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i’ll never love a boy the way i love the ocean | robin buckley x gn!reader

description: you’re in love with your bestfriend and her ocean blue eyes

warnings: swearing, like a little angsty, implied era-typical homophobia (barely)

a/n: i’m literally in love with the song to love a boy by maya hawke so this only seemed appropriate :)

won’t let me link it but just youtube it if ur interested

Robin has blue eyes, the colour of the ocean.

Perhaps it’s not something you’re supposed to notice about your best friend. It’s the sort of observations meant for lovers, for poetry and music.

But Robin's eyes are the colour of the ocean, the kind poets write of getting lost in, and sometimes, it feels like you‘be been drowning in them for years.

Today the setting sun hits them in a way that makes them lighter, and the first you notice is whilst you’re walking together from the movie theatre, whilst she’s rambling on about the film you watched together.

“I mean, next time I’m choosing the film, (y/n).” Robin says, “You’re my best friend but god, you need a movie education.”

You manage an uncommitted hum, busy fighting off the butterflies that are making you feel queasy, trying to ignore the way her hand grazes your own by your side as you walk, each time making you feel almost dizzy.

Ocean eyes, freckles, warm hands…

You can’t pinpoint the moment those features meant so much to you, when you began to catalogue them, to adore them. Sometimes, you can’t imagine a time where they didn’t mesmerise you.

“I mean, it was cheesy in the worst way.”

Robin’s hands lift from her sides with an dramatising hand action that makes a small smile climb to your cheeks, eyes dropping sheepishly to the ground.

“I know.”

Robin laughs and your brows pull into a sort of pained expression, smile faltering and chest tightening.

Eyes, freckles, hands, laughter.

It’s never been a startling realisation, one that brings with it the relief of understanding. You would prefer that, one big, eye opening moment that you could find somewhere to put afterwards, somewhere to store in the far corner of your brain and move on from.

But the realisation that you have fallen in love with your best friend is one that gnaws away at you, the kind that only solidifies with time and becomes entirely too much to store anywhere but everywhere, in every glance and every smile.

And it all started with those ocean eyes.

On days like today, it’s entirely too much, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever love a boy as much as you love those eyes.

And the thought makes you queasy.

“Oh, hey,” Robin begins, frown audible in her gentle, raspy voice, “I’m just joking, (y/n/n). You can choose the next film, I don’t mind- you know I’m just not one for rom-coms-“

You laugh, horrified when it leaves your lips just a little broken. Robin stills by your side, brows creasing with concern, one hand reaching out to pull you to a stop with her.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you look up, her eyes are wide, and you can see specs of green in her irises, lips parting wordlessly. Her head tilts a little, curiously, and you realise that you’ve been well and truly caught.

“Do you ever think of who you’ll fall in love with?”

Robin brows lift in surprise, smirk finding her lips, readied with a joke when she spots the solemn expression still etched on your face.

“I-“ She says, smile dropping, “I guess… Why? You’re kind of worrying me here, (y/n).”

“I think I love someone,” You admit, voice quiet despite the courage it’s taken to produce it at all suddenly. “I know that I love them, actually.”

Something twitches on Robin's face, something oddly like disappointment, and her hand pulls back from your own slowly, inviting the cold to prick your skin.

“Oh.” She smiles half heartedly. “And who is the lucky guy?”

You gives her a long contemplative look, anxiety stirring in your chest. Biting your lip, you inhale shakily through your nose.

“What- what if it’s not a guy, Robin?”

In the new silence, you can hear Robin’s breath catch with realisation. Her blue eyes meet yours, wide and knowing, and for the first time, your scared to look into them, scared of what you’ll find.

“You’re in love with… a girl?” Robin clarifies tentatively.

You nod, eyes trained at the scuff marks on your shoes. The silence that settles between you both is so intense it makes you feel dizzy.

“Well, is she a nice girl?” Robin asks, sounding slightly strained, “I can only assume she likes the same crappy movies as you, but I’m sure she’s got redeemable qualities too.”

You laugh, a startled sound as you look up in surprise of her acceptance. She smiles at you, a little forced, but it’s enough to still the panic that was slowly bubbling in your chest.

“She hates my taste in movies.” You admit.

“A woman of taste.”

You know Robin well, so well acquainted with her face that you can see the hurt in the crease between her brows, the subtle disappointment.

You might go as far as to say jealousy.

This realisation is the big, eye opening moment. It brings a jolt of hope right into your chest that seeps outwards like an electric current, until the buzz reaches your finger tips.

“She has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

It’s escaped from you lips before you can even consider the consequences, and the crease between Robin’s brows deepens, forced smile faltering just a little.

“I’m happy for you.”

The lie only spurs you on, and you reach out for her hands, smiling softly at the familiar warm touch. You find yourself fidgeting with a ring on her index finger.

“(y/n)?”

She glances down at your joined hands, and when look up, she’s already staring at you with parted lips, and there’s a red colour climbing her neck that confirms your newest suspicions.

“Did you know your eyes are the same colour as the ocean?” You ask, smiling nervously. “Blue but with this little hint of green… they’re gorgeous, Robin.”

Robins hands tense in your own, and that crease in her brows softens, breath trembling as it leave her lips. You hold her eyes with more confidence than you ever thought possible.

“It’s me.”

“It’s you.”

Robin stands frozen, and for a moment, your new confidence dwindles, and you worry you’ve been swept away in the hope of it all, and the colour of her eyes.

Then, she’s pulling her hands from yours and before you can panic, plan your excuses, their cupping your cheeks, the pads of her thumbs grazing your cheeks softly.

“It’s me.” She repeats, smiling, “Holy shit, it’s me.”

Her eloquence causes almost makes you laugh, but you’re struggling to tell whether it’s in excitement or humiliating humour. Her grin widens, and she lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Holy shit.” She repeats.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop swearing at my confession, thanks.”

“Sorry,” She beams, “But I just-“

“Holy shit,” You say, “I know.”

She shakes her head, gently running her thumbs across your cheek bone. She turns only to glance around then empty street before returning, tongue darting across her lips nervously.

Suddenly you feel like putty in her hands.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You realise, smile twitching at your lips.

“If you let me.”

You’re nodding as you tug her closer, hand wrapped around the fabric of her shirt. She draws your face closer with her hands and when you kiss, everything falls into place.

Her lips are just slightly chapped, but they move gently, perfectly, with your own. In all your wildest daydreams, you’d never allow yourself to imagine this, and you chase her lips as she pulls back , small sound of complaint escaping you in a sharp sigh.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She grins, “I intend to kiss you for hours sometime”

“Oh?”

“It gives me something to do during your crappy film choices-“

You step back with a roll of your eyes, but she catches you with an arm around her waist, grinning gleefully.

“I love you too.” She says softly.

And you soften against her, balancing yourself on her shoulder, and she gives you a look of utter enchantment. You wonder how you’ve never noticed it before, all that love in those ocean eyes.

“Holy shit.” You exhale, smiling.

She rolls her eyes, unravelling herself from your waist as you laugh. When she grabs your hand, she guides it into her pocket, and through a grin, you almost point out what a terrible rom-com cliche she’s entertaining.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To the video store, so we can rent as many shitty rom-coms as Steve will let us, and I can kiss you, for hours.”

have i reposted this already idk

when/if ur taking requests, could u do some dom!robin writings? i love all ur fics sm and would love to see some more robin

i was legit sitting in front of my computer writing so i wrote this rq. includes boot riding, finger sucking, choking (like inside the mouth), and i think that’s it …

Deep down, somewhere inside of you, hidden beneath an insane number of layers shrouded in hormones, you felt embarrassed.

Sucking on your girlfriend's fingers, slicking them up for her, was not the most embarrassing thing. The way she purposefully forced them down towards the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex until your eyes watered and your nose ran, was the most embarrassing part.

Robin practically had no mercy on you tonight.

You’d already begged for her fingers or cock or tongue, and all you got was her thigh. Which, you shouldn’t be complaining, you should be grateful you got anything at all.

But the brat within you could never be grateful for too long.

Begging for more––more than you deserved––brought you here.

Straddling Robin’s Dr Martens, only wearing your white panties, with Robin’s fingers down your throat, prepping them to eventually enter your cunt.

You had no idea when ‘eventually’ would come. It felt as if it’d been an eternity at this point. However, you still couldn’t complain because in all of the fuss you’d maid, and with all of Robin’s torture, she’d graciously let you ride her boot.

Your hips twisting and turning and grinding against cotton and leather. You hummed and moaned around Robin’s fingers, sniffing as you swirl your tongue around the digits.

Robin easily caught onto your endgame.

“Putting on a show?” She asked, tone condescending. The corner of her pink lips twitched up into a smirk.

Mm-mm your words muffled around her fingers. Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes, not believing you for a moment.

“Don’t lie, baby. Good little sluts don’t lie, right?”

You nodded, confirming Robin’s suspicions and answering her rhetorical question in one. She smiled, praising you and looking as if she was ready to devour you in one gesture.

“Now,” She finally removed her fingers from your mouth, her dry index crooking under your chin as she lowered herself until her lips were almost touching yours.

You knew better than to move so you stayed put.

“How about I finally give you what you’ve been begging for.”

the preachers daughter hc reminds me sooooo much of billy

Mean! Perv! Billy Hargrove x innocent! Priest daughter! Reader

MINORS DNI

May contain Dub con

♡ He would see you around town with your short dresses and the rosary hanging around your neck

♡ he thought you were so cute but you stayed away from him like the plague :(( , your father told you all about billy how he was a womanizer, too consumed by lust, how he was no good.

