#★ || Ask

[plantislandpals]

Lemme pet Morton

[opikiquu]

iknow my comics are ugly please just hear me out

[lxnarphase]

Screaming, crying, violently shaking the bars on my enclosure for thigh grinding. Please.

i had to let this marinate for a little, this is actually so good i love the idea of just plopping yourself on their lap, straddling their thigh when you want their attention when they're doing something. and you gave me free reign on who to write so i am in heaven with these thoughts. i thought about adding 'who would pretend to not notice' and 'who would make you do it until you squirt' but i think i already got carried away with this little thirst ❤︎

WHO ENCOURAGES IT: g. suguru, n. kento, h. kinji, f. toji

the second you sit on him, his attention snaps to you, inquisitively raising an eyebrow. but once you tell him to focus on what he was doing, he bites his lip as he feels you grinding yourself on his thigh.

suguru's abandoned his show, leaning back on the couch and putting his hands on your waist, guiding you back and forth against his leg. "oh, pretty babyyyy, go on, grind on me. does it feel good?" he's a little upset you aren't facing him, but whenever you turn your head over your shoulder, he coos at you so sweetly. he even brings his hand down to your front, playing with your puffy clit through your soaked underwear. "look at you, your gonna get my leg all wet...tsk, you're gonna lick it up for me after, right?" kento turns a pretty shade of pink, chucking as he shakes his head. he texted you only 2 minutes ago, responding to you pouting and asking when he'd be done with work, he didn't think you'd show up this soon. "have i been neglecting you, honey? mm, i'm sorry, love. you can keep going," he encourages, his hand on your lower back as he looks up at you from his leather desk chair. oh, he could never get tired of his view. if he could, he'd have you sit on his thigh every time he worked in his office, but...he knew that wouldn't work out, he'd never be able to get work done with you sitting all pretty on him like this. "i'll take a break from work, okay? mhm, just for you. now keep going, honey, i want you to feel good." kinji stops everything immediately. "well, hi to you too, cupcake," he whistles, his hands instantly starting to rub up and down your sides. "needy cunt wanted some attention? aww, she needs her kinjiiii, ain't that right, doll?" his hand trails down and smacks your ass before grabbing a handful. his eyes are lidded but filled with excitement. oh, he looooved when you took control of your pleasure and used him to feel good. knowing that you needed him so badly that just grinding on his thigh could make you cum made his ego shoot through the roof. "c'mon, wanna have you soak my thigh before i touch you, baby, lemme see how messy you can get." toji is pleasantly surprised when you come to him with that pretty little pout, cooing his name in just his black sweater. his thin pajama pants can't be that good to grind on, the fabric isn't nearly rough enough, but he can feel how hot and wet you're getting, how sticky your panties are getting. seeing how you're getting frustrated, toji just lifts you up and plops you on his dick. "hey, pretty mama, you strugglin'? mhm, yeah, i knowww. my pants aren't enough for that pussy t' cum, are they?" he helps you move your hips back and forth, lazily smirking up at you. "yeah, that feel better? grindin' on my cock instead? y'so pretty, mama, so so pretty."

WHO CUMS IN THEIR PANTS: g. satoru, k. choso

it's hard not to get turned on from seeing you hovering over him, eyes lidded and filled with need, using their thigh to get yourself off. you just look so fucking gorgeous they can't help but move you off their thigh to their lap.

satoru lets you grind on his thigh for a little bit, kissing all over your neck as he fucking giggles into your skin. when he gets that pretty whine of his name after mouthing your pressure point, he pulls you onto his lap, grinding up into you. "baby, baby, baby, you're so cute, s'fuckin' cute! f-fuck, shit, 'm gonna cum, h-haah, you'd gonna make me cum in my fuckin' jeans, c'mon." he lets out the filthiest moan, laughing deliriously as he cums in his jeans. he barely gives himself a second to breathe before he moves you onto your back on the couch, sliding your panties to the side and pulling out his cock that's still hard and covered in his cum. "tsk-tsk-tsk, little dumplinggg, you made me waste it, 's a baddd girl...now i gotta fuck you 'til it leaks out, m'kay? my cock feels so much better than my thigh, angel, let 'toru into this lil' cunt." choso looks up at you with wide eyes, and you barely get to grind on his thigh before he whines, slowly pulling you towards his lap where his hard dick is pressing against his shorts. "b-babe," he whimpers, finally feeling you grinding against him directly. "y-you, i-i, mmn, i can feel your pussy, y-you're grindin' right on the tip, keep going, p-please?" he's activitly fucking up into you, uncaring that his gym shorts are getting soaked with his precum, eyes rolling back in his head as he keens your name. "pleasepleaseplease, 'm gonna cum, lemme cum, i wanna cum against you like this, please!"

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[eph3merall]

can you write something abt loser!reader x fratboy!chris, where reader starts seeing someone else and chris gets jealous. I love your writing sooo much !!!

it's been radio silence from you to chris for about a week now. he's confused, because what the hell? last time he noticed, he was the only guy who ever gave a shit about you. so to see you posting a picture on your instagram with you and another guy made his face twist into some disgusted expression while staring at his phone.

you looked happy. like, happier than you usually were with him. which he found fucking ridiculous, considering for a good chunk of time chris was the only one who put up with your rambling and annoying habits. the post didn't get many likes, barely up to 150. it was mostly just some of your friends who probably thought your new boyfriend was hot and some random people who thought you were pretty, based on the comments.

he doesn't notice the swirl of jealousy unfurling in his chest, a second later and chris is banging on your dorm room door only to be met with silence. his knuckles bang against the wooden door unsteady on it's hinges, jaw ticking and teeth grinding together subconsciously. only again, you don't peek your head out in the crack of your door like normal, you don't come to answer and smile almost immediately as you spot chris.

he's standing awkwardly in front of the door to your dorm, either no one's home and he looks like a fool right now or you're ignoring him. he knows that 'friend' of yours who shares a room with you is out at a frat party tonight, and you don't even go anywhere—so why the fuck aren't you answering?

he's about to blurt out your name but thought against it as the hallway was deathly silent right now, especially so late at night. he'd probably get complaints from whoever roomed here. his knuckles rap against the door again, shifting around awkwardly. a swirl of frustration and annoyance bloomed in his chest, because you couldn't possibly be busy.

he tries the knob—obviously nothing. until the sounds of shuffling are heard inside, and a second later you're standing in the doorway with messy hair and weary eyes. a yawn mixes in with your words, too tired to even realize this is chris. you've been ignoring him for a little now, afraid if your new boyfriend found out he'd call it cheating or something.

chris doesn't say or do anything before shoving you inside and closing your door, met with dim darkness and the only lighting provided from the warm lamp on your desk. your dorm room is a cluttered mess of trinkets and work and textbooks, tabletop a pile of studies and some clothing items littering the floor.

