#And it's starting to fuck my handwriting sometimes

[teaboot]

Did you know. That you can just. Buy arthritic compression gloves. For joint pain

My hands feel so fucking nice right now

[godhasforsnakenme]

let it be known that I completed my journal today, like I wrote on the last available page for it

holy shit

[solarmorrigan]

“Hey.”

Eddie looks up from the inventory sheet he’s bent over (the new shipment of records isn’t going to record itself – Christ, that was awful, Henderson is contagious) to see his coworker Kyle poking his head into the back room.

“Someone left something for you at the counter.”

“Who?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed.

Most everyone in town seems to have let the murder accusations drop (embarrassed enough by their own fanatical reactions that they’d much rather forget the whole thing), but a few people still treat him like a felon walking free; it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Uh, real normie-looking guy. Gives you a ride sometimes.”

Eddie blinks. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kyle shrugs. “Says you left it in his car.”

Whatever Eddie is expecting to see when he follows Kyle back out to the front counter of the music shop, a brown bag lunch isn’t it. He most certainly hadn’t left that in Steve’s car this morning.

Steve hadn’t even given him a ride that morning.

But it’s got his name on it, sure enough, in Steve’s weirdly neat handwriting. The asshole even drew a little heart next to it.

Eddie can already feel a smile pulling across his face as he snatches up the bag. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten his lunch in Steve’s car, but he certainly hadn’t brought one in with him. He’d been planning to hit up the McDonald’s down the street if he got desperate, but whatever Steve’s brought him is bound to be better.

“Your girlfriend pack that for you?” Kyle asks.

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh, for a minute not quite sure how to answer.

Gender assumptions aside, Eddie doesn’t know what to call this thing with Steve – this thing where they’d started screwing and then they’d started falling asleep together without screwing and then they’d started spending all their free time together and now Steve does things like pack Eddie lunch and bring it to him at work.

“Sorta,” he finally settles on.

“Dude, if she’s making you lunch and writing little hearts next to your name, she’s more than ‘sorta’ your girlfriend,” Kyle says.

“Yeah… Maybe,” Eddie allows, because – well, because maybe.

“Pretty nice of your friend to drive it over, though,” Kyle says. “Pretty sure at least half of my friends would’ve just eaten it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, warm and a little smug, “Steve’s a good dude.”

He digs into the lunch sack and finds an apple sitting on top (of course), a baggie of Keebler fudge cookies (score), and a Tupperware container filled with–

“Oh, fuck yes!” Eddie hugs the precious little tub full of macaroni and cheese to his chest like he’s doing his best Gollum impression. There is nothing in the world better than Steve’s mac and cheese.

It��s still warm.

“I’m taking my break!” Eddie declares, skittering off to the back room before Kyle can argue.

He sits himself down in the employee break area (a crappy folding table, two mismatched chairs, and a microwave so old he’s probably getting radiation poisoning just by sitting next to it) and digs in to the cheesy goodness that is Steve’s cooking.

He’ll eat the apple after, he reasons.

(No he won’t.)

As he eats, his eyes drift back to the crumpled brown bag, to the little heart drawn in bleeding black sharpie, and he thinks.

-

Steve’s house smells like chicken and herbs when Eddie lets himself in early in the evening, and oh, Steve must be in a good mood today.

Eddie feels spoiled.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, wrist-deep in sudsy water as he sways back and forth absently to the tune of the rock station coming from the radio on the windowsill. The room is warm, and something delicious-smelling in a covered pan is simmering on the stove, and the space behind Steve is invitingly empty, just waiting for Eddie to sidle up into it.

Eddie feels so, so spoiled.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, but Eddie isn’t really surprised anymore; it seems like Steve can always tell when someone is there.

He does glance over his shoulder, though, just long enough for Eddie to see the smile on his face before he turns back to the dishes. “Hi.”

Eddie’s pretty sure the smile on his own face is softer and infinitely more besotted. “Hi.”

“Good day at work?” Steve asks.

Eddie hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s shoulder. “You brought me lunch.”

“I’m glad Kyle actually gave it to you,” Steve says. “Wasn’t sure someone else wouldn’t eat it.”

“I got it,” Eddie says, as if there was any doubt with the way he’s still smiling in between trailing little kisses up Steve’s neck.

Steve shuts the water off and dries his hands on the towel hanging off the cupboard door before turning in Eddie’s arms to give him a proper kiss. “It was good?”

Eddie hums again. “You brought me lunch.”

“We’ve established that, yeah,” Steve laughs, allowing Eddie another kiss as he grins.

“You made me lunch,” Eddie says, pecking another kiss to Steve’s lips, still smiling like an idiot. “And you drove it up to the store for me.”

Steve shrugs, a little coy. “It’s my day off. I had time to kill.”

“Kyle says that makes you more than sorta my girlfriend,” Eddie replies, as if that will make any sense at all to Steve.

Whether it makes sense or not, it does make him laugh, and Eddie peppers kisses all over his face while he does.

“So it was good?” Steve asks again, when he’s caught his breath.

“You made me lunch and then you drove it over to me,” Eddie stresses. “It could’ve tasted like ass, and it still would’ve been the best thing ever.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but is more than obliging to the deep kiss Eddie pulls him into after that.

“But just so we’re clear,” Steve says when they break apart, “it didn’t taste like ass, right?”

“Oh my god, no,” Eddie finally relents. “It was literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m going to marry you so you can make that mac and cheese for me every day.”

“Every day, huh?” There’s a funny little smile climbing back over Steve’s face. “You sure you won’t get sick of it?”

“Nah,” Eddie replies confidently. “Never.”

They’re both smiling a little too much now to really kiss, but they make a good go of it anyway.

[Prompt: Smiling between kisses]

[nottswitch]

doll.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warning: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

my masterlist

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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[cherryobx]

Today

a/n: part 2 of this fic, can be read on its own!

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the morning after getting drunk and trying to kiss your best friend the previous night

warnings: language, one sexual innuendo i think, mentions of getting drunk, being hangover and nausea (but no detailed descriptions)

wc: 1.5k

The sun shines directly into your eyes through the windows of your bedroom and forces you awake. It’s almost painful. You get up to pull down the blinds to make the room dark and being in there bearable. 

You fall back into bed and bury your face in the numerous pillows propped up against the headboard, regretting drinking last night. The headache and nausea are bad but you’ve definitely experienced worse. You’ll live.

You reach for your phone which you usually place on the nightstand for the night, but it isn’t there. Lifting your head from the pillows you squint in confusion. There’s a water bottle, an Advil pill and a piece of paper there instead.

Sitting up, you grab the note first. Rafe’s neat handwriting fills the sticky note.

Had to go home for a sec. I’ll come by later. Make that hangover your bitch. - R

Right, he stayed the night. You smile at that and place it back down on the nightstand before popping the Advil into your mouth and downing almost the entire bottle of water in one go.

Memories from the previous night slowly start flooding in. Best friend’s birthday party. Too much alcohol. Hot tub. Phone ruined by said hot tub. Rafe taking you home. Begging Rafe to kiss you.

Oh my God. You asked your best friend to kiss you while drunk. That is so embarrassing. Even though it’s exactly what you’ve wanted for a while now. You weren’t planning on spilling your feelings to him while drunk like this. How can you look him in the eye when he comes by later knowing that you tried to pursue him romantically last night?

The hangover is now battling with your nerves and it’s not a very good combination. In an attempt to feel like a human again, you get up from bed, brush your teeth, fix your hair as much as possible and remove the makeup from last night and finally change into something other than your pyjamas.

Even those little mundane tasks are a bit difficult as your head spun and pounded simultaneously. You lay back in your bed to catch your breath but drift off instead.

Rafe keeps his word and comes over sometime in the afternoon, after a trip to the nearest technology store and buying you a new phone just like he had promised.

“Hey.” You feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently to wake you up from your slumber.

“Oh, hey.” You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of your bed and it’s giving you flashbacks from last night when you two were sitting just like this. But this time the air is different. There’s something unspoken between you two.

He gives you a once over before shoving a small box into your hands. Your eyes fall to your hands in your lap and see a brand new phone in them. It’s the newer model of your previous one and you know for a fact it’s expensive.

“You didn’t.” Disbelief and shock are evident in your tone of voice. 

“I told you I would.” He seems almost proud of himself.

You scoff. “Asshole. I can’t accept this. Take it back.” You attempt to give it back to him but he pulls his hands away and holds them in the air, refusing to take it.

“No. It’s yours.”

“I don’t want it,” you rebut but it’s no use. He refuses to take it back.

“You need it.”

“I could’ve bought one with my own money. I don’t want you spending so much on me. It’s insane, Rafe.”

“I don’t mind spending a little on you once in a while.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like this huge amount of money means nothing to him.

“A little? For fuck’s sake, Rafe, this is a thousand dollar phone! That is way too much.” Your voice is high pitched and desperate. You really can’t accept this. It’s too much. You feel bad for him spending such a sum on you.

“Is it? Don’t really care.”

“Oh my fucking God, you’re impossible!” 

He chuckles. “You love me.”

“I’m about to whoop your fucking ass.”

“Kinky.” He smirks and lays down on his side, body propped up by his forearm and elbow.

You stare at the phone between your hands and then him. You know he won’t budge. Once Rafe has set his mind to something it’s impossible to change it. You also know he won’t take the phone back out of spite. If you don’t want something it’’s exactly what he’ll give you.

“Thank you,” you say, finally giving up. It’s impossible to convince him to take it back.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Your heart tightens at the nickname he uses. It’s not abnormal for him to use nicknames like this for you, but today it feels immensely different.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he asks with a slightly worried tone.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve been too nauseous all morning.”

At that he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his shorts, taps a few buttons and then hands it to you. “Order something then.”

You look at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“Food, sweetheart. Order something. You need to eat,” he insists.

Your first thought is that it’s such a sweet gesture which shows your best friend really cares about you. The second one is that he’s about to spend even more money on you. And that you don’t like.

“Rafe.” 

He knows what this is about but refuses to let you argue in any way. “Shut up and get what you want.” 

You zip your lips and scroll on the app on his phone, looking through the options the restaurants offer and choosing what looks and feels the most appetising at the moment. You decide on just fries and chicken nuggets. Your usual hangover food pick. They somehow taste even better than they normally do when you’re battling a killer headache.

“Classic,” he chuckles as you hand him his phone back and he takes a look at what you chose.

He picks something for himself too and then presses the order button and pays for both of your food.

As you wait for the food to arrive, he offers to help you set up your new, extremely expensive, phone. He scoots next to you on the bed, both of you now sitting beside each other, backs against the headboard and your sides together, touching each other. Your skin tingles where it touches his and the feeling is almost addictive.

He taps away on the screen, focused on getting all your data over to this new phone but you just look at him, taking him in. He’s so into the task in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your soft eyes on him. How you look at him with adoration in your eyes and a tightness in your chest.

The familiar urge to kiss him from last night resurfaces. Didn’t he mention he wanted this too? You’re not sure. What if you remember incorrectly? What if your memory is lying to you or making his promises from last night up?

But the need is so strong and your mind is just telling you to go for it. Is this a bad idea? Too late.

Your hand reaches out before you stop yourself, before you can think twice about your actions. You must be still drunk from last night because where is this sudden courage coming from?

You place your hand on his chin and gently turn his head to face you. His face is full of curiosity and confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you say, apologising in advance for your actions because you don’t know what the aftermath of this will be. Leaning in, you place your lips on his which takes Rafe by surprise.

He’s taken aback for a second and pulls away to look at you. He’s searching your eyes for any hesitation or regret. When he doesn’t find a shred of them there, he drops your new phone from his hands, disregarding it somewhere in the sheets and grabbing your face with both of his hands and reuniting your lips once again, kissing you desperately. Like he needs it to breathe. Like he’s hungry and has been starving for months.

It’s feverish. You’re both satisfying a craving you’ve been trying to ignore for so long and all of those feelings are unleashed into that kiss. 

“Don’t ever fucking apologize for that again,” he says when you break apart to catch your breath. His forehead is resting against yours and it’s so intimate on so many levels you feel lightheaded.

You open your mouth, wholeheartedly intending to apologise again but he stops you in your tracks. A ‘shut up’ leaves his mouth before it’s on yours again, shutting you up very effectively. 

“Ass,” you mumble in between kisses.

“You kiss me with that mouth?” He fakes shock at your words.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and use his tactic to shut him up instead.

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Study Buddy pt1

Stepdad!Anakin x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: dubcon, dd/lg, PiV, unprotected sex, gen. smut, baby trapping, edging kinda?, manipulation, possessiveness, age-gap, stepcest, inappropriate relationship, praise kink, breeding kink, innocence/purity kink

Info: stepdad Anakin just adores his stepdaughter! It’s not his fault that she’s so fucking fine. Anakin is a perv but it’s okay cause he loves you, Anakin just wants the best for you! And the best for you is him, obviously. spoiled little naive brat reader but Anakin prefers you that way. Reader acts more innocent/naive than they really are. Reader is over 18

🕊 Dead dove do not eat 🕊

The one where you just need alittle extra incentive.

