mbsturn

[mbsturn]

character: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dry humping, rough messy kisses, tomura is a meanie words: 1.3k

just been daydreaming about kissing tomura’s scars and leave the prettiest, sparkliest smears of pink lip gloss along his neck and collarbone ♡ and how much he supposedly ‘hates’ it ♡

“i told you to stop doing this,” his voice vibrates against your lips, head tilting further back, allowing you more room to work. “you’re making a fucking mess.” 

“m’sorry,” you murmur into the curve of his shoulder, not seeming apologetic in the slightest, planting another kiss, hard and puckered and full of purpose, to the protruding bones. “can’t help it.”  

“b-bitch,” he keens out, curse fading to a gasp on his tongue.

giggling, you string another garland of pecks along the curve of his neck to the hinge of his jaw, then across the defined edge, leaving smears of pretty pink lip gloss.

it’s real cute, you think, the way he acts as if he doesn’t love it, grumbles about how sticky it is, how it clumps his hair together and dries all hard and shimmery, but secretly he loves finding remnants of glitter—of you—all over him; his fingertips, his collarbone, his lips, his hair, his eyelashes; tiny sparkling reminders that you were there, that you’ve staked your claim, leaving a galaxy of constellations across his body that bear your name. 

he acts as if it’s such a nuisance, as if he doesn’t adore the way your lips paint his fresh gouges, new gashes, in the prettiest shimmers of you; your gloss, your drool, your scent—notes that linger far after you’re gone, notes that seep into his skin, that produce phantom tingles of longing when he’s laying alone in the middle of the night, warm and wiggling beneath his flesh.

he acts as if he doesn’t find it breathtakingly beautiful, the way his self-inflicted scars glimmer, the worst part of himself made pretty by you.

he acts as if if it doesn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans—even though you know it does, even though he knows you know it does, indicated by your girlish giggles as you bounce a little in his lap and lick another fat strip of saliva up the column of his neck, tongue tracing over that prominent adam’s apple that trembles with a growl or throbs with a thick swallow, to punctuate the lick with a sticky, gloss saturated kiss, right beneath his chin. 

he acts like this for as long as he can stand it, for as long as his soul will allow it, until he physically can’t take it anymore, the clawing at his chest and in his veins too much to bear, large hands curling around your hips and squeezing, hard, holding you in place as he ruts up into your clothed core, movements sloppy and uneven.

there’s no finesse to it, no set rhythm or pace, hips bucking wildly as he compels you to stay put, damn it, the demand spit out in a ragged whine. 

his mouth clashes against your own in a crude imitation of a kiss, sucking your lips into his mouth with enough force to yank a yelp from your chest. 

sharp teeth scrape your upper lip and the underside of your nose, leaving raised, raw little abrasions in their wake as they gnaw on your mouth, bottom row grating over your chin and dragging up, harvesting fat globs of the sticky substance behind their sawtoothed edges.

muffled moans soak into your flesh, pitchy and splintered to bits by heavy pants as he restlessly scours your mouth, scrubs it near clean, teeth depositing clots of gloss onto his tongue. 

it hurts, the constant rubbing of his teeth leaving your skin chafed and bloodied, but he doesn’t fucking care, greedily swallowing down your resounding squeals and cries, starved for any bit of you he can devour. 

it hurts, but you don’t discourage it, instead twining your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the fluffy tufts curling up at the base of his skull.

“uh, fuck,” he whines, voice grit and gravel, mouth mashed against your own.  

his tongue unfurls to lap at your lips, now glazed with a watery crimson, desperate to slurp every last ounce of gloss from your swollen mouth. it flattens against your face, slick muscle laving in hard, repetitive motions back and forth, back and forth, gathering the remnants of make-up and coating his tongue and his teeth in the tacky glitter, tainted with the taste of copper. 

those little whimpers and mewls have morphed into grunts and groans, shoved from his throat into yours as his tongue finally enters your mouth, now satisfied with having sucked the first layer of skin from your lips. 

it’s all so fucking messy, drool weeping from the corners of your conjoined mouths and leaving sticky streaks across your jaws and chins, edges of your teeth clacking together as your tongues tangle and brush and massage one another, slick and slippery as they push and curl.

his pleasure is hot and heavy on your tongue, little jolts surging through your skin with each sound huffed out in time with the irregular rocking of his hips. 

his cock is so hard, straining painfully against his jeans, throbbing as if it’s desperate to burrow through the thick denim to your cunt, but tomura won’t let it get that far—tomura can’t. 

because tomura needs to cum now, tomura doesn’t have the time to wait, tomura doesn’t have a goddamn second to waste, fucking into you through layers of fabric, thankful you’re in a skirt, thankful your panties are so fucking slutty, made of lace so thin, so delicate it’s barely a barrier at all.

if he concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel your hole, empty and yearning, clenching with every stroke of his cock over your clit. 

it’s almost enough to make him cum right there. 

bony fingers flex on your waist, unsure if they want to stop your movements or speed them up, blunt nails gouging dark, deep crescents into your skin. 

you make the decision for him, pace quickening as you grind down on his cock—come on, tomu, come on, tomu—and he mewls again, something high and pitchy and dense in your mouth, hips jerking up in response.

his forehead knocks against your own, hard enough to make you wince, pain searing through your temples. your noses nudge together, clumsy and inept with the haphazard rolling of his hips, steadily accelerating with each rut against you, desperate to match the pace you’ve set, to exceed the pace you’ve set. the fingers tangled at the back of his skull push further into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp in lopsided little circles, evoking another low moan as he shoves his head harder against yours, desperate to give you more room to work. 

he’s getting close now, hands tightening as they force you to move even faster, thighs tensing as the pressure in his tummy builds higher and higher, heavier and heavier with each of your motions, hips stuttering as they fall out of tempo again, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“fuck, f-fuck,” the curse fractures in his throat, eyes shut so tight they crinkle at the corners, breath exhaled in harsh tatters out his nose. “i—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” you nearly beg in a stringy whine. “ruin your jeans for me.”

“oh, christ,” he chokes on a sob, another three gyrations of your hips and then he’s obeying, cock pulsing almost violently and filling his pants with hot, thick cum—so much, too much, way too much that it starts oozing through the denim in viscous, ropy dollops to smear across your inner thighs, the coating pretty and pearly glazing over your skin.

leaning back, you look down, spreading your thighs a little further to examine the damage, tensing and tilting the muscles to fawn at the way his cum shimmers in the dim light.

“now who’s the one making a mess?” you tease with a giggle, gazing at him through your lashes, and he rolls his eyes. 

“this is nothing,” he’s growling as he hoists you up, one big hand clamped around your elbow, already beginning to drag you along behind him. “i’m gonna show you what a real mess looks like.” 

[mbsturn]

Quiet 10

pairing: y/n and Matt sturniolo

summary: a girl with a lot of baggage and a boy with even more try to help put each others pieces back together one by one. A story about a girl who’s broken and a boy who doesn’t talk

warnings: mentions of family death and trauma

matt pov

Tears flooded my eyes as I walked away clutching my book to my chest. I tried my best to fight them off but I knew I wouldn't be able to. I closed my eyes in case anyone passing by would see me. I didn’t want them to stare more than they already do.

I knew if I didn’t get up and walk away I would have cried right there in front of her, and I’d rather jump in front of a moving vehicle than do that and that’s saying a lot.

Even if she already thought I was weak, I didn't want to prove it to her. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I pushed the doors of the school open. I couldn’t do it. Not today. I couldn’t sit there and know that his lips have been on her. If not just her neck.

God, I was going to puke at the thought of it, his lips against her skin, hard enough to leave marks. The cold air hit me, I was finally out. I looked up briefly, silently thanking her for not following me like she always did. I didn't want her to see me, not like this.

I looked down at my feet as I walked home.

“It was my curling iron”

My stomach twisted. I was pathetic. I wiped the tears that came to the tip of my nose under my glasses. I liked one girl and they kissed someone else, and I was in tears. Maybe it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was everything else. I knew it wasn’t. I shook my head as I gasped for a breath, that came out more like a strangled sob.

I was the definition of pathetic.

I wasn't meant for this. To like a girl. It wasn't in the cards for me. I wish it had never happened.

There was nothing I could do to stop her from liking him, from kissing him, from touching him, from—-

I closed my eyes and shook my head as I tried to breathe, trying not to picture it.

She hadn’t even tried to hide it. Like she’d never gotten one before. She had her hood up, but that was it. I was looking at her, like I always do. It was hard to miss.

Staring at me from the inside of her neck. Taunting me. Like he branded himself in her skin. Her silk soft skin. My stomach dropped. I licked my lips and shook my head. She can kiss people Matt, I tried to convince myself.

But him?

My lip shook and I bit down on it. I’m not weak. I’m not a baby. Babies cry. I don’t cry.

It's not like she would choose to kiss you anyway, get over yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Chris immediately asked when I walked into the house. I looked up at him and that was it.

Everything I’d been carrying inside me, every rude comment, every insensitive look, every emotion thats happened to me in the past year came crashing down.