"what's your fuckin' problem, kid?" you stare at him. it's like this for a little, the two of you staring as chris impatiently waits for his words to register in your thick ass skull. you don't really know how to respond, truthfully. lips tugging into a frown and shoulders lifting up and down a little, you take a seat on your bed. the sheets are everywhere, having just woken up.

chris is standing there looking so out of place. he keeps on thinking about that stupid post of you and that guy, forcing himself to try and calm the fuck down. "what, gonna sit there in silence? fuckin' heard me, know y'did. what the hell is goin' on? you've been ignoring me like i have the flu."

the little space is silent, and you kind of hate it. normally, silence comes as a comfort to you. it relaxes your head and makes you much less anxious, but this time it felt uncomfortable. it felt deafening, as you gnaw on your bottom lip until it's started stinging from the constant abuse. "i dunno. i, uh, i got a boyfriend," you shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. because it technically wasn't, you and chris weren't even together.

"oh, alright. whatever, then, so you go n'give me the silent treatment? that's some childish shit n'you know it," he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest lazily, obviously upset. but why? he was more so upset at you not telling him and forcing him to jerk off into his hand for the past week, than the boyfriend part. he couldn't give a shit if you started dating your best friend.

chris isnt good with feelings. he'll play everything off, ignoring the way his chest burns as you justify what you did. he's barely listening to a word you say, the particular label 'boyfriend' stuck in his head. he couldn't believe someone like you pulled.

"so.. y'know," you've crossed your legs together on the plush mattress of your bed, eyes darting around your littered floor and practically refusing to look chris in the eyes. "sorry. didn't mean to ignore you.." and that's the truth. because chris has stuck with you, while your life turned to practically shit and everyone started becoming someone you couldn't trust. chris just rolls his eyes, scoffing under his breath and starting towards you. he stands in front of you, lip curled in annoyance as he looks you up and down for a second.

"whatever. y'should pay me back for all that lost time though.. so uh," chris' hands are gravitating towards his belt without another second, unsure of how to deal with what he's feeling in his chest every time he hears you mumble the word 'boyfriend' in his mind. it makes him feel sick. he wont ever admit it though.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes

©eph3merall 2024

[fascinationstreetmp3]

companions crying compilation

the more depressing sequel to this. the dialogue labels them as simply 'Sob' and there's 3 variations for everyone, although to me minthara's doesn't really sound like her to me so she might have placeholder audio (or my ears could just be deceiving me)

[sturnioz]

matt was talking about doing a sleep stream and nick said “what if you wake up with a boner” like under his breath and matt goes “that was my only concern” and now all i can think about is matt waking up hard and either wanking or waking you up by being all needy and sleepy and horny ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️even thinking about matt being hard makes me feel like im high on bath salts dude

when matt wakes up hard, i fully believe he tries to fix it himself first — jerking off with one hand while the other covers his mouth, muffling his sounds, eyes bleary from sleep. he doesn’t want to wake you up .. but he’s so fucking hard that it starts to hurt :( and only you can fix him :(

he gently shakes your shoulder to coax you awake, apologising when you groan and tell him how tired you are. he quietly mumbles how painfully hard he is and that he can’t cum without you, and all you need to do is lift your leg up so he can slip in from behind.

you let him, of course — laying on your side, shifting your hips a little to help him pull your panties to the side, feeling his chest press against your back as he aligns himself before pushing his tip into your warmth.

god. you’re so tight. so fucking tight that he can’t help but moan, gripping your leg as he eases himself all the way in, bottoming out, his cock snug in your gummy walls. he lays his head on your shoulder, breathing laboured as one arm slides around your waist to hold you against him as he begins to lazily thrust, murmuring how much he loves you and how good it feels.

[bokutosbabe]

Hi! Here for the More than a married couple (but not lovers) event. That's such a GREAT IDEA!! So sweet😭💖

The character I chose is Michael 🍓🍦

Also kudos to you for starting another event even though you're still writing asks! you're really spoiling us💕

i really enjoyed doing the last event, tysm!!

A Michael Kaiser Strawberry Sundae...

જ⁀♡⊹｡° every version of yourself

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, set in a high school so no funny buisness, supposed to be kinda unrequited love?, kaiser's own insecurities, takes you through the length of the simulation, kaiser still plays soccer, kaiser in HS if he wasn't traumatized :))), still cocky though, an little flirty, nickname like 'spouse' used, popular! kaiser, quiet! shy! reader

♡ synopsis — being paired with michael kaiser may be the worst thing to ever happen to you...or so you think

The classroom buzzed with anticipation as the names were called out. Each pair announced felt like a small shockwave in the room, but the real chaos came when your name was read.

“And finally... Michael Kaiser and Y/N.”

The gasps, whispers, and sharp glares that followed made you shrink in your seat. Everyone’s eyes darted between you and the blonde at the back of the room, who leaned lazily against his chair, unfazed.

Kaiser didn’t even look your way. Typical. Why would he? Michael Kaiser wasn’t just a soccer prodigy; he was the center of attention everywhere he went. The school’s golden boy. The one every girl wanted to be paired with. And somehow... you, the average nobody, ended up in the simulation with him.

“Well,” Kaiser said finally, standing and giving a theatrical stretch. He smirked as if this was all a game, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over the room like he’d already won something. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

Your cheeks burned as laughter rippled through the room. His tone was light, teasing, but it only made the pit in your stomach grow. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with Michael Kaiser?

The simulation began with a flurry of paperwork and rules. You were handed a key to a mock apartment and a thick packet outlining tasks you’d need to complete as a "couple" to pass. Cooking meals together, managing a budget, planning dates—it all felt bizarre. But the strangest part? Being tied to Michael Kaiser for every waking moment.