♡ you had never actually spoken to billy, you had made eye contact a few times but you would quickly run off, that is until he was dragged to your father's church by his dad

♡ there he saw you standing near your mother at the front of the church, while your father gave a speech about something he didnt care about. He watched your doe eyes wonder around the church paying more attention to the stained glass windows than to the priest who gave life to you

♡ he came up to you as everyone was talking, he stalked behind you noticing you were nervously playing with your fingers as if you didnt know what to do. You jumped when you felt his breathe on your neck

♡ shocked to see billy Hargrove of all people behind you, he cornered you against the wall trapping you from escaping.

"I- um cant talk right now m-my dad is probably wondering where I am I have to go-"

"Hold your horses princess, I just want to talk about our lord and saviour"

"You can talk to my dad he- um he knows a lot more than me"

♡ he somehow manages to keep you talking to him, enough to get you to ramble and prolong the conversation

"That is a lovely dress, it looks so beautiful you"

"Thanks my mom got it for me- actually she gets all my clothes, I'm not allowed to buy myself clothes without her permission- BUT I- i dont mind, I like what she picks out, makes me look nice a-and I dont like choosing things I'm very indecisive and I would probably be there all day so I'm actually happy she chooses my clothes because-"

♡ he simply stares at you while you talk not interrupting simply listening to you speak. He knows he makes you nervous, the way your eyes dart everywhere except his is laughable

♡ unfortunately the conversation is cut short by your father and his dad

"Billy hargrove, come to make a mockery out of my daughter?"

"No sir I've actually seen the light, your daughter was just telling me about you gorgeous church and how much of a loyal man you are to god. Honestly sir I have so much respect for you"

"I- well thank you- I've been doveted to our lord for as long as I remember it's nice to for someone to finally acknowledge my efforts. I'm happy to help you find your way to god and banish those demons for good, your dad and I were just talking about hanging out at my house perhaps you can come along, I'm sure Y/N is happy to help you with your journey"

"That would be lovely sir"

♡ who knew it sould be so easy to get access to you when you fuel your father's ego?

♡ the next week billy happily went over to your house, you were sat at the dining room table with a bible infront of you as well as some other books and sheets once again refusing to make eye contact with him as your father lead him to you.

♡ you meekly asked him a few questions about how much he knew and where he would like to start off on

"Wherever you would like doll"

♡ billy didnt pay attention to anything you were saying this time, to busy looking at the photos around you house and the decor. He only looked back at you when stumbled over your words and looked like you were on the verge of tears

"What's wrong sweetheart? You okay?"

"I- um I just dont think I'm the person you should be doing this with- i- I dont know why my dad put you up to this- I've never done this before I dont know what I'm doing"

♡ he smiled as tears rolled down your cheeks, your lips forming a pout which sent a shock down to his forming hard on. He placed his hand on your thigh to which made you jolt

"That's okay, you're doing so good for me already. I already feel like a worthy man"

♡ you placed you hand on top of his playing with his fingers as he massaged circles into your soft skin.

♡ he slid his hands further between you thighs, now feeling up your leg and slowly making his way to the flower in between your legs

"Y-you cant do that you shouldnt be touching there- I- were not married in going to go to hell"

♡ you made no actual attempt at removing his simply holding his wrist as he stared at you smirking, he glanced around to see if anyone was near.

"You're not going to hell it's not like we're doing anything against the lords rules, I'm just touching you. It cant be bad if it feels good, can it?"

♡ he grazes his lips over yours letting you smell the cigarettes and mint gum on his breathe, soon removing himself from you and turning to the table as the adults walk in

"Everything going okay In here?"

"Absolutely sir, Y/N here was just telling me about easter"

♡ your meetings soon became scheduled event and nothing else had happened since that first meeting

♡ that was until your father had left you alone with billy, a horrible mistake on his part

♡ when he first noticed the quietness in the house he was worried he got the wrong date that is until you meekly walked out of the shadows and lead him to your usual spot

"Wheres your parents?"

"Hes out with your dad I- i think they're fishing.."

"What about your mom?"

"Shes at her book club"

♡ the giddiness in billy was comparable to a child on Christmas over the weeks he had gained your trust, convincing you that he was serious about god

♡ so when he suggesting going to your room instead you agreed (although hesitantly)

♡ walking into your room he immediately noticed the cross hanging above your canopy bed which was pushed against the wall. The curtains around it almost highlighted your sleeping area.

♡ he quickly noticed how you seemed embarrassed you were, perhaps it was the stuffed toys, or the light colours, or the photos on the walls?

♡ you ushered him on the bed quickly preferring him to not stare at your immature state of your bedroom, although you would prefer posters of your favourite singers, pictures of your friends you were unable to at wishes of your father

♡ much like your first meeting billy let's you ramble, his eyes focused on your lips, he isnt sure what you're talking about especially when you bite your lip when reading out your notes

"Have you ever kissed someone before?"

♡ the question makes you choke on your breathe, whipping you head to face him to splutter out a sentence

"What?! Why would you ask me that?! I- cant kiss anyone- I- I'll be in so much trouble- I'm not allowed to kiss anyone-"

"Would you like to?"

♡ that quickly shut you up as you looked up at him, he tilts his head at you and moves closer to you, his breath making goosebumps rise on your skin

♡ he kisses your unresponsive lips, too shocked at what is happening to kiss back (not that you knew how)

♡ when he pulled back you were staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He grabbed your stuff and set it on your vanity, his hand traveled to your side and pushed you on your back

♡ he towered over you, your breath hitching in your throat, his arms either side of your head. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, it took a while for you to relax and try to follow his movements but you eventually got the hang of it.

♡ just as the man himself things got rough quickly, his hand in your hair and his tongue entering your mouth. You melted against him wrapping your arms around Billys shoulders

♡ when you broke apart for air your lips were puffy and swollen, billy was looking no better his hair was disheveled and his eyes were half lidded.

♡ he kissed the side of you face travelling to your jaw then towards your neck, where you gripped his shirt as he licked a stripe over your neck.

♡His hands wondered down to your chest, pulling your sundress down to reveal your bra to him

"Wait! Wait wait I- billy i cant- we shouldnt be doing this we should stop"

"Sh sh shhh just take what I give you"

♡ his hands continued their exploring, flipping your bra to reveal your soft nipples, leaning down his breath soon hardened them making you whimper

♡ he kissed your right nipple while rolling the left in his hand, the hand unattended drifted down your thighs and under your dress

"Billy stop- we cant do this i- I- I'm gonna get into s'much trouble"

"It cant be wrong if it feels good baby"

♡ he continues kissing and fondling your breasts, his hand slipping to your underwear pressing a thumb against your clothed clit making you jolt your hips with a loud whine.

♡ he chuckled against your chest moving his face to meet yours

"That feel good? Want me to do it again?"

"I dont know- I dont know! Feels weird.."

♡ he kissed your mouth and let's his other hand wander to you thighs he pulls back to get a full view of you, your thighs spread, your lips puffy, your tits out a sight that would make the devil groan, which is what he did.

♡ he plays with you thighs and your clothed cunt, soon sliding the piece of fabric to the side to get a better view of your forbidden fruit. He watches as your fluids leaks from it, clamping around nothing and you clit twitch from the harsh temperature of the room

♡ he places his thumb on your clit watching you jerk against him, clearly not used to stimulation, he circles around it then leans down pressing a kiss against it (maybe a quick suck too)

♡ the action makes you cry

"Billy 'is dirty"

♡ he slides with finger in you, the heat and tightness of your body almost making him cum in his pants. You're mewling underneath him and he gives you feelings you've never experienced

♡ his fingers work you open aiming sure you're able to fit his cock. When he pulls pants down to his thighs and grips his cock, your eyes are wide and full of second thoughts. Being the gentlemen he is he grabs your hand and makes you feel it

"S'hot, feels weird"

"Supposed to be hot gonna make you all warm"

"S'not gonna fit, your fingers felt too much, cant take this.."

"Cant take my cock?"

"Dont say that! That's dirty!"

♡ he drags his cock head over your clit, the heat of it shutting you up.

"I'll make it fit baby"

♡ he pulls your thighs apart and wraps his arm around you head, his body encapsulates yours as he pressed his cock inside of you. The stretch hurts and leaves you grabbing as much as billy as you can, he whispers praises in the side of your neck as he desperately tries to hold back.

♡ after an intense 5 minutes of him rubbing your clit and getting you to relax he starts thrusting, soft and slow but soon picking up as you unconsciously buck you hips into his. Your bed shook and you cried into his neck as he defiled you for any other man

"That feel good?"

"Ah- Feels big! 'Feel so full ngh- too full!"

"Yeah? Ya think your god would like this?"

"Gon' be In so much trouble billy god S'not gon' let me into heaven"

"Ngh fuck- I'll be your god baby, I'll never get mad at you- fucking take it for me- you'll be my most devoted follower, c'mon say I'm your god, say it, say it for me baby I'll make you feel so good c'mon say it"

"My god- y- you're my god"

"Good girl, fuck-"

♡ as you reached orgasm you tried to push him off telling him that you were gonna pee, luckily for him you werent strong especially when you were getting your brains banged out.

♡ you came with a wail wrapping your legs around his waist, trapping him inside you, his hips stuttering as he came inside you.

♡ thus a sneaky beautiful relationship began

♡ hed take you for dates at his favourite cafe ordering milkshakes then stealing the cherry placed on top of yours then making jokes about taking you cherry

♡ he steals your underwear especially when hes been teasing you all day, he likes the juices you leave behind, likes sucking on them

♡ let's you come to the pool after hours just so he can fuck you in the water

♡ definitely buys you thin white bikinis just so he can see what's underneath when they get wet

♡ has grabbed a lollipop from your lips and pretended to fuck your mouth with it, you're none the wiser and assume he wants you to get the most flavour out it

♡ touches you in church and whispers how gross you are

"You're disgusting, really letting me touch you in the house of god?"