And I broke.

-

y/n pov

Jake slipped his hand into mine, before I could even register that he was there. I looked up at him slightly shocked from the action and flexed my hand against his. He smiled down at me as he matched my walking speed.

“Where were you yesterday?” He asked looking down at me. I looked down at our hands and then back up at his eyes. “Oh uh—“ I cleared my throat.

“My dad was sick, had to take care of him” I said shaking my head. Which was half true. He came home, stumbling. Puked everywhere. I spent an hour, crying, cleaning it up.

I swallowed at the memory. Yesterday could have gone down as the worst day of my life.

“Oh well, are you coming to my hockey game? Tomorrow? 9pm?” He tilted his head as he pulled me to stop against the lockers with him. I opened my mouth to speak as he grabbed my other hand interlocking both our hands, pulling me against him.

“Uh—“ I glanced down the hallway. Third period and still no signs of Matt today. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach from his absence. It didn't feel right. I looked back at Jake who was waiting for an answer.

“Yeah maybe, I’ll see what Matt’s doing” I replied. Bringing our hands down. His eyebrows furrowed. “Who's Matt?" He asked unimpressed. I blinked at him.

"Matt" I stated. He shrugged. "Matt, my friend? From the hockey game?" I mumbled towards him. Jake narrowed his eyes before he remembered.

"Ah right. The kid that doesn't speak" He chuckled. I swallowed and unhooked our hands. "Don't be.....mean, Jake" I whispered as I crossed my arms over myself. He stood up from leaning.

"Sorry, it's just...he doesn't talk does he? It's just weird to me. He just kind of stares and---"

"Jake, please" I shook my head, the last thing I needed right now was this. He looked down at me and shook his head.

"Hey, no. I'm sorry okay--i'm sorry" He said before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and kissing the top of my head.

I swallowed.

“Game, tomorrow. Please?” He breathed before looking down at me. I sighed and looked at my feet. “Yeah okay” I swallowed. He smiled.

“Good, I’ll see you then” He breathed before walking off. I just watched him as he walked away feeling a horrible feeling in my stomach. I closed my eyes and looked down at my feet.

-

Matt didn’t show up all day. Not at lunch. Not to walk home. None of it. He was gone as if he never existed. It gave me chills. It let me uneasy.

I sat with Jake and his friends at lunch. I hadn't had anything to eat, i've noticed the past two weeks my weight loss and I hated it. The way the bones in my cheeks thinned and my hip bones protruded. I swallowed.

Lacey's gaze definitely didn't help her concept that I had an eating disorder. I guess in their world it would be better to pretend to have an eating disorder rather than to admit I was just too poor to eat.

Tears brimmed at my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Jake leaned down and whispered, making the entire table's vision shift to me. I looked up at Jake and met everyone's eyes. I nodded and forced a smile. So much it hurt. I glanced over to the empty table Matt and I sit at usually.

This didn't feel right. I hated this. I should be over there. Matt should be there. But he wasn't. I felt my stomach twist. What if he was hurt? What if something happened? What if he was so angry with me he couldn't face me?

"Y/n"

I blinked up at him. He chuckled. "Is that a yes?" He asked moving his hand over my knee. I blinked at me. "Is what a yes?" I asked softly realizing I completely spaced out the conversation.

"Party" He leaned down and pressed his lips to my cheek. "My house" Kissed the other cheek. I looked up at him. "this weekend" He kissed me, in front of everyone. I felt Lacey's eyes specifically burn into me from across the table, and Nadia jab her with her elbow.

"Uh--" I swallowed as I stared up at him. “Y/n, please come” Nadia said from across from me. "Yes, sounds fun" I smiled and looked down at the table.

"Have you even been to a party before?"

I turned meeting Lacey's gaze. "I--" I started.

"A real party, not a birthday party" She smiled before chuckling. My face whitened. I looked down and played with my hands to look away from her.

"I wasn't gonna say a birthday party" I mumbled. She laughed to herself.

"You've been to a party before right?" Jake mumbled down to me. I peered up at him. "Y-Yeah" I nodded. I hadn't. Never been invited to one before. I swallowed. He smiled placing his hand back on my leg, his palm coming over my knee.

"Good" He smiled. I took in a breath wanting to hide my face in my hands. I hadn't realized how quickly the switch of wanting to be his friend to his new arm candy had been. We kissed two days ago, now I felt like I was on display. Like I was standing on a stage and half of the audience wanted to throw tomatoes at me. Right now, I wanted to throw tomatoes at myself.

Disappear. Disappear. Disappear.

My mind started to replay my favorite things. Sparkle, walking, Matt, Matt, Matt.

"Can Matt come?" I turned to him quickly. Even though by this point I didn't even know if Matt was alive, I still wanted him to come. Even if he was mad. Jake looked down at me, before shifting his gaze to his friends.

"He might not want to--It's just-" I shook my head. I looked down. "It’d be nice to invite him" I mumbled feeling less confident due to the look on his face. He sighed before he nodded.

"Yeah, invite whoever you want" He smiled briefly before starting another conversation with Tyler and Gavin about the game tomorrow. I wasn't listening, I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't focus on anything, not with the way I left things off with Matt.

I turned to the empty table. I had a really bad feeling.

And fuck I missed him.

-

Chris opened the door and stared down at me. He started to close the door. I held my arm out. "Chris--" I protested. He groaned and opened it slightly, but not enough for me to come in.

"He doesn't want to see you"

"Did he tell you that?"

He stared down at me.

"I don't want you to see him" He corrected himself. I sighed and looked down. "Okay Chris, you don't get to make those calls. I just...want to make sure he's okay" I said crossing my arm over my chest.

If looks could kill I'd be dead. His eyes trailed down to my neck. I'd done a better job of covering it up today. I made a point to. Still, he stared.

He turned around to look into the house and then looked back at me. "You're not gonna leave until I let you in are you?" He sighed. I shuffled on my feet.

"I need to make sure he's okay" I repeated myself. He pursed his lips before he opened the door for me to come in. "Fine" He spat and turned away from me. I swallowed before I walked into the house.

I walked down the hallway to Matt's room before knocking softly. No answer. No movement inside the room. I sighed and leaned against the door frame. I knocked again.

"Matt?" I breathed. Silence. I knocked again, panic coming through my body. "Matt, open the door" I spoke. Nothing. I stepped back feeing my heart beating. I stared at the door and I felt myself start to panic.

"Matt, please" I whispered. I heard the lock turn before the door cracked open. He stared down at me. I looked up at him, letting out a breath of relief that he was standing in front of me again. His hair was shaggy, but his eyes were still the same ocean blue.

I forced a small smile.

"You're alive" I breathed. Blank stare down at me.

"You weren't at school....I thought something happened" I swallowed. He looked down at his feet. Silence filled the air between us.

"There's something I wanna tell you" I spoke and his eyes came up to connect with mine. "Can I come in?" I breathed. He took in a breath looking down, as if he was contemplating it. He looked up at me before opening the door to let me.

I sighed of relief as I walked into his room.

He closed the door behind me before walking over to his bed and sitting on the edge of it, looking up to me. I didn't move to sit next to him. I just stood in front of him. He stared at me, like he was waiting for me to talk.

"I hated not being around you" I admitted dropping my arms. He looked down. "Maybe the reason you're acting like this has to do with me, maybe it doesn't---" I swallowed.

"Maybe I'm a self-centered bitch who thinks the world revolves around her" I looked down shaking my head. It's definitely what I felt like. I swallowed and I couldn't help but the tears weld at my eyes.

"This might sound stupid and you might thing I'm being ridiculous--" I shook my head looking away from him. He just watched me. I met his eyes and swallowed.

"You remind me a lot of my mom" I breathed. He didn't look at me like I was crazy, or stupid, or that I was talking out of my ass. He just listened.

"My mom was my best friend" I shook my head, a smile coming across my face. "She knew me better than anyone and it's like she--" I took in a breath.

"It's like she knew exactly what to say and do to calm me down, or make me forget about whatever was going on" I explained.

"When she got sick, she never let me know what she was feeling. She never let the sickeness come between our relationship. She always waited until I was asleep until she cried. She hid the details of her sickness. She didn't even--" I swallowed as tears brimmed at my eyes.

"She didn't even tell me she was dying until she was.." Breathe. Breathe. "Gone" My voice broke as I remembered the last moments with my mother, trying to piece together every last moment. Sometimes the lines and conversations blurred together.

"But she was my only friend" I shook my head. "She never made me feel like a loser or dumb for it" I said looking down at Matt. His eyes trained on me. "She was the best friend anyone could ever have. She was..the best" I shook my head.

"It's sounds stupid but my internal voice when I think or get stressed, it's---her" I smiled softly. "Like she's the one talking to me" I nodded. "Maybe that's stupid or insane but--" I shook my head.

"Sometimes when I look at you I can't help but see her because--" I sighed. "You have the same heart, the same kindness. The same...gentleness" I breathed.

"You don't look at me like the girl who doesn't have anything, the girl whose 'skin and bones', or even as the girl who lost her mom." I shook my head. "You look at me like i'm.....me" I whispered looking down at him.