The apartment itself was small but cozy. Two bedrooms flanked a shared living space, and the kitchenette barely fit two people at a time. You stood awkwardly by the door as Kaiser strolled in like he owned the place. He dropped his duffel bag on the couch and turned to you with that signature smirk.

“Well, spouse, welcome home,” he drawled, tossing his duffel onto the larger bedroom’s bed without hesitation. “Don’t worry, I won’t invade your room. You’ll have all the space you need to miss me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Pretty confident about claiming the bigger room.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Call it a perk of being me.”

Typical Kaiser. You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it further. How were you supposed to survive an entire month living with someone so… larger than life?

The first week was… manageable, mostly because Kaiser didn’t seem to take the simulation seriously. He’d breeze through tasks with minimal effort, brushing off your attempts at cooperation.

“Budgeting? Just write whatever, I don’t care,” he’d said with a shrug one afternoon.

“Kaiser, we lose points if we don’t do it properly,” you insisted, tapping the form with your pen.

He rolled his eyes but leaned over anyway, closer than necessary, close enough to where his musky cologne made it hard to think. He hummed as he glanced at the page. “Fine. Put down ‘caviar’ and ‘gold-encrusted steak.’ That’ll impress the evaluators.”

You glared at him, but he just laughed. It was infuriating, how easy everything seemed to him.

Still, there were glimpses of something more.

Like the time you cooked dinner together. It was one of the mandatory tasks, and Kaiser insisted on doing as little as possible—until you nearly sliced your hand while chopping vegetables.

“Careful!” He grabbed your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. For a moment, his usual bravado disappeared, replaced by something softer.

You were shocked, but not by his sudden loudness or his worry. No, you were shocked by watching the point value on your living room wall go up.

Oh so being a decent person and taking care of someone got you points? How silly...kind of.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, pulling away.

“Yeah, well, try not to bleed all over the food. I’m not eating anything with extra seasoning,” he teased, smirking as he handed you a safer task.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

By the second week, you started to notice cracks in his perfect façade.

It happened late one night when you couldn’t sleep. You wandered into the living room to grab some water, only to find Kaiser sitting by the window, staring out at the city lights. His usual confident posture was gone, replaced by something almost… scared, like a child that's been missing their mother just a little too long.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked hesitantly.

What were you doing? Yes, this project required interacting with each other, but you could have ignored him.

What was it about Michael Kaiser that made you act so...unlike yourself?

He didn’t answer right away, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlamps. Finally, he spoke. “Do you ever feel like people only see what they want to see?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you then, his blue eyes unreadable. “Forget it. Go back to bed.”

But you couldn’t forget it. The question lingered, and for the first time, you wondered if Michael Kaiser—the golden boy everyone adored—might be lonelier than he let on.

Things began to shift in the third week.

It was subtle at first. The way Kaiser’s teasing softened, the way he started helping more with the tasks instead of leaving everything to you. He even started calling you by your name instead of “spouse” or other mocking nicknames.

And then there were the moments where he’d look at you—not with the cocky smirk he wore like armor, but with something quieter, almost vulnerable.

You didn’t know what to make of it. You’d spent so long nursing your one-sided crush, convinced he’d never see you the way you saw him. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you were imagining things.

But then came the final task: planning a “date night.”

You went all out, wanting to ace the simulation. You planned a picnic under the stars, complete with fairy lights and a playlist of soft, dreamy songs. Kaiser didn’t seem particularly invested at first, but when he saw the setup, his eyes lit up with genuine surprise.

“You did all this?” he asked, looking almost impressed.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but probably just looking like a dork who took this a little too seriously, “It’s for the grade.”

“Right,” he said, though his tone was softer than usual. And for a moment, Michael Kaiser looked truly upset by what you said...but why?

The night was quiet and peaceful, the two of you sitting side by side on the blanket. For once, Kaiser wasn’t filling the silence with jokes or teasing remarks. Instead, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought this whole thing would be a waste of time,” he admitted. “But… you’re different. You’re real.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Michael…”

He smirked then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong idea.”

But maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.

The final week of the simulation was a blur of evaluations and last-minute tasks, but something had shifted irrevocably between you and Kaiser. He wasn’t just the golden boy anymore. He was Michael—arrogant, infuriating, but also thoughtful and surprisingly kind in his own way.

On the last night in the apartment, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, packing up your things. Kaiser leaned against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“So, this is it, huh?” he said, his voice unusually quiet as he stared into the almost empty cabinet, only filled with the stupid matching couples cups he got after an argument that lost you two points in the first week.

“Yeah,” you said, not trusting yourself to say more. What else could you say? 'Oh Michael, I love you and expect you to marry me!'

You'd rather die than be shot down like that.

He hesitated, then reached out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re kind of impossible to forget.”

Your breath hitched. “Michael—”

“Don’t,” he said, his smirk returning, though his eyes betrayed something deeper. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving those stupid cups behind.

Graduation loomed over you like a terrifying monster. It'd been a week since you'd spoken to Kaiser, both of you being too absorbed in your own lives. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid. Until one day, days later, you found a note slipped into your locker. It was short, written in Kaiser’s unmistakable scrawl:

"I wasn’t joking when I said you were impossible to forget. Let me prove it. Dinner?"

Your heart raced as you read the words. Maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn’t so wrong after all.

this was the first one i wrote for this event so i hope this layout is okay!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[bruisedboys]

drunk remus will forever be my kryptonite. like imagine him just rambling about everything and then he sees you and is like "ohmygodyouresopretty"

hannah oh em gee. drunk lovesick remus is my everything. I love u for this

summary: remus is drunk and whipped

gn!reader 0.5k words

You walk Remus to the bathroom partly because he’s so drunk he can barely walk in a straight line, and partly because you’re just as clingy as he is right now and you’re not even drunk.

Your arm is braced around his lower back as you lead him down the carpeted hallway. He’s rambling about all sorts of nonsense, and you can’t say you completely understand or even catch a single intelligible word. But it’s nice to listen to his voice. Even if it’s all slurred and sticky.

