#And still in love with this stupid fucking show

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[theemporium]

a luke blurb where him and his gf don't show much pda but quin and jack accidentally walk in on them making out? i feel like it would be really funny

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You and Luke were never big on PDA. 

It wasn’t a conscious choice either of you really made. Truth being told, you never really noticed how ‘un-coupley’ the two of you acted until a friend had pointed it out to you somewhere in the first few weeks of college when they were shocked to learn that you and Luke were a couple. 

But it never bothered you. It wasn’t a big surprise considering the evolution of your relationship with Luke was something that changed gradually over time. You had been attached by the hip since day one, each other’s best friend for as long as anyone could remember. You were always together, always found together, would always be together. There was no one in this world that you would consider your bestest friend over Luke Hughes.

It just so happened that somewhere between the years of high school, that friendship evolved into something a little less platonic. But he was still your best friend. He would always be your best friend before he was your boyfriend. Neither of you acted differently after you got together because nothing in the relationship had really changed after the two of you confessed that night, except for the fact you just happened to make out with him as much as you laughed at the stupid jokes he told.

So even though you and Luke had been together as a couple for the better part of six years, you never really acted like one in front of people. 

Which is why Jack and Quinn tended to be so dramatic whenever the two of you did anything remotely coupley. 

“Did you put sunscreen on today?” 

Luke paused, pulling back and slowly blinking his eyes open to look at you with an incredulous look. “Why the hell are you thinking about sunscreen whilst making out with me?” 

“Because your skin feels really warm,” you retorted, unbothered by the way his lip jutted out with a small pout as you poked the reddening skin on his shoulder. The hiss he let out instantly made you snort. “Fucking knew it.”

“You were hogging the bottle,” Luke retorted, smacking your hand away when you tried to poke him again before it returned to its rightful place on your ass. 

“No, you were more focused on putting sunscreen on me to remember yourself,” you corrected with a smile.

“Yeah, well, you whine so much when you’re sunburnt,” Luke huffed, laughing a little when you lightly smacked his chest. “Kidding, babe, love you.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered as you leaned down, pressing your lips against his and letting out a content noise as he squeezed your ass, pulling you further onto his lap before he pushed his tongue into your mouth and—

“OH MY GOD, MY EYES! MY FUCKING EYES!” 

Luke let out a heavy sigh, his head falling against your shoulder as he grumbled under his breath. “Every fucking time.” 

“Gross, guys,” Quinn frowned at the sight of you two on the sunlounger whilst Jack dramatically continued to gag behind him. “So gross.” 

“What happened to the two of you doing a grocery run in the town?” You questioned, making no move to shift off your boyfriend’s lap, though his hands moved to rest on your waist now. 

“We did it and came back already to find you—” Jack paused, placing a hand on his chest as he shuddered. “Defiling the furniture.” 

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled.

You snorted. “As if you didn’t do much worse three summers ago when I saw you and that girl on the boat—” 

Jack’s eyes widened. “LALALA! SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT SHE IS TALKING ABOUT!” 

Quinn whirled around to look at him with narrowed eyes. “What the fuck did you do on the boat?” 

Luke grinned, turning to look at you as his brothers continued to bicker in the background. “It’s kinda hot when you blackmail people.” 

You grinned back. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “Wanna show me how hot? Preferably in a room with a lock so we don’t have to repeat of the other day.” 

Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Quinn should learn to knock. That is not our fault.”

.

[eraserbread]

there's nothing your nanami loves more than watching you cook.

he enjoys the way you get into it, crinkling your brow as you multitask from nursing your sauce to peeling your vegetables. he just loves everything you love, including your stupid, smutty tv shows and perpetually sad music.

if you carved a hole in his chest, you'd probably just see... you. every part that encaptures your soul.

tonight, you're cooking for him again wearing a matching pajama set you know he loves. you're wearing it as he slugs back in from work, frustration brewing and rising above his head like a spell. his shoulders are so heavy that it's palpable. you drop the knife in your hands.

"oh, kento." you purr, approaching him with your arms outstretched. in a single move, he drops his glasses and loosens his tie, ready for you to dote on fully. "I'm sorry you had a bad day."

"you're making something good?" he puts on a millisecond smile for you, closing his big hands across your back. the air around you smells like home, and you feel like it. soft to the touch and packed full of comfort and ease. it's why nanami married you -- there's no pain or adversity within these four walls. that's only a work thing.

"your favorite, f-

he chuckles, cutting you off from the tangent he knows you'll take him on. "I don't see you laid out on that stove."

"-ken!" you slap both hands across the bottom of his pretty face, flustered and blushing red. you knew he has a mind to say something risque, but it always surprises you when he does. he's still not the easiest person to read. "jus- just sit down and I'll finish up."

"mm, okay. take your time." nanami has to peel himself away from you, and it takes all of his might. on the upside, he can watch your back as you fuss around in the kitchen. silently, you check the pot of rice, noting the remaining cooking time, stir and lower the flame on your meat and head back to continue cutting on your board. nanami studies all of it. he truly loves you so much.

so, he can't help the fact that the beautiful meal you'd been doting over got a bit too crispy.

your nanami just had to taste you for himself, already two fingers deep into your aching cunt, he leans down between your thighs to lap at your sweetness. he could die between these thighs -- make a home in the cushioned, comforting skin and stay forever.

he needed your pheromones in a cologne -- your taste on the back of his tongue forever, because you were so delelectible. you're always insanely fucking pretty when you're mewling his name; lovely, scattered renditions only you can call him tumbling out.

he's dragging the thickness of his tongue between your folds, focusing the tip against your swollen clit. he has you right where he wants you, knowing its not enough to make you cum immediately, but just enough to send you over the edge.

you're sliding back on the counter, its slickness from your body and nanami's spit not making it very suitable to eat off of. neither of you care, because it's just so sweet to be in this shared presence.

it's so lewd to hear your husband's fingers fucking you over the sound of your dinner sizzling and burning. but, that's just exactly what you signed up for when you agreed to become

mrs. nanami kento

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Gojo Satoru x older reader (7 age gap) headcanons

Synopsis - as a.normal adult that lived a stressful life , who thought she'll get a reason to live, pushing all the stress aside.