"So kinda like when I was with my mom--when i'm with you I don't feel--" I swallowed. "As alone" I looked down as the words left my lips realizing how pathetic they sounded. My eyes filled with tears.

"Maybe that is pathetic and maybe I am--but--but--"

He stood and stepped forward before pulling me into him. I held back a cry as his arms came around me, his chin against my head. I sighed as I hugged him back. He sighed as he pulled against him.

"I didn't mean to cry, I’m sorry" I whispered.

He chuckled. Chuckled.

My eyes widened and I pulled back and he looked down at me with his mouth parted. I smiled through my tears. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He looked off to his desk. I watched him.

He grabbed my shoulders and set me down on the bed. I just looked up at him. For a second he just stared down at me as he towered over me. His eyes scaling my face. I felt my heart start to beat. Before I could feel anything else he walked away.

He walked over to his desk before he sat down and pulled a notebook towards him. I just watched him as he put as he pulled out a pencil and tapped it against the page. He turned and looked at me before taking in a breath and started to write.

And he wrote and wrote and wrote. And I just watched him as he paused every now and then.

I don't know how long I sat there but by the time he walked over to me there were pages full of words.

He took in a breath once he stood in front of me, holding the page. He sat down next to me and handed me the paper.

I just looked at him and he motioned to the paper. I swallowed before I looked down at the page.

About a year ago is when it happened. Everything was pretty perfect in my life, which now is weird to think about. I guess I never really appriecated it until it was taken away from me. I went to Sommervile with Nick and Chris. We were all on the hockey team.

It was just another game. Another Tuesday. Nothing special. It was just suppose to be another game. I was stressed because I couldn't wrap my hocket stick right. I kept tearing off the tape. Over and Over. I must have done it 20 times before my mom came in.

She walked in an offered to do it for me. I slammed my stick down and left the room. I was so frustrated with the stupid fucking stick and all she did was offer to help.

I walked to the car and got in. My dad, Chris, and Nick were all waiting on me. We were already late to the game. That made me even more mad because if your late, coach would make you stay back and do drills to make up the time you missed.

My mom came in the car a few minutes later with my stick and I was still upset. I don't know why I cared so much about the stupid stick. I was stressed because I knew this game would make or break our season and If I didn't get there soon to mentally prepare, I wouldn't perform well. I didn't want that.

Dad rarely ever got off work too watch us play, so knowing he was going to be there added even more pressure that I didn't want to handle.

About 10 minutes into the car ride Chris started pushing me because he knew I was mad. We got into an argument and I shoved him. My mom turned around to yell at us and didn't see the car that was running a red light.

My heart stopped.

They slammed into us and caused us to go into a tail spin into a streetlamp. I remember the buzzing in my ear when it was over. Sometimes I still hear it. It was so loud but so quiet. Like the world was still.

I remember looking over at Chris, he was knocked out cold. Nick was awake. He sat up and grabbed my arm to pull me up.

I looked up to my mom and dad and I remember knowing in that very second they were gone and that my entire life would be different. I pushed off Nick and went to Chris. I shook him awake. I couldn't breathe. The debris was too much. The air was so thick.

I tried to scream for Chris but I couldn't speak. I couldn't. When he finally opened his eyes I pulled him into me and cried and cried.

Nick pulled us out of the car. He was the least injured because he was in the very back of the car. I just remember the pain shooting through my leg and shoulder. I didn't know then, but my leg was shattered from the knee down. I didn't know then that I'd never play hockey again.

I laid against the pavement of the intersection and just cried. When the paramedics arrived they spoke to Nick and Chris because I was in hysteria. I couldn't look at them, because i knew the crash was my fault.

When Nick and Chris came over to me, I knew both of them had died on impact.

The police asked me questions and I refused to answer. I refused to talk to Chris or Nick about it. I didn't want them to look at me how I looked at myself. The guilt ate me alive. It was all I could think about. The fact if I had just shut up and stopped being so angry that my parents would still be alive.

Nick and Chris would still have parents.

I didn't want to talk about it because I didn't know what to say. So I didn't talk at all. Chris and Nick fought and fought and fought over what to do with me. I would be in bed and I could hear them fighting through the walls. I felt like I had turned my brothers against each other.

My heart clenched.

I didn’t want to go back to Somerville because I knew that everyone would stare. More than they do at heights. I didn’t want to be know as the triplet brother that doesn’t talk. I didn’t want to stand next to my brothers and let everyone know that I was different. So I didn’t go back.

They finally decided to put me into therapy after a month of me not speaking. A part of me didn't want to speak, the other part didn't know if I could. What I'd say. So I thought it would be better to not say anything at all.

When I refused to go into therapy they started sending Cassie over, she's an at-home therapist. We meet every Monday. I didn't want you to come over because I didn't want you to see her. I didn't know what you'd think. I didn't want you to think I was as fucked up as I am. I still don't.

I understand when you say that I remind you of your mom, because you remind me of my own. She was kind, you are kind. She is forgiving, you are forgiving. She didn't judge, you don't judge.

I should have told you this earlier, but I was scared. I'm still scared. I don't know how beneficial it is for you to be friends with someone who doesn't speak to you. I'm not sure the benefits are that high, but you keep coming around. My mom would have done the same thing.

I'm sorry i'm quiet. I'm sorry i'm distant. I'm sorry i'm confusing. I don't know how not to be any of those things. You deserve friends who aren't any of those things. I freaked out and I shouldn't have.

I’m really good at not feeling emotions. I’ve mastered turning them off and on whenever I want. And you’re really the only person who has made me feel them these past few weeks and it scared me. I hide from my emotions so I hid from you.

I'm sorry If I scared you. You're really the only person who I like being around.

I dropped the paper and looked up at him. I don't know when the tears started to fall, but they fell and fell. He sighed as he looked at me. I dropped the paper before pulling him into me.

"You're the only person I like being around too" I cried into him. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around me as he hugged me back.

“Thank you for being my friend and thank you for sharing this with me” I breathed into him. He didn’t respond he just continued to hug me.

I pulled back.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through” I whispered. He looked down and shrugged. “I don’t want you to have to hide your emotions in front of me” I shook my head. He looked up at me.

“Please, don’t” I whispered shaking my head. He just blinked at me and then nodded softly. I smiled before sighing and leaning my head against his shoulder.

“I think not talking to you has been the worst 24 hours of my life” I whispered. He peered down at me before he leaned his head against mine and let out a breath, almost to agree with me.

[mbsturn]

deadass just finished to this GOD DAYUUUM

[mbsturn]

love this man with all my heart

I USED TO QUOTE THE BEGINNING SO HONEST anyways! he's so fucking cute i love this man with my whole fucking heart RAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

@rootbeerworshiper

[mbsturn]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅ 🤍 ˖°

one thing about jj, he’s got a groping problem.

you hear him before you see him, approaching swiftly behind you at a cookout with the pogues with the gleeful expression “who’s got two hands n’loves titties? this guy.” the point punctuated by a warm torso pressed to your back, a crotch thrusted against your ass and a set of ringed hands grabbing a handful of your tits, even having the audacity to wiggle his fingers in the fat of them.

“jayj!” you scold, sticking your ass out to push him off you using your rear, only making him chuckle, giddy because he got what he wanted as he stumbles off and away.

“yeah, yeah.”

he can’t help it! he always has to have a hand on you. whilst he sits outside with everyone, john b working the grill as the pogues chat in a circle— you’re stood beside jj’s seat with fingers absentmindedly playing with the flicked up blonde tresses that stick haphazardly from the bottom of his cap at the nape of his neck. appropriate touching. as he listens to a story pope tells, his arm snakes around your leg, hand disappearing up your dress where you stand to squeeze at your inner thigh just below your covered cunt. you give his hair a little tug and he slides it away, but you don’t miss the way he presses his teeth into his tongue, failing to stifle a grin without looking your way.

don’t even think about having a one on one conversation facing him, the two of you stood behind the grill when he’s on patty duty, watching them slowly brown. he’ll look you dead in your eyes and curl his hand underneath you to cup your cunt. when you smack his chest, flustered as you look around for wandering eyes — he has the audacity to look scandalised by your reaction. “whats with the hospitality? just sayin’ hi to my girl.”

“you mean hostility, and i’m right here — say hi to me normally!” you pout, poking him.

“watch that smart mouth mama. anyway, meant my other girl… you know? your pussy?”

“jj. volume.”

it’s only later on after you were more pliant from the many drinks you’d all shared, stomach full and pupils heartshaped for your dopey blonde boyfriend that you stopped minding all his groping.

as the campfire burns, the two of you stand infront of it — warming your bodies as the evening chill crept over your skin. he holds your waist, chatting quietly in your ear until you turn around— pressing your lips to his. whilst you kiss him, your hand comes down to openly squeeze the shape of his cock through his shorts, thumbing at it for a few seconds before removing your grip, patting his chest as you pull back from the kiss.

his eyes dart between yours, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “uh… so, what was that for?”

