaeryeong the other day…" Jisung trails off, hoping you'd catch on.

And you do, gasping with wide eyes, "Oh my god, no you didn't."

"I kinda did."

You groan, covering your face, "I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to think I was weird."

"Hate to break it to you, but I already thought that," he says lightheartedly.

"Jisung," you whine out of embarrassment.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I just don't know why you didn't say anything to me before," he softly pouts.

"And how exactly did you want me to go about that? 'Hey, babe, how was your day? By the way, I have this twisted fantasy of being railed by Ghostface. Wanna grab dinner?'" you question.

"Obviously not like that," Jisung scoffs, "I'm just saying, as your boyfriend, I'm more than happy to turn this twisted fantasy into a reality for you," he smiles at you, "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," you nod.

"Then would you allow me the honor?"

"The honor's all yours."

You snake your arms around Jisung's neck as he crashes his lips into yours. He brings his lips to your neck, suckling the skin between his teeth, leaving small bruises along your throat.

"You know this is almost always exactly how it goes in horror movies," you comment and you tip your head back, giving him more access.

"Oh my god," Jisung rolls his eyes, "Look if you don't wanna-" Jisung jokingly reaches for the doorknob.

"No, no," you keep your legs locked around him, "If I'm to die tonight, right here with you is where I'd wanna be," you kiss him.

"Can't think of anywhere else I'd wanna be. Now are you gonna keep talking about death or let me fuck you?" Jisung pulls you back onto your feet, turning you around to face the mirror.

"I'm not the only eager one here, I see," you push your ass into his groin.

"As much as I'd love to stay here and play with you all night, princess, we've already been gone for too long and the search party will come looking soon," he says before pulling a glove off with his teeth.

Jisung rolls the leather of your dress up over your hips and slides his hand between your legs. He pulls your panties to the side and slips a finger into your pussy.

"God, you're fucking soaked already," Jisung says, adding a second finger, causing your eyes to flutter shut, "This shit really does turn you on," a lopsided grin takes place on his face before his fingers leave you empty.

You grumble, frustrated. "Fuck off-"

"I'd watch your tone, sweetness," he held the knife to your throat. "Wouldn't wanna lose that pretty voice of yours."

It was then, you realized he pulled the mask back down over his head. You felt the edge of the knife press against your esophagus. If you hadn't previously been in this position with your boyfriend a number of times before, one would think you'd be worried, maybe even a little scared. But no, you were now beyond the point of being turned on, your body practically boiling with arousal.

"Please, don't," you plead, "I'll do anything," you turn your head to look at him and bat your lashes.

"Anything, huh?"

"Anything," you nod.

Jisung began tracing the knife edge along your chest, "With a pretty thing like you, I'm sure I can think of a few other things to do with you."

In one quick motion, he drops the knife to his other hand, and you hear the sound of fabric ripping as he slices your panties and pulls it from your body.

And there goes the third pair this month.

But you could care less about your tattered underwear, now discarded on the tiled floor, once you hear the zipper of his jeans coming undone. Jisung wastes no more time and lines his cock up with your entrance. You sharply inhale, feeling his thick length open you up.

"Oh my god," your voice was barely above a whisper.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked in your ear, "Let me use you however I want for the sake of saving your pretty little life."

You manage to open your eyes and look at your reflection. The sight of the mask behind you as his cock is buried balls deep inside of you, flooded you with more arousal, your walls fluttering around his dick.

Your response was interrupted by the moan bubbling up your throat, but Jisung saw the smile breaking out on your face.

"Y-Yes," you nod, "God—please…fuck me."

"See how easy it is to get to what you want when you just use your words," you hear the smirk on his voice, "Gonna take it all for me like a good girl, yeah?"

You nod with a gasp, your nails scratching against the marble countertop as Jisung's cock stretches you open, bottoming out. "Mhm! I'll be good. I'll be so good for you, I promise."

Jisung draws his hips back before slamming back into you, filling you to the hilt. He grabs onto your hips, pulling you back onto his cock. Your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he fills you up, picking up momentum and fucking you at a steady pace.

Loud moans and cries along with Jisung's name tumbled hazardously from your lips. Jisung's gloved hand covers your mouth, muffling your noises.

"God, you're such a whiny slut," he says, "Pathetically crying out like a bitch in heat."

You whine, seemingly struggling against his hold as you grew flustered at his words.

"No need to try and deny it, sweets. I've had my eyes on you long enough to know, this is the exact moment you've been having wet dreams of," Jisung's strong arms securely hold you against his chest, "What would that cute boyfriend of yours think if he were to see you like this? Letting me use you however I please and not being able to do anything to stop me." he darkly chuckles.

It turns you on even more knowing Jisung is just as into this as you are.

"God…you're sick," you pant.

"You're the one who's letting a dangerous killer fuck you, and I'm the sick one?"

"Fuck you," you spit.

Jisung's hand wraps around your neck, lightly squeezing down on the sides.

"Fuck me, huh. You're doing a great job at doing so already, princess," the roughness of his voice through the modulator had your head spinning or maybe it was the limited oxygen you were granted as his hand was still around your neck. Either way you could feel yourself stumbling closer to the edge.

You slip up and call out your boyfriend's name. "Ji, oh god, mhm—it's so good, oh my god!" you threw your head back.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for me."

"Feels so good—fuck, Sungie," Your back arched as you attempted to move your hips and began fucking yourself back on his cock.

Jisung was drunk off you—Every whimper and whine he pulled from you as he bent you over the sink, fucking you relentlessly. And the way your body writhed and squirmed against him, the intense pleasure flooding your veins as his tip kissed your sweet spot.

"Look at yourself," he grabbed your jaw, making you look into the mirror "If only everyone else could see how badly I've ruined you, precious."

Your mouth hangs open, nothing coming out except for broken moans. But there's a drunken smile on your face.

"Sungie, please," you whimper.

Jisung brings his hand back your throat, but without applying pressure this time. "You close, pretty?" Jisung asks, and you ferociously nod.

"Wanna cum for you," you whine, "Please, baby," your voice cracked with desperation.

"Cute how desperate you can get. It's almost pathetic."

"Jisung, oh my god-"

You reach behind you and grab the back of his head. Jisung feels the mask being pulled off his head, allowing you to drop it to the floor. Messy black locks flopped over his forehead as his eyes readjusted to the lighting. Fisting your hand in his hair, you bring his lips to yours, meeting in a desperate and sloppy kiss.

Jisung feels the knot inside him ready to snap but holds back as his hand returns between your thighs. He rubs sloppy circles into your clit, and you squirm in his arms, trying desperately to chase your release.

"Come on, sweetheart. I wanna hear you scream for me."

You see stars behind your eyes as a moan rips from your throat, bouncing off every surface in the small space. Your body shakes in Jisung's arms as you cum. His cock throbs, his release finally coming when your pussy chokes his dick, and he paints your walls white.

"Fuck," Jisung rasps in your ear. He grabs onto the edge of the sink, fucking his cum into you as you squirm, feeling overstimulated.

You fall back against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder, "That was fucking amazing," you heavily pant against his skin as you place a kiss below his jaw.

"Yeah?" he caresses your face.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

"I aim to please you, very very well," he kissed your forehead before slipping out of your heat. You mewl, feeling his fingers brush your folds, collecting his cum as it starts to drip out of you.

"I'm gonna be thinking about this for the next few months, by the way."

"Then I guess there's no need to get rid of the mask after tonight," Jisung smirks, picking the mask up from the ground.

You smile against his lips, "Definitely not."

a/n: uhh this was very self indulgent and lowkey inspired by this. thank you for reading!! feedback is appreciated <33

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

Text

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

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just-aake · 4 months

Text

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes.

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd.

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward the suspect.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area.

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms.

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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hyukalyptus · 5 months

Text

a coincidence — rockstar!yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. rockstar!yeonjun x audiencemember!reader, chubby!reader implied, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, oral (m. receiving), sex (condoms mentioned <3), roleplaying(?), orgasm denial, lmk if there's more. notes. this is part of @napofamoon's growing pain rock band!au collaboration :D thank you @nightlyawnzz for being a beta reader :3 and thank you angie for that one line of dialogue (didn't know if you wanted to like not be tagged lol), not super well edited, smut under cut <3 wc. 2.8K

Who is that? Yeonjun’s seen hundreds—thousands—of pretty girls at his concerts. But no one’s ever truly made an impression. Every once in a while, there’d be one that barely stuck out from the crowd, but nothing ever stuck. After a while, the crowds started getting blurry. Has performing become a bit boring for him? Maybe. There wasn’t a spark anymore. No reason to perform.

But you…you immediately caught his eye. A bright star in a sea of dull strangers—smiling, drinking, dancing to the music, having a blast. You looked fun, exciting, flirty. And he wanted—needed—to get to know you. But first, he needed to get your attention.

He’s cool, casual with his bass; he’s a natural. The way he moves with the music, pouty lips singing under his breath along with the frontman, the stage lights sparkling in his eyes—it didn’t take much focus for him to nail every song.

So he decided to have a bit of fun tonight. Moving a bit more, putting on a bit more of a show than usual, getting closer to the edge of the stage without being too obvious. All to get your attention. So why won’t you look at him? Just a bit closer and maybe…

Bingo.

You’ve locked eyes and there’s that something he’s been looking for. Something he’s been looking for for a while. That spark. That reason to put on a bit of a show.

And you could tell. You were just as into it as he was.

Watching his every move—flirting without crossing a line, giving him seductive looks, dancing in his direction. It was fun. It was thrilling. That unspoken desire between two strangers—and one of them admires the other before they’ve even met? How scandalous, hm? The tension grew and grew until—

“Thank you everyone; good night!”

But…what do you do now? How could he find you later? Oh, why didn’t he slip the security guard his number to give to you? Where are you? No, no, no, don’t leave.

There was nothing he could do; the lights were dim, the curtain was drawn, the crowd was spilling out the front door. You never left his mind, though. Not when he put his bass in its case, not when he zipped his hoodie up to leave, not when he plopped down on his hotel bed, never.

Desperately trying to get you off his mind, he heads down to the hotel bar. Oh, how pathetic is this? A world-famous rock star sitting alone at a hotel’s bar sipping a whiskey feeling sorry for himself? Over what? Some girl?

Please don’t sit there…he begs silently watching a strange figure take the seat in the bar stool next to him. Despite the need for alone time, he couldn’t help but glance over at the sound of your—

“Just a vodka soda, please.”

Oh, shit. It’s you. What does he do? Why are his hands so sweaty? When did he turn into such a loser? Getting this worked up over a girl. He needs to get your attention again, but he doesn't want to come off too pushy. You’re here alone too and maybe you wanna keep it that way.

Fuck it.

He clears his throat, cooly-maybe-not-so-cooly saying, “I saw you in the audience.” Just as you planned. Well, sort of. You didn’t mean to run into him. Glancing across the room at the hotel you were staying in to see that hot bassist sitting alone at the bar was pure luck.

But you need to keep it cool. Don’t be too…weird. Just a simple glance and gentle nod is enough.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, knowing your answer. He could see your desire just as much as you could see his, but you weren’t gonna give in just yet. You nod again, adding a quiet hum. “Are you from around here or…?” Should he move a bit closer? Sure. Should he brush your knee with his fingertips? Why not? Oh, they give you goosebumps. You don’t pull away or even flinch. You’re welcoming this.

“No, I’m here on business. That’s why I’m, you know, at a hotel right now.”

“Right.” He pauses, like he has to think of the next thing to say, “I’m Yeonjun, by the way. But you already knew that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“No reason,” he snarks. “Just that you bought a ticket to my show.”

“As if,” you roll your eyes. “I was bored and the show was right down the street.” Lie. All of this was lies. Of course you were a fan. Both of you knew that.

“So you got front-row seats from a scalper then?”

Now it’s time for some fun. Turning toward him, you introduce yourself, face inching closer and closer, his hand sneaking up higher on your thigh, your heartbeat getting faster with each millimeter. You maintain your confidence best you know how, but you must admit, he’s intimidating. Is it that way he unapologetically stares at your body? The way he’s flirting with a fan after a show? The way his lips look like they’d perfectly wrap around your—

“Do you always find fans to flirt with after the show?”

“No. Never,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But you’re so…” he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your face, “gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the audience. Then boom, here you are at my hotel’s bar. Must be fate.”

“Or a coincidence.”

Both resorting to a shrug, there’s tension in the air like you’ve never felt. It’s excruciating. He’s leaning closer to you, oh, what was he about to say?