Warnings ⚠️ - f!reader , older reader. Reader is 28 and he is 21! A university student.

© not canon this is just a work of fiction, fuck off if you are pissed.

♡ Younger gojo - You first meet Satoru at a café near his university, where you often stop by after work. He’s loud, effortlessly charming, and annoyingly persistent when he notices you.

♡ Younger gojo - He overhears your conversation with a friend about work stress and, in typical Gojo fashion, inserts himself into the conversation with a teasing remark.

♡ Younger gojo- He starts showing up at the café more often, making playful comments about how it must be fate that you always run into each other.

♡ Younger gojo - He shamelessly flirts with you, dropping cheesy pick-up lines like, "So, how does it feel to be my ideal type?" or "You're a whole seven years older? Damn, you’re basically my cool, sexy senpai."

♡ Younger gojo - He teases you about your ‘serious adult job,’ acting mock-impressed whenever you talk about work responsibilities.

♡ Younger gojo-Despite his playful nature, you notice he actually listens when you vent about work. He remembers little details,your annoying coworker’s name, your favorite way to destress,and brings them up later in thoughtful ways.

♡ Younger gojo -You hesitate at first because of the age gap. Seven years may not be huge, but you still see him as a reckless, flirtatious university student.

♡ Younger gojo You remind him, "Aren't you too young for me?" only for him to smirk and reply, "Nah, you're just too perfect for me to ignore."

♡ Younger gojo - He works hard to prove he’s not just some immature kid. He’s persistent, but not in an overwhelming way he gives you space while making it clear he’s serious.

♡ Younger gojo - He loves calling you "Ms. [Last Name]" just to see your reaction. You roll your eyes, but he sees the small smirk you try to hide.

♡ Younger gojo-He lives to fluster you, whispering teasing things in public just to see you struggle to keep your composure.

♡ Younger gojo-He insists on paying for dates even though you earn more than him. If you tease him about it, he pouts dramatically: "Let me be a gentleman, okay?"

♡ Younger gojo-He loves stealing your work shirts or sweaters, claiming they ‘smell like you.’ It’s his comfort when he’s drowning in university assignments.

♡ Younger gojo-You’re more level-headed, but he has a way of making life exciting. He drags you out of your routine, making you loosen up and have fun.

♡ Younger gojo-He’s surprisingly good at giving emotional support. If you ever feel overwhelmed by work, he makes you take breaks and does something stupid just to make you laugh.

♡ Younger gojo-But he’s still Gojoz,immature at times. He complains dramatically when you act too much like an ‘adult’ “Babe, stop being so responsible and come play with meee.”

♡ Younger gojo-You find yourself being the one reminding him to study, eat properly, and sleep on time. You joke about babysitting him, but deep down, you don’t really mind.

♡ Younger gojo - He casually talks about the future with you, dropping comments like "When I graduate, we should move somewhere nice."

♡ Younger gojo - You worry about how people might view your relationship, but he never lets it get to him. "Who cares what they think? I have the coolest girlfriend ever, i mean mommy-" you smacked him.

To the ones Asking me if gojo was my favourite NO he is not ☹️ my suguru bby is, why do I create so much fics about him then?

Alright so Cannonically I m similar to gojo YES I m , like seriously. When I first saw gojo , I was like , he is me , I m him. So it's like , i know myself better than anyone else, that's why I make gojo fics more often, some fics are based on real life incidents 🫦

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART SIXTEEN

summary: thanos realises that losing you would destroy him.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing

bad investment masterlist

Thanos woke up before the sun.

It took him a second to register what had happened. Then it all came rushing back. You, showing up at his door, tears running down your face, the mark on your cheek, the way you crumbled in his arms.

And now, you were still here.

Pressed against his chest, your arm draped lazily over his waist, your breathing soft and steady. You were warm, and for once, he wasn’t thinking about how good you felt beneath him, how easily he could wake you up with his hands and his mouth.

No.

He was thinking about how the fuck he had ended up here.

How his stupid plot for revenge had turned into a joke against him.

A sick joke that ended with him being in love with a girl who was dating the man that ruined him.

Thanos exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. This was fucked.

You were fucked.

He was fucked.

Because when had it stopped being about payback? When had it started being about you?

When had it started feeling like if he lost you, he’d lose everything?

He looked down at you, his chest tightening at the way you curled into him like you belonged there. Like he wasn’t the worst possible person you could have fallen into bed with.

You stirred slightly, your fingers twitching against his skin before you stretched, a sleepy hum escaping your lips. Then, slowly, your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked, confusion settling in when you realized where you were, who you were tangled up with.

But before you could say anything, before you could react, Thanos did something he had never done before.

He smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a cocky, shit-eating grin. A real fucking smile. Soft, almost affectionate.

And you stared at him like he had lost his mind.

For a moment, you just looked at each other. His heart was beating too fast, and he hated it, hated how raw he felt, how open he was lying here with you.

Then, finally, you whispered, “You’ve ruined my life.”

Thanos chuckled, fingers ghosting over your bare shoulder. “I didn’t ruin your life, señorita.” He tilted his head, studying you. “I just made you realize how boring your life was.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering over his face, like you were trying to figure him out.

Like you didn’t understand how he could be soft with you now, how he could hold you like this.

Like last night hadn’t happened.

Because it wasn’t just the sex.

He had wiped your tears. Held you in ways that weren’t meant to lead to anything else. He had made you feel safe.