“just so you know how it feels.” you smile softly, peeling your body off his and walking back to the chateau where everyone else was headed. he watches you walk, eyes inevitably following your ass for a moment before he heads off toward you — adjusting his pants boyishly.

“jheez, you wanna get dicked down you can just say that.”

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅ 🤍 ˖°

[mbsturn]

SENSITIVE . Luke Castellan x fem! Reader

Content warning . Broken bones and submissive Luke <3

Whenever someone uses a word to describe Luke Castellan, it’s always this: strong.

He’s the greatest swordsman in camp, after all. He puffs out his chest and slathers his aura in pride, outdoing every opponent.

Except for when it comes to you.

He’s— well, Luke is a sensitive boy. No one knows that, of course, except for you.

He shows his true self, now, on a rainy night in your cabin. Many campers have gone to dinner, and Luke had decided to stay back with you, curled up in your bed.

“(Y/N),” he whines, as you finish your night routine with a drastic slowness. “It hurts.”

You almost roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics as you lather on a bit of moisturizer. After a long trip and fall down a flight of stairs—ironic, really, considering his stealthiness— the boy had broken his hand. A small cast is wrapped around it, little phrases that you and other peers had written into it rainbow in color.

“You’re being dramatic.”

His lips form into a pout.

“‘M not,” he replies. His unbroken hand pats the empty spot beside him. “Come here, baby. I miss you.”

You can’t help the tug in your chest at his sweet tone. You do the last steps of your routine, sighing as you move out of your vanity chair and slide onto your silky pink sheets.

“C’mere, you big baby.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you bring him into your embrace, letting him wrap his big arms around you.

“You smell nice,” he compliments, humming. “Like a pretty flower.”

You giggle. His fingers move up to play with your hair.

“And your hair is so pretty. I love it. And your eyes…”

“Are you saying this because you feel sentimental, or because you want me to make out with you?”

“Both.”

You scoff, pulling him in for a kiss. He reciprocates eagerly, and before you know it his tongue slides warm and wet into your mouth. His hand moves up to your tits, softly groping.

And when you look down, you realize why he’s so clingy. A small smirk spreads across your lips.

“I think you need a little bit of help, sweet boy.”

His cheeks, a dusty pink, turn even darker now. You take in the sight of the large bulge straining against his zipper. He lets out a nervous chuckle, though it doesn’t do much to stifle his nerves. His broken hand still stays trembling underneath your own.

“You don’t have to,” he replies, averting his gaze from you. “I’m not.. I mean.. I can’t—”

“I know.”

You don’t need to say anything else. Your palm splays out over his hardened cock, and he whines, a tiny breathless thing in the back of his throat that makes your panties soak with wetness.

“Mommy,” he utters. “I need your hands,” And then, bordering on a choked sob, “Please? I’ll be good, I swear…”

Oh, it’s so easy to get him worked up. So, so incredibly easy.

You hum, flicking the zipper of his jeans up and down playfully. His brunette locks are turned up and disheveled, and it’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Poor baby. It’s been a long time since you’ve touched yourself, hasn’t it ? Four, maybe five days?”

That was the last time he had fucked you, the day he had broken his hand. Your schedules were both so busy that neither of you had time to do anything since. Luke’s eyebrows press together, and a pout forms on his lips as he nods in confirmation. You press a kiss to his jaw, then another. He’s wearing the cologne you like, and a shirt you had once said looked particularly good on him. He had made his way into your room asking for this, you’re sure. He was asking to get all worked up and get you to handle it.

He just wants mommy’s attention, doesn’t he?

You pull his fly down, much to his excitement, a “thank you” falling sweetly off of his soft lips. Pushing his underwear down, his hardened cock slaps up to its fullest attention against his stomach. His balls are drawn up tight above the fabric of his briefs, full and ready to be emptied.

Oh, how worked up the poor thing is. Wet like a girl, cock dripping pre cum and the tip flushed an almost deep scarlett. He’s well endowed, much to your pleasure.

Giving his tip a teasing flick with two of your fingers, you watch as his eyes shut tight and he moans. It sounds precious, a choir full of angels singing. You wish you could hear it over and over again.

He isn’t looking at you, now, and that makes you annoyed. Your hand slaps his length and he lets out a pained yelp.

“Eyes on me. Do you understand?”

His bottom lip wobbles. A sensitive boy he is, despite his usually hard and cold demeanor, and his mommy’s disapproval makes him want to cry. He nods, his teary eyes staring deep into your own as you spit into your palm and take him into your hand.

You start by thumbing over his tip, rubbing softly into his slit. Watching his breathing increase and the way his head tilts back is absolutely enticing.

“Is that good, baby?” You ask softly. He nods eagerly, his hand shaking in his lap. He tries not to clench his broken fist together but that proves difficult, and he lets out a pained cry when he presses down on it. You coo to him, almost mocking, as you snake your arm behind his back and take the cast into your free hand.

“Don’t hurt yourself, okay? Just hold on to me,” your voice is a purr in the shell of his ear. “Need my boy big and strong again.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his voice high pitched and whiny. “Yeah, mommy, yeah…”

Your hand wraps around the fullness of his length, twisting with a flick of your wrist. His forehead bumps against yours as his open mouth tries to land on your lips. You think he’s trying to kiss you, and it’s absolutely endearing. He can’t help but desperately shove his tongue into the warm confines of your mouth. You giggle at that, pulling him in for a sloppy, wet kiss.

When your lips leave his, it’s so you can bite and suckle pretty marks onto his neck. You lave over the reddish bites, humming as you cover his throat in them.

Other women at camp, be damned. He’s yours.

It isn’t long, with a gasping mouth and fluttering lashes, that he’s close.

“I’m gonna cum,” Luke murmurs, sugary sweet. “I’m g-gonna… momma, momma..”

He buries his face in your neck, salty tears pressing into your skin, and his cock spurts rope after rope of warm, sticky spend all over your hand. You watch with a smile, pressing a kiss into his hair as he fucks his hips up and mewls against you. Your heart flutters at the sound, your body on fire just from watching him come undone.

He sighs when you milk the last few remnants of cum from his spent cock. His curls stick to his forehead, sweat dripping down his brow. What a sight.

You find Luke’s shirt somewhere on the floor and wipe your hand on it. His nose crinkles up.

“That’s gross.”

Rolling your eyes and trying not to smile, you sit down beside him again.

“It’s your mess, Luke.”

He shrugs, his hand going up to push your hair out of your face. He gives you a pretty, lopsided smile. You kiss the scar underneath his eye, and his eyes cloud over again.

Always so sensitive.

He lays down on the bed, signaling you over. His lips find yours again, chaste but still nice, and when he’s using free hand to make you straddle his face, a gasp emits from you.

“Luke. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“Want to,” he murmurs, sliding your panties to the side. “You took care of me, momma. Let me take care of you.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi

[mbsturn]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[mbsturn]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[mbsturn]

New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

—————————————————————————

your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

“well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

—————————————————————————

ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

[mbsturn]

,,Spin The Bottle’’ -M.S

synopsis: You’re at a party with your best friend Nick, and you finally meet his brothers.

warnings: SMUT. alcohol, drugs, strong language.

pairing: switch Matt X switch Layla (female oc.)

Based off the song ‘This Could Be Us’ by Rae Sremmurd, and it is a slow burner😭🫶🏻

— —

‘Spin the bottle

if you the reason why its empty baby,

spin the fucking bottle.’

“C’MON, LAY!!” Nick yelled loudly from the other side of the crowded room. Layla shuffled through the hot room, her shoes sticking on the wooden alcohol covered floor. She tried her best to get by Nick, her best friend, but the crowd of drunk and high kids her age were restricting her. “for fucks sake, Layla.” Nick scoffed as he started through the crowd to get Layla himself.

Once he reached the much shorter girl, he gently grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind him through the crowd to the corner of the room. They both came to a halt, Layla almost running into the red-haired boy in front of her.

“Layla, meet my.. brothers..” Nick said in a disappointed tone.

“don’t say it like that, kid. you act like im a burden!” one of the boys spoke up. he had longer hair, and no tattoos, so using all the context clues from the many stories Nick has told her, this boy was Chris. “Anyways— I’m Chris!” the boy smiled, pulling her into a hug.

The sudden intimate action made the small girl let out a small giggle as she returned the action.

“nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Layla,” she smiled, and pulled away from the hug. A very slightly taller male with shorter brown hair and tattoos like Nicks stepped forwards.

He was more attractive than the other two, in ways she couldn’t understand. His sharp jawline, his defined cheekbones, his bright blue eyes, his slim face shape, the way his brown hair sat perfectly on his face, just barely covering his eyes.

“Hey, um..” the boy started, causing her to snap out of the trance he put her in. “I’m Matt..” he smiled shyly, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

Layla- without thinking- quickly responded with “I know! nice to meet you, Matt!” ‘I know?’ ‘I KNOW.?’ Was she loosing her mind?

Matt chuckled, and Layla shook her head, shamefully shaking the boys hand.