When you stop at the bathroom door, Remus is not paying attention where he’s going and tries to keep walking. You snag his wrist and pull him back.

“Remus,” you say, trying desperately not to laugh. “Bathroom’s back here, love.”

Remus staggers backwards into your side. His eyes zero in on the bathroom door and then he blinks. “Oh.”

You snort but cover it up with a fake cough. And anyway, Remus is too inebriated to hear you having a laugh at him. He twists the arm that you’ve got in your hand to grab your hand with his instead. Then he pushes the bathroom door open and tries to pull you with him.

“Remus, what are you doing?” You giggle, planting your feet firmly on the threshold and refusing to let him pull you any further.

Remus turns, a blunt, almost impatient look on his face. “I’m going to the bathroom, dove. What does it look like?”

You snort. This time you don’t even bother hiding it. “I’m not coming with you, Remus.”

Remus looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

You shake your head at him, very amused and very looking forward to teasing him for this for the rest of his life. “What, d’you want me to hold it?” You ask, incredulous. “I’m not coming.”

Remus pouts at you. “Baby,” he whines.

You hold your ground, even though he looks awfully cute when he’s pouting like that. “Baby,” you mock.

Remus scowls. “Fine then,” he says moodily. You know he’s not actually angry but he’s a damn good actor, even when drunk. He drops your hand and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t have to wait long for him to finish. A few minutes pass and then the door opens and Remus appears again. Looking far less sullen, like he’s forgotten all about your refusal to join him in the bathroom.

“Hi,” you say, grinning.

Remus stands there with his hand on the doorknob and a halo of light around his head and blinks. Stares at you hard. Then blinks again.

“Spare me,” he murmurs.

You’re alarmed, to say the least. “What?” you giggle, “Remus, what are you talking about?”

“I swear you’ve gotten prettier since two minutes ago,” he says, and he sounds genuinely boggled. Flabbergasted. “How is that possible? Are you kidding me?”

He takes your face in his big hands and stares at you intensely. He pulls your face so close to his he could kiss you. Looks at you with big wide eyes and parted lips.

“You’re sick,” he says eventually, after a lifetime of his eyes travelling all over your face. “Why would you do this to me?”

You giggle. Your chest feels tight though you won’t tell him that. “I didn’t do anything, Remus.”

Remus huffs. “Sure you didn’t,” he says, all sarcasm. “You’re—“

You kiss him to shut him up. Purely to make him stop talking, of course, and not because his doting is making your face burn.

-

[10yrratiolover]

some more Ratio headcanons since I can't make a more in depth post just yet!

I think he'd sleep with several pillows, he likes to think it's to help with proper positioning/skeletal & muscle support but he actually just likes having multiple

This one might make less sense since it's a liiittle protection-y but I think he'd prefer smaller rooms over bigger ones, bigger rooms feel more overwhelming since it feels like he sort of has to make use of all the space (idk how to explain it proper I just like being crushed in smaller spaces, I'm like the opposite of claustrophobic)

Big fan of birds I think, besides the owl motifs of his actual character

As a kid he didn't like playing with other kids that much since they 'didn't play right' and it would upset him when things went off his mental script

Used to be really insecure about his appearance as a kid/teen, he never really got over it he just stopped caring since he had bigger issues to deal with

He keeps and finds a use for every single gift he's gotten from one of his students, still uses a #1 Teacher mug he got like 7 years ago

He remembers all his students, regardless of if they ended up passing or failing, some of them come and visit him every once in a while to catch up

He's a plant mom and he takes great care of them

Has several things that are basically only used for one thing since he likes the routine of it (ex. he only drinks at certain type of tea out of this one specific mug, no other mug will do.)

Nobody can convince me he doesn't sleep naked, fancy/expensive pajamas be damned

Never thought hard enough about his sexuality since he had bigger issues, but I think he'd be asexual and either sex positive or neutral on the idea on actually having sex

I think he'd own a cat, she's named Vela after the constellation, she's absolutely spoiled to heaven and back

[atomicbonk]

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┈─★ ꒰ ❛ reblog for your followers to ask these questions ! ❜ ꒱

[plantislandpals]

morton. do you wear your shades because you got bad eyesight or just wanna seem swag

[opikiquu]

hi everypony

[lxnarphase]

hello :) and yk— what if— hear me out— somno w nanami. Like of course you’ve talked about it and of course you said it was okay…so nanami……shouldn’t feel dirty over it, right? It’s been a long long day and all he wanted to do— what he thought he wanted to do was just snuggle up against u and sleep. But then you had to go n sleep in his clothes..yeah…fuck…..that definitely did smthn to him. Just his shirt and underwear? oh baby..don’t be surprised when you wake up to your bf/husband between your legs…..

- 🧸

somno somno somno !! this is my favorite i know nanami gets carried away with the thought that you trust him so much to do this with him !!

somno with nanami 'i can just have sex with my wife when she wakes up' kento who wakes up after trying to be a nice husband and just let you sleep, groggy and disoriented.

but he's uncomfortably hard, his fat cock straining against the soft material of his pajama pants. he can feel that they're wet, the front soaked with his precum. that dream...that dream ruined him, the image of you confidently sat on his face, hands in his hair as he moaned into your cunt, dizzy from the taste, the smell, the feel of you...fuck, just thinking about it again make a thick gush of pre drip from him.

a quick glance and he knows your still sleeping...but your voice rings out in his head, hearing you excitedly giving him permission to touch you as you slept if he never needed you.

that's how he finds himself between your legs, his big hands holding your hips still as he devours you, messily making out with your pussy as he groans and sighs your name against your clit. "god, i missed you," he murmurs against your slit, tongue swiping over his lips before pressing a wet kiss to your clit. "missed you so much today."

he's given up on trying to let you sleep, he wants you, no, needs you to wake up. he misses the way you look at him needily, mouth open as you call his name, begging for him to make you cum. nanami's eyes are zeroed in on your face, waiting to see those eyes open.