And that scared you.

Because Thanos wasn’t safe. He wasn’t soft.

But right now, with the way he was looking at you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he was.

Thanos’ mind was a warzone.

What good was revenge if Myung-Gi wouldn’t even let you leave him? What was the point of all his anger, all his hatred, if the one thing he wanted—you—was still trapped in that asshole’s grip?

Why the fuck was he in love with you?

It wasn’t like you were some once-in-a-lifetime miracle. You were just a girl. An average fucking girl.

But somehow, you’d made yourself indispensable. Your laugh—his favourite sound. Your eyes—the only place he felt seen. The way you moved, spoke, touched him—holy fuck, you drive him mad.

“Why are you staring?” you whispered.

Thanos opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

He should tell you to leave.

He should block your number, pretend you never existed, cut the cord before you ruined him completely. But he couldn’t. You made his miserable life just a fraction more bearable.

Maybe losing all his money to Myung-Gi wasn’t a cosmic joke. Maybe it was the universe forcing you into his path. And now that he had you, he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.

“I want you to myself.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

You gulped. Your fingers curled against the sheets before you turned onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “He won’t let me leave, Thanos.”

His breath hitched.

“Su-Bong,” he corrected.

You frowned. “What?”

“My name,” he murmured. “Nobody calls me Su-Bong. I don’t let anyone. But fuck, I want to hear you say it.”

You looked at him again, those eyes of yours soft, searching. “Su-Bong,” you tested.

He melted.

A slow smile curved your lips as you cupped his face, your thumbs grazing over his jaw. “I like Su-Bong.”

“I like you,” he confessed, and for the first time in his miserable existence, he meant it.

Your smile faded, replaced with something unreadable. “I like you too.”

“Then leave him.” His voice was a little sharper now, edged with something desperate. “Break up with that douche.”

“I’ve tried,” you admitted, voice cracking. “What if he really does it? What if he kills himself?”

Thanos’ jaw clenched. Fuck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and he fucking hated that Myung-Gi had this much control over you. That he still had you wrapped around his finger with his pathetic, manipulative threats.

“He won’t,” Thanos muttered, wiping your tears with his thumb. “He’s just saying that to keep you from leaving. He’s controlling you.”

Your lower lip trembled. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

Thanos exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “I have an idea.”

Send him video of you two fucking.

You blinked. “An idea?”

“If I tell you the truth,” he said, leaning in just a little, his voice dipping into something dark, something dangerous, “promise me you won’t freak out.”

Your brows furrowed as you sat up. He followed. “I promise.”

He shouldn’t tell you.

He should just deal with Myung-Gi himself, make it clean, simple.

But he wanted you to know. To understand.

And fuck, if you ran—

He’d chase you.

And once he caught you, he’d chain you to his bed if he had to.

Because maybe, just maybe, he understood Myung-Gi now. Maybe he empathized with him.

Because losing you?

That would destroy him.

[tactical-jellyfish]

How the 141 handles long-term relationships

Warnings!: Nothing, other than a reference to Simon's dad. Just silly fluff to tide my sillies (you guys) over until the new chapters of the big boy fic(s) are done :)

Also: Price isn't included in this because I wrote a fic where he's an absolute asshole and accidentally made myself dislike him. Might add him later, idk.

Simon Riley is not nearly the stern man everyone thinks he is when he's at home.

It's kind of funny, really, but he's quiet, and he is stupid in love (assuming he already trusts you as a partner, which, if he's dating you, he does). Something like a cat, really.

He wants to be in your vicinity, always. He wants to know you're safe and okay at every hour he can, but sometimes he can't handle all that lovey shit.

This is why I do think Simon would spring for someone who is very quiet, and not very touchy. He adores that, he really does. It would be even better if you didn't mind having a big, bulky man staring at you while you work for hours on end.

It's to the point that, when the rest of the task force comes over, they aren't sure if you're a roommate or a spouse(?) until they see Simon gently bump his forehead with yours, watch how he follows you the same way a prissy longhair will trail after its nonchalant owner.

Price pulls you over that night and tells you that you have his full permission to marry the lieutenant. Simon hears him, but he doesn't say anything.

Another thing: He wants desperately to take your last name. It doesn't matter if it's stupid, he wants it so badly.

He's a bastard even with a father who was a bastard. His name links him back to corpses and an abuser, he wants to be rid of it. He won't ask, but if you do, he cries.

You've seen Simon cry before. You have. Mostly after nightmares, the especially bad ones. This is nothing like that.

He cries of joy before you twice. The first is when you let him take your last name, and the second is on your "wedding" day.

There is no ceremony, just a short trip to the courthouse. He cries anyway, watching you sign the papers, pulls you into a firm hug as he sniffles into your shoulder, tells you how much he fucking adores you.

He won't let you forget that. Ever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny MacTavish is a harder task.

He's always one very predictable sort of way in his relationships: Playful. Loving and witty, always ready to tease.

Sure, there are days he's tired, days he's beat to the bone and he just wants to collapse and let moss grow over him, but he sees you and he gets a shot of something divine.

It doesn't matter who you are, really. Sometimes he needs you to match the energy a little, but other than that, he could get on well with any partner, as long as love is reciprocal.

Weddings, though... it depends.

This is where most of my more personal headcanons come into play here. I really think Soap's family is very Catholic. And that Soap is very bisexual.

If his family doesn't know (assuming the relationship is straight, too), it's great! It's a packed venue, sure, but it's raucous in the loving, familial way.

Soap wears his best kilt, cries a little as you walk down the aisle and kisses you so long his mother smacks him over it.

If not (he got kicked out, presumably years before)... it's much less fun.

He still adores you, truly, but, again, it's a bit solemn for him. Seeing you, perfect you, ready to marry a man who has no family left who wants him, it's a nasty feeling.