You sighed, taking your calculus homework into the living room. Handing Anakin the Pepsi he requested and sat down in the floor. Leaning back against the couch and setting the notebook down on the coffee table so you could get back to work.

"Good girl." He praised, his fingers brushing against your cheek from behind you. He took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"What are you working on?" His eyes trailed downwards, lingering on your body for a moment, taking the opportunity to stare at the dimples in the small of your back. He was relaxed, shirtless and in his favorite pj pants with his socked feet kicked up on the coffee table next to you.

“Calculus homework.” You grumbled. “my brain is basically fried. This shit is driving me nuts.”

You pushed the notebook away in frustration and twirled the pencil between your fingers.

“Hey. Language.” He said gruffly. “Chill out, do you want help? I’m pretty alright at math.”

“Actually, yeah that would be great.” You nodded, grumbling in frustration.

Sometimes all you needed to understand something is to see it from a different angle, maybe Anakin, your step-dad could help with that.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled softly to himself before putting out his cigarette.

Standing up to stretch his arms above his head. The dark hairs leading to the waist of his pants exposed as his shirt rode up his abdomen. He knelt down so his face was level with yours. Reaching out, he took the notebook from you and scanned the pages.

"Hmm... huh... well, let's start here," he said, pointing to a problem written in your neat handwriting. Grunting as he sat down next to you, his arms resting on his knees.

After solving the equation he helped with the next question, and you were finally starting to get the hang of it. He gave you a kiss on the cheek as a reward, a soft one that made you smile, one that said ‘I’m so proud of you!’. For the next one you got right it was an unexpected but smooth kiss to your lips.

“Daddy.” You whispered in shock at his real kiss. “We’re not supposed to do that!”

Anakin’s gaze softened as he pulled you into a comforting hug.

“Aw sweet girl, I’m sorry. I should’ve explained myself first.” He sighed.

“This is real hard work isn’t it?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah it is.” You nodded.

He laughed a little. “And what do I always say when you do hard work?”

“You always tell me hard work deserves big rewards.” You grinned, thinking of all the times he’d taken you out to your favorite restaurant, to see a new movie, to buy you new things.

But your favorite rewards and treats were the ones he got you on his way home from work. Sometimes when he felt like you needed a little pick-me up, he’d stop at the store and get you a box of candy or one of those tiny little cutesy squishmallows that come in the surprise eggs.

He smiled, giving you a light squeeze just above the knee. “Exactly!”

“I’ve found a much better way to reward you my sweet girl.” He spoke in a cheerful tone in an attempt to make you smile and it was working effortlessly. “Somethin’ real special that I think you will love.”

“And it’s kisses?” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“Sometimes kisses, sometimes not.” He said, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Well what’s the sometimes not?” You asked excitedly, what could possibly be better than kisses?

“Oh come on now.” He teased. “Treats and rewards are always better as surprises aren’t they?”

“Yeah you’re right.” You giggled.

“That's better," he cooed, satisfied by your reaction.

“Now come here, let's continue our 'lesson.'" With a gentle tug, he pulled you into the empty space between his legs, scooting your back toward him enough that he could easily rest his chin on your shoulder to watch you work.

He placed the notebook back on the coffee table and leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your neck as he spoke.

“So, how about we start with some stuff you already know? Something simple to ease us back into things?" He traced slow circles on your exposed lower back with his thumb, his fingers pressing gently into the flesh of your stomach as his massive hand rested on your side.

"O-okay..." You stuttered, unable to ignore the sudden warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Alright.” He nodded, flipping through the text book until he reached the previous chapter you had been working on in class. He wrote out some equations for you to solve and quickly worked them out himself on his phone calculator before typing the answers in his notes app and telling you to get started.

Each step in the equation that you did correctly Anakin would press a tiny little barely there kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re doing real good doll-face.” He praised you quietly with his cheek pressed against yours and couldn’t help but smile when you felt him do the same.

“Just keep working hard and I’ll help when you need me to. But right now, try to work them out yourself and I’ll keep giving you sweet little reward kisses!” He said happily.

“Okay Daddy.” You smiled, leaning back against his chest and setting out to work on the next question.

He chuckled softly, pleased with your progress and willingness to please. As you finished each equation, he would whisper sweet words of encouragement followed by little kisses along your neck and shoulders. He even nibbled your earlobe a few times, which you quickly discovered had that strange butterfly effect in your tummy as well.

"Good girl, good girl," he murmured approvingly as your confidence in your work grew. "You're doing great, keep it up."

“Alright, now I’m gonna make you some new ones, they’re gonna be harder alright? Once we get these down, I’ll set up some more difficult ones and then you can try to ones you were assigned for homework. They’ll seem easy after you’ve worked so hard on these other ones!” Anakin explained as he began writing out new equations for you to solve.

He took great care in making sure to double check the answers to ensure he’d be able to properly tutor you.

After getting the first more advanced one finished correctly, Anakin started his plan to give you a new reward.

“Look at you princess, you’re doing so well!” His voice flowing soothingly as he switched from sweet chaste kisses to nibbling and sucking on your neck.

You gasped, in a state of awe at the way he could turn those chaste kisses into something warm and wet and lingering. Those silky soft lips momentarily destroying your ability to think freely.

While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to sweeten the pot. One of his calloused hands defied any pre-conceived notions that one might associate with such an attribute. One might expect a man with hands like Anakin’s; large rough palms, long fingers, overall strong and veiny, to be brutish or rough.

Though it seemed he was naturally the direct opposite. One of those big strong hands slid from it’s resting place to slip beneath the hem of your shirt. Splaying those long fingers across the expanse of your lower abdomen, pressing gently, just enough to properly feel each breath you took from the rise and fall of your tummy.

After a moment of savoring this intimacy Anakin brought that same hand up over the fabric of your shirt once more. A slow ascent to cup your breast, remaining motionless despite the twitch of his finger that exposed his want for more than a simple touch.

After the next correct answer he finally allowed that eager twitch to bloom into small deliberate circles around your nipple. Sparingly brushing his thumb over the hardened nub in order to properly appreciate and enjoy the helpless whimper that escaped your lips each time.

“Next question?” You asked quietly, Anakin only mumbling a ‘yes’ against your skin as he kept up his slow sensual neck and shoulder kisses paired with both of his now hands softly massaging your breasts and nipples. The added squeeze of his palm was almost soothing. As though he aimed to tame the warming embers of desire that lay dormant beneath your skin.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

"Now, let's try this one." He observed attentively while you struggled to focus on the task at hand.

He chuckled at the way you squirmed every so often and relented, now guiding you through each step while his hands continued their teasing exploration of your body.

"Almost there, I believe in you sweetheart." Somehow his words felt like the rays of afternoon summer sun that shone through the curtains. You imagined that this must be the equivalent to how your cat feels when he bathes in those rays.

“Well babydoll, this is how we’ll do your homework from now on! You’re doing so so good!” He praised you, reluctantly removing his hands from your breasts.

“You deserve alittle brain break okay?” He said, guiding your head to turn with one finger on your jaw.

Before you could speak Anakin slotted his lips against yours. His tongue swiping lightly across your bottom lip, a slight up turn of his mouth when you gasped. He gently, slowly probed your mouth with his tongue; savoring the unique flavor of you.

‘Raspberry tea and honey, yes, that’s it. That’s what she tastes like.’ He decided, locking that information away into the corner of his mind that was reserved for you. Though that corner was becoming much like the chair in the corner of your room that overflowed with clothes. A few more things stacked on top would topple the precarious pile, spilling all things you into every crack and crevice of his conscience.

Meanwhile you were currently short circuiting. The onslaught of completely foreign sensations he’d provided you with was beginning to quite literally fry your brain. You felt warm, mushy, like your brain was goo and your body was clay, ready and willing to be molded to Anakin in whatever new ways he saw fit.

He pulled back, a wide toothy grin taking over when he saw the glaze that had taken over your eyes. Those beautiful eyes, their rich color stolen away by the deep black of your pupil.

“See? You needed that huh?” He cooed, running his thumb down your jaw while we waited patiently for you to collect yourself enough to respond.

“Uh… uh huh.” You nodded slowly, your cheeks flushed and your throat feeling tight as stoked those ember-coals within you, now burning to form a red hot flame.

“Can I try something pretty girl?” He asked in that seductive whisper.

“Oh, ‘course daddy.” You breathed out, of course you’d let him. You’d let him do anything if it meant you could have more of this.

“Thank you baby.” He whispered as he gently rolled the hem of your shirt up, guiding it up and over your head.

You whimpered, the cool air hitting your burning hot flesh making a cold shiver travel up your spine. You swear you heard a little moan coming from Anakin when he finally caught a glimpse of your bare back, and you were positive you heard one when he reached around once more to massage your breasts and toy with your nipples; he was so incredibly grateful to be rid of that pesky fabric barrier, and even more grateful that you never wore a bra at home.

He squeezed and pulled your nipples gently rolling them between his fore finger and thumb. The feeling was good, warm, and tingly; somehow even better than before. Inwardly you wanted to smack him for not taking off your shirt sooner.

A low moan left your lips Anakin reacting with a light chuckle and a sloppy kiss to the under side of your jaw.

“That's it, you're doing great," He praised, his voice dripping with pride; pride at how well you were responding to him.

He was proud of the you he was slowly bringing to the surface. Teasing the little minx that hid behind your innocence, he knew it was waiting for him. Ready for him to capture and keep it, to train it to feed from his palm.

"Now, let's try this one." He suggested, showing you another equation.

Now his fingers trailed slowly down your stomach towards the top of your shorts. He paused just above them, to follow the curve of the elastic cotton waistband with featherlight fingertips.

"This one might be a bit trickier, but remember, I believe in you." He cooed.

“Okay daddy.” You nodded, breathing heavier. “If you think I can do it.”

“I do princess.” *He reassured you.

Anakin's touch became increasingly bold, his fingers making their way to your inner thighs. Leaving tingling sensation to form between your legs, you jolted for a moment, that single flame of desire growing, burning hotter and hotter.

“Lift up sweetheart.” He whispered.

“M’kay.” You squeaked, your voice feeling small.

He gently removed your shorts, a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest when you sat back down and his hand returned to its rightful place between your thighs.

His teasing touch, the torturously gentle tracing of the edges of your panties making your wetness seep through the thin material of your underwear. He continued to stimulate your nipples, and switched to the opposite side of your neck, while he changed tactics on your lower half. Two fingers pressing lightly against that dampened cotton, massaging slowly, making you squirm slightly in response.

“Oh no, is that uncomfy?” He asked gently, concern in his tone.

“Yes,” You whimpered. “all tingly.”

“It won’t be for long alright princess? Daddy’s right here to help.” He promised, his lips against your ear lobe.

“But-“ You started, wanting to complain. Wanting to ask for more; more of what? Good question and only Anakin had that answer.

He tsks, shaking his head slightly. “Finish this one up sweetheart.”

You whined in response and huffed at not getting your way. But followed instructions regardless because Anakin was always right, he was always here to help, always here to guide you, and always gave in to your wants eventually. He couldn’t stand to tell you no, he just couldn’t do it. It was like it physically pained him to see your bottom lip in a pout.

He signed and applied alittle more pressure to encourage you to get back to your work.

A few agonizing minutes later he confirmed your answer was correct, resulting in your excited and eager reaction. You turned slightly to look back at Anakin expectantly,

He grinned, rolling his eyes. He knew exactly what you were doing, you were waiting for him to deal the next card in your new game.

"Perfect job darlin’ you got it on the first try!” He praised, nuzzling into your hair to smell the warm vanilla scent of it.

He tapped your thigh and you instinctively lifted your legs up. He cooed, soothing words while slipping your panties off and lifting you into his lap. Your wet pussy pressed against the large bulge in his pants, those two fingers slipping past your pussy lips. He coated his digits in your slick, dragging them back and forth, up and down your slit.

“Is that right? Did I do that one? I feel like it’s n-not right.” You asked him for help, and when he confirmed it was correct he dipped the very tip of his middle finger in between your soaking wet folds.

“That's right, baby girl." His voice was low and husky, though alittle richer, perhaps it could be described better as darker.

"Now let's try this one together." With a slow motion, he inserted his middle finger into you fully. As you struggled with keeping your sanity, trying to hold a pencil, and trying not to cry from the overwhelming urge for more, Anakin was merely breathing heavily. Occasionally grunting as your cunt fluttered around his finger, his cock throbbing against you.

"How does that feel?" He asked, his tone dripping with satisfaction at watching you squirm and writhe under his touch.

“I- I like it daddy. It feels good.” You whined, feeling him add a second finger and stretching you a bit. It burned, but in a good way.

“That’s right baby.” Anakin nodded. “It’s supposed to feel good, and I’ll make it even better after we get alllll this silly homework done okay?”

Anakin said as you bucked lightly against his palm, chuckling when he heard a low moan escape your lips as he curled his fingers and pushed them in slowly, dragging them back out even slower. The snail’s pace was tolerable, a thousand times more satisfactory compared to his mean and teasing touches before, though they still continually added to that growing fire pit of yours.

“That's it, baby girl." He praised, adding another finger to stretch you even more.