“i- uh.. sorry. Its just, the stories Nick has told me. Not specifically about you of course- but about you and chris and himself so i just assumed since he’s nick, and he’s chris-“ Layla rambled, being cut off when Matt put his hand on her shoulder.

“its okay. i get it.” he whispered.

“sorry.” Layla apologized, and Matt let his hand slowly fall off her shoulder to her hand; intertwining his long fingers with hers.

“its okay.” he smiled. “i understand.”

Layla smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it slip away from hers.

“sorry,” Matt apologized. “I’m not sure why i did that, you just seem.. upset? Not that you look upset or anything! Just that-“

“its okay.” Layla cut him off, and Matt smiled, Layla smiled back. He was right, the party was getting on her nerves, the loud music, the people yelling,, but thats not why she was acting like this. He was.

She could tell he was stressed too, but his stress did probably originate from the party. Not her.

“Hey! Who wants to play spin the bottle?” A random man yelled from off a red solo cup covered table. There were a few cheers, and Layla snapped her head towards Nick. Not for good reasons, though. Nick always wanted to play games at parties, and Layla never did.

Nick tilted his head, and gave her the, ‘you-better-come-play-with-me’ look. She sighed as Nick grabbed her hand, and started leading her through the crowd again.

“wait- you guys are actually playing?” Nicks brother- Chris- asked.

“I guess so-“ She shrugged in response, still getting pulled through the crowd.

Nicks fast maneuvering through the crowd allowed them to be there before majority of the other players were. The two sat down on the ground, criss-cross. Chris emerged out of the crowd to the room, bringing a confused and frightened Matt behind him.

“Chris! Did you really bring him?” Nick scolded Chris, both of the boys knew Matt had social anxiety, and this was NOT going to help.

“Hell yeah! He’ll be fine. He can just.. stand in the corner and not play if he wants. At least I brought him over instead of just leaving him by himself over there!” Chris snapped back, and Layla cut the triplets bickering out of her mind.

Her eyes met with Matt’s, whose were starting to gloss over. Since she had just met him, minutes ago, he has been anxious. His brothers were his guidance, and now with them both fighting in a room full of people wanting to play a game, it was leaving Matt with no one.

“hey, c’mere.” Layla smiled, patting the floor next to her. Chris and Nick both stopped mid-sentence, as Matt actually sat down next to her, in-between Chris and her. “if the bottle points at him, just say its pointing at you,” Layla says pointing at Chris, “so that way he only has to kiss someone when its his turn.”

“What!? But thats chea-“ Chris starts, but Layla cuts him off.

“Chris.”

“But- how come you dont-“ Chris starts again, but this time he was cut off by Nick.

“Chris.” Nick stopped him.

“okay.” Chris nodded.

-

After a few spins, everything has been going according to plan. Chris and Layla were taking turns when the bottle landed on Matt, until it was actually his turn.

“Matt, your turn.” Layla smiled and gestured towards the bottle. Matt spun the bottle quickly, without hesitation, which caught all of them off guard. They all watched anxiously as it spun in circles on the floor, and stopped moving.

Layla.

The crowd erupted in “ooh”s, and Layla’s and Matt’s heads snapped towards each others.

“fuck.” Matt whispered.

Layla shook her head, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“no- i want to..” Matt mumbled; his hand finding its way to Layla’s jaw. “ready?” he asked. This sudden boldness from Matt was confusing to Layla, but she didn’t mind. She just nodded.

Matt connected their lips, for only a few seconds, before pulling away.

“boo! that was a bad kiss! at least ten se-“ Chris booed, sticking his thumb out.

“CHRIS!” Nick yelled at the younger boy.

“You want us to make out or something?!” Matt whipped around to face Chris, who was nodding eagerly. The crowd, oddly enough, started chanting ‘Matt’

“fuck.” Matt sighed, as he turned back around to face Layla. “are you okay with this..?” he asked her,

“you mean, making out?” she asked confused.

“yeah..” Matt nodded, his eyes meeting hers.

“oh.. yeah. okay.” She nodded, and tried slowing her breathing rate. Matt was definitely attractive, and her type,, but doing this in front of all these people..? As Matt’s hand met her jaw once more, she pulled away, “wait- can we like.. do it in a room? Kinda like seven minutes in heaven!” She suggested.

“um.. yeah, sure. follow me.” the party host nodded, and led Matt and Layla to a room, leaving the ‘ooh’ing crowd behind.

“In heres fine,” the boy opened a door to a fully furnished -and nice- room.

Matt and her walked in, hand in hand, and he closed the door behind them. Matt looked down at her.

“you don’t really wanna do this, do you?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“no, i do, i swear, just.. maybe not in front of all those people?” She shook her head rapidly.

“yeah, i get it. If damn Chris didn’t bring it up, no one else would’ve.. i swear im gonna beat his ass.” Matt rolled his eyes and crossed his tattooed arms.

Now that no one else was around to distract her, she could really focus on how good he looks. His biceps being perfectly shown by the way he’s standing, his tattoos, his bright blue eyes, his tall and ‘lanky’ stature.

“you okay?” he asked, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

“i- uh.. yeah. sorry.” she stuttered. the tilt of his head was enough to make her fold.

Matt unexpectedly made his way slowly over to the bed in the corner of the room, and sat down.

“you wanna do this?” he asked. Matt was much more.. ‘out there’ when he wasn’t in a room crowded with people. Layla nodded, and felt a blush creep onto her cheeks- and she knew why.

Matt patted the spot on the bed next to him, gesturing for Layla to sit there, but her body wouldn’t let her. She sat on Matt’s lap unexpectedly, and straddled him.

Matt’s eyes shot opened and he looked up at her, his hands quickly flying to her waist. what was she doing?

“you wanna make out like this?” Matt suddenly asked, and Layla couldn’t help but nod. Matt let his grip on her waist loosen, and his hands found their way to her back, around her waist. Layla let her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. “okay. ready?” he asked, and Layla nodded. Matt closed his eyes, and Layla did the same, and they both leaned in.

Their lips brushed against eachother; and they finally met. Their lips moved in sync, and Matt’s tongue swiped over Layla’s bottom lip. Their tongues fought for dominance, and Matt’s won. His tongue explored her mouth, and their make out became more heated.

Their teeth clashed together as their tongues tangled, neither of them stopping. Without even thinking, Layla rolled her hips against Matt, causing him to gasp and grab her hips tightly again.

“Don’t-“ Matt groaned, Layla immediately stopping.

“Fuck, sorry-“ Layla apologized and started to stand, but Matt quickly pulled her down.

“no, its okay.. just…” Matt sighed, and let his hand fall to Layla’s. He trailed both of their hands up to his crotch, Layla gasped as she felt the growing bulge in his jeans. Matt groaned, and let Layla’s hand go. “t-this is what you do to me..” He moaned, the girl’s eyes growing wide.

“holy shit..” she gasped, “Matt..” her eyes met his, begging and pleading ones. “Do.. do you want me to help..?” she whispered, and Matt waisted no time nodding eagerly.

“fuck, please..” he begged, his head falling back as she pushed the palm of her hand against his boner. “mmh, please,” he whined. Layla smirked, her lips finding his neck.

“Want me to mark you up, Matty? Show everyone how good of a boy you are for me?” She teased, and Matt groaned,

“f-fuck, yes..” he pleaded, not really thinking about the party he was to go back to. Layla’s hands made their way to his chest, as she pushed him back against the bed. She continued to suck and bite on the whining boys neck, and her hands trailed down his sides to his belt loops on his jeans.

Her hands slipped to the button of his blue jeans, brushing against the bulge that was below the cold silver metal.

“Can I-“ Layla started, but Matt cut her off.

“yes, please, yes..” he begged, his hands still on her hips from before. She fiddled with the cold button, and once it came loose, she unzipped the zipper and pulled his pants down slowly, leaving the poor boy in his boxers only.

Layla chuckled as she saw the small wet spot on his red boxers due to his precum, but she couldn’t lie, she was already intimidated by the size even though she couldn’t see it yet.

“Gonna be good for me, Matty?” She asked, as her hands gripped the waistband of his boxers.

“y-yes, i promise.” he nodded, and she placed a kiss on his clothed member before pulling his boxers completely off.

“Holy fuck Matt,” she gasped.

“hm? is it bad-?” Matt asked worriedly.

“no, actually.. its just.. that is supposed to fit in me?” she gestured towards the boys dick.

“well- i-.. not unless you don’t want it to..?” Matt sat up.

“I want-“ Layla was cut off oncemore, but not by Matt this time.

“aye! hurry it up in there! ya fuckin or sum?” a boy yelled into the room from outside the door.

“give us 15!” Matt yelled back.

“15 Matt?” Layla yelled.

“i- uh.. we can just.. i don’t know!” matt stuttered.

“don’t get shy on me now, matt. we have ‘15 minutes’, you wanna do this..?” Layla asked, getting on her knees in front of Matt, becoming eye level with his stomach.

“yes,” matt nodded.

Layla wasted no time spitting on matts cock, giving it a few good tugs, before licking from his base to his tip.