Johnny sees you the way he thinks everyone should. You're a person, yes, but of practically biblical levels of perfection, in his eyes. You've put up with so much, done so much, and you want him.

He won't ever get to show you to his mother, or his sisters, or his cousins, but he wants to. God, does he want to. He just knows they would have adored you, as they should.

But he can't. And it bums him out, it really does.

Still, he takes your face into his hands, and kisses you like the sinner he is, pours himself into your silhouette like he could somehow peel your ribs apart and find a space near your heart, to sit and love you for as long as he can.

No one is there to smack him for taking too long, and you hold him. And that's enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kyle Garrick is honestly the least challenging to end up in the good graces of.

He wants, more than anything, a peer. Someone who he can talk shit with and feel good confiding in.

So, of course he fell into a relationship with you. How could he not? Look at you. Brilliant, he'll say that. Brilliant, and an absolute menace with the silveriest tongue he's ever seen.

Again, like most, he's not really crazy about getting married. Not while he has a job so risky and at his age. It's more of an eventually, he feels no pressure to lock you down so fast, he already knows he has you, and that's enough for him.

This is most of the reason why the engagement is so long. I'm talking several years. Yes, multiple years. Moved in together, got a pet or two, even the rings.

And it's great, everything he could ask for. He comes home to a brilliant partner every day he's got the time, and he always wants to see you, because you're you. You can discuss, you can debate, and you can pull him over and tell him when he's being stupid.

The partnership works. And it keeps working.

At some point, you two were effectively married in everything but law, so you just forgot about the "wedding" bullshit and got one of his aunts to officiate in the living room and had a party that night with family.

Like any good soldier, Kyle has many issues with stress when he's home. His ultimate solution is to cuddle you whenever you won't be annoyed with it. Sometimes you talk, sometimes it's quiet, he doesn't mind.

He just wants you. Always.

And he knows he always will.

[littlestl4mb]

you should make a little blurb about jealous lu!

PS: I love your work you are so cutesie

thank you dear anon!!!! i will put this under the cut because i kinda wrote more than i meant to lol oops

okay so i was thinking about this heavily. at first i thought hmmm luigi doesn’t strike me as the jealous type idk… he’s so intelligent and he’s an engineer so like… you know that mf is as logical and solution-oriented as they come. for better or worse. but then... i thought about it again and i went no YEAH lu definitely gets jealous... i think college lu FOR SURE would. and it drives him mad bc he knows his jealousy is stupid. it’s a foolish feeling, he probably thinks. yet one he can’t shake himself free from. especially when you’re first seeing each other but it’s not completely exclusive yet. when things between you are casual because you’re just getting to know each other?? yeahhhh his brain is going wild 24/7. he can’t stop thinking about you. he can’t stomach the idea of you spending your time with another person that isn’t him. he hates it too because he just knows he’s being too obsessive, that he’s being way too much. he has a lot of self awareness— he knows how to rationalize his heart with his head. but… he can’t stop the compulsive bitterness he feels towards anyone that shows you any sign of affection!!! the hormones just go crazy in that man’s head. he tries to keep a cap on most of his feelings, but when it comes to you it’s nearly impossible. and it only drives him more mad because he’s soooo aware of his jealousy and how futile such a feeling is, but he literally cannot save himself from it. 

he sees you walking down the sidewalk with some guy, and he hates the way his stomach drops. he acknowledges the fact that he has no autonomy over who you see or hang out with, and still he can’t stand it. loathes it. feels so powerless to an emotion that is eating him alive inside and out. the worst part is he kind of knows the guy you’re walking with too. not very well but enough. the kid isn’t even that bad— has exchanged some kind words with luigi before in passing. but all it takes is for the guy to be in the place that luigi has self righteously already claimed as his in his head, and now luigi fucking detests the guy. 

he rants about it to his friends the moment he sees them, “i just don’t fucking get it. the guy has no hobbies. he can’t write. have you seen the books he chooses to read around campus? horrible taste. i don’t see what she sees in him.” — and all his friends are telling him he needs to cool it because it’s out of his control. 

don’t worry though, luigi does not believe in cooling it. in fact, he calls you up on the phone and leaves you a 3 minute long voicemail. he’s not afraid to say how he feels so he lets it all out. he’s telling you how “you’re wasting your time with whatever-his-name-is.” says something like, “does he even do anything? i mean it. does he? at least i started the video game development club.” 

luigi is going OFF in his little voicemail. you listen to the full thing when you’re out of class, generally surprised by how out of the blue it is. the thing is, you didn’t even see luigi earlier when he evidently saw you. he must’ve spotted you and then slipped out of sight immediately.

you have another class to attend to, and not enough time to deal with whatever melt down the man is having. so all you can text him is ‘luigi, he was walking out of class with me and we were talking because we just got put together for a group project.’ it’s the truth too, there wasn’t anything nefarious going on between you two. 

of course, luigi calls you right away. you can’t pick up, but that doesn’t stop him from calling about 5 more times. when he finally sees you later, he probably stands by his word. he’s got too much pride to admit his wrong doing. or the fact that he jumped to conclusions so fast. 