“Daddy.” You hissed, sucking air through your teeth.

“I know darlin’ it’s okay.” He soothed. “Just sit real still.”

You sniffled, accidentally wiggling a bit too much. “S’hurting daddy.”

He began to thrust his three long digits slowly in and out of you, his hips rocking rhythmically in time with his hands movements.

“Shhh. My little princess." Anakin's voice was filled with sympathy, his fingers moving slower inside you. His thumb starting to rub circles on your sensitive nub. “Daddy’s here, just trust me.”

Your furrowed eyebrows slowly turned into an upward swoop, your anxious lip biting coming to a halt as your jaw dropped open in a silent moan.

“That’s better isn’t it doll?” Anakin asked, a low hum reverberating from him after you responded with a rapid head nod and an experimental roll of your hips.

“Much better.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, his fingers starting up that slow pace again. His thumb flicking back and forth across your puffy little clit.

“This calculus is real hard huh?” He said.

“Yeah it is.” You mumbled, meaning to sound angry, but it really just sounded like a plea.

“Gimme your hand babydoll.” He softly commands.

You let him take your hand and guide it behind you, helping you wrap your delicate fingers around the rock hard bulge in his pants.

“Daddy…” You moaned as your body responded to the feel of his cock in your hand.

“Do you know what a cock is? What it looks like? What it’s for?” He asked slowly and you giggled, nodding in response to his questions.

“Have you ever touched one?” You vehemently said no absolutely not.

“Well daddy is gonna pull out his cock, and help you settle down on it alright? We’ll go real slow and gentle; you tell me immediately if you want me to stop okay?” He explained while softly gliding his hand through your hair, while continuing his slow exploration of the warm, gummy walls of your cunt.

“Can I see?” You asked timidly.

“Of course doll. You can touch it too if you want.” He said softly, removing his fingers from your tight hole.

He took a minute to admire the creamy slick gathered on his digits before offering you one of his fingers.

“Do you wanna know what you taste like?” His voice dark and almost sinister.

You didn’t answer, just parted your lips and let the tip of your tongue hang out. He smirked and slipped his index finger past your lips and rubbed it on your tongue. Your nose scrunched up for a moment, the taste unfamiliar and strange, but it was easy to get used to.

He chuckled, removing it so that he could properly clean each finger with his lips and tongue. Sucking each digit thoroughly, moaning with his eyes fluttering closed at the first taste.

“So sweet.” He whispered.

“Hop up and turn around for me sweetheart.” He said, pinching your ass cheek playfully, just hard enough to make you yelp.

You did as requested and settled back on his thighs. His face was just as red as yours felt. His pupils dilated beyond belief, his bare chest had a thin sheen of sweat. His plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he finally got a good look at you.

He had wanted to wait. To wait until he couldn’t stand it any longer. The teasing was for him just as much as it was for you. The reward of such a long and torturous game was well and wholly worth it. To finally see you like this. Flushed and wanton, needy for his cock.

Those tits. God those fucking tits… he moaned cupping them in his hands again. They were beautiful when he could see them from behind you, looking down at them from over your shoulder. But up close and in his face? Stunning. Absolutely breathtakingly stunning.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, entranced temporarily before he snapped out of it and realized this was not one of his sick and twisted dreams.

Oh and how he had dreamed. Night after night, waking up and having to palm his cock roughly just to get enough relief to go back to sleep, only to wake up the next morning and spend half his time in the shower fucking his fist and desperately wishing it were your tight little cunt.

This was real. He had you, completely naked, drooling and sopping wet, putty in his hands.

“Daddy is gonna make you feel so so good after your homework is done.” He smiled, dreamy and spaced out.

“Pull out my cock baby.” He encouraged, taking your wrists in each hand and helping you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Anakin's cock sprang free from his pants, standing erect and proud before your wide eyes. It was thick and veiny, slightly curved upward towards his belly button.

“Ani…” You whimpered worried about what to do, how to properly do this, if you should do this. You wanted to, needed to. But should you?

“What’re you thinking doll?” Anakin asked, his hands on either side of you running his knuckles up and down your tummy soothingly.

“Am I gonna get in trouble?” You whispered.

“What?” He asked, in confusion. “Why would you get in trouble sweetheart?”

“Well, ‘cause of this…” You mumbled.

“Babydoll.” He cooed, his thumb and forefinger pinching your chin and tilting your head back so he could look directly in your eyes. “You won’t be in trouble. I’m your stepfather right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded.

“So that means I get to help make the rules around here doesn’t it?” He said soothingly, cupping your cheek.

“Yeah.” You nodded, a small smile beginning to form on your lips. You were beginning to see his reasoning and justification clearly.

“So it would be silly for you to get in trouble for something I said was okay wouldn’t it?” He smiled softly.

You giggled, nodding. Happy that he answered your question, amazed as always that he was so easily able to wash away your worries and concerns.

“There’s my little princess.” He cooed, rubbing his nose against yours. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes Ani.” You nodded with a smile, kneeling over his dick.

His large hand grabbing the base, holding his visibly throbbing cock steady as he slowly pushed the head against your tight entrance.

"Just relax, baby doll," He whispered in your ear, his other hand gripping your waist tightly to help guide you down his length. "Just breathe in and out slowly."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you put your arms around his neck and took comfort in the way he took control and made you feel safe even when you were so vulnerable in his arms. You were trusting him with a lot right now, the most intimate and sacred side of yourself.

“Anakin… oh gods.” You gasped in pain as he pushed in farther. He rolled his hips gently, popping your hymen, groaning when he felt that precious little thing snap.

“Shhh it’s okay, I won’t move anymore for now.” He held your hips firmly in place, allowing you to bury your face in his neck in an attempt to steady your breath as he did the same.

Your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock as he shifted, making you wince in dull pain and Anakin grunt in pleasure at the constricting tightness.

"That's a good girl," He praised, his voice hoarse as he forced himself to maintain control. "You're doing great, just relax."

His hands moved down from your hips to squeeze and support your ass cheeks. Leaning in for a kiss, letting out a questioning hum as he ever so slowly started lowering you again. You nodded, letting him know it was okay despite the prickly sensation of tears forming in your eyes.

You focused on his tongue, on his hands, on the racing of his heart beneath your palm.

"Let me know if you need me stop, okay?" He broke the kiss to lovingly ask. “I don’t want to hurt you sweetheart.”

“I will Ani.” You promised, nodded vigorously as he slowly, steadily impaled you on his cock.

“Jesus.” Anakin whined, breathy and strained as he finally bottomed out. Buried to the hilt, feeling comforted in know that you would soon adjust to his size, and he wouldn’t be hurting your poor little weeping pussy anymore.

He hated to see you in pain, and knowing he was the cause was really, really killing him. It was inevitable of course. You were gonna end up speared on his dick sooner or later, and while he was thrilled that it was sooner, he just wishes he could’ve found a way to make it alittle easier on you.

“Be real still, just relax, get used to the feeling doll.” He cooed, soothing hands running up and down your spine.

“Yes Ani.” You whined, thankful for the chance to adjust to feeling so… full.

"Now, let's finish these final problems together, okay?" He said, his voice huskier than usual as he picked up the paper with the remaining equations. “Get your mind off the hurt okay?”

You held the notebook and kept working on one of the equations while Anakin latched on to your nipples and bit down gently.

“Ah!” You yelped, wincing as his bite made you jolt, your cunt squeezing his cock. “Anakin!”

He chuckled kissing your neck and massaging your ass cheeks. “Sorry baby.”

"You know, you're doing really well," he said, his voice full of satisfaction. "I'm impressed with how quickly you've learned it all. This is definitely going to be the way I help you study from now on." Anakin smiled, kissing you softly.

“Almost done.” You whined, scribbling frantically on the page. Trying your best to sit still.

“Baby.” Anakin growled. “Stop wiggling unless you want me to start training you to hold this big fucking cock in your tight little cunt all damn day.”

“Sorry daddy! Didn’t mean too!” You sniffled. “just feels so full, I need to move.” You whimpered, biting your lip.

You were getting impatient with waiting and sick of this stupid math homework and really, really, really impatient for Anakin to help you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled, slowly lifting you a little before thrusting up in again.

You sat there, spread out wide on your step daddy’s massive cock. His callous fingers rubbing tight circles on your poor little clit as he fucked you so, so slowly to stop your wriggling and squirming.

“You’re a real good teacher Ani.” You moaned, finishing up the last equation and fighting the urge to moan and cum right then and there just from that tiny bit of relief. “All done.”

Anakin's eyes lit up at your words of praise, his cock twitching inside you in response.

"That's my good girl! So smart." He praised, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with more strength than before.

His hands gripped your ass firmly and lifted you up and down his cock until you got the hang of the movement. Slowly picking up the pace once you started a low string of moans that Anakin’s hungry mouth swallowed up in a kiss.

“Reach down and play with your clit while you bounce on my cock.” He ordered.

“yes daddy.” You squeaked in response, whining in relief as you started circling your neglected clit.

“That's it, baby girl." Anakin groaned, his hips moving faster as you found your rhythm.

"You're so fucking good at this.” He praised, his head falling back on the couch cushion.

As you got more confident in your movements he started to meet you halfway with his own thrusts, his cock hitting your G-spot relentlessly, you could feel your orgasm building up rapidly. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers of pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders that you gripped tightly for balance.

“I knew you’d be good,” He moaned. “your body is made for me, it’s perfect. So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Y-yeah daddy.” You whispered on the verge of orgasm. “M’feeling something.”

“Fuck. Th-that’s right doll, I told you I’d make you feel good didn’t I?” He moaned, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Anakin growled low in his throat, his grip on your asscheeks tightening almost painfully. He bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark as evidence of your sinful affair.

"You're about to cum. That’s what that feeling is darlin’ don’t fight it, just let go." He panted between erratic thrusts, his breath hot against your throat. “Once I make you cum it means you’re mine and mine only. Do you want that?”

“Yes daddy.” You agreed, slurring your words as your body tensed up. “I wanna be only yours.” You were practically drooling as you came violently around his cock, flooding his lap with your juices.

Anakin groaned loudly, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. The intensity of the fact that he’d given you your first orgasm, that he’d properly and officially earned your virginity, made him feral. His cock twitched and pulsed inside you, releasing wave after wave of hot seed into your tight channel.

“God damn,” he hissed out. “such a good girl, letting me fuck this pretty little pussy full of my cum.”

You whined at his praise, grinding down on his cock when you felt the strange but good sensation of stickiness coat your walls.

"Fuck, baby doll." He panted heavily, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rode out his own climax. "God you just made me cum s-so fuckin’ hard.”

He stilled his movements and yours to catch his breath, nuzzling your neck and holding you close as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. He pulled back after a moment, looking down at your disheveled state, he grinned widely, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“Did I do good?” You asked with a wobbly lip. Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, overstimulated to the point of tears. “did I make you happy and proud daddy?”

“Oh, you did more than just make me happy and proud, baby girl." Anakin's eyes glittered with something dark, something… a little scary as he gazed down at you.

“You’re gonna make me a fine little baby momma too.” He growled, his hand reaching out to trace gentle circles on your stomach. “Aren’t you?”

Part Two (final part)

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethirlwall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list.

[sicbaby]

Secret Admirer

dark!gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

based on this request

Contents: 18+ smut, obsession, mentions of blood, other bodily fluids :), ghostface calls y/n, cream pie, no protection used, lil bit of non con, lil bit of breeding kink, brief knife play, ethan is a perv

You were a freshman at Blackmore this year. You had moved from your small town and straight into New York City, desperately trying to get away from the people in your hometown. You loved it here, in New York. You were roommates with Mindy Meeks-Martin, quickly becoming close with her and her group of friends. You were thankful to have such a supportive group of people in your circle. You also felt safe knowing Chad and Ethan were right across the alley, their windows facing yours.

You even had a secret admirer. You didn’t know who it was, but their gifts were super sweet and made you blush. At first, you started receiving flowers, chocolates, and sometimes there would be a cute little note attached.

Mindy was suspicious, immediately. She would tell you to discard the gifts every single time you received one. You tried to convince her at first that it was totally harmless, but she wouldn’t buy it. You told her you would start throwing them away, but you were actually keeping them and hiding them under your bed instead. You secretly loved them.

One morning you were sitting in the kitchen, right before your morning classes that day. Mindy came in from retrieving the mail, and drops an envelope in front of you. She doesn’t say anything, but gives you a disappointed look. You open it up, and it reveals a CD. the handwriting on it was neat, and it read, “a playlist for you <3.” The handwriting was not familiar to you.

“Aww, this is so cute…” you mumbled, staring at the CD with awe.

“Cute?” Mindy asks. “That’s a whole CD. You know whoever sent that had to like, do manual labor to make that playlist? Old man vibes!” She jokes.

“It’s not an old man. I think this is really sweet, you know? They took the time to burn songs on a CD for me..”

Mindy just rolls her eyes at that. “Okay, well, now we gotta listen to it. What if it’s not even music? What if it’s… something bad…”

“Something bad? What do you mean?” you question her. She looks off to the side, suddenly growing nervous.

“Uhh, nothing… I don’t know. Just looking out for you. Is that a crime?” Mindy replies.