“mmh,” Matt whined. His hands gripped the sheets of the bed, as Layla took his throbbing red tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. “A-ah- fuck—“ Matt gasped, one of his hands flying to her, the other tightening on the bedsheets.

Layla bobbed her mouth up and down, hollowing out her cheeks. Spit dripped down her chin and salty unwanted tears rolled down her red cheeks, as she hummed around Matt’s cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

“h-holy shit— im not g-gonna.. fuck, im not gonna last long-“ Matt whined, Layla popping her head off.

“if i let you cum now, will you still be a good boy and fuck me?” she asked, and matt nodded, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“yes, god, yes..” he agreed, and Layla’s lips met with Matt’s cock again. Her tongue slipped over his slit, before she took his tip in her mouth again. “mmph, f-fuck..” Matt groaned, his head falling back and his legs shaking. “i-im gonna-“ Matt warned, but before he could finish, his cum coated Layla’s mouth.

She pulled off his cock, and swallowed, sticking her tongue out to show she had swallowed.

“good girl..” Matt growled, pulling the girl into his lap, harshly kissing her. His hands found their way under her skirt, tracing gentle patterns across her wet panties.

“M-matt, please..” Layla gasped, her dominance fading quicker and quicker by the second as Matt played with her clit through the thin fabric.

“shh.. hold on, baby..” Matt smirked. Smirked. If Layla wasn’t already drenched, that would’ve done it for her.

“Matt- please, I didn’t tease you,” she pleaded, as his lips found her neck. He placed rough kisses against her soft skin, leaving red- soon to be purple- marks. Matt huffed against her, as he lifted her hips up just enough so he could slip her useless panties off.

“im keeping these.” Matt’s eyes met hers as he tossed the panties by his discarded clothes.

Layla was done waiting. She slipped her own shirt and bra off, starting to pull her skirt down after standing up, before Matt quickly stood up aswell, roughly shoving her down to the bed.

He leaned over her, grabbing her neck,

“Did I give you fucking permission to undress, slut?” Matt growled in her ear, and she shook her head.

“n-no.. I-im sorry-“ Layla apologized, and Matt tore her skirt off of her.

“You’re so fucking lucky we’re at a party and not at my house, because i swear i would’ve just ripped those in half.” Matt’s grip loosened just slightly on her throat, as he tossed her skirt.

Matt used his free hand to slide through her slick folds, slipping his fingers over her entrance a few times, before sticking two in her hole.

“H-holy shit!” Layla gasped as Matt pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them when his knuckle hit her clit.

“Ya’know, I’d prep ya more, maybe even eat you out, but we only got a few more minutes left, so your gonna have to deal with it. Your safe word is Red, okay” Matt ripped his fingers out of her, causing her to whine.

“O-okay. red.” she repeated, knowing thats what he wanted.

“good girl.” matt nodded, as his hand around her throat tightened, and his other hand came to grab her hip.

He pushed the tip of his cock in slowly, and Layla winced. Matt continued to push into her, before completely bottoming out.

His lips came into contact with her neck again, sucking and biting at the spots that he had not already marked, as he gave her a little bit to adjust to him.

“m-move,” Layla pleaded, trying to sound demanding.

“poor baby..” Matt groaned as he started to thrust into her, his grip on her hip sure to leave bruises. “trying to seem dominant, but your falling apart on my cock..” he tsked, and his speed was relentless.

The way he was speaking to her just kept pushing Layla closer and closer to the edge, her legs starting to shake.

“already close?” Matt shook his head. His hand left her pained hip and made its way to her clit, as he rubbed circles on it.

“H-holy fuck, Matt!” Layla yelled. Thank god the music was blasting, or the people throughout the whole neighborhood probably could’ve heard that.

“shut your damn mouth,” matt growled, his head falling back, his release inching closer as he felt the familiar knot form in his stomach.

The girls legs continued to shake around matt, as she moaned again.

“m-matt, im cumming!”

“fuck, me too..” he huffed, both of them releasing at the same time. Matt’s thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy, as he chased his high. He slowly pulled out, both of them wincing at the loss of the feeling.

Matt didn’t say anything, and he just started to put his clothes back on.

Layla sat up slowly, in confusion, as she cleared her throat.

“hm?” Matt asked, slipping his boxers back on.

“really? your cum is literally dripping out of me, matt, and you dont say anything?” she asked, somewhat offended. she doesnt know why, though. its just a hookup.

“um.. sorry.. i dont really know what to say..” Matt stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck. He refused to make eye contact with her, which was even more odd.

“are you okay..?” she asked.

“yeah. im fine. sorry,” he apologized again, picking up her bra, skirt, and shirt off the ground before handing them back to her, “here. im sorry, im awkward.. i’ve never been that.. intimate?” Matt shrugged, as Layla slipped her clothes back on, after carelessly wiping herself off with the bed sheets. She doubts anyone uses that room ever anyways.

“you mean.. youve never had sex?” Laylas eyes widened, as she attempted to stand but failed, falling back on the bed.

“No no no, not like that. I’ve had sex but not that.. rough..?” Matt squinted, tilting his head. “I dunno. Sorry.” He apologized again, offering her a hand.

“Stop saying sorry.” Layla rolled her eyes, taking his hand.

“sor-..” he stopped himself. “um.. would you wanna maybe.. hangout sometime..?” he asked.

“GUYS. YOUR FIFTEEN IS UP. HURRRY IT THE FUCK UP,” the same person from before pounded on the door, causing both of them to chuckle.

“id love to. wait- shit! our necks!” Layla’s eyes widened.

“eh, it doesn’t matter. they all know we fucked anyways. who sits in a room and makes out for twenty minutes.?” Matt chuckled, admiring his work on the shorter girl’s neck.

“touchè,” Layla shrugged, and Matt grabbed her hand. “your really not gonna give me my panties back?” she asked, and matt nodded.

“nope. they’re in my pocket. you’ll just have to retrieve them next time.” Matt teased, and Layla rolled her eyes.

The two opened the door and walked back to the others, sitting on the floor.

“oh, for fucks sake, they’re back! we only managed to do six whole rounds without-“ Chris started, but stopped when he saw the hickeys on both of their necks. “holy. shit.” He gasped, his mouth falling agape.

Matt and Layla sat down together, still hand-in-hand, as all of the others stared at them.

“we were in there for over fifteen minutes. the fuck did you think we did?” Layla snapped in a joking way.

“if were being honest, we thought you guys were pranking us.. like you didn’t want to play the game or something..” Chris’ shrugged. “but god damn, Matty boy. I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Chris gave his brother a nod of approval and a slap on the shoulder.

“im gonna be sick.” Nick fake gagged.

“oh, shut up, nick!” Matt groaned.

“wait. Why is there HANDPRINTS on her neck, and what the fuck is in your pocket, matt. YOU KINKY MOTHERFUCKER!” Chris yelled as he laughed, Matt’s face going bright red.

-

small A/N: i finished this since i cant sleep. enjoy😋

[mbsturn]

boss, i have a question — miguel o’hara. ( nsfw ). amazinggg scenario based on this request. so tasty wtf. cheating. bj. innocence. secondhand embarrassment? finally posted, oml i’m so sorry for the long wait :(

you had one question and too many awkward outcomes. you couldn’t ask the people you’d rather ask. they’d ask more questions, and most likely not tell it to you straight. you needed to know, but nobody got that.

all except miguel.

you wouldn’t dare look at his face as you mumbled the words out. wanting not to say them but also wanting an answer to them. the silence feels like two hands at your neck. you can feel your feet shuffling, unintentionally sliding back. maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

your mind and gaze focuses on a speckle of dust on the floor, as you wait. yeah, you really shouldn’t have asked.

at first miguel’s reaction was shock. you asked what? he thought he had heard wrong. he had to have heard wrong. but you’re still here, feet shuffling, gaze down, but nonetheless still here. you wanted an answer. why from him? he doesn’t know.

“you can ignore my question.” you suddenly say, feet a lot farther back then before. “you can — ”

“no boyfriend to ask?” miguel’s questions is simple, said in that typical unfazed tone. “um…yes, but…i can’t ask him.” you say back, with a tilt to your head, your gaze just below his eyes.

“why not?” he asks, but you don’t answer, again repeating your question. “what’s a bj?” your innocent tone tells miguel how you really don’t realise the implications of asking him something like this. your innocence is telling him to tell you. answer your question.

“do you know that it’s an abbreviation?” he asks, his gaze staring at your face a little more focused. you look to the side, sucking part of your lower lip between your teeth before glancing back. “i’m not dumb”

“mhm.” miguel just hums, glancing up at his shut office door, before looking back to you. “why ask me?”