…and then i think once you’re in a proper relationship, the way in which luigi gets jealous shifts. it’s not so much over the simple and stupid stuff. not the silly little things that you get jealous of when you’re young and think you’re the center of the world. when you’re finally exclusive with each other, he has no insecurities that you’re all about him. but … he is a taurus man and every taurus man i’ve ever known is jealous in the most covert way. and in my experience it’s in a very specific way too?? which i would call the “i have to know i’m important in your life” kind of way. 

it’s not so much about being jealous of you hanging out with others. no, in fact he likes that you have your own ways about you and you’re independent. but there’s still a part of him that needs the reassurance that he’s very much important to you. i hope this is making sense. like, he wants to know when you think of him, and he wants you to admit when you’ve missed him. he’d straight up tell you this too. “can you just admit when you think of me? i can’t just know it. i have to hear it in person from you.” 

also, i think he’d have this strange kind of possessive jealousy, where he has to know you through and THROUGH. he has a need to know you as much as humanly possible. he needs to be closer to you than anyone else. he gets jealous and bitter at the thought of others knowing you better than he does.

he’s observant, yes, and knows you that way. but he likes hearing you talk about everything and anything too, so that he can understand you more than anyone else ever has. he needs to know the memory you have of being a little girl and walking down the street, and how the people and buildings were just so tall. something so mundane that you never bothered telling anyone else, he has to have that knowledge like it's a drink of water when he's been walking through the desert for months. and i’m telling you right now— that man wants to know the block you grew up on. he wants to go there by himself and walk down it. he tries to see what you saw as a little girl, wants to see things how you saw them when you were young. thinks that if he does that, he can fathom your thoughts a little better. maybe be able to think your own thoughts himself— that he might know you so well that he becomes a part of you. 

[teencopandthesourwolf]

in the pool scene before the kanima shows up in 'abomination' stiles tells derek and erica about what happened at the garage then says “can i go now? there's someone i really need to talk to...” and derek just glares at him like DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY WITH YOU LEAVING OR TALKING TO ANYBODY OTHER THAN ME IN THIS GODFORSAKEN TOWN OR YOU KNOW THE STATE OR COUNTRY OR PLANET ESPECIALLY NOT THE GIRL YOU THINK YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH NUH UH NO WAY JOSÉ YOU ARE STAYING RIGHT FUCKING HERE WHERE I CAN KEEP MY BEADY YET SEXY ALPHA EYE ON YOU AND TEASE AND TAUNT YOU RELENTLESSLY AND ENDLESDY BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO ADMIT IT BUT I'M ADDICTED TO THE WAY IT MAKES YOU ALL HUFFY AND SQUIRLY LIKE FUCK I MAKE MYSELF SICK WITH WANT THINKING ABOUT POUNCING ON YOU AND MAKING YOU MINE WITH MY MOUTH AND CLAIMING YOU WITH THE MATING BITE BECAUSE JESUS YOU SMELL BEYOND DELICIOUS AND LOOK SO UNFAIRLY GOOD WITH YOUR PALE CHEEKS PINKING UP AND YOUR LIFE-RUINING MOUTH GETTING ALL POUTY AND REDDER THAN USUAL THEN I START THINKING ABOUT HOW WE'RE BOTH SASSY AND SARCASTIC ENOUGH TO KIND OF CANCEL EACH OTHER OUT AND IF WE HUNG OUT WHO KNOWS WE MIGHT ACTUALLY HAVE SOME FUN IT'S JUST THAT I NEED A MINUTE TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER BECAUSE I'VE GOT TO PROTECT THIS STUPID LEGACY TOWN OF MINE AND I'VE THESE DAMNED WAYWARD BETAS TO WRANGLE AND DEADLY CREATURES WITH PARALYTIC VENOM TO KILL AND NOW I'M THINKING ABOUT THIS SHIT I HAVEN'T HAD A CHANCE TO GET A NEW THERAPIST SO I CAN DEAL WITH THE TRAUMA OF MY INSANE UNCLE COMING OUT OF A COMA AND MURDERING MY SISTER AND THEN THERE'S THE WHOLE HAVEN'T HAD A DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP IN SIX MONTHS AND THE STRESS OF ME HAVING HOLES IN LITERALLY ALL OF MY SOCKS BECAUSE WHO HAS THE TIME TO SHOP AND I STILL HAVEN'T WATCHED THE FINAL SEASON OF THE WIRE SEEING AS I DON'T HAVE A HOME ANYMORE LET ALONE A TV SET AND I'M HONESTLY A LITTLE SCARED THAT IF I STOP FOR EVEN A SECOND I'LL CRUMBLE WHEN I REALISE I'M CLINICALLY DEPRESSED SO I HAVE TO SUCK IT UP AND KEEP ACTING LIKE A MANIAC FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER TILL THIS CLUSTERFUCK CALMS DOWN A BIT AND THEN MAYBE JUST MAYBE I CAN TAKE A BREATH BEFORE CROWDING INTO YOU AND BACKING YOU UP AGAINST A WALL ONLY SANS THE THREAT OF ME RIPPING YOUR THROAT OUT WITH MY TEETH THIS TIME BECAUSE I KNOW I CAN PUT THEM TO BETTER USE HAVING THEM RIP OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES INSTEAD WHICH WOULD DEFINITELY BE PRECURSED WITH A SLOPPY MAKE OUT SESSION BECAUSE I'M DYING TO LICK YOUR FACE FROM YOUR CHIN TO YOUR HAIRLINE AND GNAW ON YOUR SINFULLY PRETTY NECK AND I KNOW YOU'D BE INTO IT TOO BECAUSE YOU REEK OF DESIRE LIKE 24/7 WHENEVER I'M AROUND AND AS MUCH AS YOU PUSH ALL OF MY BUTTONS YOU'VE ALSO GOTTEN UNDER MY SKIN AND DAMMIT I LIKE BEING AROUND YOU AND YOU MIGHT EVEN LIKE BEING AROUND ME GIVEN HALF A CHANCE I SWEAR I'M USUALLY A FAIRLY CHILL GUY WHO ENJOYS SUNSETS AND LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH JUST AS MUCH AS DRIVING AT 120MPH JACKED UP ON WOLFSBANE LACED VODKA FOR REAL AND HEY PERHAPS THIS IS A LITTLE FAST BUT FUCK IT I GENUINELY THINK WE'D MAKE REALLY CUTE PUPS TOGETHER—or maybe it's just me who spotted that?