You roll your eyes this time, and get off of the stool you were sitting on and go to your CD player. You insert the disk and press play.

You and Mindy were sat on the floor of your bedroom, listening carefully. Then, a song starts playing through the room, and Mindy lets out a sigh of relief once she realizes it’s just music. However, you, on the other hand, were speechless. This was your favorite song. How could your secret admirer possibly have known that? You quickly start flipping through the different songs, a total of 12 on the disk. You were shocked, all of these songs were near and dear to your heart.

“What? What’s wrong?” Mindy asks, noticing your frozen state.

“Mindy… these songs.. these are my favorite songs!” You exclaim.

“Turn it off, y/n. We’re going to the police.” Mindy gets up, her hands in the air as of to say she was surrendering.

“The police?” You almost laugh. “Mindy, it’s ok, it’s just.. how did they know that?” A minute of silence goes between you two, and you start laughing.

“Y/n, this isn’t funny.” Mindy crosses her arms.

“Someone is fucking with me, right? This isn’t Chad, is it?” You laugh even more.

Mindy gags a bit. “Ew, god, I fucking hope not. I’d kill him and then myself.”

You laugh at Mindy, your worry slowly fading away, thinking this was just one of your friends messing with you. You were unsure about Mindy’s actions, however. Why did she want to go to the police so quickly? Did she know something that you didn’t? Whatever, you thought. It must be nothing.

At lunch, you were sat with everybody. Mindy, Chad, Anika, Tara, Quinn, and Ethan. You guys were at a picnic table, enjoying the free period you all had. You wanted to tell the group about the CD so bad, but decided to keep it in, afraid you’ll embarrass yourself, or the person who was sending the gifts. It had to be someone close, though.

Everyone was involved in conversation, besides you and Ethan. Being the quieter of the group, you guys liked to observe and listen to the rest of your friends. However, you felt Ethan’s eyes on you the whole time. His leg was bouncing up and down restlessly, like he was nervous or anxious about something.

“You okay?” you ask him as you place a hand on his leg, trying to stop his bouncing.

He stills completely, staring at you like a deer in headlights, before looking down at the hand on his leg. You quickly pull away, realizing how long you had your hand on his leg for. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“Uh- no! Don’t worry. I’m fine. Just got a test next class.” He laughs awkwardly, and you smile at how cute he is. You’ve always thought he was so cute, but you would never tell anyone, Mindy would never let you live it down.

Ethan, on the other hand, was hoping, wishing, praying, that you would talk about the CD. Talk about your secret admirer. Say out loud how you thought it was cute, how you loved it… He wanted your attention so badly, and it was clear he wasn’t getting it. Maybe Mindy was standing in the way. Maybe you thought you were too good for a secret admirer. He didn’t know. All he knew is that it was making him angry. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

That night, you were getting ready for bed in your apartment. You had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body as you were searching for your pajamas. Your window was open, but it was so hot in your apartment, despite the cold weather outside. You were searching through your underwear drawer when you notice your favorite pair were missing. Your mind goes to Mindy, but she wouldn’t do that. You must’ve misplaced them. You quickly decided to move on from that, and get dressed. You dropped your towel, now completely nude.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Ethan was secretly watching you from his own bedroom window. He watched as you walked back and forth in your room. He watched as you dropped your towel. He thought you were such a whore. Anyone could be looking in your bedroom window right now, and see you. Only he could see you like this. You were his. He grew angry, gritting his teeth, but nevertheless, moving his hand down to palm himself through his sweats. My god, you were so hot, so sexy, and soon, you’d be all his. Whether you liked that or not.

Ethan was still pretty disappointed that you hadn’t talked about your gifts today. He was sure you were getting a little suspicious, but he was going to win you in the end anyway. That was a sure fact. In the meantime, he was going to up the gifts. He wanted to give you something special that would show his appreciation for you. Something special... The idea clicked in his mind.

As he begin stroking his now fully hard cock, he kept his eyes on you. Thinking about when he’ll get to finally fuck you. Thinking about your small hand on his leg, and how he wished you placed it just a little higher. Imagining it was your hand jerking him off, and not his. His mind was running wild, and it didn’t take long before he finally released all over himself.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

The next morning, you received another gift, luckily you found it before Mindy. This time, it was outside of your apartment door, rather than being in the mailbox. You were nervous to open this one, but still excited. This one was in a small box.

You opened it to something wrapped in tissue paper, though there was no note. You quickly unwrapped the gift.

It was… your favorite pair of underwear? and two vials… one full of a white, liquidy substance? The other a dark crimson red.. You were confused, to say the least. Your brain wasn’t connecting the dots. You picked up your underwear, and then noticed the white substance was on it as well, making you quickly drop them and run to go wash your hands. You were mortified.

Upon further inspection, the vials were connected to their own chains. This fucker wants me to wear his cum and blood as a necklace? You thought. At this point, you were scared. You didn’t know what to do. Mindy was going to be pissed, she’d tell the whole group, go to the police. But there was a part of you that was… intrigued? Someone is doing all of this, for you? He sent his own bodily fluids, knowing you could easily take it to the police. You had to find out who it was…

Once you returned back home from your classes, Mindy still wasn’t home. You figured she was out with Anika. There was an envelope on the kitchen counter. Ok, weird. You thought. You were sure Mindy didn’t come home at all throughout the day, but you quickly brushed it off.

You took a deep breath before opening the envelope. It felt light, so thankfully there would be no more weird, bodily fluids involved this time.

You opened it to.. pictures? Pictures of you… pictures of you at school… in class.. outside on campus. Pictures of you walking home. You gasped, realizing your secret admirer has now turned into your stalker. You kept shuffling through the photos. They were pretty tame, pictures of you in public spaces, though a bit creepy. Then you reached the photos of you in your bedroom. Your eyes widen as you continue looking through them. There were pictures of you doing your makeup, brushing your hair, getting undressed… and then there was a picture of you naked, a picture of you masturbating. You didn’t understand. Who the hell would do this? How did they invade your privacy this badly without you noticing? Tears begin to fill your eyes. This cannot be happening. You have to tell someone, right?

Unless…

You didn’t know what was up with you, but you didn’t want anyone’s help. You wanted to figure it out yourself. You had your suspicious, but wanted to be one hundred percent before doing anything.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

You wore the blood vial necklace to school the next day. You figured the cum one would raise some eyebrows..

You were hyper alert the whole day, looking to see if anyone noticed your necklace. At lunch you sat at your usual picnic table, with all of your friends. Ethan and Chad arrived at the same time, and Ethan sat next to you. You were carefully eyeing everybody, seeing if anyone was acting weird. Nothing.

Little did you know, though, Ethan was hard as a rock, seeing you wear a necklace that was his blood. it took everything in him to not just rip your skirt off and fuck you right there on the table, in front of everyone. He couldn’t believe it. He was sure you would get scared, but here you were, boldly wearing it, like you were proud to be his. He didn’t say a word the whole time, holding his backpack on his lap to conceal his boner.

You were disappointed by the time you got home. You snapped the necklace off with force and threw it on the floor of your bedroom. You felt dirty, in a way. You were frustrated too. You had no other option but to wait. Or you could go to the police, but where’s the fun in that?

You were laying in bed when you got a phone call that same night. It was a ‘No Caller ID’ but you answered it anyway.

“Hello?” you asked, confusion laced in your voice.

“Hello, beautiful.” a deep, gritty, sultry voice answered you on the other end. “It’s me. I’ve missed you... So much.” He smiles, savoring each word. He could hear your breathing on the other end, and he imagined he could feel your soft, smooth face beneath his touch. Soon, he thought. Soon…

you were a bit taken aback by the voice, as it wasn’t familiar to you. It took you a few seconds to respond. “Who’s this?”

“Doesn’t matter, my darling. I just wanted to say... I’m glad I met you. You make everything better, you know that?” He smiles. “I wanna be yours.”

“I-I-… you’re my secret admirer…” you whisper as you get up off your bed, looking out the window.

“Ding ding ding!” He yells. “I knew there was something up in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Tell me who you are..” You say, a little angry this time, your voice quivering slightly.

“What does it matter to you?” He asks, a slight tinge of annoyance apparent in his voice. He smiles widely as he speaks. “You’ll know very soon, my love. Just... Give yourself to me. Don’t resist. You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. Do you understand? I will make you mine. Wear the other necklace tomorrow, princess. It suits you.” You could hear his smile through his voice.

“I’m not wearing that fucking necklace tomorrow. You’re disgusting, and- and you need to tell me who you are before I go to the police!” You threaten, pretending like you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“Oh… Y/n… sweet little dumb Y/n. You won’t tell anyone.” You could tell he was smiling.

“You don’t know me..” Tears start to fill your eyes.

“Oh, I know you better than anyone. You’re mine, Y/n Y/m/n.”

“What the fuck!” You yell while hanging up the phone harshly. You dropped your phone to the ground and slowly sunk down with it, sobbing.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

The next day, a murder. A murder in the city. Two college students killed by some freak in a “ghostface” mask. You knew it had to be your secret admirer, but you were too scared to tell anyone. You felt it was already too late.

Tara and Sam were forcing everyone to stay at their apartment tonight, finally explaining to you and Ethan the reason why. Finding out your best friends were involved with the murders last year in Woodsboro left you angry, upset, disturbed, and sick. You couldn’t be around them, despite their pleas for you to stay with them. You decided that you would be ok, since you had nothing to do with “ghostface” or any of the events prior. You would just go home, and go to sleep.

So, that’s exactly what you did. You had a night class this week, so it was dark on your way home. Your heart was beating in your chest, you knew this wasn’t a good idea. You just kept repeating to yourself that he wasn’t gonna get you, you have nothing to do with him! Whoever he was.

You sigh in relief once you reach your building. You’d finally have the house alone for tonight, something you most definitely needed in a time like this.

As you walked up the steps to your apartment, you felt like you wanted to cry. Your stomach churned with guilt, but your head was full of denial. You couldn’t wait to crash on the couch and finally let sleep overtake you.

Entering the apartment, it felt… eerie. It was silent, of course, but, too silent. Something was off, you could feel it. Maybe it’s just your anxiety. Who knows.

You slowly shut the door and set your things on the counter. You take a deep sigh and head to your room down the hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, Ethan was watching you, hiding behind a wall in the kitchen. He watched you enter, a large grin spreading across his cheeks. He smiled at you from behind the wall, his eyes sparkling. He waited until you locked the door behind you to step out of hiding; this was a new turn of events, a development that would ensure he finally got what he wanted after all. He took a deep breath, and started down the hall, behind you.

You heard heavy footsteps behind you just as you were about to enter your room. You quickly turned around to see a tall figure clad in a black robe and the ghostface mask. You let out a blood curdling scream, flinching at the sight of him, causing you to fall back onto the floor. You kept slipping on the hardwood, crawling backwards until he had backed you into a corner.

Ethan smiled wide as he took a step into the light. His eyes gleamed as his black robe came into view. “Good evening.” He says, as he took another step closer. “It’s nice to see you again, princess. And I think I’m going to quite enjoy this…” He says as he slowly takes off his mask, his brown curls bouncing from the movement.

“Ethan?” you gasp, snot and tears all over your face. You are almost at the point of hyperventilation, but upon seeing Ethan, you can get your breathing under control. “Ethan.. This isn’t- this isn’t funny!” you yell.

“…Are you sure about that?” Ethan’s tone is cold, and he looks to his side. In his hand, a knife glares softly in the lights. The look on his face, however, is one of pure delight. “I don’t know about you, baby, but I’m having a good time…” He laughs.

You didn’t find it funny, at all. Your suspicions were correct. Your secret admirer was the ghostface. You just didn’t expect it to be Ethan… it was all too much for you. Your lips tremble as you try to speak. “What are- What are you going to do to me?”

“We both know what I’m going to do.” He says calmly, his dark eyes locked on yours. His voice is sweet, and there’s nothing of concern in it. He takes another step forward, so he’s right in front of you. He crouches down to your level and reaches out a hand, touching your skin, his gloved fingers grazing your cheek.

Tears fall out of your eyes freely, you were frozen, you couldn’t move. “Please… please don’t hurt me, Ethan. I didn’t do anything… please..” you look up at him, your wet eyelashes batting up at him. the look on your face made ethan hot, his pants suddenly getting tighter.

“You did do something,” He says, the dark tone returning to his voice. “You resisted me. But you’ll make it better, won’t you, my darling?” He smiles again as his fingers trace down your cheek. “You’ll make it better, won’t you? You’ll give yourself to me, right?” His voice is tender and soft, full of false sympathy. He smiles, his eyes a little brighter in the light as his tongue traces over his bottom lip.

You cry even harder. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?!” You yell, full on sobbing now.

Ethan grins widely, a sadistic smirk growing on his face. He holds the knife to your throat, holding you down against the wall. He leans in close. “Why? Is that what you wanna know?” He laughs quietly. “The answer is simple: I love you, and no one can have you but me.” He smiles, the smile twisting into something twisted and evil.

“You don’t have to do this..” You whisper, his grip is tight, and you were trying so hard not to move against the knife on your throat.