“I saw you watching me,” he whispers right against your ear—close enough to feel his breath. Fuck, he’s good. This is gonna be fun. And you’re gonna be a brat. At least for a little.

“I was watching all five of you,” you say, adding an annoying eye roll for good measure.

“Nope,” he says, sitting back and smiling like he knows a secret of yours. Which he may. “Only me.”

“So what if I was?” You narrow your eyes at him. You weren’t gonna break eye contact now. You can’t. But he doesn’t expect you to keep it. He expects you to cower and blush like everyone always does. But you don’t. And he likes that. “I’m waiting.”

“Makes me wonder what else you wanna watch me do is all.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno,” he chuckles. “You tell me. You were the one that couldn’t stop staring at me.”

That jerk. That stupid fucking jerk. Looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you glance down at his lips—side note: jesus fucking christ they look delicious but that’s beside the point right now—and lean in as close as you can without touching him. Parting his own lips, he tilts his head just barely and closes his eyes.

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You giggle. “You thought I was gonna kiss you?”

While you’re watching him retreat, defeated at his own game, he runs his fingers through his messy black hair.

“So you think I’m cute?”

Let’s give in now. “No.” You stand, taking a deep breath and walk behind him, sliding your hands down his chest, bending to meet his ear to whisper, “I think you’re fucking sexy.”

Goosebumps—but this time, they’re on him. Has anyone ever done this to him before? Let’s take it one step further. You bite his ear lobe gently and he sighs, your name falling out of his lips breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers.

Another step further. Sliding your hand up the back of his neck, you grip some of his hair, tugging it harshly, his eyes widening as he hisses.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Will you come upstairs with me? Please.”

Turning him around in his barstool, you stand between his legs, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It was all a blur as he took you upstairs—heading straight for the elevator, pushing you against the wall to finally crash his lips into yours, hands roaming your body trying to decide what part of it to grab onto. The ding of the elevator snaps you out of it before stumbling down the hallway to his room.

When he finally gets the door open and the door slams behind you, he’s gentler, like he wants to take his time with you. But you don’t. You drag him toward the bed and push him to the mattress to straddle his hips. Wrapping his hands around your waist, his hands slip under the skirt of your dress to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.

Lifting off him, you lift your dress over your head as he eyes your pretty white lace lingerie while he smirks to himself. Fuck, he looks hot when he bites his lip like that. And, god, you need his shirt off. Tugging at it, you rock your hips back and forth to shimmy it off while he stays laying down. Hands on bodies, breath heavy, lips on each other’s��god, this was fun.

He flips you to your back, pressing his lips to your chest, trailing kisses over your collarbone. Pushing your face to the side to access your neck, he covers it in sloppy, wet kisses.

Since when was your bra so uncomfortable? And since when was it such a cock blocker? With that out of the way, his lips find your nipples, sucking harshly, but licking them to soothe the stings. Tugging at the waistband of his joggers, you can’t stop begging him to fuck you.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, mimicking your tone from earlier.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you gasp at the feeling of his finger gliding over your clit slowly—slower than anyone’s ever touched you before. But it’s amazing. “Will you please fuck me?”

“Not yet,” he whispers. Standing to pull his pants and boxers down in one motion, he looks over your body. Oh, what was he gonna do with you and everything your body has to offer? Put you on your knees so he can cum all over your full tits? Fuck you from behind so he can see your ass jiggle? Fuck you in missionary so he can see your tits and tummy jiggle while he squeezes your thighs? There’s too many options to pick from.

But before he can make the decision, you crawl over to the foot of the bed, making a big show of it before reaching for his hips. Wrapping your hands around his hips to squeeze his ass, you pull him closer, kissing the tip of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. But you haven’t even tasted him yet. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you finally sink down on him completely.

And fuck do you feel good.

Fingers fumbling through your hair as he tries to steady himself, his head falls back to let out the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard from a man. He whispers your name.

“What?” You look at him, your lips forming a pout while you wait for an answer. He responds with a simple eyebrow raise. “You said my name,” you say matter-of-factly. “What is it?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Hooking his hands behind your knees, he pulls to flip you on your back while you let out a yelp. He boxes you in with his elbows, dragging his teeth over one of your nipples while you grip his hair, back arching to meet his mouth. He covers you in kisses. You don’t think anyone’s ever kissed you this much. Nothing will ever be enough after this.

As he makes his way down, your legs fall over his shoulders, showering your thick thighs with kisses. Using his mouth to put the smallest amount of pressure on your clit over your thong, he makes you whine and involuntarily grind against his chin, trying to relieve any tension. But he’s not giving in either. Backing away, he chuckles at you. That jerk. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

“Don’t do that to me,” you say. Eyes dark, he takes the waistband of your thong between his teeth, pulling them down slowly, letting them drag over your skin. Kneeling between your thighs, he keeps that spine-tingling eye contact as he rubs his tip over your center. That sends a jolt through your body, letting your brain finally catch up with your body.

“Will you wear a condom?”

Nodding, he quickly rustles through his suitcase messily splayed across the floor. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he starts to roll it down himself, which is a glorious sight. And he can tell the effect it has on you. You smirk, glancing up at his eyes—eyes that are sparkling back at you.

“Eyes on my cock, baby.”

Fine by you. Sliding it down so slowly, you’re entranced. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

One hand pressing on your hip, the other lining himself up with your pussy, he pushes himself inside you, your eyes rolling back and he groans in your ear. Short shallow breaths grace your skin as he thrusts fast and hard, just like you wanted.

Bodies rocking together, he stares at your tits bouncing with his movements. Your nails start dragging down his back, but he quickly pulls out to turn you over, lifting you by your hips to bring you on all fours, your ass on full display. He spanks you, hard enough that your cheek will be pink tomorrow morning.

Pressing on your lower back to deepen the arch, he thrusts into you again. With your face squished against the mattress, his hands dig into the fat of your hips to hold you in place. The fire in your stomach roars, legs trembling, muscles weak. He yanks you up by your hair—you were hoping he’d do that—to press your back to his chest, letting you feel how heavy he's breathing.

“Don’t cum yet,” he says.

“Who said I was close?”

That evil laugh makes your eyes roll. “I can feel it.” Well, you can’t really argue with that. He was right. “Don’t.”

“You really like telling me what to do, huh?”

He snakes his hand in front of you to circle your clit, turning your whines to whimpers, desperately fighting the urge to let yourself go. What would happen if you did let yourself cum, though? It might be exciting to find out, hm? But being told what to do and when is just as exciting.

Grabbing his arm, your nails dig into his skin. He releases your hair, pushing you to the mattress roughly, face pressed against the mattress. Fists full of bed sheets, his hands spread across your ass, skin spilling through his fingers.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it together—the only thing letting you is knowing how good you must be making him feel if he’s making noises like that.

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, his speed increasing. “Please.” The way he grunts tells you he’s close too, but he doesn’t plan on holding back. Pull my hair again, pull my hair again, pull my hair again, you keep thinking to yourself. And, oh, did you say that out loud? Because he pulls your hair again, finding an even deeper spot inside if you, the feeling spreading to your toes.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you yelp. “Please let me cum.”

He groans again, your name falling out of his lips before adding, “Cum for me.”

Your loud whimpers are muffled by the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, the fire in your stomach roaring louder and louder until—

Fuck…

God, this is good. Your orgasm explodes inside you, fireworks going off in all directions, filling every nook and cranny of your body. Praising you through your orgasm, he encourages you to cum hard around him, reminding you of how good your pussy feels around his cock.

Your body relaxes, but his doesn’t. He thrusts deeper inside of you, desperate to reach his own climax.

“Fuck—” he grunts, spanking you again. He loves seeing you jiggle like that. Reaching in front of you, he massages your tits, squeezing to get a firm grip.

His breath hitches, his thrusts getting sloppy as he twitches inside you, groaning through his climax.

Collapsing on top of you, he catches his breath, chest rushing and falling against your back. Rolling off you to plop onto the mattress, he turns to look at your face while there’s a stillness in the air.

“...so you’re a fan now?”

“Haven’t I always been?”

Chuckling, his face turns to the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair, resting his arms above his head. As you make eye contact, both of you burst out laughing—

“I didn’t think you’d like the roleplaying thing as much as you did,” you giggle.

“Well, what can I say? It was hot,” he says. “Great idea, baby.” Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “I love bringing you on tour with us.”

“I love it too.”

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ghostxrose · 4 months

Text

Dance With a Demon | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary ~ You thought it would be just another night at work until your eyes met the crimson ones of Pro Hero Dynamight..

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW 18+ Content, Charaters are in their 20s, FemStripper!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, porn with some plot, oral sex, face riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, WC 9k, idk what else to tag

Note ~ Hello Lovelies! I hope you all enjoy this spicy lil fic i've got for ya here! I'm still not all that good at writing smut stuff so don't expect too much of me, haha. I do want to give a quick thank you for all of the hype I got for this fic from my Sneak Peek post, so thank you Lovelies! Anyway, I'll let all you fiends get to reading! <3

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the back door to the nightclub you work at from the driver’s seat of your car. You weigh the pros and cons of going inside and clocking in for your shift while you sip on your first Red Bull of the night. It’s not that you hate your job or your coworkers, it’s just that feeling that everyone gets before walking into work. That feeling of “ugh, I wanna go back home and be lazy” that settles over you until you shove it away and force yourself to get out of your car. With your bag slung lazily over one shoulder you lock your car, then head for the door that you’ve been dead-eyeing on and off for the last 30-ish minutes.

Once inside the nightclub, you make your way to your dressing room. The bass from whatever song whoever is on stage right now has chosen thumps through your eardrums and chest. You absentmindedly nod your head to the beat as you enter your dressing room. You close the door behind you and lock it, then walk over to the vanity. Setting your bag down, you grab the tablet sitting at the corner of the vanity countertop from its charging port and sit down. You log into the nightclub’s app and clock in before clicking the “songs” tab within the app.

Once it loads up you scroll through the list of suggested songs but none of them really call out to you or feel right for the vibe you create when you get on stage. You tap the search function then get to typing and looking up songs to add to your list for your sets tonight. As soon as you’ve lined up a pretty nice selection of six songs you submit the list, then shut the tablet off and begin prepping yourself for your first set.

You touch up your makeup and loosely curl your hair. After laying out both outfits you brought for tonight, you decide to flip a coin to see which one you should wear first. Heads is for the lacy dark purple bra and thong set with a pair of black open-toed stilettos - simple but still a favorite amongst crowds. Tails is for the slightly more intricately designed deep wine colored bralette and g-string set with dark red cross strap, heeled sandals - another crowd favorite because of the way it’s slightly more.. sheer as far as materials go.

You toss the coin into the air with a small but knowing smirk because you know that it really doesn’t matter what outfit you wear. What people really show up for are the feelings of dark attraction that the physical traits of your Quirk stirs up inside them. Attraction that makes them feel as if it’s taboo or maybe even dangerous to tamper with, but they enjoy the thrill either way.

Your Quirk is called Hellspawn, but you’ve never viewed it in a negative light. Your Quirk is the product of generations of similar Quirks possessed by both sides of your family. You’ve been taught your whole life to be proud of your Quirk and its traits, no matter what people might say or think. You confidently show off your demon-like horns, wings, fangs, and tail every day.

The coin lands on heads so you put on the dark purple outfit and stilettos, taking your time to make sure everything goes on just right. With one final glance in the full length mirror in your dressing room you smile at your reflection, then turn to leave and head backstage. As you walk through the back hallways of the nightclub you begin to feel excitement and adrenaline thrum through your veins. Just because this is a job doesn’t mean that you don’t have fun when you’re up on stage.

“There’s my girl! How’re ya doin’ tonight, Luci?” Sakura, the nightclub’s manager and owner, cheerfully greets you when you get backstage.

“Ask me that after my set,” you say jokingly. “Better yet, when you see me raking in tons of bills just assume that I’m feeling pretty good!” You add on with a smirk.

“Mmm, always love your confidence, Babes! Alright, now get out there and kill it like you always do!” Sakura says with a wink, then focuses back on whatever she was working on her tablet.

You smile to yourself, amped up by the vibes within the club and your rising confidence, and begin stretching to warm your muscles up for your first set of the night. More adrenaline, and the caffeine from your energy drink, hits your veins when you hear the ending of the last song for whoever is on stage and you wait for your stage name to be called.

“Alright everyone, can I get a round of cheers for our lovely Siren?! Don’t worry, they’ll be back a little later!!” Hikari, tonight’s DJ, says after hopping on the mic.