[tinygameralec]

And now here I am to go completely in the opposite direction and talk a bit about his goddamn presentation here. It says so much about how much of a stone-cold fucking asshole he is and always has been.

He's a god. Gods deserve the best. What is the best? Gold. All of the gold. He shines like the sun. He is the sun. And if he wants the sun to stop shining... it will. (It does.)

Solas is still out there, so beneath the glorious robes he's wearing armour. Fancy armour, armour for the ultimate leader, but armour nonetheless. As long as there's a single person out there who doesn't love and worship him, he will be protected. Solas' minions will try and they will fail. They will always fail. But taking risks is stupid. He's been imprisoned once, he will not be denied again.

Lusacan is his, so she must look like him. Ghilan'nain made her glorious to match him. She towers over the whole world, for how else can she reflect his majesty? Her horns are matched to his helmet, to show that she bows to his mighty will.

And then there's his voice. Tyranny (is his nature) is control, control is power. He is power. He is control. His voice makes that control irresistable.

This scene is literally everything you need to know about Elgar'nan boiled down to a few shots and it's perfect.

All you have to do is obey me, worship me, love me - and kneel.

[sukuromi]

that honeysuckle breeze

notes from poppy: "daylily" by movements is such a huge comfort song for me, specifically when i'm depressed. i did write this raw mini piece when i was feeling low, and i intended not to share it, but i'm hoping it will give someone as much comfort as it did for me when i wrote it.

content warnings: reader has depression

YOUR BOYFRIEND SUKUNA feels helpless.

It’s a strange feeling for him. He’s always been the protector and the strong one. The one that others looked to for guidance when everything goes to shit. Never in the whole of his life has he felt like he’s just completely powerless. Not once.

But he can’t help but feel helpless every time those stupid fucking voices come for you again.

Because to him, what he’s been doing doesn’t feel like it’s enough right now. Not your favorite snacks in a small pile next to him, not the glass of water on your nightstand that he encourages you to take sips from every now and then, not the blanket he’s wrapped you tightly in, not his own arms wrapped around you and the gentle kisses to your forehead.

He knows that you’ll both get to the other side just fine, that you just have to ride it out... but he wants to do more.

He wants to get inside your brain and fight every bad thought that he knows you’re currently fighting on your own, even though your eyes stay steadily on the TV show in front of you. He wants to stand guard at the entrance, keeping you safe and making sure they never come for you again. He wants to re-wire everything in there so your brain will recognize immediately that they’re just lies.

Only lies, and nothing more.

But he can’t.

So everything else will have to do. His love, his attention, his care – that’s all he can give to make it better.

It’s the sniffly and sudden “I love you...” from you that does him in. He tries not to cry, trying to remain strong for you. You need a rock right now. You need stability, an anchor, a safe place.

But that still doesn’t stop his eyes from watering before he squeezes you tighter and tells you that he loves you too.

[1980shorrorfilm]

last goodbye

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…you leave ellie at the farmhouse.

before you read…angst. ellie gets mean :[ inspired by yellowjackets <3

the food is no longer steaming when ellie enters the quiet house, but you’re still there, sitting at the dining table— waiting.

your plate untouched, because you told yourself to just wait a few more minutes, wait for your lover to come home and join you. that was stupid. her routine of leaving and coming home when the sun was setting, or already down, wasn’t going to change simply because you wanted it to.

and what can you say to her?

she says it helps and clears her head from the things you couldn’t even imagine taunting her. you had to accept it. you had to tolerate the pushing away at the times you needed her to communicate to you. or her turning away in bed if your hand lingered on her thigh. the days spent knitting on the couch, alone, because she wasn’t there.

she never was. and yet you wait, and you wait, for something to change. but it wasn’t going to be ellie, no, her habits would remain the same. you had to do something.

you had to do something with all this love in your heart that feels unreciprocated, a harsh realization after everything you’ve been through with her. you’re sure, or you convince yourself, ellie does still care for you; she just can’t show it, not like she used to. maybe one day, you’ll receive that warm feeling again.

maybe, just not now.

“hey,” you greet her quietly, fork poking at your food, “kinda late, no?”

she pauses after kicking off her shoes and shutting the door, a cool wind slipping in before it closes. “you my parent?” she asks back in a tone that makes you feel dumb, and she quickly bites her tongue when your head is down. she sighs, “just…thought i was tracking somethin’ big…but i lost it.”

you stand up, collecting both full plates on the table, “sure you’ll find it when you’re out all day tomorrow.”

you walk to the kitchen, not catching the huff that leaves her lips or the roll of her eyes— the same pretty eyes that once only held admiration for you, and nothing else. that looked at you like you were the sun and the moon and all the twinkling stars in wyoming’s sky. now so…bland. not much behind them. 

ellie follows you, staying in the doorway while you pack away the untouched meals. “you’re not gonna eat?” she questions, arms crossed.

“lost my appetite.”

“seriously?”

you briefly look at her, unable to read her expression. you can only assume it’s one of annoyance. wanting to ignore her, you redirect your attention to the task at hand, placing the now-empty dishes in the sink and turning on the water. she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to remain patient despite the tension filling the space between you two. 

“i’m…” she begins, another deep sigh, and slowly walking over, “i’m sorry, babe.”

she’s using that soft voice that she does when you’re upset with her, and it used to work in the beginning. something little like dragging her muddy shoes through the house when she was eager to see you, to hold you, to kiss you. now, it doesn’t quite work. it’s a facade, she cannot be sorry when she will do the same fucking thing tomorrow and the day after that. 

you feel her behind you, pressing herself into your back, head on your shoulder. “just didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” she explains softly, kissing the tender skin of your neck, but it doesn’t seem to get a reaction from you. you don’t move like you’re being tickled, she doesn’t get a smile or a shy giggle, yet she kisses again.

you speak beneath your breath, “course you didn’t.”

ellie halts, then, slowly detaches herself from you. she takes a few short steps away, with a very dry and short laugh that almost makes you uncomfortable. for a moment, it’s silent, then comes a heavy gust of wind vibrating the house, and she nods, “okay.”