“because i’d think you’d know.” you reply. “many people here know. your friends would know.” miguel states, crossing his arms. “they’d ask questions”

“i’m asking questions.” miguel answers straight away. “yeah but not the invasive ones.” you reply, now tapping at your fingers.

miguel eyes you, more narrowed, more intently. “you want to know what a ‘bj’ is?” miguel asks, now meeting your gaze, but you’re quick to look away. you nod, glancing to the far wall behind him. one word and a tap of his finger at his desk behind him, makes you shift it back. “c’mere.”

you now slide your feet closer, a little hesitant. miguel watches you, not missing one movement. then his hand is behind your head, his fingers in your hair, as he draws you closer. you should have backed away then, said you changed your mind, but you stay still, staring at him.

miguel, with his hand in your hair guides you down onto the floor, on your knees as he mutters. “kneel down.” you’re slightly confused as you look up at him. miguel grabs your hand and guides it to his hard on, that you just now notice at your eye level. your eyes expand as you realise. “you ever done anything with your boyfriend?” miguel asks, his suit beginning to disappear, as he keeps your head held by his hips.

“i…” you can feel your breathing pattern change, as miguel begins pump his already hard cock in one hand. “i’ll take that as a no.” he says, as pre-cum leaks out from his head, as he tilts his head down at you. “open up.” he utters as you gulp, big eyes staring at his tip. he taps under your chin as he lets go of his cock, urging your mouth to open, as you part your lips.

“a bj…” he begins as he pulls your head closer, tapping his cock on your tongue lightly. “is short for blowjob.” he coats your tongue in his pre-cum as you scrunch your hands into fists at your thighs. “is your boyfriend wanting one?” he asks, just looking at the way the white slips around your mouth before he pulls your head closer, your lips being moved to wrap around his head.

you try to speak around his cock, it twitching in your mouth at the vibrations, making him clench his jaw. “just shake your head or nod.” you nod. and that’s when his grip in your hair begins to slowly drag your lips up and down his cock. “hollow your cheeks” he instructs, as you try to do so, getting used to the feeling of a dick in your mouth.

“i don’t know why you’re not asking him, but i won’t ask any ‘invasive’ questions.” miguel says, his hips begin to slowly meet your mouth. you try to copy his movements. the up and down motion, that your head soon picks up. with his grip still in your hair, he notices the way you try to to take him deeper.

you’re soon choking, gagging around his head, as water pricks at your eyes. miguel could’ve warned you, told you about your gag reflex, but selfishly he wanted to see what you’d look like spluttering over his dick. “careful.” he mutters, not sounding very apologetic, as you glance up at him, his hips beginning to move a fraction faster.

miguel taps at your throat. “loosen up.” he says, as his hands pull your head further down, guiding your movements. you try and loosen your throat, having had to swallow all that extra spit. you meet his gaze, worried. but he just strokes your hair “gagging’s fine, cariño. you’ll get used to it.”

he pulls you completely onto him, your nose brushing his pubic hair. you then repeat those up and down movements, clenching your hands back into fists as you gag. “that’s it...” miguel hums, seemingly pleased. you can feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip practically tapping at the back of your throat.

with him stroking your hair, and holding the back of your neck, his abs tighten. he waits till the last second, your head obediently bobbing, before he pulls out, coating your suit-clad chest in white. you’re catching your breath, your cheeks stained in loose tears. miguel still pets your head, pushing the strands of hair out of your eyes, as he glances down at the mess he made, tilting your chin up. “does that…answer your question?”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[mbsturn]

after being dead since july, let me supply yall with some imagines for my newest obsession; tate langdon

i <3 my boyfriend🤭

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this post contains sexual contents, don’t read it if you’re uncomfortable wirh sexual scenes

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imagine tate coming back from a therapy sesh with ur father, and being crazy mad cause your father just told him that he has a strong fear of rejection, so he bends you over your desks and fucks you from behind while whispering in your ear, “you’d never reject me, huh sweetheart? you’ll always be my littlw slut, and never say no to me, isn’t that right?”

imagine tate observing you quietly before yall ever talked, and getting hard from seeing you walk around in your pretty, short skirts with your sexy little butt on display for him, so he just can’t help jerking off to you every night in the shower

imagine tate sneaking into your room while you’re in online class (i never attended those while corona time lmaoo) and snuggling in under your desk, resting his head on your plush thighs cause he’s upset about a fight he had with his mother, but he cannot stop himself from prying your thighs apart and eating you out, making you yelp in surprise and having to mute yourself in the chat

imagine tate falling asleep while sucking on your tits after having a bad fight with his mom, and he keeps on suckling in his sleep, completely overstimulating your poor nipple and making them all sore, but you couldn’t care less, as long as you could comforf your boy :(

imagine tate bucking his hips upwards and pushing himself further down your throat while u’re giving him head, just to see you look up at him with tearstained eyes, feeling your throat convulse around him in a gag

imagine you pulling tate’s hair while making out and he whimpers into your mouth and bucks his hips into your thigh, making you smirk and shake your head at how much of a needy slut he is

[mbsturn]

Writing Resources: Smut

Writing Resources Masterlist

Fictional Kisses

How to write a kiss

How to write a kiss scene

How to Write Better Smut

How to write romance

List of vocal sounds for smut

More smut words

Quick tips for writing sexual tension

Sexual sentences

Words and phrases to include in sex scenes

Writing sexual tension

[mbsturn]

v.17.10.23 day nine: primal ( 18+ )

run, baby, run — miguel o’hara ( spiderverse ) : you’re on the run. running from a man with claws and fangs. you didn’t mean to trespass, it was your friends’ idea. too bad you’ve now found yourself alone in the woods.

contents : predator/prey dynamic. dubcon. sex in the woods. claws and fangs kink. reflecting on old slasher vibe. finger sucking. nipple play. fear play. slight blood kink. slight monster kink.

it was far too dark, and far too cold. you didn’t mean for your feet to stumble against the uprooted trees, in fact you didn’t mean for any of this. it was an innocent night out with friends. but god you shouldn’t have gone to that stupid cabin. you really shouldn't have followed your friends into the woods.

now you’re here, forced to run. you aren’t sure if you can even call this running. what, with your tripping toes, and hair array in front of your face. you were barely making it past the trees, your breathing, one out of a horror movie. then a twig snaps. no. please no. you try to quicken. there’s ruffles of fallen leaves.

he wants you to hear him. that much is clear. you don’t mean for your hands to shake, but at this point your body is on it's own path. you stumble, palms hitting against the ground as you groan, chest still heaving. you’re covered in dirt, clothes far from a quick wash. you try to stand, hopefully run again, but you know it’s too late.

reaching a large tree, you hit back against it, pressing your fist against your cracked lips to drown out the sounds of pain threatening to spill. then it’s silent. the only sounds being the whispering wind, and a possible rush of a faraway lake. the bark scratches at your back but you stay still. scared probably isn’t the best suited word here. you were terrified.

you pressed further against the tree, hoping that it’ll just swallow you whole. “you don’t have to run...” you freeze at the voice. because you had been running from a monster, something that had claws and fangs, and distinct red eyes. not a man. your brows furrow, as your hand fists the dirt. “you’re probably scared.” his voice is…comforting, and you can’t help but let your breathing slow.

could he possibly help you? does he know about the monster in these woods? you swallow down saliva, your throat dry. “who…who are you?” you ask almost a fraction too quiet. but he catches it, his steps nearing you now. “miguel…” he answers softly. closer, closer, closer. still fisting the dirt you manage to stand up against the tree. “are you running from the monster too?”

“i think the monster might have gone in the other direction.” he says. and oh now he’s close, his low voice reverberating through you. “i think…” he continues, and your breathing catches as his breath tickles your ear. you swiftly spin to face him, and your heart stops. because in the moonlit woods his most prominent features stand out. red eyes. he smiles. fangs… “i think that you are far too trusting for your own good, mi querida.”

you begin to shake your head. “no…”

he steps closer. you stumble back. he’s grabbing your shirt and tugging you forward. you try to escape. his arm loops around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his lips hitting your ear. “shh shh…you’re okay.”

“please, i—“ you choke out the words as you try to get your hands free. hit him. anywhere. but he has you trapped, arms locked tight against your body like a vice. his hand moves to stroke at your hair, his mouth open against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine at the claws you feel. he chuckles, low and mocking, as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “i’m quite a offended actually. you think i’m a monster?” but his words don’t show sadness they show taunting.

“you are.” you try to hiss out the words, but they do you no good. “hm…” miguel hums, his tongue poking out against his lower lip, dragging smoothly against his fangs. then he leans closer. “why is that? is it my claws?” he raises his hand higher up your face, the tip of his claw tracing the sensitive skin of your cheek. he drags it down leaving a fading red mark, until he reaches your lips. he pulls on your lower lip, forcing your mouth to open.

your frozen, completely unsure on what to do and how to do it. his eyes seem to be fixated on your mouth now, his claw actually sinking in, past your lips and all you can do is let him. “you know, I’ve never found humans to be…pretty in any sense.” he says, now finding your tongue with his claw, stroking it slowly. “you’re all such a…disappointing species.” you want to gulp, but you can’t with his finger inside your mouth. though your subconscious doesn’t seem notice the intrusion as it forces you to swallow, your lips wrapping around his finger. miguel’s eyes immediately darken.