"come on, honey, wake up, wake up for me." his tongue slides up your pussy, swirling against your clit before dipping back down into your oozing hole, groaning when he feels your hips cant up, the pudgy fat of your mound squishing into his mouth. he's always so messy when he eats you out, but he's trying even harder, wanting to see if he can make you cum right as you wake up. the wet squishing of his mouth kissing, sucking, and slurping at the sweet slick leaking from you and the cute sleepy moans he pulls from you are music to his ears.

but the poor man is too into it, too focused on the taste of your cunt to notice that you are awake. no, he doesn't realize it until your hands grab his hair and smush him against your pussy, crying his name as you cum, your cum pouring into his mouth as he just keeps eating you out.

"mm, sorry, honey, i got carried away," he softly mutters against you, his eyes looking into yours from his spot between your legs. "i wanted to see if i could put it in you before you woke up, but you just taste so divine." another lick up your cunt is followed by the feeling of nanami's fingers coating themselves in your wetness.

"can you give me one more? hm? just one more and i'll show you what i'll do to you next time you're sleeping so pretty for me."

[eph3merall]

i’m in love with literally anything you write! i was wondering by if you could make a dealer!chris + doll!reader fic with either fluff or angst (dare i say very specific🤭) to an ariana grande song (your choice) !! <3

soo sweet <3 sorry this took so long. loosely based off 'in my head' by ariana grande !

—

"Here’s the thing: you’re in love with a version of a person that you’ve created in your head, that you are trying to but cannot fix."

chris is hunched over—back aching and muscles sore. you eye him from your position next to him on the worn sofa, watching as he snorts another line of coke. white powder is speckled slightly around his nostrils, exhaling as he sits up and stretches his shoulders out. sniffing and wiping at his nose with his finger, he exhales and clicks his tongue.

you don't dare to say much, noticing how he seems to be 'in his element' or whatever. you aren't exactly a fan of chris' constant drug usage and his deals—but it's kind of his 'job' and he gets money for it. as long as he's getting by without trouble, right?

you've tried a few times to try and persuade him to stop. to quit, get sober, find a better way of making money. because the chris you fell in love with wasn't this chris, god, he couldn't exactly be more different from how he is right now. but complaining never helped, he always went on some shit like 'hey, don't forget who pays for your shit now. that pretty cami y'got on? yeah, i got you that.'

but chris isn't a bad person, no. he's sweet, nice. he cares for the people around him and screws the people who screw him. your fingers intertwine together as you mindlessly fiddle with them when some girls creep up towards chris to buy from him.

you don't miss the way his lips curl into a sluggish smirk, leaning back into the plush cushions and starting up conversation with them. they are pretty, you have to admit that. you'd be worried he would take the chance to swoop up a pretty girl from the group, but this is chris. he's loyal, and he's stated and shown it multiple times.

you bring your legs up, curling to the side—one on top of the other in your side sitting position as you tug your skirt down gently. your eyes try not to focus on anything in particular, trying to relax and sink into the arm chris has looped around your shoulders as he holds you firmly to his side.

you glance at him when his fingers mindlessly fiddle with the strap of your tanktop, digits tapping on the bare skin of your arm a few times. and then chris slides away from you, hips raising and his hand patting his back pocket. it's only now he spares you a quick look—eyes shifting back to the band of girls in front of him.

one of them was leaning towards him, and you could practically see her tits spilling out from the tight dress she had on. a wad of cash was in her hand, manicured nails grazing chris' hand when he hands her a little baggy of white substance. his tongue clicks against his mouth and you try to ignore the disappointment in you when his hand doesn't fall across your shoulders again.

the lights of the party are blinding and a variety of flashy colors, loud rap music seeming to make your ears ring. your fingers tap against your thigh a few times as you mindlessly draw little hearts on your skin, knowing how much chris hates it when you do that to him. even though he didn't really care at first and even called it 'cute'.

you recall the way many of your own friends told you to just be careful—chris isn't what he seems. he'll use you for something and leave you all alone, or he'll love bomb you then leave one day without any explanation. but that hasn't happened to you yet, and it's been a good few months already. you never have a thought in your head that thinks chris would cheat on you, he just isn't like that.

confusion overtakes your features when you see chris standing up, grinning at that one girl as her friends giggle and shuffle away. you immediately start to sit up, always following chris around and not getting the memo that he was about to leave you to go bang a girl. he spots you about to get up, clearing his throat as a big hand comes to shove your shoulder gently to get you to sit back down. "hey, m'gonna go somewhere for a sec. stay here. a'ight doll?"

you blink at him. what? you dont get what he's about to do, but chris is already starting away with the girl in tow. and you want to follow, because what the fuck? but you sit still, like chris told you to—a feeling of dread filling you when you see him whisper something against the girls' lips and start kissing at her face and neck while dragging her into an empty room.

oh.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns

©eph3merall 2024

[sweetpascal]

omg looove this idea!! hmm, perhaps prompt 7 from list 3? with our boy frankie?? 🥵 only if such a pairing tickles your fancy, of course!

main prompts post

#7 from prompt list no. 3

�� finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

oh absoLUTELY this tickles my fancy. call me a pescatarian cause i love me some Catfish (ew that was such a bad joke, i even made myself cringe. please ignore that dad joke.) 😭

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader

— summary: when dancing on your husband accidentally makes him pop a boner, frankie takes it upon himself to drag the two of you away to relieve that stress.

— warnings: husband + wife trope. hatless frankie. frisky dancing. groping. heavy make out session. no foreplay. spit as lube. standing doggy. size kink. brief daddy kink. sprinkle of mirror sex too hehe.

— wc: 3.2k (i'm surprised i kept it below 5k tbh)

this boink part is inspired by this spicy twitter video ;)

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

The idea to host a New Year's party was Benny's. Often referred to as the group's golden retriever, he has an innate charm that draws people to him, enabling him to make friends effortlessly. As the youngest among his three friends and blessed with boyish, attractive features, it's no wonder he has numerous friends beyond Santiago, Frankie, and his older brother, Will. He's made acquaintances at the gym, dive bars, and even grocery stores. Benny has a knack for talking his way into and out of situations, often avoiding parking fines and more serious troubles. However, that's not the focus. When Benny organizes a gathering, he spares no expense on food, beverages, music, and decor. New Year's, after all, is a celebration of new beginnings.