♡ flips up your skirt all the time, he blames the wind even if theres no breeze.

♡ he had dinner with you parents and had his fingers knuckle deep inside you the entire time, liking your juices if his fingers when dessert came out

♡ comes in through you window just so he can see you without prying eyes, he wakes you up like a normal person or he wake you up by eating you out/ fingering you

♡ has had phone sex with you multiple times, he treats it like a confession booth and hes mostly degrading you the entire time

"You're fucking disgusting thinking about my cock, you're supposed to be a child of god" - says the man with your panties wrapped around his cock

♡ has gotten you drunk before and made you grind on his foot while you suck along his cock

♡ chokes you with your rosary when hes fucking you from behind, pulls on it like a leash

♡ thought you how to masturbate by sitting you infront of a mirror and touching you, you never fully learnt because billy has no self control

♡ bites you in places that arent visible to your parents, says you've been bitten by the devil

♡ spits in your mouth all the time

good lord

when/if ur taking requests, could u do some dom!robin writings? i love all ur fics sm and would love to see some more robin

i was legit sitting in front of my computer writing so i wrote this rq. includes boot riding, finger sucking, choking (like inside the mouth), and i think that’s it …

Deep down, somewhere inside of you, hidden beneath an insane number of layers shrouded in hormones, you felt embarrassed.

Sucking on your girlfriend's fingers, slicking them up for her, was not the most embarrassing thing. The way she purposefully forced them down towards the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex until your eyes watered and your nose ran, was the most embarrassing part.

Robin practically had no mercy on you tonight.

You’d already begged for her fingers or cock or tongue, and all you got was her thigh. Which, you shouldn’t be complaining, you should be grateful you got anything at all.

But the brat within you could never be grateful for too long.

Begging for more––more than you deserved––brought you here.

Straddling Robin’s Dr Martens, only wearing your white panties, with Robin’s fingers down your throat, prepping them to eventually enter your cunt.

You had no idea when ‘eventually’ would come. It felt as if it’d been an eternity at this point. However, you still couldn’t complain because in all of the fuss you’d maid, and with all of Robin’s torture, she’d graciously let you ride her boot.

Your hips twisting and turning and grinding against cotton and leather. You hummed and moaned around Robin’s fingers, sniffing as you swirl your tongue around the digits.

Robin easily caught onto your endgame.

“Putting on a show?” She asked, tone condescending. The corner of her pink lips twitched up into a smirk.

Mm-mm your words muffled around her fingers. Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes, not believing you for a moment.

“Don’t lie, baby. Good little sluts don’t lie, right?”

You nodded, confirming Robin’s suspicions and answering her rhetorical question in one. She smiled, praising you and looking as if she was ready to devour you in one gesture.

“Now,” She finally removed her fingers from your mouth, her dry index crooking under your chin as she lowered herself until her lips were almost touching yours.

You knew better than to move so you stayed put.

“How about I finally give you what you’ve been begging for.”

😥

thigh riding robin

— robin x afab! reader

— sexual content, thigh riding, top! robin sub!reader, finger sucking, praise, semi-degradation, and dumification

you were such an angel doll

robin couldnt help but admire you as you worked yourself on her thigh so pretty, slight drool leaving the corner of your lip as your eyes roll back in slutty euphoria.

“please rob-” you weep out as you work yourself to your third orgasm on her thigh “shut up and cum, little girl.” robin spits out before reattaching her lips to one of your tits as her hands roughly guide you on her jean-covered thigh. this is what you get for teasing robin all day in your short jean skirt.

robin laughs in pity “awe poor baby, can’t cum easy no more” tears begin to form im your eyes as you work your overstimulated pussy to its overwhelming fourth orgasm. the room was filled with begs, crys, and strangled out loud moans “i-i cant! s’much” you babble out while your hips stutter “good girl, let me finish you off” she rasps out, eyes dilated from pleasure. robin moves you off from her lap “suck” is all she said before putting her middle and ring finger in your mouth.

❝gonna ruin you with my fingers, dumb girl ❞

anyway

IDK IF YOU TAKE REQUESTS BUT IF YOU DO, CAN YOU DO A COCKWARMING FIC WITH EITHER FINN WOLFHARD OR AGED UP! MIKE WHEELER???

mean, mike wheeler

aged up!mike wheeler x reader

warnings: smut, cockwarming, mean!mike, short fic

mike wheeler was mean. he pushed you in the halls, shot you dirty looks in class and yanked on your hair whenever he got the chance. you didn’t understand why, seeing as you two had been the best of friends until that starcourt mall fire three years ago and he went cold on you. like it was your fault his hangout spot burned to the ground and his girlfriend and best friend moved away. it was so long ago for fucks sake.

he was an unnecessarily rude person and when you complained all you got was the same old same old “boys will be boys” and if that was really true then you were in deep shit. your attempts at rekindling your once happy friendship had been in vain until two hours ago the lanky boy suggested you come over to his house after school to “talk.” but there was not a lot of that going on.

“stop fucking moving.” mike said in a flat tone and he flipped through channels on the tv. you two were sat on the couch in his basement- well he was on the couch and you were on his cock with a blanket over your bodies to cover the fact that your pussy was drooling all over him.

“i’m trying not to-”

“you’re not trying hard enough.” he said. mike placed a hand on your back and shifted on purpose making you let out a loud moan. he filled you up so good it was almost impossible to think, but you had to keep in mind his promise. he said that if you stayed still he would be your friend again but you two had been at this cruel game an hour and all the teasing shifts he gave from under were killing you. mike said that if you really wanted to be friends you would do anything, that included keeping his dick warm while he watched tv.

your skirt was bunch around your hips and your panties moved to the side, he knew how badly you wanted it. how badly you wanted to bounce on his cock, kiss his lips and grip his hair but he was just too mean to let you have it.

he stopped flipping through channels when a loud star wars movie came on. mike looked up at the basement door, noting that it was still closed before looking back at you.

“go ahead, fuck yourself.”

༶✧ bianca stratford ✧༶ icons

when bianca said “thats because you dont have a prada backback” in the first 10 minutes of 10 things i hate about you, i fell in love. shes so deep and woke, smh

this is actually my fav fanfic ever🤭

𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ (bully ! mike wheeler x reader)

mike wheeler was rude. rude in the hallways, rude in class. rude everywhere. that boy wouldn’t know manners even if it stumbled into him holding a name tag, and u hated him for it.

he never said excuse me when he ran into u, never gave an apology when he ‘accidentally’ tripped u in spanish, never owned up to it when he stuck gum onto ur locker, never felt bad when he threw food at u in the cafeteria, he never did anything that wasn’t plain mean.

and lately, ur starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. on purpose just to get under ur skin. because he’s never rude to anyone else! oh no he’s not! he’s never rude to isabella when he turns his whole entire desk around to flirt with her in world history. he’s never rude to dustin, or luke, or lucas, or whatever those freaks names are that he hangs out with! no. he’s only rude to me. he thinks he can talk to me and treat me however he wants but he’s wrong! he’s-

“ur in front of my locker.”

my thoughts get interrupted by an all too familiar voice echoing against the situated lockers in front of me.

“wh-what?” i turn around, clutching my books to my chest, hard, until my until turn white, and i feel my heartbreak in my chest.

“i said ur in front of my locker.”

he doesn’t look amused. bambi brown eyes half lidded as he looks down at me, his gangly tall figure standing still, gripping his backpack strap that’s hanging off his bony shoulder.

i’m not scared. why would i be scared of mike wheeler? im not scared. though the sweat that’s starting to build up on the back of my neck and behind my ears begs to differ.

i shuffle to the side quickly, before he decides to shove me out of his way. it wouldn’t be the first time. i stand still next to him, staring intently, while huffing in annoyance, watching the way his long digit fingers click open the locker and stick his backpack inside.

i frown. i should say something. tell him he could have said that nicer. it’s about time i stick up for myself. maybe ‘hey, could u maybe move please? ur in front of my locker.’ thats more like it. i will say something. i will.

“why the long face?”, mike looks over at me. he doesn’t look like he genuinely cares. far from it, actually, based on the stupid mocking grin that laggardly forms on his plump lips.

he’s kind of beautiful.

in a stupid way, of course.

“that was rude.”

it slips from between my lips before i can catch myself. my eyes widen from the realization of my words, and i clutch my books to my chest again, even harder this time. oh im dead now. im a dead man.

“what?” he chuckles. it sounds mocking, from his tone.

..he’s laughing at me. oh god, im so stupid.

“i just feel… you could have, you know.. said it nicer. i guess.”

mike doesn’t say anything after that. he simply turns back to his locker. is he.. ignoring me?

“asshole.” i mutter under my breath, quietly enough for mike not to catch on to my smirk remark. the one time i stand up for myself and i don’t even get a response. i should’ve kept my mouth shut. should’ve just walked away when he approached.

“what’d you say?” he doesn’t look at me, staring straight into his locker. his voice isn’t mocking anymore. it’s silent. emotionless. i’d rather have him mocking me than this.

now it’s my turn to stay silent. i should walk away. i should turn around and walk away. but i don’t. i just stand there, watching intently as mike wheeler glances over to me, slamming his locker closed with one arm, as the other rests its firm positioned grip on his backpack strap like before.

my eyes flinch closed from the slam of the metal before opening them again to focus back onto mikes face. he didn’t look mad. he was…. grinning. a slick smirk was forming on the rude boys handsome face after i just insulted him.

he takes a step closer to me, to the point where his tall body was hovering over mine. i could have sworn i felt the heat of him against my skin in this very moment.