“You all are in for a real treat now, though! Please help me in summoning our resident hot demon-babe to the stage; Lucifer!!” A wild smile pulls at your lips as you take in the crowds hyped up cheers from the other side of the curtain. “Get your sexy ass out here, Luci!!” Hikari excitedly calls for you and you let out a giggle before taking a step forward.

Pulling back the curtain you slowly walk further onto the stage, emerging from a cloud of smoke and into the dark-neon lights shining onto the stage. You smile and wink over at Hikari in the DJ’s booth and she blows you a kiss making you giggle a bit. Looking back towards the crowd you sway your hips as you walk, your eyes half lidded and a sultry, fanged smile on your face. Your body getting into the flow of the music from the first song of this set. The bass produced from Obsolete Ritual makes you vibrate when it hits and it’s a rush that fuels the amped up fire within you that you’ll never get over.

Getting up to the pole at the end of the catwalk, you wrap your hands around it and walk in a slow, teasing circle despite the song’s tempo having sped up. Your eyes scan over the crowd, running across the familiar faces of regulars and lingering for mere seconds over new faces. For reasons unbeknownst to you, your gaze gets stuck on one new face in particular.

Sharp, crimson eyes connect with yours, the stranger’s handsome face set in a scowl. ‘The hell is he scowling in a stripclub for? If he didn’t want to be here, then why did he come? Or maybe he’s just mad that Siren’s set ended? Whatever, buddy, try to enjoy the show.’ You think to yourself as you pull your gaze from Grumpy Hot Guy and officially begin your routine.

As you bend, twist, and dance your way through Obsolete Ritual, Veins, and Descending you find that Grumpy Hot Guy’s eyes never seem to leave you. His scowl remained but his eyes seemed to burn more with every movement of your body. When you finish your set you have to force yourself not to look at him as you spread your wings and bow to the crowd.

The weight of his eyes on you grows heavy as you help the club’s “Money Grabbers” rake in your earnings. Purposefully ignoring him you smile, giggle, and thank customers as they stuff more bills into your lingerie as you work to grab cash from the floor of the stage. You move to head offstage once all of the money has been gathered when you’re stopped by a tug on your tail. You let out a yelp, then quickly turn around to hiss at whoever the perv is that committed the action. A security guard is already handling the guy but he still has the nerve to shoot you an unsettling and creepy smirk. You hiss anyway, then roll your eyes as you stand and quickly leave the stage.

“Christ, are you okay, Luci?? Fucking hate pervs like that bastard! He’s being thrown out as we speak, so don’t worry! How’s your tail??” Sakura frantically asks, immediately mother-henning you as soon as you’re backstage.

You let out a soft giggle and give her an appreciative smile, “I’m fine and so is my tail, but thank you. Handsy people are very annoying but I can handle it and I’m fine.” You say reassuringly and Sakura lets out a relieved breath, then looks you in the eye with a smirk.

“Ugh, what’s with the look, Sakura? Did I really make that much from the set?” You question with a slightly bored look.

“Way off base with the guess there, Babes! Seems like we may have a few heroes in the house tonight, literally! I was watching the cameras when that creep grabbed your tail and I saw a few customers try to get to you, one in particular seemed especially pissed. Any guesses as to who they could be before I tell you?!” Sakura explains with a playful glint in her eyes.

“You know I hate guessing games,” you say in a forced bored tone that hopefully masks your itching curiosity.

“Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Luci! Anyways, Pro Heroes Cellophane, Chargebolt, Pinky, Red Riot, and Dynamight were rushing to be your knights in shining armor! How crazy and exciting is it that a few Top Ten Pros are here at my nightclub?! Wild, right?!” Sakura reveals and you mentally kick yourself for not piecing together that Grumpy Hot Guy with the crimson eyes and spiky blonde hair is Pro Hero Dynamight.

“Uh, yeah, that is pretty crazy.. Uhm, I’m gonna go clean up and get ready for my next set, see you back here in an hour.” You say in a slight daze, the shock from Dynamight not being able to keep his eyes off of you clouding your mind.

“Mhm, gonna go make yourself extra pretty for the Pros, huh?” Sakura says with a devilish smirk.

“Sakura, please, I’m hot enough as it is. If I got any prettier customers would start dropping dead.” You say matter-of-factly after you’ve turned to walk away, hoping that Sakura didn’t see your blush. Sakura bursts out laughing behind you telling you to not kill her sources of income. You wave a playfully dismissive hand in the air before disappearing down the hallway back to your dressing room.

Once you’ve locked your dressing room door you let out a long exhale. You had run into a few of your coworkers on your way back to your dressing room and had to reassure every one of them that you were okay. But not only that, you were reminded again and again that there are Pros out in the crowd tonight via your coworkers gushing over their favorites within the group that came. Apparently a couple of your coworkers are major Dynamight fans and you tried your best to keep your cool when they wouldn’t shut up about how hot he is.

Even now, sitting at your vanity touching up your hair and makeup, you swear that you can still feel his burning gaze on you. Thinking about every time you made eye contact with him during your first set stirs something up inside of you and your reflection shows the blush you can feel heating your cheeks. As you change into your second outfit of the night you can’t tell if you’re nervous or hyped to get back on stage.

As soon as the straps of your heels are tied you make your way towards the mini fridge in your room. You grab the small bottle of Grey Goose and a small can of Red Bull from inside the fridge, then a shot glass from the top of the fridge. Sitting back down at your vanity, you pour yourself a shot and crack open your Red Bull. Downing the shot, you give it a second to settle before you pour a second. After shooting the second shot, you put the Grey Goose back and start drinking your Red Bull.

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of liquid courage, right? It’s just to help me through my next set after that creep touched me.’ You reason with (aka lie to) yourself as you look over yourself in the mirror.

A little over five minutes before you are to be called onto stage again, you make your way backstage. The shots you took earlier have succeeded in helping you feel like the confident and powerful Queen of the Underworld that you are. A cat-calling whistle pulls your attention over to Sakura and she gives you a smirk.

“Thought I told you not to kill my customers, Babes! Gah damn, you look hot! Trying to impress some certain Pro Heroes out there?” Sakura exclaims with a shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Being hot is part of the job, Boss. I don’t need to impress anyone but myself.” You say as you suppress a blush and look at your nails.

“Damn straight, Babes! Preach! Ugh, sometimes I’d really kill for your level of confidence.” Sakura says in all of her dramatic flare.

You giggle and shake your head as you blow her kiss, then turn towards the curtain. You exchange smiles with Siren as they walk through the curtain to head back to their room and wait for your cue.

“Everybody, shh shh, quiet down for a moment,” You hear Hikari say over the club’s speakers and you wonder what she has planned. You stifle an excited giggle and bounce a bit with anticipation.

“Oh, sexy Queen of Darkness, please grace us with your presence!” Hikari half chants, half moans into the mic, and you have to cover your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Lucifer, hear us and show yourself! We’re on our knees, begging! Get out here you little vixen!” Hikari dramatically cries out and you do your best to not laugh your ass off at her antics.

With smoke clouding the view of the curtain you slip through carefully so you don’t disturb it. Suddenly, you flare your wings out and let your eyes glow, your arms held out to your sides a bit as you slowly walk forward. Spotlights slowly crawl towards you and up your body until you’re illuminated and you flash an “evil” grin at the crowd.

“Oh yeah, baby!!” Hikari dramatically moans out as she starts the first song of this set.

A laugh leaves your mouth and a genuine smile pulls at your lips as you walk to the pole at the end of the catwalk. Each of your steps deliberately heavy so that your breasts and ass bounce to the beat of Hot Demon B!Tches Near U as you walk. You briefly lock eyes with Dynamight and in all of your confidence (liquid and natural) you wink at him before grabbing the pole and getting to dancing.

HDBNU and the second song Slayer are full of fast paced moves and ass shaking, money seemingly raining down like confetti. So caught up in keeping time with the song, you had blurred out the crowd. It wasn’t until the first base drop of your last song, Fill The Void, that you noticed something slightly startling.

You had your back against the pole and slowly slid down it. Your arms stretched above you gripping said pole and your legs spreading as you sank to the ground. Your breathing hitched a bit when your eyes connected with burning crimson, the owner of the eyes standing at the front of the crowd at the edge of the stage. You did your best to hide your surprise but of course Dynamight noticed and he sent you a small smirk.

You smirk back at him, accepting an unspoken challenge of sorts, slowly and sensually standing back up. Wrapping your legs around the pole you do a few tricks before you slowly slide down, feet hitting the floor once more. Swaying and moving your body to the music, you get to the front of the pole where you sink to the floor once again, this time getting on your hands and knees.

You bite your lip seductively and slowly crawl towards the crowd, your tail slowly swishing side to side and your eyes glowing. You stare Dynamight right in the eyes as you crawl and mouth the last few words of the song. You stop about half a foot from the edge of the stage and gently roll onto your back, arching it and sensually running your hands down your body. As the song comes to a close, your eyes glow significantly brighter, you let out a puff of blue-colored fire.

When the song finally ends, you stand up and bow, blowing kisses and smiling at the crowd. You cast one last glance at Dynamight and find that he looks slightly stunned. You smirk, then turn to make your way off of the stage, hips swaying the entire time. Getting backstage, your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible and Sakura definitely notices.

“Christ, Luci, I’m gonna have to call every ambulance in Tokyo after that performance! Shit, I think I’m even having heart palpitations! You fucking killed it out there, Babes!” Sakura exclaims, one hand fanning her face and the other on her chest.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush!” You say, feigning embarrassment, but ultimately giggling.

“You know who's blushing? Everyone out there who just jizzed their pants!” Sakura says, sending both of you into a laughing fit.

“But for real, great work! Now go grab a snack, get changed, and help out the other servers on the floor, please!” Sakura loosely orders with a bright smile.

“Yes, ma’am!” You say with a mocking salute and smile, then head to your dressing room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once you’ve changed into the club’s server outfit, aka a top that is basically a bralette paired with what could be the shortest skirt in the world, some cheeky panties underneath, and knee high stiletto boots, you make your way out to the bar.

“There she is; the girl who always makes me regret not bringing an extra pair of underwear!” Ruby, the bartender for the night, playfully exclaims as you walk up to the counter.

“Thought you knew better by now!” You say with a laugh and Ruby rolls their eyes with a smile.

“Alright, Love, here’s a tray of drinks for the group over at VIP table three. I don’t know if Sakura told ya, but the VIP section will be yours tonight.” Ruby says as they carefully slide a serving tray full of drinks towards you.

“C’mon, Rue, of course she didn’t tell me. Do I ever work any other section?” You comment with feigned annoyance and Ruby laughs.

In reality, you love working the VIP section. It’s always full of rich people with too much money to spend and they always tip very generously. It certainly helps that you flirt your ass off whilst serving but everyone does that.

Picking the tray up with the skill and grace you’ve perfected over the years of being in this industry, you send one last smile and wink to Ruby before heading for the VIP section of the lounge. You smile at patrons as you move through the crowd, giggling and thanking them for the compliments they give about your performance. While you truly do love your job, customer service could still be considered a performance and you are flawless at it.. Until you make it past the roped off entrance to the VIP lounge and see the group at table three.

Virtually unnoticeably, your steps falter and you’re thankful that the club's ambience is fairly dim as you take in a steadying breath. Mentally reasserting your confidence, you paint on a cool and flirty smile as you walk over to table three. Your thoughts run through your mind, filling you with the tiniest bit of dread, ‘Of fucking course it’s them.. I mean, they are Pro Heroes, why wouldn’t they be in the VIP lounge.. For fuck sa-’

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Lucifer, or Luci for short, I’ll be one of your servers tonight. I have your drinks here, but let me know if you need anything else.” You say as you set the tray down on the table, your voice coming out impressively even and a bit sultry.

“Yeah, uhm, I’m gunna need your number,” Chargebolt drunkenly slurs out, a dopey smile on his face and hearts practically in his eyes, as he grabs his drink from the tray.

You giggle at his attempt at hitting on you, having to keep from full-on laughing when you notice Dynamight’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye. You smile gently at Chargebolt, “Sorry, babes, but I don’t give my number out to strangers.” You say with a sympathetic pout as you try not to join the rest of the group in their laughter.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m Chargebolt aka Denk- OW! Man, c’mon, you don’t gotta hit me!” Chargebolt whines as he pouts at Dynamight while rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry about him! He hits on anyone who breathes his way! Thanks for the drinks, Luci!” Pinky giggles out over Chargebolt’s whining, said man still on the receiving end of Dynamight’s murderous glare.