There you and your husband, Frankie, were, at the black-and-white masquerade party. You donned a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure, featuring a deep back and slender straps, complemented by a delicate pearl necklace resting on your collarbones. Frankie was dressed in his finest black trousers, a snug black t-shirt tucked into them with a belt, and a black blazer. His outfit struck the perfect balance for Benny's theme, being neither too ostentatious nor too simple. Fortunately, masks were provided at the party, so that was one less thing to consider.

The music was loud, and the atmosphere was lively. You had lost track of the others some time ago, but Frankie remained by your side, steadfast as glue to paper. Aware that parties weren't really his scene, especially considering his age and dislike for crowded spaces, you found a quiet corner. Gently pulling on his hand, you guided him to stand against the wall. The bass pulsed through you, a constant presence. Your mask concealed your forehead, eyes, and nose, leaving only your lips and chin visible. Frankie's mask was a different hue but similar to yours. Despite the strobe lights, it was clear his gaze hadn't strayed from you, not since you left home.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear, your hands gently gripping his shoulders for balance. Frankie leaned into you, his large hands settling on your hips as he nodded in response to your question and gave a thumbs up. You returned the nod and placed a soft kiss on the bald spot along his jaw.

The sensation of alcohol settling in your body is unmistakable. The buzzing in your veins, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the tingling sensation all over become increasingly pronounced. As the music shifts to a rhythm that's easy to dance to, you find yourself easily moving to the beat. Frankie's hands were still on your hips as you turned in his hold with your back now pressed into his chest. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the music. His crotch was pressed into your backside, and so you leaned forward to put your hands on your knees, arched your back, and began to grind your ass against him to the beat of the music.

You obviously can't hear his reaction, but you can definitely feel it. His hardness is thick against your ass, and you feel it slotting between your cheeks each time you bump and grind against him. It got to a point where a small crowd gathered around you both to cheer you on, even going as far as to record you twerking on your husband. People hooted and hollered. With a beaming, embarrassed smile, you stood up straight and wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, giggling into his neck as he gave your ass a hearty swat.

"You're fucking killing me," he groans in your ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. "Let's go."

With a startled yelp, Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you through the crowd. You focus on his tall figure and broad shoulders as he makes his way to an unknown destination, deliberately bumping into people blocking his path. Keeping up with his quick pace is a struggle. As he bounds up the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor, your heels come off in the haste.

"Frankie! Slow down, you big lug!" you shout, but it's no use. Whether he's ignoring you on purpose or the music drowns out your voice, he doesn't slow down.

The music had become distant and muffled. As Frankie reached the third floor, the Miller Residence felt almost like a mansion, enveloped in near silence. His large hand remained clamped around your wrist as he frantically opened every door he came across, yet none seemed suitable to enter. The question burning on your lips faded away when he swung open the fifth door, revealing a spotless bathroom. Casting a glance over your shoulder, he guided you inside with a hand at your waist.

"Frankie, what're we doing--"

You're immediately silenced when he yanks off his mask and takes yours off as well, followed by his plump lips frantically kissing your own. Moans are muffled as Frankie pushes you against the sink and starts tugging the straps of your dress down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. Confused and extremely aroused, you realize what exactly he wants and why he wants it. He lets out a husky moan and pulls away from your lips as though he was forced to. A thin string of saliva connecting your lips is wiped away with his thumb. As you glance down at his lips, you can see your lipstick smudged all over him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, right now," he tells you, and his tone holds no room left for discussion. When Frankie is pleasure-drunk, all coherent thoughts leave his mind. When he's horny horny, the man will fuck you regardless of where you are or what you're doing. Even at his age, your husband's stamina is quite impressive.

He kisses you again as you struggle with his belt. His tongue, warm and so wet, invades your mouth and licks you all over. His teeth bite, nibble, and suck on your tongue and lips. Lewd smacking sounds fill the empty space of the bathroom. It's so wet and frantic and dirty. Spit slides down your chin and Frankie groans huskily as it smears on his own chin.

With fumbling hands, you successfully open his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, frantically sliding down the zipper and shoving your hand inside to stroke his hard cock through his boxers. Frankie moans deeply, hot air puffing across your kiss-swollen lips. Your thumb circles around the tip and you can feel a wet spot through the fabric. The throbbing in your core is nearly painful, so you squeeze your thighs together to try to provide some relief.

"You feel that? You feel what you did to me? Grinding that ass all over my dick and expecting me not to do something," he grits, his eyes black with lust and jaw clenching as your hand tightens around the base of his thickness, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist when you reach the tip.

You have no time to respond as he pulls your hand away from inside his slacks and spins you around with such force that you stumble and catch yourself on the bathroom counter. As you look in the mirror, you realize the extent of your disheveled appearance. Your lipstick is smeared all over your chin, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, saliva shining all over your lips. You're a hot mess, all thanks to your horndog of a husband.

One of Frankie's large hands settles into the middle of your back, right between the shoulder blades, and he pushes you down so that you're now bent over the counter. Your body slouches so your left shoulder and the side of your head rests along the wall. Frankie's other hand cups the back of your right thigh, and he grips the meat before lifting your leg up to prop your knee on the edge of the counter. With that same hand, he pulls down his undone slacks and boxers, allowing his cock to spring up. It bobs up and down for a second. Your eyes follow the movement, and you let out a needy little sound that you try to muffle by biting on your thumb. It's no lie that he's well endowed; a delicious eight inches, three fingers thick, veiny with a slight curve, and nicely cut. A dark dusting of hair lays across his pelvis and you crave to lick up the happy trail.

"You're gonna get it, baby, don't worry," Frankie breathes out. He strokes his cock for a few seconds, feeling the throbbing intensify when he glances down and sees your wetness shining in the dim lighting. Your cunt flutters so prettily at him, almost begging for him to stuff it full and make the emptiness go away.

You watch through the mirror as Frankie spits into his palm and uses that to coat his cock. You can see his arm moving up and down as he strokes from base to tip; the wet sounds cause your cheeks to warm. There are only just a few seconds before he slides himself home. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and steps closer to your backside. He guides himself into your leaking pussy with one slow thrust, allowing you to feel each and every inch he has to offer. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. The positioning of you bent over the counter with your knee hiked up to rest on the edge has him reaching a lot deeper than usual.