“u don’t know when to shut that pretty mouth of urs.”

he exclaims, as low as a whisper. it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. and observation, even. but wait. did.. mike wheeler just say my mouth was pretty? that i was pretty?

mike wheeler has never, and i mean ever called me pretty. much less ever said anything nice to me.

we’re still making eye contact as i process his words. his half lidded bambi eyes never fail to make something in my stomach twist. i don’t know if that’s good or if it’s not.

before i can even muster up a response, even get my thoughts in check, mike chuckles lowly in front of my utterly flustered state. is he laughing at me again? what if he tells me he was joking?

but instead, all mike does, is walk away. brush past my shoulders and walk down the hall, eyes glued to nowhere in particular. just ignores that comment ever happened, and leaves.

i stand still. i blink, and i blink again, and again and again, and i snap myself out of whatever train or thought i was in before. what did mike mean? why would he be so rude at first and then.. flirt.. with me?

i hate him. i hate mike wheeler and his rude behavior. i hate mike and his stupid mind games that he plays. i hate how confusing he is, and how confused he makes me. i hate mike wheeler.

but deep down, somewhere i’ll never admit it, ever, i know that i don’t hate mike.

i know, that i’m in love with mike wheeler.

tags ↓

@b-nnybitch

@fawnpilledd

𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐. *ੈ✩‧₊˚ (read part 1 here..)

(little disclaimer before : as most of u know, it has taken me 4everrr to get done with this part 2 of the fic, because i have been feeling really bad writers block the past few weeks… but in honor of hitting 500 followers, i sat down and dedicated myself to finally finishing it up. so… thank u guys so so much for 500 ! words cannot explain how grateful i am for every single one of u. i literally just celebrated 400 n now here we are. i luv u guys to the moon and back and thank u with all my heart for the luv and support u have given me through my writing journey !

it’s been more than a week since the ‘incident’ with mike happened at his locker. we’re going to call it an incident, because u had no other words to describe it.

since then, mike had been different. but no, u don’t mean different as in nice different, u mean different as in strange.

sure, hes still the same rude boy that he was before the incident, but hes acting more attracted to u in a way.

long glances at u in the hallway, always particularly on the days u wear those short skimpy skirts of urs, purposely brushing past your shoulder in the hallway. no, not bumping, brushing past u.

it was all just, weird. unusual. especially for somebody like mike, who has been seeking to make ur life at school a living hell ever since u moved here. but he’s not that bad anymore. at least, not as bad as he was before.

although, u are angry with him again today. well, maybe angry isn’t the word. annoyed? ur not sure how u felt, but it definitely wasn’t happy.

after the incident at ur locker, one of the students crowding the hallway reported it to the principal of the school board, who then went out of his defined way to give both u and mike a detention for “hallway rowdiness”. it was absurd.

u couldn’t believe it. you? getting detention?

i mean, mike? sure. he always gets those slips of papers handed to him on his desk, with little to no acknowledgment for them, but you? you’ve never even been scolded by a teacher, much less ever gotten a detention.

but here you are, sitting in the scratched up gum covered beige seats aligned in the all too well dark classroom after school, next to the one and only, mike wheeler.

he’s been eyeing u for the last half an hour that u guys have been sitting here, but not in the way he usually has been.

this time, it’s like before. cold half lidded eyes basically implying that he wants to kill u with the way he glances.

u have tried ur hardest to avoid any sort of eye contact with him so far, focusing ur glance onto mrs. winsburrow, who sat behind the large oak wooded desk, glasses slipping off her large nose as she drifts off to sleep.

you suddenly feel a little thud on ur shoulder, slowly peeking down to see a crumbled up piece of paper landing in ur lap.

ur heart starts to pick up, and ur throat now feels clammy. ur being dramatic. u pick up the piece of paper, unfolding it slowly in ur hands.

ur fucking dead.

fuck. u swallow the lump in ur throat quickly as u grab a pencil from ur purse, flipping the paper over and scribbling furiously onto it.

???

u throw it back to mike, hitting square onto the middle of his desk.

he doesn’t seem bothered. not even fazed, as he writes a quick answer onto a new scrap. again, it hits ur desk.

you got me another detention. that’s 4 in a week. which means they’re going to have a meeting with the school board. all because of you and ur fucking smart mouth.

ur mouth falls open. this was not your fault. not at all ! if he wouldnt have been to mean to u, none of this would have had to happen.

ur mouth still hangs open, and this time, u turn to look at mike. it takes him a second before he meets ur eye, and when he does, u can’t help but feel warmth pooling in between ur legs as he continues to stare at u, a sly smirk forming on his lips from the desk across u.

no matter how angry and upset he makes u, he will always have an affect on u.

u shut ur legs tightly, and turn ur body back to facing the front of the classroom quickly, before he can notice.

fuck, ur so stupid.

but unfortunately for u, mike wasn’t. he picked up on the way ur body language froze the second he turned to stare into ur eyes. the way ur left thigh twitched lightly, and the sudden way u tightened the grip on them shut, forcing urself to look away from him.

but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t into it. a few seconds pass by, and the room goes silent, the only sound that’s being heard coming from mike wheeler pressing his inky pen onto a fresh piece of paper.

u feel another thud on ur desk. another note.

cant he just leave u alone?

u bring ur hands down to ur desk, opening it swiftly again, but this time, ur heart doesn’t speed up, it just stops. stops beating, and ur mouth is dry. ur not being dramatic, ur not ur not ur not.

u read it over a couple of times to make sure ur not hallucinating. nope, ur not. ur not hallucinating, and this is real. this note that is sitting underneath ur shaky hands is real, and it was written by mike wheeler.

printed in messy black ink,

ur a slut lol.

tag list ^^ :

@vagnialdysfunctjon @ponyoponyo1 @iluvjunhan @ih8milk @peneluvsprongs @m1ke-wheeler @misaamaneswifey @nevillescomslut @explosiongamora @mi-yo-0

is it bad yhat i kinda want this

step on me | bully!mike wheeler x innocent!fem!reader (hcs) [navigation]

warnings: ooc mike wheeler, mike’s very mean & cruel. violence??, reader is a pushover and a simp, mike physically hurts reader, reader is clueless, this is all very toxic ngl. not much proofread so there’s probably a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes. based on the song: step on me - the cardigans

♡ you never understood why mike hated you so much. he’s always been this way all throughout middle school and now high school.

♡ he’d push you in the hallways, tease you while you were trying to focus in class, and pull your hair when you least expected it. sometimes when he’s extra angry he’d make you drop your lunch.

Keep reading

imagine robin buckley as your gf.

note: no this is not proofread go away if you're gonna point out my spelling mistakes. MEN DNI | requests: OPEN.

gf!robin who loves it when you steal her clothes and vice versa. seeing you in her jean coats always gets her flustered!

gf!robin who wants to show you off 24/7 to her friends :))

gf!robin who brags about how she has the best, prettiest and most amazing girlfriend ever to steven ( also points out how he's bitchless )

gf!robin who can't maintain eye contact with you without squealing and looking away <33

gf!robin who gets super flustered whenever you compliment her hands and can't help but imagine your cute puffy lips wrapped around her fingers :(

gf!robin who makes out with you during her breaks in the back closet of family video because she just misses your lips so much.

gf!robin who listens to madonna & the beatles with you all the time.

gf!robin who always wants you in her arms.

gf!robin who is used to spooning you, but wouldn't mind being spooned every now and then.

gf!robin who sets up the cheesiest dates with stuff she gets from the dollar store, but you love them anyway <3

gf!robin who favors giving you pleasure over receiving it.

gf!robin who would spend her entire lifetime in between your legs, lapping at your pretty little pussy until your clit gets all red and puffy. 💗

gf!robin who loves overstimulating you and edging you to double your pleasure.

gf!robin who loves it when you make a mess all over her pretty face <3333 whenever you do, she'll be begging for you to do it again and again and again until you're nothing but putty on her tongue.

gf!robin who loves it when you sit on her face and suffocate her with your pretty pussy, fingers holding her hips down on her face, sure to leave bruises later on 😖

gf!robin who takes her time sliding her long fingers into your pussy, savoring how your walls clamp down around her digits.

gf!robin who will either finger you slow and sensual or fast and rough. either way, she'll have you creaming on her fingers in no time 💗

gf!robin who will spend hours with her strap deep inside of you, rubbing fast circles onto your greedy clit until you cum.

gf!robin who loves it when you eat her out after she fucks you good and hard, your tongue lapping at her sticky folds is the best thing ❤️❤️

gf!robin who's aftercare is the absolute best out of anyone.

gf!robin who gently cleans you up after sex, puts your pajamas on for you and spends the rest of day or night spooning you while you sleep.

gf robin buckley my beloved <33333

stranger things taglist.

Lay All Your Love On Me

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!reader

Word count: 6k

Summary: It’s a Friday night, and Robin has cleared her schedule to spend time with you. She wants to take you out, and you fully expect Steve to be your taxi like always, but Robin has a surprise.

Content Warnings: 18+ Fluff to Smut real quick. You might get whiplash. Romantic Robin. Mature language. Kissing. Making out. Pet names. Reader wears a dress. Non-serious thoughts of kidnapping. Dirty talk. Rough!Robin. Groping. Hair pulling. Finger sucking. Drool. Praising. Oral (Robin receiving) Light period typical homophobia. All characters involved are 18+

A/N: This fic can be read as a standalone or as follow up of 3rd Period.  l do highly recommend reading it as it provides more of a backstory to Robin and Reader’s relationship. As always, likes/reblogs/feedback is much appreciated.