“No problem! I’ve got a few other tables to serve but I’ll check back in a little bit!” You say as you pick up the now empty tray and step back from the table.

You hear the rest of the group thank you as you walk away, Dynamight’s grumbled and gravelly ‘thanks’ sending a wave of heat through your body. ‘It should be illegal for someone’s one-worded, grumbled response to sound so sexy, what the fuck?!’ You mentally curse as you walk up to one of the other tables.

The hours fly by quickly as you wait on each of your tables. Every stop at the Pros’ table met with flirty quips from the group, minus Dynamight. In fact, he hasn’t even looked at you the whole time you’ve been off-stage. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t just a little disappointed, but you shove it down to keep your sultry and flirty persona up. You flirtatiously thank the group at VIP table five as you stick the wad of bills that is your tip from them into your bralette and blow them a kiss as you walk towards the bar.

“Hey Ruby, you got the time?” You ask, exhaustion leaking into your tone.

“A little past one. You’re off at 15, right?” Ruby asks as they wipe off a glass. You nod, relief settling over you as well as exhaustion. It was a good shift but you are so ready to go home.

“This tray is for three, right? I’ll take it to them before I head back to my room.” You say, picking the tray up with a bit of a huff.

“Don’t act like you’re doing any favors for anyone, you just wanna see the Pros one last time before you leave.” Ruby teases with a smirk and you feign offense.

“Or I just want to reem them for tips, but go off I guess.” You playfully bite back, then giggle as Ruby raises an eyebrow at you.

Despite your exhaustion setting in more with each minute passing, you quickly make your way to the table of Pros. Pouring the last of your energy into your customer service persona, you set the tray of drinks down on the table and smile at the group.

“Hey Heroes, it has been an extreme pleasure serving and meeting all of you but it is now the end of my shift. One of our other servers will take over for me, I hope that you all enjoy the rest of your night!” The well-rehearsed spiel leaves your mouth with a pleasant tone and warm smile.

“I know I’ll be back if only to watch you dance again,” Pinky says with a flirty smile and wink that makes you giggle.

“Thanks for being so amazing!” Red Riot says with a bright smile as he hands you a fat wad of cash. You feign surprise as you take the cash and thank them all as you shove it in what little space you have left in your bralette. You spare one last glance at Dynamight and suppress a frown when you catch him looking very intently at his phone. You say your goodbyes, then rush to drop the empty tray off at the bar before heading back to your dressing room.

Changing back into the sweatpants and sweater that you arrived to work in, you feel the bone-deep heaviness that comes with being tired. You throw your hair up into a messy bun and slip your shoes on, then clock out from the tablet in your room. Slipping your bag onto your shoulder you leave your room and head for Sakura’s office to pick up your earnings from the night.

“Hey Boss, I’m outta here,” You announce from the doorway of her office.

“Alrighty, Babes! Here’s your check, you made pretty good bank tonight! Might be a little more than usual, awesome job!” Sakura beams as she hands you the envelope with your check in it.

Taking the envelope and putting it into your bag, you smile tiredly at her, “Thanks, Sakura. See ya later.”

“You want an escort to your car? I can call one of the bouncers back.” Sakura offers like she always does.

“Nah, I’m good. You already know that I’m the scary creature that lurks in the shadows.” You joke as you activate your Quirk a bit causing your eyes to glow while you shoot her a fanged smile. She laughs at your antics then bids you goodnight and you begin your walk to the back door of the club.

You step out into the chilly night air and are nearly blinded by a set of headlights coming from a car parked in the spot right in front of the door. You put your hand up to shield your eyes from the bright ass headlights and try to see who may be in the car. Suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and an anxious chill shivers down your spine. From your peripherals you see a hand reaching toward you and you try to move out of the person’s reach. Unfortunately, you’re a tad too late and they are able to grab your wrist and pull you towards them. You come face to face with the creep from earlier and your stomach drops as fear begins to course through you.

“Finally, some alone time with the demon-whore herself. Ya know, I’m a real big fan of yers. Wha’ do ya say we go back to my place and commit some sins, baby?” The creep-ass perv drawls out with a sick smile and your fear quickly turns to anger.

“Fuck off, you corny-ass pervert!” You growl out and you jerk your wrist up to your face, letting out a small breath of blue flames aimed towards the creep’s arm.

“Fucking bitch!” The degenerate of a man roars out as he yanks his hand away, continuing to curse from the pain.

You take the opportunity to whirl around and rush back into the club, locking the back door behind you once you’re inside. The door begins rattling from heavy banging against it and you can hear muffled shouts coming through from the man. You stand there shaking and trying to think of what to do now when you hear the footsteps of someone running towards you. Squinting through the dim lighting you nearly cry at the sight of Sakura and Pinky.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asks, her years of being a Pro making her voice come out steady even though she just ran here, and you nod shakily.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Luci! I should have checked the cams before sending you off! Fuck, I’m so stupid!” Sakura cries into your shoulder after pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s not your fault, Sakura, it’s okay.” You whisper, your voice coming out strained as you try not to cry, and hug her back.

The three of you jump at the sound of an explosion coming from outside the door, and Pinky pushes you both behind her. You all stand there quietly for a few moments until Pinky’s phone goes off. She answers it quickly and you’re only able to catch her end of the call, “Yeah... She’s fine... Ugh, gross, what a bastard… Okay, thanks Red!” She finishes, then hangs up and turns around to you and Sakura.

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You don’t need to be checked out by a doctor or anything?” Pinky questions as her eyes roam over your form to visibly check for any injuries whatsoever.

“No, no, I’m okay. I just want to go home.” You quietly assure the two; Pinky cautiously believes you but Sakura is still suspicious that you’re hiding any sort of pain. A loud bang on the door makes both you and Sakura jump while Pinky just lets out a sigh.

“Unlock the door, dammit!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door and Pinky takes it upon herself to fulfill the demand.

The door swings open to reveal Dynamight, the dim lights from inside the club and the street lamps from outside the only things illuminating his figure. You can still tell that his face is scrunched up into something angry even with the poor lighting if the way he is grumbling about the “fucking creepy pervert” is anything to go by.

“Good job taking down that creep, Blasty!” Pinky cheers with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Shuddup,” Dynamight says with annoyance laced in his tone, but Pinky just laughs it off as she walks past him.

“Miss Sakura, if you could come with me? The police may want to see the security footage or get a statement from you.” Pinky says from her paused position in the doorway.

“Of course! Text me when you get home, Luci! I mean it, like, as soon as you pull into your driveway!” Sakura demands with a stern look on her face as she moves to catch up with Pinky.

“I will,” You promise with a small smile and send her a wave as she leaves.

A few moments of silence pass as you and Dynamight just stand there, an air of awkwardness beginning to settle in before you speak up, “Thanks for.. arresting that guy.” You say quietly, looking at him with a small smile.

“The guy had a pretty bad burn on his arm when we showed up.. Any idea where it might have come from?” Dynamight asks in a low and even tone, his sharp crimson eyes looking into yours.

Your smile drops and panic churns at your stomach, “I-I.. it was self defense! I-I didn’t know what else to do, h-he wouldn’t let go of me!” You fearfully begin defending yourself, only just now realizing that you used your Quirk unlicensed to harm somebody. Your heart begins to race and your breaths start to stutter, mind racing over the fact that you broke the law.

“Calm down, I was just curious. As far as the cops are concerned they think I did it, so you’re in the clear. Even if they do find out it was you, it’s legal if it’s in self defen- Jesus christ, take a deep breath, it’s okay!” Dynamight’s voice raises a bit when he notices you beginning to hyperventilate.

You turn away from him and make your way towards the wall, leaning against it to steady yourself. You close your eyes and take some deep breaths in hopes of calming down. After a minute, you open your eyes and look at anything except the hero in front of you when you turn back around.

“I’d like to go home now, if that’s okay? Or do I need to speak to the police?” You meekly ask as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“I’ll tell them that you’ll go down to the station tomorrow. The security cam footage should suffice for tonight.” He says and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you nod your head.

“Well, thanks again.. Goodnight, Dynamight.” You mumble as you move toward the door to leave.

“I’ll follow behind you.. to make sure you get home safe.” You hear Dynamight’s rushed and raspy words from behind you making you stop in your tracks.

“That’s not necessary, really.. Should you even be driving? You’ve been drinking all night..” You ramble out after you turn around to face him, your heart thundering in your chest when you find that he’s right there.

“I only had a couple drinks, plus I’m not weak like Dunc- Chargebolt, I can handle my fucking liquor. I’m gunna go get my car, do not leave this parking lot until I get back here.” Dynamight firmly demands before rushing off toward the front of the building.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you shake yourself out of it and make your way to your car. You get in, hitting the lock button as soon as your door closes, and start it up. You spend a few minutes queuing up songs until you hear a honk from next to you. Nearly pissing yourself, you send a glare to Dynamight for scaring you but he just rolls his eyes and motions for you to go.

With a little bit of hesitancy in your gut, you back out of your parking space and begin your drive home. Looking at the routes on a map, it’s not a very far drive, but traffic always turns short trips into longer ones. Periodic glances at your rear view mirror tells you that you’re not the only one annoyed with the traffic. A small giggle leaves your lips every time you see Dynamight puff his cheeks with a huff or yell at some dick speeding past the both of you.

Finally, you arrive at your house, clicking the button on the gate opener and waiting for it to open fully before pulling up into the drive. Dynamight follows right behind you, pulling up next to you but just sitting in his car. You wonder if he’s going to watch you walk into your house then you wonder why he’s doing this at all. ‘There’s no way the Dynamight does this with even half of the victims he helps rescue..’ You think to yourself as you pull out your phone and tap the call function on Sakura’s contact.

The conversation is short and as soon as you hang up you turn your car off and gather your stuff, then get out. You barely register that Dynamight has gotten out of his car before he’s walking toward you. You look between him and his off car with a confused expression on your face.

“You gunna close the ga-” Dynamight starts but cuts himself off when he sees that the gate to your driveway has automatically started closing, the allotted time you have it set to stay open if you don’t close it yourself having run out.

“I didn’t realize you’d even be getting out of your car..” You comment quietly, and albeit nervously, as you make your way to your front door.

Silently, you take your keys out of your bag, placing the magnetic fob on its spot just above the doorknob. The lock makes a small beep and the keypad above the spot for the fob lights up. You sneak a glance behind you to see if Dynamight is looking but his back is to you as he seemingly surveys the driveway. You quickly type in the code for the lock and a chime rings through the air as the door unlocks. You push the door open a bit before turning around to Dynamight, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uhm, so-”

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” He cuts you off with his question as he turns to face you and his eyes scan over your body as you blink up at him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine..” You say, a little bit shocked by his behavior, and he just nods his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

A moment of silence fills the air between you two before you blurt out, “Why did you do this? Made sure I got home safe, I mean. You.. you barely even acknowledged me after my performance at the club, and it’s a pretty well-known fact that Dynamight doesn’t really follow up with those that he rescues, let alone escorts them home..”

Dynamight’s jaw clenches and irritation fills his handsome features, and you have to remind your body that right now is not a good time to be getting aroused. His eyes meet yours and promptly melt you with their heat, whether it’s from irritation or something else you don’t know.

“Because, dammit..” He starts, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out an exasperated sigh, his eyes flicking to the ground and glaring at the cement.

“Strip joints aren’t my thing. They’re too fucking loud, there’s too many damn people, and I’ve never had any interest in watching people twirl around on a pole.” He continues, but gets interrupted by the scoff you defensively let out.

But he continues on before letting you get a word out, “But it was stupid Pinky’s birthday and that’s what she wanted to do, so I was dragged into going. I sat at that damn table hating every second until.. Until you got onto that fucking stage. And I know, I know, you probably hear this shit all the fucking time but dammit there was just something about you. I couldn’t tear my damn eyes away from you.”

You’re not sure when it happened but suddenly he is so close to you, crimson eyes sending a blazing heat through your body. Your breath hitches when you catch a whiff of his cologne and your panties are starting to feel much more damp.

“There’s some sort of lust factor to your Quirk, right? There has to be because I never feel like this towards anyone right off the bat,” He rasps out, his voice quieter than before and husky.

“Feel like what?” You whisper, playing the dumb-innocence card heavily as you stare into his eyes.

“Like I wanna fuck you until you’re nothing but a drooling mess cumming on my cock,” He rasps out huskily, his face mere centimeters from yours.