“okay?” you repeat, finishing up and drying your hands, reluctantly devoting your focus to her. “that’s all?”

“i don’t know what you want from me.”

now, it’s your turn to laugh, humorlessly while looking her in her green eyes, “i-i just want you to be here—that’s fucking it, ellie.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

you swear your hands shake in anger the moment her mouth shuts. and she’s serious, too. she’s so oblivious this is more than a cold plate of spaghetti. unfortunately for ellie, it’s hard to pinpoint when something—anything—had gone wrong, because her days blend together. hours and hours of feeling nothing. 

it’s the same for you, in a different sense. except you desperately crave an escape. 

and it’s not that far out of reach.

“i…i’m going home.”

“what? you—you are home.”

“i mean jackson, ellie. to my mom, my dad, people that love me, you know?” you tell her harshly, walking past her and going upstairs. she follows closely, mind racing, processing how the hell this escalated that damn bad.

“no—no, you’re not,” ellie says, like it’s true, because the reality that this isn’t some sort of joke or way to make her feel bad is unacceptable. 

you can’t leave her. you never have. you fucking left jackson twice to be with her. when she intended to avenge joel and when she decided to move away. and you did both things with no hesitation, an immediate yes, that’s only the ever answer for you when it came to ellie. was.

“what are you doing?” she asks, watching you grab a dusty backpack from beneath the bed, one that hasn’t been used since you happily moved in together. she had kicked it beneath the frame with her hungry eyes on you, laying on the mattress, one knee propped up and swaying and teasing. the first perfect night here. one of many, before they slowly faded into bleak loveless routines.

you don’t reply, because she has eyes that she can use, and turn your back, opening the closet. you skip over her clothes and to your own, tugging at your hung shirts and throwing them on the bed.

“c-can you stop— y/n,” ellie walks over, hand on your arm, a firm grip that prevents you from moving. until you tug away, looking at her like she was out of her mind. meanwhile, she’s thinking that with you. “i’m sorry—o-okay? just stop.”

her voice is begging, tears pricking at her eyes as it’s hitting her this is real. her partner doesn’t want to be around her. the love of her fucking life. her mind has already convinced her you were too good for her, for all her problems she has made your own, but that doesn’t mean she was just going to stop herself from loving you. she couldn’t. she needs you. you can’t leave.

“i’ll be better, yeah? i will. i’ll be here—with you, i want to be. a-and we can visit jackson, together— show em’ how good we are. w-we can be really good, we gotta try—i will fucking do anything, baby—” her words are rushing out, she doesn’t even know what she’s saying, if she’s making sense, but she thinks it’s getting to you.

she almost has hope for a moment.

then, she swears she sees it. that sorrowful look on your face, one that looks like future regret.

“ellie…i love you—”

“don’t—don’t fucking do that—no,” ellie puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head, not taking her eyes off of yours no matter how blurry they got.

suddenly, you hate this, and you want to vomit. the only ellie you saw when you wanted to leave, was the one that was no longer comfortable sharing emotion with you, being vulnerable like she once was. and now, she’s here, when you’ve made that decision. 

you shiver at her icy gaze and air slipping through the crack of the window, ellie wishes she could just make you freeze in place with the power of her saddened eyes. she can’t. 

and the idea that she can’t infuriates her.

she hesitates, “fucking pathetic…gets too hard for you and—you just run.”

now, you’re still, forgetting about the backpack and the shirt in your hand, the one you momentarily thought about hanging back up when you saw the first teardrop. you were going to do what she wanted and stop, to see if she meant it, if she’d do better. if you can be there for her, if she could just let you. how silly. 

“no—” your attempt to defend yourself is cut short, ellie speaking again, “b-but you ‘love’ me, right? damn liar…waste of my fucking time.”

you feel it. the actual breaking of your heart at words you think she doesn’t mean. she’s just upset. she’s just upset.

she gulps, “when you leave…don’t come back.”

you’re crying.

now you do feel pathetic, and you hate the way she’s staring at you, you push her away and rush out of the room. she’s following and it only makes you move faster, your combined heavy footsteps being the only thing louder than the settling of the house.

you reach the front door, grabbing the nearest jacket, ellie’s brown one she kept from joel. it smells just like her and it’s unfortunately extremely comforting. you put it on, and then your shoes, ellie just watching with confusion on her face. she doesn’t want this—why did she say that? what’s wrong with her? the same question that hung above her head for months. 

“y/n— wait—”

and that’s it. that is, essentially, her goodbye to you.

you’re out the door, jogging down the porch stairs, and not looking back as she stands, watching. telling herself to keep following you, because it can’t end like this, like a nightmare; losing you.

but, she doesn’t.

you made up your mind that she can’t change, she had tried. she lets you go, your only guiding being the dying sun. 

she stands by the door until you’re out of sight, then hesitantly, walks to the couch. she can’t go back upstairs, she can’t touch that bed now. she lays down, staring into nothing, everything on her mind that prevents her eyes from shutting. 

how did she get here? 

how? 

she doesn’t know when she fell asleep. she seemed to stay awake forever, must’ve been when she lazily tugged a nearby blanket on her body, the living room growing cooler.

but the windows weren’t open. why the fuck is it so cold?

ellie sits up when there’s some light peeking through the windows, the sun rising and the snow falling. it had been falling all night. she thinks of you, and something is wrong. she senses it, like a calling, two hearts synced and not beating in the same rhythm anymore.