🎵 Enjoy my 80′s Robin playlist here 🎵

The upbeat disco beats of Abba gently fill your room as you sit at your vanity, meticulously applying a light coat of blush on your cheeks. It’s a Friday night, and by some miracle, Robin doesn’t have anything to do. No band practice. No Family Video. No school projects. For the first time in a long time, your girlfriend has a clear schedule, and she fully dedicated the night to you.

Keep reading

guys

what about mike overhearing reader’s friends saying he’s too mean and rough? so he’s like I’ll show you how mean I am and teasing about how much readera likes it?

“hes like way too rough even if its playful.” your friend says as she brings up an ‘incident’ during lunch. mike had grabbed your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks to force your lips into a pout for him to kiss after youd denied him one.

“i dont think so?” you reply, your brows furrowed and your lips in a pout. you thought your boyfriend was just right. perfect even.

“of course you dont, hes your boyfriend.” your other friend says and you roll your eyes, grabbing your books from your locker.

“i think hes sweet?” you reply as the three of you begin to walk to class.

“yeah the 1% of time when hes not being a dick.”

*

you were laid on your tummy on mikes bed reading when you could feel his eyes burning onto you.

“whats wrong?” you ask your boyfriend and he shakes his head. “mikey?”

“do you think im too mean to you? too rough?” he asks finally and you stare at him confused.

“no, why?” you fold the corner of your page, settling it down next to you.

“are you sure?” he asks jumping up from the chair at his desk and making his way over.

“yeah i think youre the sweetest.” you smile at him with a nod and he chuckles. he stands right in front of you, towering over you with his knees leaning against the bed as he takes your chin in his hand.

“yeah? im the sweetest?” he asks and you nod fondly, smiling up at him.

“mhm.”

he leans down to put his lips next to your ear. “what about when i make you cry on my cock? am i still the sweetest?”

as he pulls back to look at you your eyes are blown and youre looking up at him like hes fucking god. “what do you think,hm?”

“mikey..” your voice almost falters under you.

“yeah baby?” your hands reach out to take his and he smirks at you. already so needy and hed literally not touched you.

“you can be mean to me if you like.” you look up at him with your big doe eyes and he smirks.

“you fucking like it when im mean to you, don’t you? your friends are fucking stupid, hm?”

PLEEK

King Steve (Boxer!Steve x AFAB!Librarian Reader)

Just what life would be like if Boxer!Steve fell in love with Librarian!Reader and treated her like his little princess. Uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

(Warnings: possessive behavior, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, violence.)

Read Pt 2 here!

Steve Harrington was known as King Steve in high school. He was always the funniest, handsomest, most popular guy around. Everyone adored him.

But after high school, when the rest of his peers went off to college, Steve started boxing. It was just a way to get fit at first, something to blow off steam and take his mind off the fact that he couldn't get into any of the colleges he wanted to. His father was disappointed in him, his mother couldn't bother to care about him, and he just wanted to be something.

Steve was insanely good at it. The controlled violence enthralled him. Punching and getting punched back and having no consequences other than a throbbing black eye and busted cheekbone. But the bruises and the scars and the blood were all just proof that Steve had done something, and that he had done it well.

King Steve was no longer his high school nickname —it was his professional persona.

You met him at a party that your friend insisted you accompany her to. You were miserable within the first twenty minutes, sulking off to a corner to nurse a root-beer and play with the buttons on your cardigan. The music was loud and the people were strangers, and your friend had disappeared with a guy the moment you stepped foot in the house. So, there you were, all alone.

Until Steve spotted you from across the room. He was talking to some old buddies from high school, people he barely saw anymore but hung out with when he was in town and had nothing better to do. You were so cute with your little ponytail and thick green glasses shaped like cat eyes. In a sea of short-shorts and crop tops, you were wearing a buttoned up cardigan and tight little jeans.

And fuck were you beautiful.

Steve left mid-conversation to head your way, flopping down beside you on the couch.

"Not having fun?" he asked you.

You looked up at him. Of course, you knew who Steve Harrington was. He was a few years your senior so you hadn't known each other in high school, but you did know him from the headlines in the paper —he had made your tiny town of Hawkins, Indiana famous with his solid right hook.

"Not really," you sheepishly admitted.

"Wanna get outta here, get some food? The music is loud, it's givin' me a headache."

Who were you to turn him down?

He took you to a pizza parlor down the street and you ate greasy cheese pizza in a red plastic booth, giggling together between bites. When you gave him your number, you hadn't really expected him to call; it was almost too good to be true, that someone has handsome and famous as Steve could want to be with someone like you.

But he called the next morning and insisted that you go out on a date. So, you did.

Now, you were inseparable. You had been dating for a year and you felt like he was your best friend. You did everything together: movies, dinners, press conferences, matches, practices. Steve wanted you by his side at all times, and if you physically couldn't be, then he insisted that you be seated in the front row where he could see you.

"Hey, I want Y/N sitting up front tonight," Steve told his manager, hand wrapped around yours as you headed down the tunnel toward his dressing room for the night.

He had a match in Chicago, and where Steve went, you went. You still kept your job at the library back in Hawkins, but you didn't work much. You were adamant about keeping your job, though Steve assured you he could provide for you both just fine. And while that proved to be true (he showered you with gifts and unnecessary things, even bought you a house you two shared together in Hawkins) you just weren't ready to become a housewife...not yet, anyways.

"Dude, come on," his manager groaned, shaking his head, "there's a big time client coming to scope you out tonight. He wants to make sure you're legit before they sign on for a fight."

Steve stopped, shoes squeaking against the floor. You jerked to a stop with him, looking up to scan his features. His jaw was tight, brown eyes narrowed, lips in a firm line.

"You got a fuckin' problem? If I said I want my girl front row, then she sits front row."

His manager sighed, glancing over at you momentarily before looking back at Steve.

"Alright, man. You're the boss."

His manager went to walk off, but Steve snapped his fingers.

"Uh-uh. Hey, you owe my girl an apology for questioning her importance."

You flushed bright pink, squirming next to Steve in your little pink dress.

"No, Stevie, it's okay—"

"It's not okay, baby. Apologize. Now."

His manager was as red as a tomato when his gaze slid to you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

Steve nodded once in approval and let your hand go to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You forgive him, right, honey?"

You nodded immediately, flashing his manager a sweet smile.

"Yes."

Steve smiled brilliantly and smacked his gum.

"Good. Let's go."

You frequently went out to fancy restaurants to celebrate his victories. The whole gang of coaches, managers (his posse), you, and Steve all sat at the best table in the restaurant and ate the best dishes on the menu. Steve kept you close at all times, pulling your chair to sit flush against his, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, fancy watch dangling at your shoulder around his wrist.

You wore a gold necklace with his name in a pretty font: Steve. You wore it proudly and happily.

Steve wasn't much of a talker, which you came to learn a few months into your relationship. He became particularly quiet right before and after matches, no matter the outcome —he liked to keep his concentration, and after a match, he was always sporting a headache. They were chronic at this point, the consequence of frequent head trauma. He often wore a pair of black sunglasses to combat them, even when he was inside.

He spoke the most late night in bed when you stayed up and whispered between the sheets, or when he was rutting into you calling you his "pretty girl."

But at dinners like these he was quiet and broody, hiding behind his sunglasses. You were looking over the menu, scanning the entrees and appetizers for the best option when the waiter came over.

"And for you, miss?" The waiter looked at you.

You peeked over the menu, smiling at him.

"Oh, I'm still looking," you said sweetly.

Steve stared the waiter down through his blackened shades as he stood there, waiting. Steve pulled the sunglasses down his nose and tossed them on the table in front of him.

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" he barked at the man.

You blushed pink, putting a hand on his leg.

"She said she's still looking, so fuck off," Steve snapped, waving the waiter off.

The waiter skittered away nervously, and you sighed when he was gone.

"Stevie, you didn't have to do that. He was just doing his job," you murmured.

You turned back to the menu with a small pout, and Steve's hand darted out to wrap around your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. His brown eyes were rimmed with red from the fight, the left swollen and haloed with violet. There was a cut on his lip, split at the side from the fist of his opponent. His cheekbone was still sporting a bruise from last week, a faded green and yellow.

"You know I love you, angel. I hate when anyone else looks at you. You're all mine, you know that?"

You flushed again, nodding.

"I know."

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and leaned forward, movements slow and meticulous and slightly strained from the pain in his neck. He pressed his mouth against yours and licked into your mouth, fingers splayed out across your jaw to hold you in place. You gripped the hem of his t-shirt under the table in your fists, whimpering into his mouth. He pulled away and flashed you a sly, sideways smile.

"My pretty girl," he cooed.

You ordered the spaghetti and a creme brûlée for dessert, and you insisted that you split it with Steve, even though he said he didn't want any.

"Open up," you sang sweetly, bringing the spoon up to his face.

He looked away from the man he was talking to across the table and opened his mouth wordlessly, letting you push the spoon into his mouth and place the dessert on his tongue. You giggled and swiped your thumb along his lip delicately, careful of his cut, brushing away any remnants.

He flashed you a wink with his bruised eye and rubbed his hand along your bare thigh.

"Thanks, baby. So, anyways, I told him that he couldn't fight worth a' shit, and then he—"

Sometimes he can be possessive protective but that's only because he loves you with every fiber of his being, and he can't stand the idea of you getting hurt. You gladly let him be the protector, even if you don't agree with all of his methods.