You can’t take it anymore, something in you just snaps and you’re smashing your lips onto his. Your moan mingles with his groan as your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands quickly find purchase on your hips and his fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats as he pulls your body impossibly closer to his. The kiss, if one could call it that, is aggressive with sharp canines nipping each others’ lips and tongues fighting for dominance.

In the midst of your devouring of each other, he backs you into your house, kicking the door shut behind him. You absentmindedly hear the chime of your door locking itself over the rush of blood in your ears and Dynamight’s groans. Your bag ends up crashing to the floor and you both somehow manage to haphazardly kick your shoes off.

You both stumble down the hallway as you lead him to your bedroom, pieces of clothing almost literally torn from each other’s bodies littering the floor as you go. By the time you fall back onto your bed, you’re both in nothing but your underwear. Dynamight stands at the edge of your bed seemingly entranced as you drag your hands along your body up to the front clasp of your bra. You slowly and sensually unclip the bra, making a show out of taking it off even though the Hero’s focus is solely on your tits.

His eyes then meet yours and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his voice rough with lust but you hear the slight hesitance.

“I kissed you, didn’t I? Listen, I know I’m a stripper but I don’t usually fuck the patrons, I simply have no interest in it. I want this, I need this, and I’m clean if that makes you feel better. Plus, I’m on birth control, so please Dyn-”

“Katsuki. If we’re gunna fuck then you at least get to call me by my fucking name.” He bites out with fake annoyance, rolling his eyes as he shoves his underwear off.

You smirk up at him, toying with your breasts and moaning his name, just to test it out on your tongue and goddamn is it delicious. His eyes darken yet seem to glow at the same time like a whole new level of lust flowed over him, and you give him your real name.

“So, Katsuki, are you gunna fuck me til I’m a drooling mess cumming on your cock or am I gunna have to call Charg- shit, ahh, fuck-” You try to taunt him but are quickly cut off when Katsuki is suddenly on you, mouthing at one of your breasts while his hand kneads and squeezes the other.

He grinds his hard cock on your clothed pussy, right on your clit, the friction of it all making you pant and moan underneath him. Your hands sink into his hair, your claws scratching against his scalp and pulling more groans from him. He gives both your breasts equal attention, biting and sucking and leaving hickies in the wakes of his lips. His kisses begin to travel down your body until his hot mouth is sucking and licking over your already soaked panties.

It’s a slow kind of torture when he finally decides to drag your panties down your legs and off of your body. Needy whines and breathy begs leave your mouth as he uses one hand to slowly drag your panties down your legs while the thumb of his other hand rubs torturously slow circles into your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.. You that needy for my cock, baby?” He husks out as he settles on his stomach between your legs.

“Y-yes, ah, been wet since, fuck, since my second s-set when, a-ah, wh-when y-you were by th-the stage,” You barely manage to get out between the slow stripes he’s licking up your pussy.

He sends you a cocky smirk before fully diving into your wetness and one of your hands flies to his hair while the other grips the sheets. He drinks you up like a man dying of thirst; going from sucking your clit and flicking his tongue against it to dipping lower and slipping his tongue in and out of your slit. Every ministration pushes you closer to that edge and you can’t stop your body from squirming as moans fall from your lips.

An idea manages to slip into your pleasure-addled mind and you pull at his hair to get his attention. This only results in what could only be described as a growl leaving his mouth and vibrating against your clit, nearly sending you. You fight off your impending orgasm as much as you can manage and try to use your words instead, “K-Katsuki, w-wait! I-I wa-wanna ride your face!” That gets his attention immediately, making him pause mid-lick to lean back a bit and give you a wild smirk.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” His lust-laced voice carries through the room as he shuffles around to get into position.

Once he’s comfortable, his lust-darkened and excited eyes catch yours, a devilish smirk sitting on his lips. You send him your own fanged smirk and carefully climb over his body, the shuffling of limbs resulting in your body facing your headboard as your pussy hovers over his mouth. His hands come up to grip your thighs as you slowly seat yourself onto his hot and waiting mouth. A half moan, half gasp leaves your lips when Katsuki immediately gets back to devouring you and one of your hands buries itself in his hair.

You let yourself drown beneath the waves of pleasure for a moment or two before forcing some clarity into your mind. You smirk down at him and his ministrations falter a bit as you trail the tip of your tail down his torso. He questions your action with his eyes until they widen a bit out of surprise as your tail slowly gets increasingly closer to his cock. His groan vibrates against your clit as you wrap your tail around him and his eyes flutter a bit.

You start jerking his cock slowly, your hips moving in sync, and both of your moans start filling the room. Katsuki becomes more aggressive with his licking and sucking, his tongue delving into you every now and then as you grind against him.

“Hah.. ah.. I-I’m g-gunna f-fucking.. cum..” You pant out between moans, your grip on his hair tightening as the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm begins flooding you once again.

“Fucking hell.. Cum, then, baby. Cum on my fucking tongue.” Katsuki’s muffled command is followed by another groaned out curse, his hips bucking a bit off the bed as you continue to jerk him.

“Aah, Katsuki,” His name comes out as a high-pitched moan as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy clenches around his tongue as you double over, your free hand sinking into the mattress next to his head. He tongue-fucks you through it as your eyes squeeze shut and your nails scrape against his scalp. In your bliss, you hear and feel him let out something between a groan and growl, and you’re not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure.

He continues swiping his tongue against your pussy as whines from overstimulation leave your mouth. Something more begins building in your abdomen and you forcefully lift your hips from his face to keep from potentially drowning the man beneath you.

You're both panting as you stare at each other with the same look of feral lust in your eyes. The moonlight shining in from your window making it look like his eyes are glowing and you feel just a bit envious over how fucking effortlessly attractive this man is. A playful smirk pulls at your lips when you squeeze your tail around his cock and he lets out an unintentional moan. Suddenly, in a blur of motions, you’re flipped onto your back with Katsuki hovering over you, his lips still shiny with your cum.

“Ya know, teasing isn’t nice.” Katsuki comments huskily with a smirk as he grinds his cock against your wet pussy, his tip catching your clit with every stroke.

In an instant his lips are on yours, swallowing your whines and moans. He holds himself up with one arm while the other leaves its position from beside your head. His now free hand runs down your body until he gets to your pussy. His fingers rub at your clit a bit before moving further down where he slips a finger into you. Your moans go up in volume as one finger becomes two and his lips suck hickies into the column of your throat. Your body begins to writhe a bit as his fingers brush over your g-spot and his teeth nip at your hot skin.

Soon enough two fingers turn into three and the tsunami-size waves of your next orgasm crash against the poorly built dam you’ve built. All the while, Katsuki just swallows all of begging and pleading for him to just put his cock in you already. His hot, hard cock that is currently weeping pre-cum all over your thigh.

“I-I think I l-learned my lesson ‘bout teasing, Ka-Katsuki! Oh fuck.. J-just put it in!” You demand when his mouth goes back to sucking more marks into your shoulder.

“Demanding little slut, flip the fuck over.” Katsuki commands after he pulls his fingers from your pussy.

You flip yourself onto your stomach, ass up in the air and tail swishing sensually slowly behind you. You look back at him with a smirk that quickly falters when you meet his gaze dead-on as he licks your cum from his fingers. A cocky smirk pulls at his lips when he finishes and uses that same hand to smack one of your asscheeks making you cry out. Pain and pleasure tingle up your spine and your pussy continues to leak.

“Yeah, kinda figured you were a pain slut by now. Only fitting for someone with a demon Quirk, huh?” Katsuki husks out following another smack to your ass.

Finally, without any further commentation, the fat head of his cock nudges its way between your pussy lips. He enters you slowly, groaning as you pant through the welcomed invasion of every inch of him. When his hips finally meet your asscheeks you understand why he had taken his time fingering you. Of course, you had noticed that his cock is big but you weren’t quite prepared to feel this full. There isn’t a single complaint that runs through your pleasure-melted brain, though. Only praises intermingled with moans fall from your mouth when he gives an experimental thrust.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” Katsuki grits out as he sets a steady pace, moving in and out of you while his hands grip your hips.

“So.. fuckin’.. good.. s-so.. full..” You moan out as you push yourself back on his cock, absentmindedly wrapping your tail around one of his wrists.

The room becomes hot and stuffy, the smell of sex and Katsuki’s cologne on every breath you breathe in. Your eyes are half-lidded, wanting to roll back, and your mouth hangs open as Katsuki begins drilling into you. You nearly cum from the sight of him throwing his head back and groaning at how your pussy squelches and clenches around him.

His cock hits your g-spot over and over, making that overwhelming feeling inside you unbearable. You don’t get anything other than a high-pitched moan out of your mouth as your second orgasm crashes into you. Your eyes roll back as you squirt all over Katsuki’s cock and pelvis. You become a babbling, drooling mess as he fucks your through your orgasm, his pace somehow getting faster. His exhales become grunts and growls as he pounds into you, his hands now gripping you so tightly that you nearly cum again thinking about the bruises they’ll leave.

“Fuck, I’m gunna fucking cum!” Katsuki groans out, his thrusts beginning to falter slightly.

“Ah, please cum, a-ah, pleasepleaseplease,” You mindlessly beg as you cum on his cock again.

“Sh-shit.. I-I.. fuuuuck,” He stutters out as he thrust hard into you one last time before stilling. You moan softly as warmth fills you, your eyes shutting from all of the bliss and pleasure you felt throughout the night.

Katsuki is hunched over you for a moment just trying to catch his breath before he kisses your shoulder and straightens up. He slowly pulls out causing both of you to groan, then he collapses onto the mattress beside you. You lower your hips down to the bed and stretch your body a bit before shuffling over to lay on his chest. With his eyes closed, Katsuki wraps an arm around you and begins lightly rubbing your lower back. It’s a peaceful and calm silence between the both of you, the only sounds being both of you breathing and your house’s A/C kicking on.

“There’s no lust factor,” You say quietly, your chin resting on his pec as you look up at his face.

Katsuki cracks an eye open and tilts his head to peer down at you in confusion, “What?” He rasps out.

“My Quirk, Hellspawn, is just demon traits. I don’t have any succubi traits or powers, so there’s no lust factor to my Quirk.” A teasing smile plays on your lips as you explain.

Katsuki is silent as he glares down at you, his face unamused until his lips twitch and a chuckle escapes him. You let out a few giggles yourself and Katsuki runs a hand down his face.

“Well, shit, there goes that explanation. If you’re telling the truth, that is,” He says as he gives you a look of feigned suspicion.

You gasp with feigned offense as you sit up a little, “I would never lie to a Pro Hero such as yourself! What’s the matter, Mr. Dynamight, you don’t believe in lust at first sight?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at your bad pun.

Katsuki groans as he rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, ‘lust at first sight’? I can’t tell if that's the stripper in you talkin’ or the succubus.”

“I’m not a succubus!” You exclaim as you playfully push him, a laugh leaving your mouth as you stare down at his smirking face.

“Where’s your bathroom, Succubus? We both need a damn shower,” Katsuki asks as he sits up.

His question feels like it’s muffled in your ears as thoughts of not wanting this to end flood your brain. You wonder if he wants this to be a one night stand. If he’ll get dressed, then ask you to not tell anyone about what you two did tonight. If maybe he doesn’t want the fact that he slept with a stripper to get out and ruin his grand reptati-

“Hey, we gunna get this shower over with so we can sleep or what?” Katsuki’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “I’ll help ya change the bedding and shit after we get done ‘cause I’m sure as hell not sleeping in the puddle you made.” He says with a teasing smirk. You blink dumbly for a moment, then move to stand up to lead Katsuki to your bathroom.

‘He’s spending the night? Maybe he doesn’t want this to end just yet, either..’ You think as you step into the warm water of your shower, Katsuki stepping in right behind you. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you back flush against him, being mindful of your wings. He sighs as he kisses the crook of your neck and you lean back into him, closing your eyes and just enjoying the moment.

Note ~ Welp, there we go, Lovelies! This was a fun fic to write even though I'm not familiar with the workings of a strip club. I did recently watch the movie Hustlers and felt a bit more confident about what I was writing, haha. Hope it was a good read and y'all stay tuned for more fics! Love and appreciate all of you, Lovelies! <3

#bakugo brain rot #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut #smut #bakugou smut #smut fic #fem reader #pro hero bakugou

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 month

Note

hi! i would like to request kaz brekker x fem!reader where kaz is feeling a lot of pain on his bad leg and reader massages it for him. established relationship please. thank you in advance!