“And yet, I want to.” He smiles. “Don’t you understand, my love? You are mine. You and no one else. You will only have me.” He laughs coldly. “You should be honored… Not all girls get to witness something like this…”

You scoff at his words, which was a huge mistake.

He drags the knife down and against your shoulder, creating a small knick, blood trickling down your arm. His expression darkens again as you yelp. “I’m doing you a favor. You’ll understand once it’s done,” he says. He laughs silently. “Now, are you going to cooperate, my love?”

You knew you didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill you if you said no. “Yes… okay..” You said weakly, giving up and giving yourself to him.

A sadistic grin spread across his lips. He looked... Proud of you? Or maybe it was just another manipulation tactic. “Good girl.” He says, gently running his fingers down the side of your face. He grabs you by the back of the neck, but his touch is gentle. Once you get up, he snakes his arm around your shoulder. You were so confused. He leads you to your bedroom door, opens it and pushes you hard into the room. He slams the door shut behind him, his dark eyes shining, suddenly becoming mean again.

You stumble into the room from his push, facing away from him. You decide to just stand there and not say a word.

Ethan smiles behind you, a low hum of approval coming from his lips. “We’re going to have a good time together, doll.” A sadistic and evil twinkle in his eyes.

You begin to cry again as Ethan comes up behind you. He can tell you’re crying and shushes you sweetly, swiping your hair to the side and exposing your neck. You can feel his breath on you as he moves closer to your ear. “Shhh, Shhh, baby. It’s okay, I’m gonna take good care of you, my little doll. You trust me, right?”

You flinch, but don’t resist. “Yeah… Yes! Yes, sir…” You say, wanting to be good for him.

Once you address him as sir, his animalistic traits almost take over. He lets out a loud groan and curses under his breath. “Fuck, baby.” He whispers, as he pushes his hard cock into your ass at your words. “You’re going to be the death of me..”

He reaches his right hand to your chin, turning your face to look at him. It’s an awkward angle, but you can see each other now. He stares at your tear stained cheeks, your puffy eyes. He couldn’t be any happier…

Your fear is riling him up, his breath hot and sweet on your cheek. Slowly, he leans in to kiss you… He kisses you for what feels like forever. His lips are soft and sweet. His breath is sweet. His body is cold and hard.

To his surprise, you kiss him back. “See what happens when you obey me…” Ethan says after pulling his lips away. He smiles down at you. “My little doll…” He caresses your left cheek before pulling another hard-to-break kiss from you. This time it feels long and even more passionate, as Ethan’s lips move to your neck. He begins to move his hand lower, and to your discomfort, or pleasure? His hand begins to move up your shirt.

His gloved hand caresses your nipple, and you let out a little moan. Your eyes widen immediately after this, hearing Ethan’s sadistic laughter behind you. You didn’t mean to do that out loud. You didn’t want Ethan to know that you were actually enjoying this. You just wanted to obey him so that he would let you go. So, why are you so turned on right now?

Ethan smiles down at you. He seems to be enjoying the control he has over you. “Don’t you like making me happy, my little doll?” He asks, continuing to kiss your neck.

“Y-yes, sir…”

He smiles and ruts into you again, making you flinch. “Good girl. You’re a good girl…” He says through gritted teeth. He caresses your face. “…Say it again.”

“Yes, sir!” You say, a little more confident this time. He doesn’t say anything this time, just pushes you again so that you fall onto your bed, on your belly. Your legs half off the bed, bent at the waist.

Ethan walks to you, roughly ripping off your jeans from your legs, taking your underwear with it. You yelp loudly at the roughness, and at the cold air hitting your cunt. Ethan stops pulling off your pants half way, and sees your glistening pussy. He laughs again, which makes your stomach drop.

“You’re such a whore, Y/n. Look at you, fucking dripping for me, and I’ve barely even touched you!” He stares at you, his hard dick feeling oh so painful now, knowing that you were enjoying this too. He reaches under his robe and into his own jeans, unzipping and unbuckling them. He wastes no time in grabbing his cock out, barely even pulling his pants down. He brings the robe up and over his cock, deciding to leave it on. He starts to stroke himself, cursing under his breath, his eyes never leaving your pussy. He loves how obedient you’re being now. He didn’t think it would be this easy. He has the love of his life, exposed to him, laying quietly like a good girl. Fuck, he loves you.

He leans over your body, pressing kisses to your back, and up your neck, until he reaches your ear. “Just know that you’re mine now, and no one can have you but me…” He groans, and pulls his lips slowly away from her. “We’ll have fun together… Won’t we…? My… Little… Doll…” He says as he slowly ruts into you between every word. You cry out every single time his cock rubs against your pussy. He loves your sounds.

“You’re going to do anything to make me happy… Aren’t you, Y/n?” A sadist’s smile is on his face, as he leans close to you once more, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re a beautiful girl. Beautiful… And now you’re mine. Only mine. And I know just how to make you happy…” He leans back as he ends his sentence, and shoves his big cock straight into your hole, absolutely wrecking you. You jump forward on the bed, screaming out, the side of your face rubbing up against your comforter.

He just laughs at your pain, and gives you no time to adjust to his length. He pulls out all the way, and thrusts into you, harder this time.

“Ethan, Ethan! Please.., fuck! ‘S too much…” You try to scramble away from him, dragging yourself up the bed, but he won’t have it. He grabs you by the waist with both hands and roughly slams you back down on his cock. You’re screaming out of pain and pleasure at this point.

“No, no, angel. Don’t fucking run away from me. You’re mine.” He growls again, landing a harsh smack to your ass. You start sobbing, not being able to take it. He mocks your cries.

“Aww, you poor baby.” Another smack. “Crying while you make a mess on my cock.” He grabs you by your hair, forcing you to arch your upper body of the bed. “Tell me,” he grits his teeth. “Do you belong to me?” The smile is now gone. He looks so cold and empty. He looks like a monster. “Tell me, I want to hear you say it. Say that you belong to me, you gorgeous doll…” He says, all while still thrusting harshly into you.

“Y-yes, yes, sir. I belong to you, only you, sir. Need you…” You somehow get out through your sobs. You were almost babbling at this point, the feeling of him railing into you almost addictive. You weren’t lying when you said you needed him.

“That’s a good girl…” He says softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I want you to prove that you belong to me. You need to prove it. Prove your love for me, angel.”

You panic, not knowing what to do. All that you know right now is that his dick is hitting your sweet spot so deliciously right now.

“Uhh- I- Unghh…” You try to speak, but no words come out, just moans and groans.

“Dumb little baby. Drunk off my fucking cock.” He lands another harsh slap to your ass. It barely hurts at this point, you’re starting to really give into him now. Despite his rough thrusts, you back your ass into him, grinding against his cock. He lets out a breathy laugh at that. “Squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck… look at you.” He says behind you, kneading and squeezing your ass into his hands, spreading your cheeks every now and then to get a full view of him going in and out of you.

The room is full of your moans, Ethan’s grunts, and the sound of him railing into your wet cunt. It’s so dirty, but fuck, you feel so good.

He knows you’re in such a vulnerable state now, and you’ll do whatever he asks you to do. He can tell you’re holding off on cumming, wanting to finish with him. He thinks it’s so sweet. You also just don’t want it to stop, you don’t want to know what will happen after you guys finish. You don’t want him to leave.

“You gonna cum, angel? Gonna finish on my cock, huh? Fuck, make even more of a mess on me, baby. I’m close too… Gonna fill you up, give you a baby. You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He asks, his pace still rough and fast, sending your eyes rolling and your tongue lolling.

“Mhm… Yeah…. Yes… Sir….” You babble, and Ethan smiles at your compliancy.

“So, so good for me, doll.” He gets even rougher as he’s nearing his high, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier.

“Fuck, Sir! I’m gonna cum…. Please, let me cum, please!” You scream out, still crying onto your bedsheets. The left side of your face is red and burning.

“Cum for me, sweet angel. I’m right there… Right fucking there…” he groans out.

As soon as he says those words, you reach your own high, screaming and crying out, cursing to the sky. You’ve never been fucked like this before. It’s almost like an out of body experience for you. Your pussy spasms against Ethan’s cock as you orgasm, which makes it hard for him to thrust, but squeezes him so hard he follows right after you.

“Fuck… good girl. Such a perfect angel. Did so well for me. All mine. All fucking mine.” He stills for a moment, and then removes himself from you, and you cry out at the loss of contact. Ethan just laughs at you, quickly sticking his cock back into his jeans. He brings his fingers down to your hole and pushes his semen deep into your pussy, making you groan underneath him.

He leaves the room for a moment, leaving you there on the bed, your bottom half exposed. When he comes back, you’re dead asleep. He smiles to himself at the sight of you while he grabs his knife, ready to leave the scene. He grabs his ghostface mask and places it on your bed, right next to your face. He’s sure you’ll see it first thing once you wake up.

He begins leaving your room when he looks at you one last time before exiting. He stares at your bare pussy, glistening with a mixture of your spent and his cum, slowly seeping out of you. He smiles. He’s finally accomplished the task at hand. Make you his, forever.

[scoutswritingcorner]

More Papa Headcanons!

PLATONIC Papa!Alastor & GN!Child!Reader

Angst Flavored~

First Part

TW: ANGST- Just a teeny tiny bit. For the soul. Oh and Susan is mentioned.

A/N: Enjoy~

I usually leave this part up to you guys, the readers of my ramblings, but what if you were born out of wedlock? You are technically Alastor’s bastard child. Especially during that time period? That was greatly frowned upon and you never knew who your mother was! But despite all of that, Alastor and his Mom adored you. (Don’t get me wrong she probably chewed his ass out for it but she adored you.) 

Now, as you grew older people started saying it to your face, even kids at your school. But everytime you brought it up to Alastor he got angry, not at you, so he teaches you how to defend yourself and makes sure that you know to never start a fight. 

But once in hell, the name still sticks. Susan once overheard Alastor and Rosie’s conversation about it and called you that to your face. (Mean ass old woman right there.) And to say you were upset was an understatement, you knew better than to get into adult’s business but you just ran to your Papa sobbing cause you had thought you escaped that treatment. Despite being in Hell. You’re just clinging to his pants as you try your darndest not to cry but gosh the words keep echoing, both Rosie and Alastor are immediately worried about you. Cause you never cry or cause too much trouble!

Once they hear what Susan said? Rosie has to keep Alastor from flipping his lid. You stay by his side the rest of the day too scared to go play with the other kids in Cannibal Town. It shouldn’t bother you too much but you’ve been called that your entire few years of living and now it’s followed you down to Hell? What if the others start doing such a thing? 

Not to worry, Auntie Rosie shuts the whole thing down if she even catches a whiff of it. 

NOW ONTO NICER THINGS-

Full credit to @aceblaze01 for the idea of Vox being in Child!Reader’s afterlife! Especially when he and Alastor were hanging out(idk if I should call them partners). He was like an odd Uncle to you! Also 100% would let you watch kids cartoons on his screen, but you were so confused by it that you stood there staring at him before finally getting comfortable to sit down and watch those weird picture shows your papa talked about. He would totally put on Disney films for you. 

You watched Bambi once and ended up crying. He had to hold you and calm you down before Alastor was alerted. After that he stuck with everything else but Bambi. 

You sometimes go with Alastor to Overlord meetings and sit next to him drawing, not paying any mind to what’s going on either. You mostly draw your Papa and Auntie Rosie but you’ve started to draw Vox and that man cries when you hand him the drawings of him with very shaky handwriting and misspelled words. He loves it and keeps it hung up on his wall framed and everything. You gave a drawing to a lot of the nicer Overlords as a thank you for letting you join with your Papa. You gave one to Zestial, Carmilla and many of the unnamed ones that didn’t look too scary..you gave those to your Papa so he can give it to them. 

Even after all those years and Alastor’s falling out with Vox as a whole, he kept your drawings still safely framed. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of them. Valentino said one bad thing about them and got the shock of his afterlife. That’s the last time he brought it up. He still checks up on you, makes sure you're alright. Even though he can’t physically be next to you cause Alastor would lose his fucking shit, he makes sure he has people check up on you. 

Vox has killed people who even thought of putting a hit out on you before Alastor ever caught wind about it. He’s not a man to play around with when it comes to you- his little niece/nephew/nibling (gender neutral term for niece/nephew).

During exterminations? Alastor stays with you the whole time. He doesn’t need anything hurting you. He keeps you in his room with books and anything else you want to bring. When you're in the hotel and extermination is around the corner, while the hotel is relatively safe. He still makes sure you stay far away from any doors leading to the outside. 

Oh boy, you are the only one able to sit in his tower with him while he works! He has a chair designated for you and will answer any and all questions about his work (even if they do get silly and repetitive). You’ll fall asleep sometimes when he’s on air and he doesn’t miss a beat wrapping his jacket around you as he continues to talk.