"Fuck," Frankie shakily whispers as he looks down between your bodies to watch as your pussy eagerly swallows him up. He positions his left hand at the back of your neck, gripping gently and keeping you pinned against the wall. His other hand grabs onto the crease of your hip, and then he starts to really fuck you.

The first couple of thrusts were slow and deep. The added tightness of no prep beforehand has heat pooling heavily in the pit of both of your stomachs. Desperately trying to hold in your moans, you bite down harder on your thumb. Your hair is no doubt mess from the motions of your body rocking in time with his hips. You look into the mirror and finally let out a wanton moan when you see Frankie completely transfixed on his cock going in and out of your messy pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit--the position with your leg hiked up causes your pussy lips to spread further apart, which then exposes your swollen clit completely.

"I-I... ohmygod," your words are slurred as you try to speak coherently. Frankie lets out a pleasure hum in your direction, his hips now moving a tad bit faster. Your ass cheeks jiggle from his pelvis smacking against them. The hand on your hip smacks down onto the meat, his thick fingers gripping and grabbing eagerly. "Jus' like that!!"

"Yeah?" he grunts and leans over your slouched body, his lips pressed into the shell of your ear and his hot breath spewing across. "Daddy's hitting it good, isn't he? You take this dick so good, baby. Tell me you love it." He hikes your leg higher until your knee is practically inside the sink bowl. "Tell me how much you love this fuckin' dick." It's like a dam break as he growls the last sentence in your ear and nips your earlobe, being mindful of your dangly pearl earrings.

"Yesyesyes, I-I love it s-so much!!" You whined breathlessly, trying your hardest to tell him clearly just how much your love his cock and how good he's fucking you. As he repositions his stance and widens his legs, he starts to fuck you so hard and so deep that you lose your train of thought. Matter of fact, all thoughts are non-existent, and your brain is just a puddle of mush.

Frankie's breathing stutters when your pussy flutters around his cock. He hunches over and bites down on your shoulder before turning his head to bury his nose right below your ear. His hand around the back of your neck presses you further down as he plows faster into your body. The wet sounds of your dripping cunt, literally leaking all over him, are the only sounds filling the bathroom, aside from his heavy breathing and your squeaks.

"You take it so good, baby," he grunts like an animal, teeth bared, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stands up to his full height and yanks your hips a few inches away from the sink, only hiking your leg higher on the counter, your knee nearly pressed into your chest.

"Fuck!" You managed to choke out, no longer able to swallow down your moans as the pressure in your gut tightens more and more. Eyes crossing and toes curling, your free hand--the one not trapped between your head and the wall--reaches out to hold onto the sink faucet. Frankie's cock is hitting you so good, his tip repeatedly punching that one spot that makes you go fucking crazy. "Kee-p go-ing... aaahhh!!... fuuuuuuck!" Your moans have now turned into groaning wails as your husband fucks you faster, harder, deeper, no longer holding back his brute strength.

"I know, baby, I know," Frankie huffs out a laugh that blends into a drawn-out moan. Both hands are now gripping onto your shoulders to pull you back in time with his forceful thrusts. The sopping sounds of his balls slapping against your clit, splattering wetness all over your inner thighs and his, makes his head fall back and his eyes clench shut.

Then, the countdown starts.

From all the way down to the first floor, you can faintly hear the crowd of people yelling out the numbers 45, 44, 43, 42...

Your bleary eyes open and you let out a choked sob when Frankie looks back at you through the mirror. He grinds his cock slow and deep to make your eyes roll right back into your skull. With one hand, he fists a chunk of your hair and towers over your slouched body, resuming the brutal pace he previously set. He tips your head up and uses the hand gripping your hair to shake you back and forth.

"Look at me," he orders, finally using his other hand to reach down and slide beneath your stomach to rub his middle and ring fingers around your clit in tight circles. "You better cum when they get to 1."

Half-lidded eyes meet his own through the mirror. Frankie's neatly styled hair was now a curly mess and falling across his forehead. His kiss-swollen lips were parted and he looks like he's about to fall apart any second.

The crowd chants 33, 32, 31, 30...

"All right, baby, c'mon," he rasps in your ear, grinning in drunken pleasure when your eyebrows tilt upward and you start letting out stuttered gasps. The rhythmic flutter of your pussy starts increasing when he rubs your needy clit up and down rather than in a circular motion. "Almost there..."

25, 24, 23, 22...

Frankie stands up straight for the last time and finally plows in and out of your soaking cunt, completely ravishing you and taking what you have no other choice but to give him in your pleasure-drunk state. The coiling gets tighter, damn near unbearable. It starts in the pit of your stomach and travels in opposite directions, going all the way to your inner thighs and to the tips of your toes and traveling up to the hardened nubs of your nipples.

18, 17, 16, 15...

"Give it to me, honey," Frankie is starting to lose control, his pace sloppy and his cock throbbing relentlessly as his heavy balls start to tighten. "You can do it, baby. Oooohh shit!! C'mon now. Do it for--fuucckk--me."

The hand at the back of your neck travels down your sweaty spine and clamps down on your hip to fuck into you. He smacks your ass and grunts heavily at the jiggle. He smacks your ass again, forcing a breathy wail from your bitten lips. He looks into the mirror and sees the expression on your face that tells him you're right on the edge. Your face is prettily scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a perfect O. Your hand desperately clings onto his wrist at your hip as you get onto your tiptoes. Your thighs begin to shake on their own and your vision becomes blurry.

9, 8, 7, 6...

"Ohmygod... ohmygod... ri-ight there!! Frankieee!!" Tongue feeling so thick in your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip and fall completely flat with your chest firmly pressed onto the counter. Your hand smacks onto the mirror, sweaty fingerprints smudging the clean glass. "Ahh!! Aaahhh!!"

3, 2, 1...

"FUUUUUCK!!" You and Frankie simultaneously shouted at the top of your lungs as you came at the same time. Your swollen, ribbed walls contracted around his cock, sucking his cum straight from the tip and having him shoot it so deep in your cervix. The power of your orgasm has you spasming uncontrollably, your hand sliding down the mirror and frantically grabbing onto the faucet again. Wetness leaks down your inner thighs, no doubt being a mixture of yours and Frankie's combined cum. You can still feel his cock throbbing as his cock weakly shoots out the last bit of his seed.