The salve

You could tell that Kaz’s leg had been bothering him for a while now. With the weather changing and the rain pouring down for the second week now, the humidity was atrocious for joints. So Kaz limped and grunted through it. Being in a way worse mood than usual. Meaning that everyone who was around him was catching a handful of snarky remarks for anything. Even breathing too loudly.

You gathered a play of food for him downstairs adding extras so you both could share. He hadn’t been down even once today. Kaz said he was just busy with work but you could tell from the way he was tossing and turning the previous night. He simply couldn’t walk downstairs. The pain had gotten that bad but of course he didn’t show it. His cold mask didn’t slip even once.

Pushing the door open with your hip you walked into your shared room. Smiling at him the moment your eyes locked. Kaz’s eyes caught that spark too but his face stayed stone cold. “You didn’t need to bring it up”, he grunted, turning a page over. “But I did”, you chirped in response, moving to yank that same document out of his grip as you lowered the plate in its place, “Push the chair back and eat”.

Kaz frowned slightly. “Also, take your pants off”, you add with a wave of your hand. “You are confusing me, woman. Why would I eat dinner without my pants?”, Kaz huffed, snatching a piece of roasted potatoe. “Kaz Brekker take your pants off”, you said firmly once more. Keeping his gaze. “Multitasking has never been my favorite thing”, he huffed in frustration but still stood with a grunt, holding onto a table for support. Stoping to breathe. “Let me help you”, you reach for the zipper but he bats your hands away. “I’m not some immobile fool”, he hisses in annoyance. “Kaz, you might think that you can fool me but you’re an idiot here”, you catch his hand placing it on the table so he can hold his weight up while you undo his pants with ease.

“It doesn’t even hurt”, he argues but you only lift your eyebrow at him as you look up at him, “Fine, maybe a little but I don’t need you undressing me”. You only hum as you guide him back down into the chair. Those couple minutes alone were enough to make sweat break out on his forehead. You reach into your pocket, the metal jar of salve gleaming in the low light.

“Where did you get that?”, Kaz asks firmly and you know that you didn’t even need to answer. He knows himself. The stamp on the lid says enough. “Don’t tell me that you went there without me knowing”, you can hear the frustration in his tone. The slumps here had been crowding with new arrivals lately. Arrivals that had been enjoying killing people as of late so Kaz had forbidden you to go there.

“It was quick”, you breathe out, warming the mixture between your fingers. “They can also kill you quickly. Asked for that too?”, Kaz grunted but your fingers pressed on his legs, and his whole body went ridged. “Fuck”, he hissed. “I’m sorry”, you pushed your finger into the knots and stiff muscles. Feeling it gives in. “This will help. The healers are from my old village. You’ll be able to walk tomorrow”, muttering you continued to work your hands all over.

“Not worth it if it puts you in danger”, Kaz argued, his head lulled back. “I would do it again”, you shrugged. “That’s the scary part”, he turned to look at you. The tension in his body already melting away. “Any better?”, you question him, moving to bend his leg through the knee a couple of times. “I would say yes but because you were reckless, I’ll say no”, the side of his lips turned upward and you bit your lip, “What I shame, guess I’ll have to massage your legs some more”, “Guess so”, Kaz shrugged, reaching for a piece of meat pie before guiding the fork to your lips.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker six of crows #the six of crows x reader #the six of crows imagine #the six of crows #the six of crows x oc

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thornedrose44 · 8 months

Note

20 for supercorp please?

Prompt: “Are you already dating someone new?”

“Supergirl!” The reporter yelled, pulling the hero’s attention away from greeting the crowd after stopping a getaway car. “Are you already dating someone new?”

Kara frowned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Am I… what?”

And that was all the opening the reporter needed, Kara had engaged and was locked in.

“You were seen out on the town with Diana Prince only last week, the two of you were engaged in a close conversation.”

“That… I… we… uh…” Kara stammered, her blush the irrefutable proof the reporter needed.

“And then last night you were seen with James Olsen on a date clearly set up by Superman.”

“What? Superman had nothing to do with it. When I dated James I did it all by myself. But we’re not-“

“Dated? You’ve had a previous relationship? Exes rekindling the romance? Diana Prince merely used to rouse jealousy in your once lover? Who knew Supergirl was such a heartbreaker?”

“That was a lot of questions and none of them point to the truth.” Kara huffed.

“So James was just another in a long line, hmm?”

“I didn’t say that-“

“Who will Supergirl date next? Her identity and libido now revealed and free to conquer the city,” The reporter turned to fully face the camera, completely ignoring Kara’s outrage in the background as he pointed down the lens, “maybe it could be you?”

xxx

“Watch out, everyone! Supergirl’s raging libido is on the loose!” Nia called out as Kara landed on the Tower’s balcony looking awfully put out - bottom lip stuck out petulantly.

“Eww, please don’t talk about my sister’s libido.” Alex grimaced, glancing up from the monitor she was studying with Kelly. Esme was spending the day with J’onn, giving the parents a chance to catch up on some odd tasks at the Tower before going on a date. Lena and Brainy were fiddling with some tech components on a workbench in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, Alex but the whole city is talking about it, who knows who will be next?” Nia singsonged, looking far too pleased with herself.

“I shouldn’t have engaged…” Kara groaned, banging her head lightly against a wall.

“Yup!” Nia agreed, “But you did! Cat Grant is furious!”

“Ugh…” Kara slouched, sinking to the floor.

“Nia, I think she’s suffered enough.” Lena said, approaching quietly.

Nia pouted, patting Kara’s shoulder amicably before skipping away, her and Brainy departing together to go on their regular lunch date.

“How are you holding up, heartbreaker?” Lena teased, holding out a hand to help Kara up.

“Not you too.” Kara whined, accepting the hand offered her merely to link their hands together - palms brushing and fingers interlocking - using her own abilities to hover back onto her feet. “You know this is all your fault, right?”

Lena quirked an eyebrow, “How do you figure that?”

“No smoke without fire.” Kara replied confidently, swinging their joined hands back and forth. “I have an aura.”

Lena’s gaze narrowed as she repeated slowly, “An aura?”

“Yep.” Kara popped the word, smile growing into a grin. “A happily dating aura.”

Lena smirked, “Are you sure it’s not a recently fu-“

“NOPE! Nuh uh!” Alex shouted, fingers swiftly plugging ears. “Not listening! Kelly let’s go!”

Kelly shook her head in fond amusement of her wife, “Bye guys!”

Alex bolted for the exit, Kelly following more sedately behind.

“You did that on purpose.” Kara accused.

Lena placed a hand over her chest in mock offence. “Not everything can be my fault.” She followed this up with a shrug, “Admittedly I definitely did that on purpose and will gladly take accountability for Supergirl’s raging libido.”

Kara rolled her eyes, tugging Lena closer and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You know there’s no substance to the rumours, right? I only have eyes for you.” Kara reassured, gently checking in. This thing between them was still new, still finding its feet and Kara wanted to keep it safe and sheltered for as long as possible.

“I know, my love.” Lena affirmed, hand reaching out to comb through Kara’s hair. “It’s gossip mongering, I’ve suffered my fair share.”

“I don’t like adding to it.” Kara pouted, leaning into Lena’s tender care.

“You add so much more joy and love to counterbalance it. I knew what I was getting into dating Supergirl.”

“Still…”

“I can handle your raging libido, my love.”

“That’s going to stick isn’t it?”

“Afraid so; Cat has said it is to be your punishment.” Lena explained with a light chuckle. “She trained you to know better than to engage.”

“I know…” Kara grumbled, leaning forward to rest her forehead on Lena’s shoulder.

“I have a suggestion of how to get back in her good graces…”

“Oh?” Kara hummed, turning her head to gently kiss Lena’s neck.

“We offer her the bigger story to share.” Lena offered, voice quiet and shy.

Kara slowly pulled back, brow furrowed, “Bigger story?”

Lena nodded, “Well, I hope a Super and Luthor relationship would be bigger than your libido but who knows?”

Kara blinked, “You want to go public?”

“Only if you want to. And I view it less as going public and more as…” Lena hesitated, “setting the record straight.”

“I didn’t think the dating rumours bothered you?”

“They don’t.” Lena said. “It’s the lack of rumours that bothers me.”

“The lack?”

“I spent so long thinking that there was never going to be more between us, that our relationship was always destined to be platonic - which I was more than happy with but…” Lena looked away, cheeks tinting with embarrassment, “seeing how I am always the best friend in the news… It reminds me of that time. I don’t want to be in that box anymore. I don’t want us to be.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Kara promised, pressing kisses to Lena’s cheeks which only made the light pink flush deepen to sunset red. “You were never in that box.”

“I know that now.” Lena murmured, head tilting to catch Kara’s lips in a sweet kiss.

Kara rocked back, smile dreamy and dazed, “I’ll call Cat.” Kara declared. “Let her know my raging libido has found its next and final target.”

“Final, huh?”

“Final.” Kara said sincerely.

#supercorp #supercorp prompt

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queercoshon · 2 months

Text

The din of the crowded bar faded as the door to the bathroom closed behind you. You click the lock, undo your pants, and immediately take a breath of relief.

It had been a long night of celebrations. Your friend was getting married and this was his last night of 'freedom.' The festivities started at a steakhouse, where appetizers, mains, desserts, and many drinks were had.

Your pants were already on the brink of being too tight when you left the house, but you could definitely feel your gut straining against the fabric as you jaunted out of there with all your buddies.

Next stop was everyone's favourite bar. On the way over marajuana was passed around. You have no idea how many joints were circling at once, you just know by the time you made it to the pub, your head was floating and gut roaringly hungry, despite being backed to the brim.

Some sportball event was blaring over the tv when you arrived. You didn't care, but your buds were all stoked, so many appetizers and beers were ordered. You forgot to feign interest in the game 4 beers after getting to the pub.

At this point everyone is visibly drunk, and you are definitely feeling it yourself. Hiccups were wracking your body, jostling the pressured contents of your stomach, shaking loose several beers. You suddenly realised you needed to pee, and somehow managed to stumble your way over to the 1 stall bathroom, missing the door handle on the first try.

Which brings you to now. You stumble/waddle over to the toilet, do your stuff, then do up your pants. Well, you try to. You automatically suck in to close the button (you have to do this even when you're not packed with food and booze now), but the button doesn't quite make it to the hole. When you try again, you try to push your gut out of the way with your arm, but its so rounded out you still have a hard time seeing over it. The button does not get any closer. You drop your belly and belch, which lets loose a new string of hiccups.

God, you're a pig. You'd given up dieting 6 months ago, gaining 20lbs in the first 3 months. All clothes starting to cling to your softening body. Not that you were horribly skinny before, but you were now nearing the heavier end of chubby. Three months ago you'd discovered the empty calories and lost inhibitions of alcohol, and all the benefits weed had. At least twice a week you pass out on your couch, empty takeout containers and beer cans scattered around you, gut creaking and gurgling dangerously. You think you've put on maybe 30 lbs in the last 3 months, but it's closer to 45.

This is evident in your clothing. This is your last pair of pants. You had to lay on your bed, suck in your gut, and use all your strength to get them closed. You could still feel the red indentations on your skin under your gut.

And rather than take it easy and be mindful of what you put in your belly, you consumed with reckless abandon. Leading you to this little bathroom, too fat and bloated to dress yourself decently.

You shake your belly, trying to belch out enough bloat to maybe get them done up. Even in this predicament, you start to fantasize about the beers you'll order once you go back out there, and maybe another basket of fried things.

You drop your gut and hazily look in the mirror. You look sloshed. Eyes completely red, a stupid grin plastered on your face, and even though your upper gut is clearly completely overfed, your belly still hangs low.

Your belly is hanging. You can barely see the button isn't done up. You manage to wiggle the zipper up and grin. No one will notice a thing! And now you definitely have more room without those pesky pants digging into your belly.

Satisfied, you pat your gut and waddle out the door, back to your friends, the food, and the many beers that await you.

#queer feedism #intox kink #feedism story #stuffed fatty #intox feedee #intox wg #stuffing literature #stuffing story #drunk stuffing #beer bloat #drunk feedee #weight gain story #overstuffed belly

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predestinatos · 5 months

Text

7th heaven | LN4 ✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡

🃁 pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

🃁 summary: clubbing is especially fun when someone's body is against yours

🃁 keywords: clubbing!lando, raver reader, sexy but not smutty, mentions of drugs, drinking, illegal substances in general, think skins uk aesthetic

🃁 words: 1.7k

🃁 note: i miss clubbing so much i needed to write this... especially because clubbing with lando sounds so much fun. i'll add my clubbing/raving playlist here in case someone wants some atmosphere (i listened to it as i wrote). i'm leaving it sort of open ended because i might want to get back to it, who knows! it was very fun writing it.