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord

[ink-n-shadow]

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND

𝜗𝜚 the one where König is your brother's best friend

𝜗𝜚 pairing: brother's best friend!König x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: a lil smut (minors—DNI), könig being simp, implied age gap

brother’s bsf!könig makes sure he’s always around base with your brother anytime you come to visit

brother’s bsf!könig gives you a souvenir (ngl it’d probably be like a rock or a seashell or something) from whatever country he’d just come back from just to see the way your cheeks burn with heat

brother’s bsf!könig writes letters to you while on deployment because he knows you’ll write him back. he can tell when your letter comes in because of the purple ink pen you use, the way you swirl his name in pretty handwriting

brother’s bsf!könig gets drunk around your brother and has to try extra hard not to start blabbering about you and how pretty you are. sometimes it doesn’t work, and it ends with your brother giving him a black eye for ever thinking about his little sibling like that. of course, neither of them would mention it in the morning

brother’s bsf!könig can’t help but think about you every time he fucks his cock up into his hand. it’s filthy, but his brain automatically conjures up how your small hand would look around his thick length, how you’d look fucked out and sweating on his bed, what noises you make when you finally crest your high

brother’s bsf!könig can hardly breathe the first time he gets you under him, your skin glistening with perspiration and anticipation as he drags his ungloved hands down your sides. he feels like it must be some sick joke—“there’s no way a person like you wants a guy like him”—but when you peer your at him with big dopey eyes and practically beg him to get on with it, he knows it’s real. you’re real.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 2

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 6.9k AN: hehehehehe this chapter was so much fun to write and i fear i have added a bit of a plot to this pwp fic. next chapter will get even wilder! as always, asks and requests open <3

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 2: Testing

Anakin stumbled to his room on unsteady feet. When he entered, it was 1:43 am, but he had never felt more awake. He couldn't have slept even if he had wanted to, because you were haunting him. The wood of his door as he unlocked it felt like the lab bench under his fingers. His lips felt phantom kisses from you. Your angry voice echoed in the creak of the hinges. His pillows were soft like your clothes, like your skin.

The more he thought about it, the harder he got, which he wasn't sure was possible, really. His cock was pressing against his jeans so hard that he was relatively certain he could get off just by thrusting into the material a few times. Anakin rocked his hips experimentally against the rough material, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Jesus. He was definitely sensitive enough to cum like that. But he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. It would be weird and creepy, when you told him you didn't want to do more of this. He shouldn't. He resolved to sleep it off, but found sleep was still evading him about an hour later when he lay awake in bed. Fuck my life. Fine. If he was going to be up, he might as well get some work done. So, he spent the night typing at his desk, which he distinctly had to try not to imagine kissing you against.

Anakin didn't hate you. Far from it. Okay, maybe not that far from it. But if he hated you, he something-else-ed you with equal measure. He just wasn't sure what that something else was. Did he like you? This wasn't like any crush he had before. You were so rude sometimes, but he would snap right back, and then escalate. Anakin didn't love that personality trait in himself, but it came out in spades around you. In freshman year, your name on the posted top homework of the week was exhilarating. Finally, some competition. Someone who loved engineering as much as he did. Someone who understood the fire that got him out of his backwater town and into the world. Then he met you, and that exhilaration turned a thousand times stronger. You weren't just a peer, you were a challenge. Every jab you threw at him, every time your bot would beat his in the traditional end-of-year tournament, he'd feel like he was suddenly on fire, electricity shocking through his very being. It was the same feeling he chased in taekwondo, that edge where he wasn't sure if he'd win, but he was so, so close. It was easier to interpret it as anger, as hatred, as fuel.

Even though he thought you could be a know-it-all, he had to admit that he always had a sort of begrudging respect toward you. You worked on a group project together, three times, once per year on average, and he could consistently rely on the fact that you'd never be a slacker. Others on the team would sometimes ghost, which annoyed you both in equal measure. The two of you would butt heads over what to do in the projects, but you were always 100% dedicated. He respected it about you, even if you were critical of his admittedly shoddy handwriting or the logical jumps in his proofs.

By senior year, he was unknowingly nursing what could affectionately be called a crush, though it was masked under layers and layers of frustration and competition and anger. Anakin wasn't very self aware, but it was beginning to dawn on even him that, perhaps, he liked you. There were several signs. Late nights in the lab were torture for him. He'd sit there, trying to focus on something, anything, but he kept seeing that piece of hair that fell into your face when you bent over your bench and your deft hands wiring capacitors. Sometimes, when you passed him and he caught a whiff of your smell, his heart would speed up. When he heard your voice in class, he would start smiling. It was honestly kind of embarrassing.

In retrospect, it was surprising he hadn't broken and kissed you earlier. But, now that he had, all he could think about was kissing you again. As he sat at his desk thinking, the next steps for his thesis slipped through his hands like grains of sand. At practice the next afternoon, his technique was sloppy, which his teammates riffed on endlessly. In class, the professor could have said the secret to traveling faster than light, and it would have gone in one of Anakin's ears and out the other.

You had said it couldn't happen. Why? Did he do something wrong? At the time, he was clouded with arousal, joy, and exhilaration, so he didn't ask any questions, just agreed mindlessly, but your statement was haunting him. We shouldn't do this again. Why not? His body was screaming for it, at the very least, and so was his heart, but he chose to ignore that.

Anakin was pondering this issue over a piece of tech for the Jinn lab, where he worked part-time during the semester, when Obi-Wan walked in and headed straight for him. Though Obi-Wan was technically his supervisor, being a third-year graduate student advised by Professor Jinn, Anakin considered him a friend. Though he was usually pretty serious, Obi-Wan appeared thoroughly amused today and looked a bit like the cat who got the cream.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said by way of greeting as he passed by his chair.

"What's up?" Anakin asked as he tried to get a particularly annoying screw tightened.

"Were you in the thesis lab last night?" Yes, he was, in fact. He was making out with you, but he didn't need to mention that.

"Yeah, working on some hardware for my next prototype, why?" Obi-Wan's smile spread further, if possible.

"Did you know there's cameras?" The blood froze in Anakin's veins. The suggestion in his voice was unmistakable.

"What?" His voice came out like a whisper.

"Good thing you were simply working on your prototype. You should warn other students to take… dalliances elsewhere," Obi-Wan said, winking.

"I-um-fuck--I." The words died on Anakin's tongue. Holy fucking shit. "I didn't see cameras."

"They're small. Qui-Gon had me install them this year. Nevertheless, things happen," Obi-Wan said, pausing, then quickly added, "Good luck." Obi-Wan patted Anakin on the shoulder and walked into his office in the back of the lab, leaving Anakin frozen in his chair.

Later that evening, once he'd worked (read: sat in shock) for four hours at the Jinn lab, finished two assignments for his gened, and led a practice for the TKD team, Anakin dragged his tired ass to the thesis lab. He was still restless since Obi-Wan's revelation. There was a video of the two of you, and he found himself wondering more than a few times if he could get it. For safekeeping, of course. No other reason.

He nodded at Barriss, who was on her way out, on complete autopilot. Seems she's getting in gear for the competition, he would have thought had he been mentally present in the slightest. He was the only one in the lab, a relief considering the fact that all his brain cells tended to leave the building as soon as you were near him, so he could get some work done. Get some tests in, make some actual progress. Maybe he could even pull a win on the competition, if not just an A on his thesis. He'd written some code during thermo lecture that he loaded onto an Arduino, turning over the device and its sharp pins in his fingers before disconnecting it from his laptop and shoving it into a breadboard. It looked ugly, clunky, and inelegant, but it was just a temporary setup for the test run before he attached the Arduino to the current motherboard. Sometime midway through the code running, the door to the lab clacked open.

It was you. Who else would arrive to the lab at 8pm? You looked gorgeous today, which hit Anakin like a punch to the gut. Cool, cool. This was normal. He could handle this. The cold had darkened your lips and cheeks a bit, so subtle he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring. But he was, and he looked away quickly, back to his computer, and choked out a "hey." Anakin heard the tell-tale smack of your backpack on the floor, then each layer you shed (thump for coat, gentle taps for gloves, barely a thunk for hat). His eyes were fixed intently on the screen, even though there was nothing to look at there. When he looked up, you were right in front of him, close enough to touch.

"Hi," you said. Your eyes were gazing up at him earnestly and he could almost see his reflection in them. Fuck. You were standing incredibly near him, much closer than anyone else in his life would.

"Hi," he breathed. Was this it? Were you going to tell him that, actually, you wanted him? That maybe you could go on a date, or, at least go back to your place? Just going back to yours for sex wouldn't be exactly what he wanted, but then again beggars can't be choosers. And he was definitely a beggar right now.

"I need the small pliers." You reached out your hand expectantly. Oh. Okay.

"Yep." He handed them over, then watched as you walked back to your table.

Awesome. So Anakin was still horrendously awkward around you. He knew how to speak to you after the past several years, where he'd found himself getting little kernels of knowledge about your life and thoughts. It was more that he didn't know what he could say that wasn't a confession that he really really wanted to kiss you again.

The dark had already fallen outside hours ago when you began to put away your prototype. All of the world was asleep, the hallway outside the makerspace dark. The only light outside the lab were the streetlights glowing through the open windows, casting shadows over the sidewalk. Time was fictional in those moments, stretching and shortening and contorting until a minute passed in what felt like an hour, or the other way around. Nothing made sense in those moments. His calculations. The unease he felt. Least of all, why you didn't want to kiss him again. Why he didn't just tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. But you were already putting your coat on, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, and--

"Wait," he called out desperately, gesturing with his hand toward you. He fell silent. What was he going to say? He'd ask you to talk, to explain that he actually really enjoyed yesterday and that he'd really really like to do it again. He'd tell you that he didn't hate you, actually. That he'd actually enjoy going on a date, maybe to dinner or a movie, he wasn't picky. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes while I use the drill press?" Close enough.

You looked at him and simply nodded. You kept an eye on him while he used the drill press, and his hand almost slipped three times under your scrutiny. But then he was done, and you both went through the paces of closing up the room. Vents off, machines off, check printers, check laser cutters, lights off, leave.

On the walk home, Anakin looked up and saw an empty sky, so different from the one on the farm at home. No matter where he turned there, he saw constellations and different worlds. Here, between the tall buildings and under all the light pollution, it was just black. You walked home wordlessly again.

The next day, he was determined to be more normal, and immediately asked you how your project was going. He could tell you were guarded based on the wariness in your eye, but you still answered. That you were dealing with a test not working. He offered to take a look at it, but you shot him down.

Later, you asked him if he knew how to deal with an issue with your CAD model, which he did, and he helped you extrude text on the curved surface. Anakin tried not to notice how close your body was.

The normalcy returned within three hours between the two of you. Sure, there was an elephant in the room (or, really, a herd of elephants), but you two were getting comfortable again, casually chatting about class and boasting about your projects. You revealed the thermo midterm hadn't gone so well, and he confessed that it hadn't for him, either. He was very worried about the class, actually, but the thesis was his priority. When he told you, Anakin couldn't figure out what your expression meant. Surprise? Anger? Sadness? Sympathy? He shrugged it off. Probably was a shock to realize he wasn't always perfect.

An hour later, he was thinking about going home, but then he saw you staring at your computer with your headphones in.

"Whatcha watching?" He hoped the question sounded casual. You paused the video and looked up at him.

"An old Criminal Minds episode," you responded with a hint of a smile. His heart leaped.

"Can I join? I'm waiting on a print, and I need a break anyway." Was that smooth? He couldn't tell. You nodded, and he pulled up a chair. He was endlessly thankful you were using wired earbuds today (you had explained you'd forgotten your usual wireless ones at home), so that he had an excuse to sit near you. It was just how far the cord reached, not how badly he wanted to press himself against you. That was all.

"Oh, it's totally the teacher," he remarked at one point, midway through the episode. Your legs had gotten closer, almost pressing the sides of his thigh to yours. That did not make his heart race. It was probably the tension in the episode.

"Obviously, dumbass," you chided, smacking your leg into his, but there wasn't any bite to it. It was affection, and he reveled in it the whole way home.

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Ahsoka Tano wasn't stupid. She had eyes and a capability for critical thought that she thought two particular people in her life lacked. When her roommate came home from the lab one day in mid-November, dead silent with hair mussed and lips still swollen from making out with someone, Ahsoka knew something had happened between you and the only other person who would be in the lab that late. Finally. But there was a clench in your jaw, a hard set in your eyes, that told her it wasn't all positive. But it was progress.

The first time she met met Anakin was when she was a freshman and joined the Coruscant U taekwondo team. She'd seen him around the competitive taekwondo circuit, of course; he was national champion two times running in the 16-18 division. Anakin was precise, vicious, and powerful. By the time he was a freshman, he was about to reach the fourth Dan, a feat which took most people years. He was just that good.

When Ahsoka met him, she was certain he'd be the kind of arrogant that could only come with prodigy status. And, though he was a bit full of himself, she was surprised to find him to be kind. Not nice, necessarily, all quips and snipes and sarcasm, but definitely kind to the younger students, and to her. When he asked her to be his vice-captain, she said yes immediately. There was no one better she could learn from.