Like that time you were buying a new pair of shoes for a night out, and you handed the money over to the cashier nicely and politely. When he gave you your change back, he tossed it on the counter and sent coins everywhere, causing Steve to hover over your shoulder and press closer to the counter, pulling his sunglasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. His dark eyes were stern and serious as he glared at the cashier.

"Hey. Hand it to her nicely, what are you a fuckin' moron?"

The cashier swallows and picks all the coins and bills up, arranging them neatly until they're sitting delicately in the palm of your hand. Steve pushes his sunglasses back up and smacks his gum, hand placed firmly at the small of your back.

"C'mon, angel."

To everyone else, Steve was a scary guy. He beat the shit out of people for a living and actually enjoyed getting beat back. He walked with squared, broad shoulders and long strides, commanding every room he walked into with his silent brood. He was a little dead behind the eyes, those brown irises blank and intense. And there you were, at his side, holding his hand in your colorful little dresses, with your floral perfume and glossy lips; his brilliant, bubbly, sickeningly sweet better half.

Something about Steve's personality made it hard for him to let go of control. While you didn't want to say he was controlling, you could definitely see why people thought that.

"Hey. No more," he would say firmly, leaning over and tapping your bare thigh when you reached to pour yourself more champagne at one of your fancy dinners.

You pout at him as you set it down.

"But, I've only had two—"

"And it'll stay at two. No more."

He goes back to talking to his friend, who glances at you wearily, embarrassed for you at the little scene, but otherwise says nothing. And you huff and sit back with a pout but don't bother to argue, but after a while Steve glances at you and rolls his eyes.

"Hey, I'm sorry. You gonna pout all night?"

You shrug, playing with your utensils.

"Maybe."

He huffs and leans over, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. He grabs your chin and pulls it toward him, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"M'sorry, honey. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

And fucking hell does he make it up to you. Railing you in the back of the limo on the way home, banging you into the leather seats with low-throated grunts and a hand around your throat. The windows start fogging up and you're sliding all over the place, nothing but tiny squeaks leaving you as he slams into you so deep and hard that it shakes the car.

He automatically opens jars and bottles for you, taking them from whoever had been holding it out to you and popping it open before handing it back. He opens your doors and pulls out your chairs. He ushers you to the other side of the pavement when you're walking near a busy road, and never walks ahead of you.

You come to every practice, hand in hand as you enter the gym. He sets you up with snacks and a water bottle, and you always bring a magazine in case things run long. Steve sits you on a workout bench across from the ring as he sheds his t-shirt and tapes his hands up.

"Wanna do it, baby?" he mumbles to you, holding out the roll of tape.

You eagerly take it from him, unraveling it slowly around his knuckles and between his fingers the way you've seen him do a million times. When both his hands are taped up, you slide the thick gloves over his hands and tie them tight. He places the big, puffy gloved fist under your chin and kicks it up until you meet his eye.

"Gimme a kiss."

So you kiss him, sweet and slow and lovingly. He grunts in appreciation and then frowns when you pull away, giggling. His lips smell like cherry now from your chapstick.

"Go! They're waiting for you," you insist, giving him a little shove.

He pulls away and looks over his shoulder as he heads toward the ring.

"You're gonna stay there the whole time? No running off, no wandering?"

You nod firmly.

"Promise."

And at matches, you sit front row like he always requests, dressed in your prettiest dresses with your hair done up all nice. You crane your neck as you wait for him to come out from the tunnel, and when they announce his name over the mic, you leap to your feet and clap wildly. His eyes find you the moment he ducks under the rope and steps into the ring, smiling at you before shoving his mouthguard in.

He taps the glove once against his mouth and twice against his chest, eyes boring into yours. You kiss your hand and press it to your heart. It was a ritual you did before every match, your way of saying "good luck" and "I love you."

When he wins (because he almost always wins) he calls you over amidst the chaos and the shouts of celebration and helps you climb up the side of the ring, where he wraps a sweaty arm around you and kisses you heavily. He holds your little arm up and shakes it like they did with his, declaring his victory.

Your win was his win.

The way he fucks you makes you go wild. He loves to pull your hair and spank you, loves to see his marks all over your ass but refuses to ever put them anywhere else.

"Hate hurtin' my pretty little girl, but that's what you want, huh? That's what you want, baby, you want me to mark you up?"

And you nod vigorously and whine and beg for it until he just heaves a sigh, shakes his head, and goes:

"Well, alright, if you insist."

And then leaves a pretty picture of violet and crimson on your ass as you cry into the sheets.

He likes when you blow him in the dressing room after each match, absolutely delighted at the sweat on his skin and the manly scent he exudes as he towers over you, leaned against the wall with his fingers buried in your hair.

"Fuck, yeah. Fuck, angel, take me so well. Down a little more, down —yeah, oh god."

Sometimes, when you have the gym to yourselves, he throws you down onto the mat and shoves your legs open, slotting himself between them until you feel a delicious sting in your thighs from the stretch. His shoulders hold them apart as he latches onto your clit and devours you like a mad man, letting you yank at his hair and whine so loud that it echoes off the gym walls.

He likes fucking you from behind where he can see your ass bounce and he can smack at it with one hand while the other wraps in painfully in your hair. He's practically holding you up by the end of it, as you cry and whine and pinch your eyes closed at the pressure in your belly.

"Please lemme cum, Steve, please! Please lemme cum!"

"Come on, angel, cum on my cock."

And when he's tired from a match, bruises decorating the plane of his back, dried blood gathered on his chest from the cut in his eye oozing down, he eases back onto the bed and lets you climb on top of him. He's always quiet at times like those, while you slowly grind and bounce on his cock, taking your time with each roll of your hips, fingers splayed out along his hairy chest.

He'll reach up and brush your hair out of your eyes with rough, calloused fingers, cradling your face with his big hand. His thumb finds home under your chin and pulls it down to meet his gaze, and he watches through heavy lids as your face becomes flushed with pleasure and heat.

Neither of you say a word, but the passion between the two of you is so intense that it's like you can feel it in the air. A thrumming energy buzzing between your bodies.

Steve takes you to fancy parties (only the one's he's obligated to go to, because neither of you are party people) and you sit draped over his thigh the whole night, pretty little dress and sparkling lips. Steve is leaned back into the couch, one hand on your thigh and the other dangling over the arm of the couch, pretty brown eyes on display since the room wasn't too loud or bright.

You shimmy up his leg until your own are draped over his entire lap, sitting sideways, hooking your arm around his broad shoulders. He adjusts to the position silently, gaze steadily ahead on whoever was talking to him on the couch opposite yours. One hand sits on your ass and the other on your knee.

You reach up and run your fingers through the front of his thick chestnut locks, feathering out the strands. He drums his slender fingers along your knee absentmindedly, his touch so warm and he smells so fucking good —like pine and musk and smoke.

When the conversation starts to drag, you separate the front part of his hair and start to make little braids in the mound, and Steve lets you. He doesn't mind, content with your body pressed up against him, your sweet scent washing over him. You're halfway through the third braid when a new body flops on the couch across from you, a new and unfamiliar voice calling to you:

"Dude, what the fuck? You're just gonna let that bitch sit there and treat you like some doll, Harrington?"

You freeze, fingers pulling away from Steve's hair to curl into your lap. You look to Steve first, eyes sliding down from the crown of his head to his face. His eyes immediately cut over to the new man, narrowed into dagger-sharp slits with that dead look, brows angled down, forehead creased. His jaw clenches and you hear his teeth creak as they grit together. His hand tightens around your knee, other fingers pressing into the globes of your ass.

He doesn't move an inch, but his chest puffs with a humorless chuckle.

"The fuck did you just say?" Steve bites.

It seemed like the entire room had gone silent. You could hear a pin drop. You stiffened in Steve's lap, both offended by the man's name-calling and anxious for your boyfriend's reaction. All eyes were on the pair of you, or more so Steve. Everyone knew how Steve was, and they knew how he was when it came to you. It had become an unspoken rule that no one was allowed to say anything about you or question your relationship.

No one had ever dared to do what this man had just done, and everyone was on the edge of their seats in anticipation of what would happen next.

"I asked you if you're a doll, Harrington. Lettin' her dress you up all pretty?" the man cackled, either ignorant to how things worked around here or just plain fucking stupid.

You swallowed and placed your hand gently against Steve's cheek— but you knew there was nothing you could do. Especially when Steve sat forward, pulled you against his chest, and leaned in toward the strange man.

"Fuck did you call her? Cause it sounded like you called my girl a bitch. Did you do that? I mean, Mikey, did you hear this fuckhead call my girl a bitch?" Steve turns to his manager seated beside the strange man, hooking a thumb to the accused.

His manager shifts uncomfortably, but nods solemnly.

"He did."

All Steve has to do is tap your thigh twice and you're sliding off his lap to sit on the empty cushion beside him, crossing one leg over the other and watching helplessly as Steve rises to his feet.

"Stay here, baby."

He motions toward the door to his manager, a jerk of his head to the side and two fingers beckoning him to move, and then he's stomping out of the room without a word. The room is stiff as they watch his manager and a couple other guys haul the man that called you a bitch up to his feet and drag him out of the room.

You flinch at the sound of banging and pounding, glass breaking and things shattering in the other room.

Steve returns a few minutes later out of breath and hair astray, but smiles when he sees you and pulls you back into his lap.

"Now, where were we?"

You smash your lips against his and wipe away the blood on his knuckles.