🃁 warnings: mentions of substance use & alcohol, suggestive behavior

The bass raged in the speakers as the lights flickered on and off, giving the room a slow-motion effect. It was hot in a way you loved – it made you want to dance, jump, spill some drinks on yourself as you did so – and your outfit told everyone exactly that.

Wearing a black lacy bralette with tight black jeans, glitter all over your body making your body appear technicolor at your every movement, you felt sensuous, confident and careless all at once. The crowd swallowed you and the beat drove your movements, registering little to nothing other than the rhythm flowing through your veins.

The underground aspect of the rave was your favorite. It felt confidential, the people present all sharing this secret moment in an abandoned basement that was both filled with light and pitch black at once. You did this with your friends frequently – maybe more than you should, finals coming around and adulthood lurking – almost ritualistically, a sisterhood of alcohol, bodies on bodies, music, and holding each other’s hair when one was a bit more drunk than usual. You stuck together because you had learned to never go to a rave if one of you wasn’t going – it was either the whole group, comprised of 5 people – or nothing. It sounded almost impossible that there was a way to make all of your schedules fit together, but you made it work, especially when you knew what was at stake. Protecting each other was the priority, closely followed by having fun. Thankfully you were not the designated sober person that night.

Cup in hand, your body moved along with the others around you, the hypnotic closeness a drug on its own. As the lights went on and off and you felt touches all around you, your eyes locked with a pair of green ones, admiring you a couple of bodies away, dancing as he did so.

You refused to look away, smiling at the attractive stranger, whose shirt fit loosely around his body in a way that revealed both comfort and attractiveness, sweat clinging to his forehead as he smiled back at you and tipped his cup your way, a toast to your performance. You tipped it back, running a hand through your hair and your neck to the rhythm of the music, letting the lights, the music, the atmosphere, be an enhancer of your beauty.

The lights turned off for brief seconds, as the beat calmed down, waiting for a second drop, and you could hear everyone’s heartbeats and breaths as one – their sound its own music, threatening to jump out of your chests.

When the lights turned back on, you were faced with the same green eyes as before, now closer to you, close enough that his cup clinked against yours, not from a distance this time. His eyebrows raised as he scanned your body, bringing the drink to his full lips.

Grabbing your waist, the stranger looked at you as if asking for your approval of this movement, confirmation that he was allowed to continue this dance you two were now starting along with the one you were already performing to the sound of the music playing.

You looked up at him, noticing his features – he was attractive, messy brown hair and stubble giving him an enticing appeal. His closeness allowed for you to smell his scent, a fresh and woody combination that only highlighted his sensuality. His linen shirt was unbuttoned almost halfway through, leaving as little to the imagination as your own clothes did.

As your bodies moved closer and closer, connecting to each other and to the rhythm in simultaneous spontaneity, he brought his lips to your ear, trying to make himself heard. Were it not for the fact that you were a regular in this sort of environment, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. “What’s your name?” he asked, a hint of a British accent making itself audible to you as he did so. You smiled as you brought your own lips to his ear this time, his body leaning so he could listen to you, and you yelled out your name to him, despite it sounding more like a whisper given the noise around you.

“I’m Lando” he told you, even though you hadn’t asked. It didn’t seem to matter, as the question could be implicit in your own reply, or because you had a feeling he had only asked yours so he could exchange it for his, making you both part of the same secret.

You moved along with the multitude of people, staying close together as you danced, your back against his chest as you bounced, his free hand feeling all of you. Turning around to face him, his grip light on your body, allowing you to move, contrasted with his expression as he looked at your body swaying, intense and dark. He swallowed, throat bobbing up and down in an attempt to hide his thirst for something other than a drink, but you noticed it enough to smirk at him. His confidence was magnetic and tempting, and this was highlighted fully when he leaned once again to tell you “You’re really hot.” In response, your raised your glass again in a cheering motion that recognized that you shared that opinion about himself as well.

Almost unnoticeably, you were now near a wall of the tight basement, your head resting against the hard surface and your breath trying to outrun your heart.

Looking around, you saw one of your friends doing the exact same, and relief made part of your heartbeat slow down, some tiredness wearing off your body as you realized things were alright. Her short hair bobbed up and down as she looked at you and winked, revealing that everything was okay, more than okay even, because you all had so much energy left to spend.

You turned your head back to the boy in front of you, his hands now on each side of your head, his tan skin glistening with sweat. With an impulsive movement, encouraged by the environment around you, by all the bodies already touching, by all of the skin that seemed to move without thinking, you pulled him by his unbuttoned shirt and pressed your lips against his.

It was a slightly drunk, sloppy, sweaty kiss – but one you both enjoyed thoroughly, his pulling away to smile at your daring attitude showcasing his approval and need for more. With that, he took the initiative to lean down towards you again, his lips falling on yours as one of his hands gripped your waist and the other your ass as you kept dancing between the shared embrace, one guiding the other and vice versa, eroticism clouding your judgement, daring you to continue. Your mouths were part of the routine, his tongue sloppily and briefly grazing yours, your teeth biting his bottom lip. It was dizzy and ecstatic, as you felt his heart while your hand was on his chest, beating frantically and energetically, matching the music around you.

As you pulled away, Lando looked at you in admiration, almost awe, at how attracted he was to you – your mere essence, your sensuality, the pulsing rhythm making his whole body vibrate at the sight of you. He let go of you, the lack of his touch leaving a cold feeling on the spots he now left vulnerable to the air around, and you almost frowned at that, had you not noticed where his hand was going – the pocket of his jeans.

You bit your lip as he removed a small plastic bag from it, taking a bright orange colored pill from it and placing it on his tongue, without ever abandoning the tempo flowing around the room. You were dazed from the sight of him coming closer to you, tongue out with the pill right on its center, a silent invitation to take him and it at the same time.

You pulled his neck towards yours, as your own tongue brushed against his and you kissed, the pill transferring from his mouth to yours playfully. You swallowed it, closing your eyes as you did so, and when you opened them, Lando was popping another one in his mouth as well, swallowing it too this time. He then said something you couldn’t hear, or maybe he just moved his lips and formed words that you could understand, your experience in these events evident through these small aspects of your interactions – and you read them, as they formed two words: “show me.”

You knew what he was referring to, and knew too that he didn’t actually require any proof of you having consumed the pill. You were very aware of the way his eyes darkened slightly, how the corners of his mouth formed a slight smile, how he licked his lips awaiting you to comply. And you did, opening your mouth once more, and sticking out your tongue in order to show him that yes, you were a good girl, yes, you knew what games he was playing, and yes, you wanted to keep going.

As time kept going, the music seemed to get more rhythmic, to infiltrate your bloodstream as if injected in your veins, and it was still as full of people as it was in the beginning. Or at least it seemed so, as the effect of the pill slowly took its time to make itself felt, but hitting you suddenly, unexpectedly, and almost unnoticeably.

Both of your bodies seemed now completely in sync with each other, euphoria guiding their movements towards each other like a magnet. You couldn’t speak, due to the music, to the thoughts crowding your minds incoherently – but you didn’t have to either, not at that moment, probably not until the following afternoon.

The almost animal magnetism you were feeling towards each other was enough to let his fingers on your skin say all the words that needed to be said in that moment. He thought you were crazy, in a completely desirable and irresistible way; you, in turn, thought he was insane but addictive.

You could barely see, mind drowsy and light as you relied mostly on touch as the sole provider of heat and comfort, which you found in Lando’s tight grip on your body, head buried in your neck as he laughed at nothing and bit it softly.

You had no idea how much time had passed, if you were still in the first song of the night or the 300th, you could only focus on the way his figure grinded against you messily, hungry and reckless.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x you #formula one x y/n

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derekhighwaytf · 9 months

Text

InstaCub

I loved the Cha Cha Room. It was as exclusive as it was expensive, but hey that’s the price you pay when you’re a social media sensation. Being Trey, the sexy instagram model wasn’t without its downsides, however. The worst thing was when guys who should’ve known that someone of my caliber wouldn’t be interested in them tried to hit on me. Sure, I fucked my fans regularly, but only the ones that shared my dedication to beauty. I couldn’t help that I was born gorgeous.

My entourage, an aesthetically curated group of other models (all only slightly less attractive than myself) walked into the Cha Cha Room, ready to be gawked at, each of us oozing beauty and charisma. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their eyes filled with awe, desire, and, my favorite, envy.

But amongst that sea, there was one guy that forced me to do a double take. Doug, rounder and balder than anyone else, didn't fit the usual demographic that came to Cha Cha. It was a mystery how he must’ve slipped his way in when security wasn’t looking, because there was no chance they’d ever willingly allow someone who looked like that to enter such exclusive premises. And, to make matters worse, when he caught me staring at his odd appearance, he began to make his way toward me, a small, devious smile playing on his lips.

"Can I buy you a drink?," he asked. I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a smirk. Sure, he was far beneath my standards, but I loved teasing my inferiors, especially when it comes with a free drink. "Well, aren't you a sweetheart," I replied, trying to hide my disdain for his smelly, musky demeanor.

As we talked and I pretended to listen, he must’ve farted at least three times, but I wanted to be nice, so I held my breath and counted the seconds till I could rejoin my way cooler group of friends. However, when Doug began flirting, I couldn’t help it. A chuckle bubbled up from my chest and I shook my head, saying "Doug, was it? No amount of drinks in this club could make me think you're anything but fat, smelly, and bald."

“And what’s wrong with that?” he said earnestly. “This is a bar for fat, smelly, bald guys after all.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. Just as the words escaped my lips, I noticed something strange. As my eyes scanned the crowd, I realized that everyone, even my formerly flawless friends, looked just like Doug. They’d grown beards, their hair on their head was gone, and they all had guts the size of bowling balls. I felt a chill run down my spine as I started to walk away.

“I must be in the wrong place. I don’t belong here,” I said, just barely missing the door. But before I could free myself from this hellhole, Doug stopped me and said, “Yes you do. I think you fit in perfectly.”

Suddenly, my Gucci shirt felt tight around my midsection, and my once firm arms now felt doughy. As I turned to leave, a full-length mirror on the wall revealed a shocking transformation. I reached up and where once were lush and thick chestnut locks, was now greeted the cold, bare skin of a rapidly receding hairline, retreating with alarming speed, creating an expanding dome of skin I’d never seen before.

Clumps of my hair began to detach themselves from my scalp, falling gently to the club floor. Each strand felt like a piece of my identity, a piece of Trey, falling away to reveal the bald truth underneath. I watched in frozen terror, feeling each follicle detach until all that remained was nothing but a smooth, shiny surface. I was as bald as an egg.

And then I farted.

Pffffffft.

I was disgusted with myself for only a moment, until I started to let a hearty chuckle much deeper than my old voice.

I looked in the mirror again, my face so much more different than it was ten minutes ago—familiar, but not the one I had painstakingly maintained for the world to admire. Suddenly, the world seemed to shift as a flood of memories washed over me. I wasn't Trey, the Instagram sensation. I was Tom, a twenty-something, bald, overweight man who didn’t shower, farted every five minutes, and fucked anyone who’d have me. This was my bar and I was gonna make sure all my fellow cubs had a good time

As the rock music blared and the crowd at Tommy’s Den started to become increasingly alluring to me, I was suddenly hit with a wave of unfulfilled desire, a need for cock. So I pulled Doug aside to the bathroom and…well you can guess what happened next.

I was Tom now, and, honestly, my life was so much better…

Pffffffffft.

#bald #bald tf #male transformation #tf #gay tf #mental change #tf story #twink to bear #bear tf #bearification

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scarvain · 1 month

Note

hiii, can I request something for Dominic like? just whatever idrc, ill be happy with everything

✶ number one fan — dominic fike x reader

SUMMARY: you're supporting your boyfriend while he performs on stage

WARNINGS: simp dom idk i love him

A/N: SOMEONE FINALLY REQUESTING FOR DOM!!!! he is my pinoy king BAHAHA hope u enjoy this one <3

the tour was coming to an end. almost three months of traveling with your boyfriend and his crew.

tonight was his last night to perform and the first night you won’t be watching his performance behind the corner and with the crowd.