There are a few seconds of silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. Your hair is a disheveled mess and covers the side of your face as you rest your head on the counter, still trying to keep your tremors under control. Your body is sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. Frankie's still clothed body is hunched over your back, his warmth burning through his clothes and layering onto your exposed skin. It was comforting, his natural heat and the weight of his body.

He stays inside of you, allowing himself to get soft as he finds comfort in the wetness and warmth of your pussy. There are still small flutters from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Frankie lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your bare shoulder gently, trailing his kisses up your neck and finally laying one on your earlobe.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, gently brushing your hair aside. A weary smile graces your lips, and a soft giggle escapes you. Below, the party picks up again, ringing in the new year with jubilation.

With a slight turn of your head, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, followed by a light peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy New Year, Francisco," you whisper. Your gazes lock for a moment before he leans in for another gentle, lingering kiss.

A knock at the door breaks you two apart before Benny's voice echos through the wood, "When you two are done fucking in the guest bathroom, come downstairs and have some cake."

[sturnioz]

Wait guys.. I had to put it here cause I have no one else to share this with but IMAGINE shy!reader getting a drink from her friend and doesn’t know its drugged so she gets insanely down bad for fratboy!chris and he knows better than to take advantage of her so he takes her to his room to sober her up with water and puts her to sleep and as he’s about to go back to the party she grabs his wrist and mumbles an ‘i love you, be safe’ and he’s all confused.

kinda changed this req up a little to fit their story, hope you dont mind <3

you hardly ever drink at frat parties — maybe just one here and there — but you prefer to keep it minimal, all thanks to chris who likes to ruin your fun (actually, you prefer not to drink, but sometimes you like blaming him just to see the look on his face when you do). but tonight, however, you decide to let yourself loose and have a few with your friend, and now a strange feeling envelops you.

a warm, fuzzy sensation spreads through your limbs, but it's quickly overshadowed by rising nausea and spinning dizziness. you stumble through the busy frat house, packed with rowdy students and faces you barely recognise. your friend reaches out to steady you, her voice laced with concern, but a strangled noise escapes your throat as you weakly push her away.

you legs feel like jelly, unsteady beneath you, as you navigate through the crowd, ignoring her drunken pleas to stay close. with each unbalanced step you take, the world around you blurs, and the energy of the frat house feels unbelievably overwhelming.

it all comes crashing down when you catch sight of chris in the kitchen, his confident grin lighting up the room as he hands something discreetly to some student, giving them a sly wink as he takes their money. a knot tightens in your stomach, and you wobble in his direction, your vision blurring and head spinning as the tears of frustration well in your eyes, a mix of confusion of not knowing what's going on and the overwhelming feelings.

chris double takes when he notice you — hearing you crash into someone accidentally, the sharp words of an annoyed stranger cutting through the noise as you babble your apologies, your slurred speech punctuated by a hiccup. without a second thought for the person he was dealing to, chris swoops in front of you, his hands gripping your cheeks, forcing you to meet his intense stare.

"fuck did you do? huh?" he immediately asks, his voice low and fierce, jaw clenched tightly. his eyebrows knit together as he studies your face, taking in the way your pupils are dilated, and a scoff escapes his lips. "you... y'took somethin', kid? you fuckin' serious?"

"n-noo, didn't," you slur your words, shaking your head quickly, the motion making the room spin even more as the rest of your words come out in a jumbled rush. "didn't.. i swear — prommm'se. dunno w'as happenin'."

"you.. you didn't take anythin'?" chris asks in disbelief, blinking at you as you nod your head again, letting out a gargled whine, your hands reaching out to grip his arms as your balance wavers.

instinctively, he shifts his hands from your cheeks to your waist, steadying yourself against him, and you can feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of your clothes, offering the slightest of comforts.

he prods his cheek with his tongue, clearly trying to process the situation as his brow furrows deeper, "right, right.. so uh, how are you fuckin' drugged, kid?"

"didnt take anythin'!!" you slur out again, the panic rising in your chest. tears brim in your eyes as strange sensations rush through your body, a disorientating mix of hot and cold. you hate how your brain feels all out of whack. "all — all i 'ad was a drink, and—"

"a drink?" chris cuts you off sharply. "who gave you the drink?"

"m'friend got it from another guy.." you blink repeatedly, trying to clear the blurriness that clouds your vision. "don' feeeel good, chris."

an almost frightening smile stretches across chris' lips as the realisation of what's happening hits him. anger simmers just beneath the surface, and he nods slowly, his eyes scanning the party like a predator with its prey.

his nostrils flare as he takes in the chaotic scene, his jaw locked. with a sharp sniff, he scrunches up his nose, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator before wrapping his arm around your waist, guiding your sluggish body out of the kitchen and up the staircase to his room.

he carefully sits you down on the edge of the bed, and without a word, he unscrews the cap off the water bottle, bringing it to your lips. you sip slowly, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat, each swallow a small relief against the nausea.

"gonna... gonna need you to drink this f'me, yeah? all of it — make y'feel better, kid. promise."

"where.. you going?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly as you frown, water droplets trickling own your chin. your hands curl around his wrist, gripping tightly in fear that he would disappear.

"m'gonna go find out who's been fuckin' with the drinks, kid. gonna... gonna teach 'em not to.. to fuck around, y'know?" chris tells you, a slight scary edge to his tone that makes your frown deepen. "doin' this to keep you safe, bun."

"safe?" you murmur softly, and chris nods his head firmly. "'kay... safe." you reluctantly release his wrist, sinking down deeper into the plush pillows, hoping the comforting softness will help calm the raging storm in your head. "m'love yo.. b'safe."

"what?" chris blinks, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief as he stares down at you. he pulls a face, unsure if he's heard you correctly, and shakes his head with a loud, incredulous scoff.

his heart thrums uncomfortably in his chest, and he bites down hard on his cheek as he hesitantly tugs the blanket up to your shoulders, making sure you're warm and comfortable before he scratches his slightly stubbled jaw, lips pursed deep in thought as he steps backwards, giving you one last look over before leaving the bedroom, ensuring that the door is shut, searching for his frat brothers — searching for matt.