King Stevie is such a protector 💗💗

Literally Boxer!Steve is so fucking angsty and broody and silently intimidating (the best kind of intimidating). It's giving Six from The Gray Man.

Quite literally "I'll beat up anyone that looks your way" vibes. He's so Daddy shaped, he has my heart.

steve harrington being exactly the type of guy to give very nonchalant, everyday dominance.

when he sees you in the corridoor and notices your skirt that was already short enough had ridden up he casually pulls it down, pressing a kiss to your temple before hes off to class.

leaning over to your foot that was laying outstretched on nancy’s basement floor and retying the lace hed noticed was loose.

you start getting tired and irritable and he pulls you to the side “you want something to eat, baby? you want me to take you somewhere or something?” and when you convince him youre fine and you can eat when you leave he gives u a little look of warning “be good then.”

“what the fuck?” you ask as nancy tells you about vecna and steve turns to you, completely ignoring the fact that theres some freak back again to kill you all. “watch your mouth yeah princess? not gonna tell you again i mean it.” and eddie giggles and steve shoots him a look too. “dont think i dont know where she picked up the habit eddie.”

“stevie?” you called out to your boyfriend who sat on his bed, watching you to make sure you studied for your math exam and he just shook his head in reply. “back to work angel, be good and then we can hang out. yeah?” “okay stevie.” you pouted. “no pouting. be good for me.”

pleek

In The Bathroom - Robin Buckley *

18+ ONLY. (BY CLICKING READ MORE YOU ARE CONSENTING TO READING EXPLICIT CONTENT.)

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, baby), overstimulation, fingering, awkwardness, mention of alcohol and being drunk, kissing, inappropriate language.

SUMMARY: You go to a party, dressing to impress your crush, when you end up giving her more than just a good impression.

A/N: I found this hard to write because I’ve been writing Robin as awkward and flustered, but this request wanted confident Robin so I’ll try :)

REQUEST: “Heyyyy I just read It'll Never Be Real and I absolutely love it ! Could you maybe write something with a confident Robin flirting with a kind of flustered reader at a party where she is all dolled up for Robin ? Thanks you !!!” & "uhhfhfhdh robin making you ride her fingers like w her rings on just skdjdj she has me on a death grip with her fingers and like her just like worshipping your body shsh -🫧"

CHARACTERS: Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler & Steve Harrington.

Your POV:

As you stood outside in the front yard, just a few steps away from the party, you fiddled with your hair and fixed yourself up. You pulled your small makeup mirror from your purse, flicked it open and checked your makeup before reapplying some lip gloss. You sighed as you placed the mirror back in your purse.

You weren’t going to go to this party, since you hated them, but when you found out Robin was going, you knew you couldn’t miss it. Tonight, you had dressed out of your comfort zone. You wanted to impress Robin. You wanted her to notice you. Like, really notice you.

“You good?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You took a deep breath before nodding.

“I’m fine, just a little nervous.” You replied, brushing your hands against your skirt. You turned to face the front door, nerves pooling in your stomach.

“Nervous? For what?”

“Just–” You started, but before you could finish your sentence, your eyes locked onto a familiar brown-haired girl through the window. You stared at her, watching as she laughed and danced alongside some of her friends. Nancy followed your line of sight over to Robin.

“Robin?” She wondered, turning to face you. You fell from your daydream, turning to Nancy with a defensive expression.

“No!” You protested, unable to make eye contact with her.

“Alright, alright,” Nancy mumbled, throwing her hands up in front of her and backing away slightly. You took in another deep breath before forcing your lips into a smile and heading toward the entrance. Nancy followed after you.

As you walked through the front door, your nose was infiltrated by the unpleasant smell of alcohol and sweat. You turned to the right, looking at the spot you had seen Robin in through the window, and realised she was gone. You made your way through the crowd of people that spread themselves out throughout the house, looking for her. Somewhere, along the way, you had lost Nancy in the swarm of drunk bodies that filled every room of the house.

Suddenly, your search was interrupted when you ran straight into someone, causing both of you to fall to the floor.

“Hey, watch where you’re–”

“I’m so sorry,” You apologised, steadying your dizzy eyes.

“Y/N?”

“I’m so stupid, I should’ve–” You continued, not realising who you had run into. You scramble to get to your feet, but fall after a failed attempt. You lifted your head to look at the person and realise it’s Robin. Your mouth opens with a gasp and stills, staring at the girl for a moment.

“Y/N,” Robin repeated.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” You said, blinking rapidly and waking yourself back up.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, pretty girl.” She replied, reaching out her hand for you to grab. You look down at her hand and then back at her. She moves it closer to you and wiggles her fingers, signalling for you to grab it. You reach for her hand and gently wrap your fingers around her palm, letting her pull you up to your feet. You take a deep breath and gulp, looking back into her eyes and maybe holding her hand for a little longer than you should’ve.

“Thank you.” You added, looking around the room to avoid eye contact. Robin looks down at your shirt, which is now covered in red punch.

“Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry,” She added, guilt flooding her voice. You looked down at your shirt and the big red stain that now came with it and sighed. You had gotten all dressed up for Robin, just to have her ruin your pretty little outfit with her drink. You looked up at Robin with a fake smile plastered onto your face.

“It’s fine, Robin.” You assured, looking around the room for the closest bathroom.

“I’m– fuck.” She cursed, running her hands through her hair. “Here, let me help.” She grabbed your hand and dragged you through the crowd of people, not caring for the other people she ran into. She grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open, revealing two people making out inside. She cringed as she shut it again, before reopening it with her eyebrows raised.

“Steve?” She said, looking at the boy and girl who had now stopped kissing each other.

“Robin! H-Hey!” He called, wiping the lipstick off of his lip and turning to face her. He looked down at where your hands entwined and raised his eyebrow before looking back at her with a smile. “Oh, you two were– right, right, no, yeah.” He stuttered. You looked at him, confusion written all over your face.

“No, Steve–” Robin tried, but he stopped her.

“We’ll just get right out of your way,” He continued, grabbing the girl and dragging her out of the bathroom. It was almost like there was some kind of secret message floating between the two of them that couldn’t be spoken aloud; or at least not in front of you.

Robin rolled her eyes as she pulled you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She grabbed a couple pieces of toilet paper before wetting them under the tap. She moved to pat the paper against your shirt but stopped herself before awkwardly handing the paper to you instead. You took it from her with a smile and slowly began trying to get the stain out of your shirt.

You patted the paper against your shirt a couple more times before tossing it onto the sink. Robin looked at you.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna come out.” You added, breaking the silence.

“Wouldn’t be the first thing to not–” She paused. “Never mind.” She grabbed the scrunched-up piece of paper and bent down, holding it close to where the stain sat. She paused and looked up at you, “Can I..?”

“Oh yeah, sure, go for it.” You said. She gently pressed the paper against the stain, testing the waters, before lifting it back up and doing it again. She pulled away and stood up straight, nodding her head toward the counter. "Up."

"What?"

"Sit on the counter, it'll be easier for me." She instructed, nodding to the sink once more. You stared at her for a moment, your lips parted slightly and your eyebrows raised. "I said, sit on the counter." She added, her tone growing sterner. You quickly obliged, lifting your butt on top of the counter. Your feet dangled above the ground as you looked at Robin. She smiled at you before moving her hand to your face and gently pushing a stray hair behind your ear, "Good girl." Your cheeks reddened at the praise, undoubtedly noticeable. 

She pulled away, grabbing some more paper towel before wetting it under the sink. She tried at the stain for a bit, awkwardly shifting the towel around your chest, making sure to avoid certain areas. Although she seemed to get more of the stain out than you did, it still wasn’t enough.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s coming out.” She spoke, throwing the paper down. You giggled with a nod, looking down at your dangling feet.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll buy you a new shirt.” She said. You could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t offering, she was stating. 

It was just now that you realised you had somehow managed to get you and Robin in a room, alone. Your eyes glanced around the room, looking for something to strike up a conversation and keep her here.

“I thought Steve was your boyfriend.” You blurted out. You bit your lip anxiously as you waited for her response. She let out a small laugh but that did nothing to ease the tension you held in your body, begging for her to say what you had been waiting for this whole time.

“Nope, not my boyfriend.” She answered, picking up the wet paper and tossing it into the bin.

“Oh, so, do you have a boyfriend?” You asked, looking at her nervously.

“No.”

“Do you want a boyfriend?” You questioned, your composure slipping. She turned to face you with a smirk.

“Why do you wanna know so badly?” Robin asked.

“I– I don’t!”

“Well, you seem to be getting a little worked up about it.” She said, looking your body up and down. You now noticed how hard you were squeezing your hands, how clenched your jaw was and how high up your shoulders sat. 

“I’m not worked up, I’m just–” You paused, searching for the right words to say. You relaxed your body, letting your shoulders fall as you let go of your palms with a defeated sigh. 

“Just what, baby girl?” She said, tilting her head slightly like she knew she had power over you right now. The nickname sent shivers up your spine as you stared back at her, unable to get any words out.

Her fingertips gently grazed the top of your thighs, slowly getting closer to the end of your skirt. As your heart began to speed up, your eyes trailed down her face from her eyes to her lips. You bit your lip, lost in a trance at the feeling of her touching you. 

"You gonna answer me, pretty girl?" She asked, raising both of her eyebrows. Her fingers danced along the edges of your skirt, playing with the hem gently. You blinked, looking back at her eyes and realising how she had shifted closer to you. 

"I– um, I'm just–" You tried, unable to think with her hands on your body. She looked up at you, blinking innocently as her fingers slipped underneath your skirt and slowly inched closer to where you wanted to feel her the most.