“but you…you’re at least a little prettier than them.” he keeps his low, taunting tone, as he then inserts another finger. “suck it.” he demands. your eyes slightly widen, and when you don’t immediately obey he pushes his two fingers further into your mouth making you nearly choke, as you wrap your lips back around them. you slowly, hesitantly begin to suck, swirling around his claws with your tongue.

“that’s it...” he murmurs, completely focused on your mouths movements. “yeah…maybe you aren’t so bad. much better than them.” the barely audible hitch in your breath catches his attention as his lips curve up, slightly pulling his now dripping fingers out of your mouth. “my friends—what—what did you do to them?”

miguel, ever so calm, tilts your head up again and with his wet fingers he begins to trace them on your collarbone. “not much.” he replies evenly, as he keeps his gaze on the invisible patterns he's drawing. “no—please tell me they’re alright.”

“they trespassed—“ but you cut him off, ignoring the cold feel of your spit gliding further down your chest. “i trespassed. i was one of the first.”

“oh it was easy to tell who was stickler and who wanted to actually trespass. you, mi querida, are far too innocent to want to invade someone’s home.” he says, tugging you closer, as his hand skips over your shirt to reach the hem, sinking up and underneath, making your back unintentionally arch. you had no bra on. it was late. you were planning to go to bed when your friends had proposed this now awful idea.

"your friends are the ones i dislike." miguel says, grazing a claw along the underside of your breast. you can't help but let your lips quiver, tears welling, as you force them down. "but don't worry, i won't spare the details." he says, still stroking your hair with his other hand. "i wouldn't want to taint what's already so...sweet." at that he engulfs one of your breasts with his hand, large and demanding.

"p-please." you try, still stuck in his grip. "please what?" he taunts, flicking your nipple with his claw making your body jolt. he hums at the reaction pinching and rolling the sensitive part of you between his fingers. "how sweet are you, i wonder..." he leans closer, now licking at where the wet trail, from his fingers still lingers. "ay, cariño...you taste lovely."

you're shaking, body already exhausted from the running. "are you going to...to kill me?" you ask shakily. for some reason that seemed like the only plausible outcome right now. your adrenaline is running out, and all you can feel is his touch and fear. you don't mean to sound so weak, but in this position it's clear who takes the role as prey. "aw." he coos, now pulling at your hair to force your head higher up, as his mouth nears yours. he’s switched to your other breast, pulling, pinching, rolling. fondling almost tenderly, experimentally. "kill you? now why would i do that?"

his breath is now practically in your own open mouth, as you try to hold down unwanted sounds threatening to surface. "why would i kill someone so sweet...so pretty." he says in an almost low whisper. then as his lips graze yours. "i've already had that kind of fun with your friends." you gasp as he suddenly lifts you up by your thighs, your back now pressed against the tree you were seeking shelter from, as he forcefully widens your legs, his groin pressed right up against you finally making a small sound leave your lips.

he chuckles, his claws digging into your skin. you were wearing stupid loose shorts. again, thinking it was only a small night walk, and that you'd be heading to bed soon. he easily bypasses your shorts, his claw pulling your panties to the side. you didn't hear the unzip of his pants, until you felt his cock running right up your slit, making you choke a gasp. "what—"

"shh, cariño...“ he hums, not caring for your shock or your pleas. “my my, aren’t you soaked?" he continues to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, forcing mixes of whimpers and whines to fall from your lips. "yeah, look at you, all wet f'me." he whispered this more to himself, as he harshly pushes you further up against the tree, completely sinking into you, stretching you, and making you exclaim in a mix of pain and something else. "mierda..." he mumbles, licking at his lower lip as he thrusts into you.

"oh—" you whine, head hitting back against the tree, as your body moves with his thrusts. animalistic as he groans. "i knew you'd feel so—so tight—carajo..." his grip on your thighs has tightened, most definitely leaving marks. your hands are gripped onto the material of his shirt by his shoulders, your body at complete mercy to him.

then his mouth is on yours. hungry, demanding, and full of authority. with his harsh thrusts, and protruding tongue you can barely think. you have to kiss back, it's all you can do. your lips wrap around his lips as you join his tongue. miguel briefly opens his mouth against yours. "atta girl…mm, what an obedient sweetheart i found."

before he's pushing harder against your mouth, devouring your tongue. then your body jolts against his cock, still working in and out of you. he had bit you. your lower lip now smeared in your own blood, as your breathing stutters. while his claw moves down between you to flick and fiddle with your clit, his tongue drags right across your lower lip, tasting your blood with an audible groan.

he doesn't hold back, ramming up into you, as he widens your legs impossibly until they ache. the pressure building in your stomach is almost taking over your brain, as you moan and whimper. "you're—you're too big—too much—" you manage in chokes. he makes a point to fill you up entirely, nearly making you scream. "come on now, take all of it f'me, dulce chica, that's it...you're doing so well...so well for a so called monster. was that what you called me?" he knows the answer. and as you bounce against his cock, lewd sounds drowning out both your ears, you mutter a "y-yes.”

"hm." he hums, now nipping at the skin on your neck and chest, almost glistening in the moonlight with a mix of spit and sweat. "good." he murmurs into your skin. and as you near the precipice of your release, hands now discolored from how tight you’ve been gripping him, you hear him mutter right into your ear. "don't go looking for your friends now...they won’t help you."

"no—i—" but you can barely speak. "keep bouncing on my cock." he all but demands as you had slowed in fear. and with the help of his grip on your thighs, he ruts into you, his own release now close. and when he reaches his high, muttering curses in spanish, your body is exhausted to the limit. and as he places your shaky legs back down onto the ground, a cruel glint in his eyes, he whispers. "if you don't want me to taste more of you...i’d suggest you run."

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Mommy kink | Sapnap

Sapnap is the more dominant type in the relationship, but occasionally he will slip into a headspace where he wants nothing more than to be taken care of. He gets whiny, begging you to touch him anywhere and everywhere.

"Mommy please, need you really bad", he whines with a pout, his hand cupping his fabric-covered cock.

"Come on sweetheart, where'd my big rough boy go?", You coo at him, running your hand softly over his thigh. He groans and bucks his hips up into your touch.

He's in for a long night.

[mbsturn]

Yall stay safe im taking one for the team.

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request: ethan breastfeeding 💏

ethan landry x reader

a/n: i wrote this while the tiktok audio “number 9: breastfeeding, number 12: cock” plays on repeat in my head

-

ethan has been your rock since you gave birth to your baby. however, what you dont know is that he’s been feeling horrible about himself. he feels like a terrible partner, and an even worse father.

why, just why, cant he stop himself from feeling all warm and fuzzy whenever he sees you breastfeeding your baby? he really shouldn’t be, right? but whenever you cradle your infant into your arms and guide them mouth into your nipple, ethan would just be sitting there quietly, hard as a rock. he never wanted to broach this topic to you, maybe ever, until one night.

“fuck, this really hurts,” he hears you moan beside him. he sits up to find you massaging your breasts (he hates how his cock automatically twitches at the sight), and moves to comfort you when he sees you crying, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“i already fed the baby,” you whine, pouting, “i also pumped, but i’m already so full and sore.”

his eyes land on your tits, hands flying out involuntarily to cup them, relishing your sighs of relief. they’re heavy in his hands, with milk. yours.

“momma,” he whispers, so quietly that you thought you just imagined it at first, “can i help?”

you raise your eyebrows, “you wanna help me, baby?” he nods frantically, now moving to rest his head on your lap.

he whines loudly when you pull your shirt up, revealing your breasts, now resting on his face. he moves one hand to softly rub the tent in his pants. ethan nuzzles closer, feeling the softness of your tits on his cheeks, “warm…” before sticking his tongue out and barely grazes it on your nipple.

ethan looks up at you, mouthing, “please?” with your nod, he closes his lips around one peaked nipple.

“fuck, ethan,” you groan, arching your breasts forward towards him. you raise one hand to gently grip his hair.

ethan pulls away a little, watching your face scrunched up in pleasure as he sloppily flicks his tongue in one nipple, before moving to the other one. then, he raises his hand on squeeze your breasts gently, and sucks.

surprised at the feeling of ethan simultaneously squeezing your breast and sucking, you feel the familiar warm and tingling sensation flowing to your breasts and you can barely react before ethan moans loudly.

a squirt of something warm and sweet lands on his tongue and he realizes it’s your milk.

“fuck, mommy,” he whines into your breasts, now suckling harder to get as much as he can before you push him away, “taste s’good,” he whimpers, his mouth quickly filling up with milk that some had dribbled down the sides of his mouth. he softly humps the air, wishing to be relieved of the aching tension of his cock, but he couldn’t get enough of you.

everything you have given him, either the juices of your cunt, or the milk that you use to sustain your child, they all taste like nectar to him.

he whines when you gently pull him away, looking up at you in a dazed, almost milk drunk expression that resembles that look your baby gives you when they’re also milk drunk and full.

“you emptied me,” you tell him with a giggle, before moving your thumb to wipe the dribbling milk off the sides of his mouth, “i got no more milk for you.”

ethan shifts so he is kneeling beside you, hands on the waistband of his pants, “i have some for you if you want.”

you laugh, before leaning in for a kiss.