The first time she noticed the tension between you was at the first competition she was in, when you came to watch her. At some point, Anakin's name had been announced, and you looked like you'd smelled curdled milk. When she asked you about it later, she hadn't expected the total word vomit that spilled out of you about how annoying and horrible and infuriating Anakin was in class. Your actual issues with him were fairly minor, she thought: 1. He gloated (definitely true), 2. He sabotaged other people's projects so he'd do better (probably not true), 3. He was always getting praise from the professors (probably true), and 4. He always assumed you didn't know what you were doing (probably true).

But Ahsoka saw a side of him you didn't. At a competition in her sophomore year, in the dead of night at the Airbnb the team had rented, she saw him frantically sewing his expensive competitive dobok, heavy with embroidery befitting his dan, when one of the seams tore mid-match the day before. It took some digging, but he confessed that he didn't have a backup. He couldn't afford a new one right now. Anakin didn't talk about home much, and, when he did, it was in clipped sentences saying that yes, he had a mom and a new stepdad. Yes, he was from a small town. As vice-captain, she had access to the list of students who the team was sponsoring at competitions because they needed the financial aid. Anakin was on the list every time. Ahsoka didn't mention it to him, ever.

Over the past three years, she had watched the spark between the two of you ignite into fights and frustration. She'd heard Anakin ask about you in a way he thought was subtle, but was actually glaringly obvious. She'd heard you complain that he was so annoying enough times. Now that something had actually happened between you, that was it. She was going to do something about it.

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"A taekwondo party?" You had asked.

"Yeah! At Rex's," Ahsoka had said. To be honest, you kind of needed a break. Or, at least a night to not think about circuits. You were beginning to see that Anakin was smart, even smarter than you had thought, and it was creeping up on you that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't win no matter what you did. Maybe he was just too brilliant. You wanted to forget that, and getting drunk seemed like a great way to do just that. "Anakin will be there," Ahsoka's voice echoed in your head. Why did she say that? The peace you had settled into with Anakin was tenuous, but there. Did she know about what happened between the two of you?

You still weren't sure when you arrived on the door of the brownstone. Tau Kappa Delta wasn't an actual frat, but it was a house full of the TKD team competitors who called each other "brothers," so the nickname stuck. It was a bit out of the way of campus, but it was the prime place to hold parties if you wanted to get raunchy in a safe place. You and Ahsoka had gotten dressed up, you in some kind of short black silk dress she shoved in your hands, and her in a strappy ensemble that looked a bit like battle armor. There were straps around the arms that extended into fingerless gloves and some kind of tactical belt was slung low over her hips. Her halter top showed off her strong arms, and, for an instant, you wished you played sports for the university. How she wasn't shivering in the cold air, you'd never know.

The door swung open and the warmth indoors hit you, thick with bodies and sweat and beer, and some guy ushered you in while Ahsoka gave him a hug. This must be one of the team members you had met, some sturdy guy with an accent. You couldn't quite place if his name was Cody or Vaughn, but it was one of them, you thought. The room you entered was full of coats and bags, as well as a few people standing and chatting with drinks in their hands. Through the doorway, music blared in what was probably the living room. You couldn't make out any furniture through the dancing crowd.

Ahsoka reappeared with a shot in each hand, offering one to you with a wink.

"To a good night where you can relax, because God knows you need it," she toasted, bumping her shot glass against yours and downing it in one go. The tequila burned as it went down your throat. You coughed for a bit, then asked her for another. Might as well get the party started right. Another shot went into you, and then Ahsoka dragged you to the dance floor. The lights in the room were flashing all kinds of colors--red, purple, blue--and the music was loud enough that you could feel it vibrating through your organs. Ahsoka pushed her way past some people, closer to the center of the room, and then found enough space for the two of you and started dancing. The rhythm flowed through you, and you were just drunk enough not to care if you looked stupid. It was perfect. The two of you danced for three, maybe four songs, before Ahsoka went to get you both another shot, and then another. Some of Ahsoka's friends had joined you, not that you knew them, but you were in your own world, having fun. People bumped into your shoulder, leg, elbow, whatever, but you were on cloud nine. The bass felt like one heartbeat connecting all of the strangers on the floor to you, like you were all one beast. Dancing with your friends like this, going to parties, that's all that you cared about. This would be one of those memories you treasured, you were sure of it.

And then you saw Anakin. Much to your annoyance, he looked particularly good that day, his hair still as touchable as it was every day in the lab. He was wearing light-wash jeans (like that night, a small part of your brain reminded you) and a black, comfortable t-shirt. Oh, and there was a woman with him. Like that wasn't the first thing you noticed. She was shorter than him by a good bit, standing in front of him so you couldn't see her face, just her annoyingly shiny chestnut hair and perfect neck. Cool. Fine. They were in the corner of the room, with him leaning against the wall and her standing in front of him, shouting conversation over the loud music. Anakin shot her a warm smile, the one he rarely turned toward you, and then she put her hand on his chest. It was the alcohol that flipped your stomach, you were sure of it. And anger at seeing him, nothing else. You tapped Ahsoka and got close to her ear.

"Who's that?" You asked. She turned closer to you, her eyebrows drawn.

"Huh?" She half-yelled back. You lent in closer, trying to get to her ear.

"The girl?" You could barely hear yourself over the noise.

"What?" Oh, fuck it. You full-on yelled, but it didn't even come close to the level of bass in the room.

"Who's the girl with Anakin?"

"Oh," Ahsoka yelled back. "That's his ex." Awesome. Whoop-de-fucking-do. There was, objectively, no reason why that should have annoyed you. But it did. The girl waved to Anakin, then left, leaving him looking incredibly hot up against that wall. Your eyes took in the width of his chest, the muscles and veins in his arms. And then he was looking at you.

He had caught you. Fuck. He gave you a little wave with a smirk, then left into the next room. Shitfuckmotherfucker. Ahsoka grabbed your shoulder, shouting something about how the two of you should get some air. You nodded and let her pull you out of the dance floor, then to a room down the hall, where you could hear voices talking, laughing.

You recognized a few of the people. Jesse, Echo, the one whose name you'd ascertained was actually Cody, Fives, and Fox were all there, and, of course, so was Anakin. They were sitting in an uneven, horrible circle that was really more of a convex shape around the couch. Some girls you'd seen before around campus but you hadn't really met and some other team members were strewn about the room, sipping beers from their red cups. Anakin greeted you both with a wave.

"Hey, come join us, we're playing truth or dare," he yelled across the room. Ahsoka grinned and almost pulled you down with her to the floor.

"C'mon, let's play," she said as she grinned up at you. Truth or dare and other party games had never really been your thing, and you kind of were feeling the number of shots you had taken, so you decided you were out.

"Oh, I'm not sure--" you started.

"What, gonna chicken out?" Anakin's voice called. That motherfucker.

"Never," you shot back, plopping your ass down. You weren't sure there was a way to win truth or dare, but you were going to find it, goddamn it.

"Okay, Rex. Truth or dare?" Jesse started. You'd only met him once, but he had a nice voice and a glint in his eye that made you like him immediately.

"Dare," he responded gruffly. Some oohs peppered the room as they watched their intrepid assistant captain about to get loose. Jesse thought for a moment.

"Take two shots!" The crowd chanted as Rex sighed, poured himself two shots of tequila, and downed them with only a small wince. After he was done, it was his turn.

"Ahsoka, truth or dare?"

"Truth?" Ahsoka crinkled her nose.

"Aw c'mon Snips. Bo-oring," Anakin teased. Ahsoka shot him a look that said if I weren't across this circle, I would smack you right now.

"Only 'cause y'all can't think of a better dare than drinking," she said. Chuckles bubbled through the room.

"Fine, then, have you ever kissed Lux Bonteri?" Rex's question apparently hit the nail on the head as all the color drained out of Ahsoka's face.

"I changed my mind. Dare." Ahsoka's eyes were wide, and you knew why. She and Lux had kind of had a thing going, but he was on another school's team. She'd come back home after matches with stories about what he said, asking if you thought it was romantic or platonic. But she'd never admit to doing anything with a member of their fiercest competition. Rex rolled his eyes as people booed, Anakin especially loudly.

"Fine, fine. I dare you to… call your ex," Rex conceded. That was easy enough for Ahsoka, given that her only ex was Barriss, who she was still good friends with. Barriss had broken it off to focus on work over a year ago, and it had been hard on Ahsoka at first, but they got over it and were back to just being a little bit awkward. With an eye roll and a scoff, Ahsoka pulled out Barriss's contact and pressed the call button. The phone rang out on speaker, just getting Barriss's voicemail. "There, ya happy?" Ahsoka asked, then turned to someone else.

The game went around and around, questions about the last time someone had sex and dares to kiss someone else flying across the room as the team members who obviously knew each other too well publicly tortured one another. Eventually, someone said your name.

"Truth or dare?" It was Echo, who Ahsoka had told you was finally competing again after tearing his ACL. He had kind eyes, and the room seemed electric, so you made your choice without much thought.

"Uh, dare?" Echo smiled in a way that seemed apologetic, and you realized that perhaps this was a terrible idea. Was the room holding its breath, or was it just you?

"Okay, I dare you to straddle Anakin for three minutes." The room erupted, cheers and hollers coming from every player in the nearby vicinity. "Get it, Cap" came from somewhere on your right, and a whistle came from your left. Anakin looked white as a sheet, and you noticed he was staring at Echo with murder in his eyes. They'd pay for that in practice, most likely. He was leant back on his arms, legs criss-crossed, but the position suddenly looked tense. A muscle in his jaw bulged. The chants weren't stopping, and you decided to get it over with.

Whether it was the alcohol coursing through you or some newfound bravery, you weren't sure, but you started moving over to Anakin, who was three seats to your right, near a wall. He made eye contact with you, his gaze softening, and you could practically hear him asking you if you were okay with this. You were, you realized. It was probably the alcohol talking. The wolf whistles of the other players faded away, and sitting on his lap suddenly became the only thing you wanted.

You hitched one leg across Anakin's body, then sank down so that you were sitting on him. The rough material of his jeans slid against your bare thighs, and you cursed your choice not to wear pants. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and you noticed that, even though your cleavage was in his eyeline and you always thought he was easily swayed by tits and ass, his eyes were intently staring into yours. In your shadow and the dark light, they were blown wide, the black almost consuming his blue irises. A world away, someone yelled that they had started a timer.

Somewhere behind your back, Ahsoka slipped Echo five bucks. You wouldn't have noticed if she had done it in front of you, because you were too busy trying to slow the beating of your heart. Or was that his? You couldn't tell. Everything was a bit fuzzy. In this position, you were above him for the first time, looking down at those eyes that were casting you a look that churned something inside you. With that look, you were back in the lab, and he was telling you to jump up onto the table, and his hands were all over you. You'd lose yourself in that moment, if you could.

Anakin's eyes traveled down your figure with a hard gulp that bobbed his Adam's apple. His gaze lingered on your low-cut front, tracing over the seams, then reaching down to your thighs. In your drunken state, you hadn't noticed the amount of skin that was exposed when your dress rode up. He definitely did. You felt something slowly changing beneath you, and it took you a second to comprehend that he was getting hard. Because of you. You rationalized it as the reaction any person with a penis would have to being straddled like that. Right?

His heavy breathing seemed to confirm it, and Anakin mouthed 'sorry' when he felt himself press against you subtly. You distinctly did not mind. His eyes flicked down between your legs, where the skirt had ridden up so that one wrong--or right--move would let him see what was underneath it. Him seeing you didn't bother you one bit, actually. You kind of wanted him to put a hand to you, press his fingers inside you. Maybe he could take you upstairs to one of the rooms and fuck you furiously. Or maybe you could shove what you were feeling against your legs into your throat. Or maybe one, then the other.

His gaze met yours again before sliding down to your lips and staying there. The same energy that he had when he was one-upping you, confidently answering a question in class, or telling you to re-solder your work grew in his eyes. That intensity. That fierce desire for success. You found it incredibly attractive then, but now, it was irresistible.

The timer beeped, and you thought of the 3D printer that night in the lab. Cockblocks, the both of them. The others in the room cheered as you got off him instantly, then slinked back to your usual seat. Now that you were sitting on your own, it became obvious that the heat between your thighs was not entirely from his legs warming you up. You pulled the hem of your skirt down just a tad. The adrenaline of the moment hadn't stopped, even though you were reminded of the existence of the crowd that had just watched you. You didn't want it to end. You'd give anything for the room to be empty right now, like the lab at night. You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Anakin, your fingers wobbly on the keyboard.

Upstairs. Follow me in 3 mind, the text said. Fuck. Maybe you were a bit drunk. *Mins, you corrected. Anakin checked his phone almost instantly, his eyes still locked on you from before, and quickly typed something back. k. You waited two more rounds of questions before getting up.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you said to Ahsoka, who was absorbed in some kind of debate with Fives and Cody. She nodded at you, and then you were off. You weaved through people, up to the floor with the bedrooms, which was much less populated than the downstairs. There were a few rooms that seemed either occupied or locked, but one at the end of the hall sat ajar. You entered, leaving the door cracked so Anakin would know where you were, then sat down on the bed. It was a twin, in a decently clean room that had a bunch of posters for bands along the walls. Whoever lived here really liked Pink Floyd, apparently. It was actually nice up there; the music was pumping through the building, but it was a nice backdrop this far from the speakers. The window was open, so the cool breeze was flowing.