“are you sure you wanna watch there? i don’t want you getting hurt,” he said, curls covering his eyes as he double-checked his laces.

you smile softly before putting on your lipstick. “i’ll be fine, i promise.” he stands up from the couch and wraps his arms around your waist, placing kisses on your neck.

you hum as he kisses you before he captures your newly painted lips for a kiss. you pull away quickly, a hand on his cheek, frowning when you see your lipstick smudged on and over his lips.

“dom, why’d you do that!” you act like you were upset but a smile was tugging at your lips as you wiped the stain off his face.

he proceeds to reach for your lips but you avoid it, making him laugh as you try your best to keep him away from your lips.

“baby, just—just let me have at least a part of you for everyone to see when i’m on stage.” he said, in between laughs. suddenly, he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close to him.

he was peppering kisses all over your neck and jaw while he tickled you. “okay, okay! fine, i will please stop!” you managed to say in between giggles then he placed one last peck on your lips.

his hands were still on your waist and yours were now wrapped around his neck. you give in and kiss him longer than he did earlier.

when you felt his tongue in your mouth you pulled away, making him groan. you pulled him closer than you two already were and kissed his jaw down to his neck, purposely leaving a kiss mark on his neck that would be visible while he performed. you bite the skin gently before pulling away from him.

“there you go.” your arms are now on his shoulders and face him in front of the mirror before reapplying your lipstick.

dominic wiped off the stained lipstick on his face but kept the one you had left on his neck, treating it like an accessory.

during the concert, you had the best time of your life. some fans recognized you and took photos with you, you were able to see how your boyfriend’s music helped people and were able to connect with them through it.

it warmed your heart.

especially at this moment with the crowd singing along with him.

when the song ended, he was looking around the venue, his curls getting into his view.

despite the number of people there, his eyes still found its way to you. his energy immediately changed when he saw you, even smiling when you blew him a kiss from where you were standing.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting the curls away then walks back to the microphone.

“alright so for this next one, i made this song with my friend kevin which my girlfriend, y/n loves so much. i dedicate this to her. i love you, thank you for making everything feel so secure and for everything you've done in the past years." dominic says, smiling widely at you before he starts playing the chords on his guitar.

the fans screamed after he spoke and started playing the song.

you felt like the only person in the venue, locking eyes with dominic despite him being far from where you were sat yet he continued singing the song to you.

once the song ended, he mentioned you once again. "that was peach, thank you everyone—i love my girlfriend."

#dominic fike #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike x you #elliot euphoria #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike fanfic #savi's works ✶

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psychedelic-ink · 4 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ㅤㅤ70s rockstar!dieter bravo x innocent fanf!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, 70s rockstar au

word count: 2.2k

summary: it's the 70s and your friend invites you to an underground club where one of your favorite musicians is playing: dieter bravo.

warnings: innocence kink, mild corruption kink, backstage s.ex, piv, dirty talk, weed, oral + handjob (male receiving)

a/n: this is my secret santa gift for @dark-scape! I hope you like it! 🎄🎄🎄 and thank you to @pedrostories who hosted the event, I had a blast writing this and I hope you enjoy, happy holidays! ♡♡♡

You stand at the entrance of the dimly lit alley, feeling the air thick with anticipation. Diane stands right next to you, equally as excited but way more relaxed compared to you. The muffled sound of a soulful guitar seeps through the cracks, sending shivers down your spine.

“Come on, don’t look so scared,” Diane says, taking you by the hand. “There’s a reason why I brought you here today. A little birdie told me Dieter Bravo is playing tonight in secret.”

"Dieter? Like, THE Dieter Bravo?" you stammer, your eyes widening with disbelief.

“The one and only. Now let’s go!”

Excitement bubbles within you as you process the information. Dieter, the musician whose records adorn your bedroom walls, is playing. You can’t believe it. Knots form in your stomach and you have the sudden urge to gag. What would you do if he tried to talk to you?

You vigorously shake your head. That wouldn’t happen. There’s no way he notices you among the crowd.

Nonetheless, you’re still excited.

As you walk in, your heart beats madly within your chest. The air carries a sweet, heavy scent of incense, and the dimly lit space is adorned with wild tapestries. The soulful strumming of a guitar creates a low buzz as people chat and laugh, immersed in the ambiance.

The shifting colors of the lights cast a dreamy glow over the scene. You notice multiple people making out, most of them pushed against the walls. It’s a very close-knit scene. A lava lamp flickers in the background now and then, the shadows playing over the colorful walls.

Navigating through the crowd, you discover the heart of the club—a small stage bathed in psychedelic lights. It’s empty for now and once more you feel your pulse racing. The room pulses with a different kind of energy, experimental and free. Occasionally, there's a hint of something herbal in the air.

Diane leans closer to you, her lips brushing against your ear, “Let’s head to the front, they’re up in five!”

The anticipation in the room reaches its peak as the lights dim even further, and the crowd hushes in unison. The stage comes alive with a burst of colors, and there he is—Dieter Bravo, center stage, bathed in the vibrant hues.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause as Dieter starts strumming his guitar, the soulful notes resonating through the room. His voice, smooth and magnetic, weaves through the melodies, casting a spell on everyone in the room. You find yourself swaying to the rhythm, completely captivated.

While the music envelops the space, you catch Dieter's eye. His mischievous smile sends a shockwave through you, and you feel your body tingle with embarrassment. Is he really looking at you? The possibility sends your heart into a frenzy.

Diane nudges you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Looks like someone caught the eye of the rock god himself," she teases, giving you a playful grin.

You can't help but glance back at Dieter, and this time, he holds your gaze. His fingers glide effortlessly over the strings, but his eyes stay locked on yours. Your breath hitches as you watch Dieter play, his fingers moving over the strings with such skill and fluidity. You had never felt this way before, so drawn to someone like this. . . You can't believe how he can make a simple guitar sound so sensual and seductive.

You find yourself unable to look away, and Dieter notices, a sly grin spreading across his lips. Your eyes meet and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body. He winks at you and slowly licks his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You can't help but imagine what it would be like to have those talented hands caressing your body, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. But deep down you know it won’t work out. He probably wasn’t even looking at you but at the crowd in general, there’s no way the heat in his gaze was directed at you.

The last note fades into the air, Dieter finally breaks the spell and looks away, confirming your thoughts, yet, a coy smile still plays on his lips. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and the fire that his performance has ignited inside you.

Dieter stands up from his stool and enters the backstage area. You watch him disappear behind the curtain, but before you can snap out of your daze, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Dieter would like to see you backstage," a stagehand says, gesturing towards the curtain.

You hesitate, unsure if you should go. But something inside you tugs at your curiosity, and before you know it, you're telling Diane you’ll be back in a second and following the stagehand toward the backstage area.

Stepping behind the curtain, you're hit with a flurry of activity: instruments being packed away, band members chatting, and Dieter standing in the corner, a small smile on his face as he sees you enter.

"Hey," he greets, walking over to you. "I'm glad you came back here."

You smile nervously, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves all at once. You can't believe you're actually standing backstage with Dieter.

Dieter leads you to a secluded small room. You sit down on a couch, and Dieter sits down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours.

"I saw you in the crowd," he says, looking at you with a hint of admiration in his eyes. You notice him pulling out a joint and lighting it. He takes a deep breath before offering it to you.

You shake your head, declining.

"No thanks, I don't smoke," you say, a small smile on your lips.

Dieter raises his eyebrows, his grin growing wider.

"Interesting," he says, his voice laced with amusement. "Usually the people that come to my shows can’t wait to get a hit. I can’t wait to get to know you more. . . intimately."

Dieter's words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a spark of excitement at the thought of him being interested in you. You've always had a bit of an innocent personality, and the idea of Dieter being drawn to that only adds fuel to the fire.

He leans in closer to you, warm breath tickling your cheek.

"I have a bit of a soft spot for innocent types like you," he says, his voice low. "It turns me on."

A surge of heat spreads through your body, and you can feel yourself burning up under his gaze. You can't believe this is happening, that Dieter of all people is showing interest in you.

He leans in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I want to show you a good time."

Dieter's words send a jolt of arousal through you, and you get lost in the moment as he starts kissing your neck. But a sense of embarrassment washes over you, and you feel the need to stop him before things go any further.

"Wait," you murmur, pulling back slightly. "I've never done this before."

Dieter smiles, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "That's even better."

Your heart races at his words, and you feel yourself getting even more wet. Dieter takes your wrist and guides your hand to his impressive bulge, causing you to gasp at the feeling of him underneath his pants.

"See how much you turn me on?" he murmurs, his lips still on your neck. "Do you want to explore more?"

You nod, unable to find the words to express how much you want this. Dieter moves his hand down to the hem of your dress, deftly sliding it up your legs. You feel a surge of nervousness at the thought of him fingering you, but the excitement and desire coursing through your body overpowers it.

Dieter smirks, his fingers finding their way to your underwear. He starts rubbing teasing circles against your clit, making you moan breathlessly. You try to muffle your sounds, but Dieter stops you.

"Don't hold back," he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I want to hear how much you're enjoying this."

With his permission, you let yourself go and start making louder noises, each touch of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. Dieter continues to tease you, alternating between slow and fast movements, driving you crazy.

"Does it feel good?" he asks, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear. "Being fingered by your favorite rockstar?"

You can only nod, unable to form a coherent sentence as Dieter's skilled fingers bring you closer and closer to the edge. And when you finally reach your climax with a cry of pleasure, Dieter smirks triumphantly before leaning in to kiss you.

Dieter breaks the kiss and guides your hand to his already hard cock. Your breathing quickens as you wrap your fingers around it, feeling its impressive size and girth. Dieter groans, his head falling back as you start to stroke him, your hand moving up and down his shaft.

You feel his pulse racing beneath your touch, his breathing becoming more ragged with each stroke. You glance up at him and see the intense desire in his eyes, fueling your own fire even more.

"Fuck, keep going," Dieter moans, his hips slightly thrusting into your hand. And you do, picking up the pace as you stroke him faster, your own arousal building again at the sight of him losing control.

His grip on your wrist is firm but not too tight, guiding your hand up and down his length. The heat emanating from him as you work your hand makes your head spin, feeling the softness of his skin contrasting with the hardness of his arousal.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dieter asks, his voice low and gruff as he watches you intently.

You can only nod, unable to find your voice as you focus on your task at hand. Dieter's breathing becomes heavier and his hips start to move in rhythm with your strokes. His eyes are locked on yours, and you can see the desire and pleasure in them.

Feeling bold, you lean in and press your lips against his, eliciting a groan from deep within his throat. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

Dieter's body tenses under your touch, and you know he's close.

"I can't take it anymore," Dieter groans, stopping your hand and pulling you over his lap in one smooth motion. You gasp as he positions himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you.

"Oh god, Dieter," you moan, your head falling back as he fills you completely. His strokes are deep and powerful, rocking your entire body as he pounds into you.

As he continues to move inside you, Dieter starts to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and full of gravel.

"You have no idea how much I love defiling such a pretty fan like you," he growls, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. "Seeing you lose control like this, it drives me wild."

You can feel his words send shivers down your spine, igniting a deeper fire within you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you meet his thrusts with your own.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Dieter groans, his pace becoming even more frenzied.

You can't help but moan and whimper as he continues to tease you, his words adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and you can't imagine anything better than this moment.

"Dieter, I'm close," you cry out, your body trembling with each thrust. "Please, don't stop."

Dieter's eyes darken at your words, and he thrusts into you even faster. The pleasure building in your body becomes almost too much to handle, and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

With a loud cry, you climax, your body tensing as you gush around him. Dieter groans and thrusts a few more times before pulling out and telling you to get on your knees.

You quickly comply, sinking to the floor and opening your mouth, eager for his release. Dieter stands above you, his hand stroking his cock as he looks down at you with a hungry expression.

"Such a good girl," he says, his voice filled with desire. "Now, open wide and take all of me."

You obediently open your mouth wider as he guides his cock between your lips, pushing himself inside. You moan around him, the taste of him driving you wild as he begins to move in and out of your mouth.

His thrusts become rougher and more erratic, and you can feel his release getting closer. You suck and lick him eagerly, wanting to taste every drop of his release.

With one final thrust, Dieter cries out and spills himself into your mouth. You swallow it all, eagerly taking every inch of him until he is spent.

As he pulls away, he looks down at you with a satisfied smile. "You did so well, my little fan," he says, helping you to your feet. "Nothing beats sex after a concert."

“Was. . . was I good?”

Pulling you on top of his lap once more, he claims his lips, his cock twitching as he tastes himself on your tongue.

“You were perfect.”

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fic #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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e-spexially · 3 months

Text

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.

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