"Can't think straight?" Robin asked, pouting at you mockingly. 'Literally' You thought. Your legs subconsciously parted, allowing her to move her body between them while her fingers crawled up your thigh. Her eyes stayed focused on yours, raising her eyebrows as if to ask for consent. You panted softly, nodding desperately for her. Her fingers moved to trace the outline of your panties, teasing you slowly. 

"R–Robin," You breathed. Your eyes glued to her lips, wanting them on yours. 

"What is it, baby?" She asked, tauntingly. 

"I– I need–" You tried, gasping once you felt her fingertips gently grazing over your panties.

"What? What do you need?" She replied, keeping her eyes locked on your face. She cupped your chin with her other hand and titled your head to look at her eyes. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl." Her thumb trailed over your bottom lip before pulling it down gently. 

"I want you." 

"Hmm, I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a little bit more detailed than that, sweetheart." She taunted, running her fingers along your covered pussy. Your cheeks flushed red, not wanting to say the words aloud. "Aw, don't be embarrassed, baby," She cooed. She moved her face closer to yours, whispering in your ear, "I just want to hear you say it."

"P–Please, Robin–" You whimpered, trying to move your throbbing pussy that begged for more attention, closer to her fingers. "Please just touch me," 

"Where?"

"Robin!" You whined, throwing your head back.

"Alright, alright, shhh." She chuckled, slipping her fingers under your panties. Her fingers swirled around your wetness, “Fuck, you’re so wet for me baby.” You lifted your head when you felt the cool metal of her rings mixed with the warmth of her hands trail over your clit softly before moving lower. "Shh, you like that, beautiful?" She asked. You nodded desperately at her words, wanting more. "Wow, so desperate, so eager," She snaked her arm around your waist, helping to keep you steady, "I didn't know you were so– dirty."

"Mmm– please, Robin," You moaned, moving your hips against her hands as she rubbed slow circles around your entrance. The circles grew smaller and smaller until her fingers were pressing against your hole. You gasped when you felt one finger enter you, your eyes closing.

“W–Wait,” You whimpered. Her finger froze as her concerned eyes glanced up at your face. “Your rings.” She looked down at where her finger sat inside of you, only halfway in; the ring on her fingers pressed against your pussy lips.

“Hmm, maybe I should keep them on.” She said, smirking at you. “I mean, you wanted my fingers so badly, didn’t you?”

A wave of embarrassment flushed over you, making your cheeks turn red. She slowly eased her finger in, the coolness from the metal rings adding new sensations. She watched your face closely, making sure you liked what she was doing.

When all she was met with was moans and soft whimpers, she knew you were okay. She pushed in another, gently thrusting the two digits inside of you.

“That’s it, baby, you like that?” She asked. You nodded, wrapping your arms around her neck and holding her close as she fingered you. You pulled on the back of her neck, wanting to feel her lips on yours, and she obliged. She kissed you softly before pulling away, her eyes scanning your face for reassurance, before reattaching her lips to yours. 

Her fingers thrusted faster into you, dragging a moan out of your mouth and into the kiss. You pulled away to let out another, letting your head fall back in pleasure. She licked her bottom lip as she smiled, watching you squirm and moan from her fingers. "I can't wait to see that pretty little face when you cum for me." She whispered into your ear. You felt your orgasm building as she curled her fingers, hitting that spot you never could. 

"Oh!" You gasped, moans trailing after. Suddenly, she slowly started to slow her movements, taking your peak away from you. "R–Robin," You whined, moving your hips against her fingers to try and get more. She held your waist firmly, keeping you in place.

"Shh, pretty girl, I know." She said softly. "You were getting close, weren't you?" You looked away from her and bit your lip. She chuckled at your embarrassment, "Oh I know, sweetheart, but I have an idea I want to try." You lifted your eyes to meet hers as her free hand roamed your body. "I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers," Robin continued. A small whimper escaped from your lips at her words, making her smile grow even more.

"Oh, you like that?" She asked, teasingly moving her fingers inside of you. You rested your head against her shoulder, hiding your embarrassed face from her. "Oh, it's okay, baby," Her voice laced with condescending undertones and her torturously slow fingers making you squirm and whine. "Look at me." You peeled your face away from her shoulder and looked at her. "Good girl." She whispered, looking at your body up and down. Your legs clenched against her at the praise, making her attention immediately focus back onto your face. 

"You like being called a good girl?" Robin teased. She leaned in closer to your ear, "Or do you like being my good girl?" Your body shuddered, signalling just how much you wanted her. She let out a small laugh and began slowly kissing your neck. She pulled away, "Go ahead baby, make yourself cum on my fingers." She whispered. You bit your lip and slowly started thrusting your hips against her fingers. Robin looked down at where her fingers met with your body, groaning softly at the sight of her rings hitting the edges of your pussy; sometimes slipping in.

"Thats it, good girl," She praised, slowly starting to help you move your hips. "Ride my fingers, thats it," You rocked back and forth on her fingers, letting out soft moans and gasps at the pleasure. "Mmm, so pretty," Her hand rubbed around your waist, feeling the curvatures of your body. "You like that? You like feeling my fingers inside of you?" She teased, kissing your jaw.

"Yes, so good– it's so good." You moaned, your brows furrowing as you tried to grind against her faster. Your hips moved greedily, trying to make yourself cum on her fingers. You looked desperate. You felt your body getting tired, no longer having the same energy to keep up with what you wanted. "Robin~" You cried, pouting at her. She raised an eyebrow before mockingly pouting back at you.

"What is it, my sweet girl?" She asked, titling her head as you moved against her fingers. "You getting tired?" Her words teased and mocked you, making you feel like desperate pet, but you loved it. You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes at your own frustration. "Can't make yourself cum on my fingers, baby?"

"I need more– I need you–" You begged, your movements slowing. She cupped your face, pushing your hair behind your ears.

"Oh I know, baby, I know," Robin said, nodding slowly with a teasing frown. "You just look so pretty when you beg." She started thrusting her fingers again. Your frustrated pout curled into a smile, moaning at the pleasure she was giving you. "You just relax and let me take care of you, okay?" She pressed her lips against yours slowly. 

"Yes, yes, thank you!" You moaned, throwing your head back. A part of you was embarrassed to be acting like this, so desperate, but the other part didn't care. She pressed down on your lower belly as her fingers moved faster.

"Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me?"

"Y-yes! Oh, yes, please!" You yelled, starting to move your pussy against her fingers again. She began trailing kisses down your neck.

"Shhh, baby girl, you gotta be quiet," She added before sucking on your collar bone and definitely leaving a mark. "We wouldn't want anyone to know what we're doing in here, would we?" You shook your head as you bit your lip, trying to quiet your moans. You could feel your orgasm building as your eyes rolled back and your desperate moans turned to open-mouthed silence. 

Robin looked at you, nodding with a smile as you started to fall apart on her fingers. "Yes, baby, thats it," She encouraged, thrusting through your orgasm. "Cum for me, baby, cum all over my fingers." You smacked your hand over your mouth, silencing the moans that emerged from your throat as you shook uncontrollably. "Oh baby, you look so pretty cumming on my fingers," She continued, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Good girl, keep cumming all over yourself." Your eyes shut tightly as waves of pleasure crashed through you repeatedly. 

Your hand raced to grab her wrist as the pleasure began to overwhelm you, but your strength was no match for hers. She continued thrusting her fingers into you through your orgasm, making you shake and moan uncontrollably. You desperately squirmed trying to get away from the pleasure she was giving you; the sensation becoming too much. 

“R–Robin I–” You whined as she held you still. She pressed her forehead to yours, still forcing her fingers in and out of your hole. 

“Shh baby, you’re okay, you did so good.” She whispered before gently leaning down to kiss your lips. Your moans and whines were muffled by her mouth on yours; her firm grip around your waist stubborn. You wrapped your arms around the back of her neck as you moaned into the kiss, annoyed when you felt her lips pull away with a smirk. “You just look so pretty when you cum.” She said. The power she held over you was strong, stronger than either of you had realised.

As your high began to fade, Robin slowly started to ease her movements before gently pulling her fingers out of you, making you wince. 

“Damn,” She pants, running her hands down your thighs as she pulls herself away. “You gonna say thank you, baby girl?” Her voice makes you shiver. You bit your lip as your cheeks flush red once more.

“T–Thank you.” You choke out.

“I wish you could see how fucking hot that was from my perspective.” She adds. You look away from her eyes, unable to bear the butterflies filling your stomach again. “Aw, you’re gonna act all shy now?” She asks, letting out a small laugh. “Baby, I just made you cum on my fingers, there's no need to be shy now.” Her lips formed a smirk that taunted you.

She knew the effect her words had on you. That's why it's so easy for her to be so confident and domineering around you. She loved how flustered you’d get at her flirty comments and not-so-friendly ‘accidental’ touches. She had you wrapped around her finger. Literally. 

You gently pushed at her chest, rolling your eyes. You placed your hands on either side of the counter below you and gently slid yourself off. Robin pulled at your skirt, readjusting it to cover more of your legs. You were now both standing, facing each other with Robin towering over you. The two of you looked at each other for a moment as the room filled with silence. You fought against the urge to say something, too afraid to say the wrong thing. 

You sighed with a nod, too nervous to say anything else, before turning toward the door to open it. She grabbed your waist, flinging you back around to face her and pressing you up against the door. 

“You’re just going to leave me here like this, baby?” She asked, furrowing her brows and pressing her body into you. “Or are you going to return the favour?”

ive been on here for 2 years and have almost 2k followers how have i not been deactivated

me and the girls who still use tumblr in 2022

i always come back😭

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