A few moments later, the door opened. The second you saw Anakin, you pounced on him. He let out a slightly surprised mmph, but then feverishly kissed you back. Anakin tasted like alcohol and orange juice, but you didn't mind. As long as he was kissing you, he could taste however he wanted. One of his hands scrabbled behind him to find the door handle and shut it, while the other came up to your jaw. Whatever desires he had downstairs, he was clearly showing them now. His hand went down to grab your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. You pressed yourself against him, just like you were downstairs, your whole bodies melded together until you didn't know where he began and you ended. The way Anakin kissed you was intoxicating, more so than any of the shots you had taken that night. More than any drug you would ever take. That fire, that anger-desire-passion-whatever that burned in you intensified until the music downstairs and the unfamiliar surroundings faded away, and all you could feel was him.

You rocked your hips forward, just to test his response, and he growled into your mouth with a ferocity you didn't expect, but loved anyway. Fuck, you'd do anything to hear that again, to hear it all the time. He pulled your hips into his, grinding against you in the process.

Suddenly, he twisted around so he was pressing you against the door with his body enveloping you. Anakin trailed down from your lips to your jaw to your neck. The little nips and wet kisses were driving you wild, so you decided to return the favor and snaked your hand down his chest, which was shockingly hard and muscular, until you reached the hem of his shirt. Your fingers toyed with the edges where his skin met the soft cotton, and you could feel his ragged intake of breath when you trailed even further up. He pulled away, his breathing still heavy. You thought and hoped he would take his shirt off. To show you what you'd seen on the rare times his shirt had ridden up while he took off a hoodie or jacket. Instead, he just looked at you and stopped.

"Fuck me, please," you whispered into the room. For a moment, he looked like he was strongly considering it, and you found yourself praying he would say yes.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"I don't know, like four? Does it matter?" You shrugged. "It doesn't change that I want you," you whispered in a way you hoped was seductive. Anakin got off you so quickly that you were almost hurt, but he still remained close enough that it soothed the sting.

"I'm sorry. It's going to kill me to say this, but we shouldn't do this now. I've only had one drink and you're clearly not thinking straight," he said. His eyes were so full of concern that you almost didn't get mad at him. Almost.

"No, I'm thinking very straight. I'll say the alphabet backwards if you want," you offered, getting closer to him again. He took another step back.

"I'm talking about your decisions. I don't want to have sex, and then have you wake up in the morning and regret it. Just--let's go back to yours." He caught the look in your eye, which clearly meant that yes, you would indeed like to go back to your place, then hurried to add more.

"Not like that. You go to sleep. I'll stay in your living room. In the morning, if you still want to do this, I'll fuck you right then and there." Anakin rumbled the last words out so intently, so full of promise, that you finally conceded.

"Fine, let's go. But as soon as I wake up, I'll take you up on that. And then I'm going to the lab. I've gotta get back to work," you said, letting him past you to open the door for you. Anakin chuckled.

"Maybe you're more sober than I thought." The two of you went back down the hallway, past the other closed doors to the staircase, which was somehow even sweatier than you remembered, then past the living room to the entrance. Anakin's hand was clasped around yours the entire time, to make sure he didn't lose you, and you found that, actually, you didn't mind the contact. You wanted to do it a lot, even sometimes outside of sex. But that was the tequila talking. In fact, the tequila was doing a lot of talking right now, and the world was a little bit wobbly and fluid. Your head was heavy, and you found yourself stumbling a few times in your impractical heels.

Somehow, in all the chaos, Anakin found Rex by the entrance. You couldn't hear every word he said, but you caught "too drunk," "going home," and "make sure Ahsoka gets home safely." The 15 minute walk home passed by in a blur because you were a bit too distracted by the smell of Anakin's jacket around your shoulders. You really were stumbling around, and Anakin had to catch you a few times, but you made it back to your dorm in one piece.

This time, instead of going to the west elevator, Anakin followed you to the east, then up, up, all the way until you got to the tenth floor. Your key scraped against the lock, and you could hear Anakin's impatient sigh as you missed the hole again. You finally got it in, then got into your apartment and immediately flopped face-first onto your bed. Everything was a muddled mess after that. Anakin helped you take your shoes off, though not without making fun of you for being so drunk first, and then handed you a makeup wipe. You slapped it across your face a few times, then tossed it to the side. With a quick "good night," Anakin was about to leave your bedroom to crash on the living room couch.

"C'mere," you called, sitting up and stopping him in his tracks. He approached the bed, then sat down next to you until you put your head on his shoulder. This was bad, you knew, but it felt, for a moment, like that didn't matter. "Stay." Your voice was so small, so quiet. Vulnerable.

"I want to, but, no, I really should--" You interrupted him, still a little drunk and groggy but definitely annoyed. Could the bastard stop trying to be chivalrous for one second?

"If you don't stay, I am gonna dunk your Arduino in water. After you've soldered it." The threat was slightly diminished by the way you nuzzled his shoulder, but it worked anyway. Anakin was always a sucker. His deep sigh confirmed it.

"Fine. Just--oh God this is weird--let me take off my jeans if I'm going to sleep in a bed." You nodded and watched as he stood up, then unbuttoned them and pulled them down so he was in loose boxers and his t-shirt. His strong legs were on display, and you filed the image away for later as he crawled in behind you on the tiny twin bed. Your bed was shoved into the corner of the room, so he had to smush himself between you and the wall, but he managed it with only minimal complaining. He was so warm, so big and comforting. Maybe this was the relaxation you needed tonight, not a stupid party. Maybe you could do this more often. Anakin put his arm around your stomach, pulling you into him. Yup, you definitely had to do this more often. His breath tickled the back of your neck delightfully, and his bare legs felt incredible against yours.

"Is this okay?" You didn't have time to answer with anything more than a mhmm before you fell asleep. It was the most restful sleep you had in months, but that wasn't because of Anakin. Maybe it was. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad. Maybe you liked him a bit, when he wasn't being an ass. But that was probably the tequila talking. It was the tequila, really.

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[ginevrapng]

you write fwb!james letters. you don't see each other in most classes and thanks to james don't pass each other in the hallways either because of that you slip him letters other ways. when you are in the same class you go past his desk and slip a note under his unopened textbook. you'll transfigure your notes into different things, over time james has gotten use to having things turn up in his bag that he swears he doesn't own before he realises it's you transfiguring different things and he swears every time you make it your mission to transfigure it into weirder and weirder things, he won't know how to explain it if someone ever saw a muggle garden gnome in his bag.

every time he reads your notes he has to make sure he's alone and no one will come in and interrupt him, not just because they're notes from you but also because said notes make his trousers tighten and his cheeks red, thinking about all the things you wrote to him and imagining what he'd do if you were there with him.

"i saw you in charms today and you looked pretty, i wanted to drag you out of the classroom and kiss you until our lips looked swollen and we have to separate to breathe." james thought you looked pretty that day too.

"i went to see your quidditch game. you're actually pretty good. your hair was even more messy than normal though." when james read that he flung himself on his bed, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, grinning. you don't like quidditch. you came anyway.

"when do you think we'll see each other next?" soon, he hopes.

"i think i'm starting my period, my breasts are tender :( you're always good with your hands." the implications makes his head fuzzy. he'd absolutely look after you, he'd touch you gently and make you feel better. he'd hug you softly if you'd let him and do anything that'll help you feel a bit better.

"can you touch me in history of magic again?"

"some information that you might want to know: i'm on birth control."

"next time i see you i want to give you a blowjob. you didn't take your shirt off last time but you have to next time, it's not fair."

james mumbles, "you're killing me" under his breath.

he can't bring himself to ever throw the letters away, they're from you. he sometimes reread the letters late at night while jerking off and thinking of you and the things he'll do the next time he'll see you. he doesn't regret keeping the letters... he doesn't... that is until sirius found them at least.

opening up one james' drawers next to his bedside table he finds your letters to him, curiously sirius glances at the first note and a cocky smirk appears on his face. sirius picks up the whole pile of letters and waves it in the air. "prongs," he says in a singsong voice, "what's this?"

james looks up and sees his friend holding up the notes you've sent to him. he panics but he hides it well, looking away back at the marauders map where he was previously spying on filch.

"i've been fucking with snivellus. i've been sending him love letters." he keeps his tone as even as he can, sirius can't know they're from you.

"this isn't your handwriting james," he replies still smirking.

"anybody can change their handwriting sirius." james says still looking down but he hasn't been paying attention to the map as soon as sirius found the letters.

he doesn't say anything for a second until, "fair enough." sirius plops down on the bed next to james looking over his shoulder at the map. "why didn't you tell the rest of us though?" sirius questions suddenly as he just thought about it.

"didn't think it was that important." james doesn't know if sirius will believe him so before sirius can think it through james starts talking about their quidditch game coming up.

sirius has no reason to doubt james in the end and even gives him ideas in the following weeks to write to snape. he'll have to be more careful next time with hiding your notes, he still won't throw them away though.

[thebearer]

i looooove the way you wrote carmys casual dominance over the reader in the feeling. could you write something else that has that same vibe? like him being protective/ dominant over her while they’re around the rest of the crew?

ahhh thank you so much!!! the casual dominance was a must for me with carmy it just makes me weak in the knees lol.

"Why don't you let me help you?" You hummed, leaning over Carmen's shoulder, watching as he expertly cut the onions. "I can handle spaghetti sauce."

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking up at you under heavy brows, still chopping furiously- much faster than anything you could. "I got it." He nodded.

Your face fell slightly, stepping back to stand beside him. Carmen invited you to family every night before the restaurant opened, it was sometimes the only time you'd see him until that night when he'd collapse into bed next to you. It was the busy season, summer and tourist time, meaning everyone wanted to come to the infamous restaurant.

Carmen's chest flooded with a pang of guilt at your small frown. Fuck, maybe he'd been too mean. "'m sorry, baby. Here, I have prep to do. Can you put this in the pan for me? Start it."

The tiny smile that curled on your lips made Carmen's heart skip in his chest. "Yes, Chef." You hummed, pressing a kiss to his cheek, snagging the diced onions and sliding them into the pan.

You'd seen Carmen make it enough to know how to make this recipe. Canned tomato sauce, oregano, onions- you measured them, adding it all easily.

"Woah-ho-ho, look who we got here." Richie cackled, turning the corner, ignoring Sydney's screams to announce it. "We got a new chef on the roster?"

You rolled your eyes, snagging the can opener and pressing the handles together. "Yeah, I'm your replacement, Richie."

Richie's face fell slightly. He knew you were joking but a part of him worried. "Cousin, what's this, huh?"

"She's just helping, alright? Get outta the way." Carmen nodded, slicing the beef easily. His eyes watched you, flicking from his task back to you.

"Hey," Carmen called, a firm snap of the tongue that had you turning to him. "Put the hair back, baby. No one wants a hair in their food."

"Yeah, c'mon." Richie added, snickering as you snagged the hair tie off your wrist. "Gonna replace me and she don't even know how to cook right-"

"Hey, easy, cousin." Carmen's eyes were hard, glaring at Richie, the whirr of his knife sliding across the cutting board adding a dangerous edge.

Richie held his hands up in mock defense. "My apologies, your fucking majesties." He scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, moving onto the next step on the card, pouring the cans of sauce in easily and stirring, giving the side of the pan a firm tap with the spoon to get the excess off. Reaching for the knob to turn the heat up, Carmen's hands were on your waist before you could.

"Here, baby," Carmen rasped, pulling you back slightly. "Gotta loose shirt on, so you gotta stay back, alright? Tuck it in or something for me. I don't want it catchin' on fire." He muttered, hand sliding over the hem of your shirt, pressing it gently against you.

"Actually, go find an apron, ok? I'l get this started. I don't want you gettin' anything on ya." Carmen nodded towards the back.

"Yes, Chef." You saluted him playfully, passing the spoon to him.

Carmen watched you walk towards his office, stirring the ingredients before turning on the stove. He let the flame on a low flicker, reaching in his pocket for his own cigarettes, fishing one out and lighting it under the pilot light.

"Chef," Carmen called, catching Sydney as she turned the corner. "You got it?"

"I got it." Sydney nodded.

"Great, I'll be in my office." Carmen walked off, finding you in his office, lazily looking through the papers on his desk.

"Anything good?" He asked, leaning against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"What is spicy Moroccan carrot salad?" You tilted your head, reading Carmen's sloppy handwriting scribbled on the notecard.

"A side Sydney thinks would go good with the flounder we're getting in." Carmen hummed, blowing the smoke out the door before shutting it behind him.

He sunk down in his chair, patting his lap for you to sit with him. "Thanks f' helpin' me with family tonight." Carmen muttered, arms around your waist, bumming the cigarette in the tray. "Shouldn't be too long tonight."

You hummed, leaning back into his chest, head lulling back so you could look at him. "Not too long like I should wait up for you or...?"

Carmen snorted lightly. "I'll be home before midnight. Sydney and Marcus are closing tonight." He sighed, pressing a tiny kiss on your shoulder.

"Good," You grinned, turning so you were straddling him, your core rocking over his, covered by the aprons.

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.