ellie gets up, throwing on her sneakers and grabbing a thick hoodie, along with the rifle propped at the door— before exiting it. she can hardly focus when she sees the thick snow coating the ground, unsure how to fucking track you, to make sure you took the right path to jackson without getting lost or hurt.

it’s not a short trip. not on foot, and not in several inches of snow, or with this fucking wind that forced the snowflakes to hit her face. 

she decides to call your name once she’s on the usual path, not caring if anything else heard, she can handle it. what she can’t handle is not finding you.

and, she does.

another hour in, a few feet to the left, propped against one of the many trees.

sleeping—that’s what she wants to think. 

ellie says your name, quietly, and knowingly. 

she feels like the ground beneath her has just swallowed her whole. she thinks she’s screaming, but her mouth is just ajar as she’s fighting for breath.

she’s on you, holding you, trying to warm you up, but that cannot undo what has happened. she had lost you.

she had lost you a long time ago. she thought she could make up for it, she made the promise she would when she was lying down just hours prior— and you weren’t even here anymore.

now, she never can. and it’s like the sun, the moon, and all its stars, no longer exist. you had taken them with you. maybe she would be at peace, knowing there was a moment—a short moment—where you only felt a rush of warmth, and it was like being held by her again.

like she’s holding you now; she cannot let go of you. if she leaves, then it makes it real. 

so, she stays.

[h4neypot]

rush – jschlatt

pairing: jschlatt x (fem)reader  summary: your mom married a random guy, making you two move to a new state. you meet your new step-brother who immediately gets on your nerves. when the feeling of lust and want gets too much for you, how far are you willing to go? (my fault: london/culpa mía AU) genre: smut, fluff (?) warning: cursing, step-bro smut, 18+ not edited!

You stay silent, looking out the window, as it was just you and your mom sitting in the car. She was trying to make small talk, but you couldn’t hear any of it over the sound of feeling like your life was ending.

It was, actually. Your mom got hitched with some random guy in New York, and suddenly, you’re dragged into moving out of your home just to be one big family. 

Yeah fucking right.

You were pissed. Florida has been your home since you were born. 

“And you’ll find new friends and maybe a new boyfrie-”

“Oh, fuck you, Mom.” You yell at her, “I love Dave, you know that. You made me leave him behind!”

“I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry, but you’re young and have so much tim-”

“Whatever.” She sighs next to you, knowing your stubborn nature.

“He has a son, Jonathan.”

“Stupid ass name.” 

Your mom tsks at your comment, “He is lovely. You’ll get along.”

“Wake me up when we’re there.”

She didn’t wake you up.

Your mom’s rustic, old car pulls up to the most beautiful house, scratch that, mansion. 

“Since when did New York have big ass houses?”

“We’re in the suburbs, honey. The Hamptons, of all places.”

You whistle in admiration at the large house, knowing this was now your new home. You both get out of the car. 

Michael, your new step-father, was on the steps with his staff. “Welcome!” He goes to kiss your mom on the cheek, and you stand by awkwardly. “Hey!” He says your name warmly, “it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” You try to smile, but it ends up looking like a grimace. 

You and your mom get settled in; you go to check out your room alone, wanting to give the couple some privacy. The room was huge: a queen sized bed in the middle, a desk with a vanity nearby, and the walk-in closet with beautiful, expensive clothes with tags still on them. Your mom lucked out. “Jesus,” you whisper to yourself, “it’s like we’re in a new dimension.”

You text Dave, wanting to show him the new house, but he responded saying he was busy. Getting bored of just sitting at your bed, you walk down to the kitchen to get a drink. Opening the large fridge door, you look at your choices. To your disappointment, nothing catches your eye.

“What, rich bitches don’t drink fucking Coke?” You roll your eyes, closing the refrigerator. You jump at the tall, big man standing right there next to you. “Holy fuck!”

“Relax.” His voice is deep and smooth. You get a good look at him: he’s tall as fuck, buff as fuck, and oh God, is that a beard? You love beards. 

He interrupts your train of thought, “So you’re the new pet?” 

You make a face, “The fuck?”

He scoffs, “Joking. I’m Jonathan. And you are…?”

“No one laughed. Whatever, dude. Not telling you my name.” You shove past him to go back to your room. He already pissed you off. Great.

“What’s the rush?” He follows you through the kitchen, “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Don’t you want to get to know me?” You walk up the stairs as he lingers by the bottom. 

“Go fuck yourself!” You shout as you reach the top, throwing up the middle finger at him.

Pet? Who the hell does this guy think he is? His dad seemed nice enough, but what a jackass. 

Hours pass and it’s time for you to get ready for the family dinner. You think about Jonathan. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was hot. Don’t get it wrong, Dave is a sweet boyfriend. He’s everything you could’ve asked for, but Jonathan is the complete opposite. Dave is sweet, but Jonathan is hot. 

You decide to pull out all of the stops; your mom said this was a fancy restaurant and you knew you had to look your best. You put on a black elegant yet revealing dress ending at your thigh, showing a lot of skin, but just enough to still be considered appropriate. You touched up your makeup, applying gloss to make your lips look plump.

You walk down the stairs again. Jonathan is already at the bottom, dressed in a suit. You felt yourself drooling a bit. He looked really, really good. He looks up from his phone and watches your every step. His sharp eyes are almost too much for you; you could feel the intensity of his stare. You knew you got him. He wants you. 

Smirking a bit, you link arms with him. “Did I keep you waiting long? Sorry, I was getting dolled up.”

He scoffs, “Took you long enough.”

“You look beautiful.” Michael compliments you as he stands near the door with your mom, making you grin. 

You say your thanks, but turn to his son who’s right next to you. “What about you, Johnny? Don’t you think I look pretty?” You pout, jutting your lips out. His eyes focus on them. 

“You look good.” He clears his throat. You grin even more. Checkmate. 

The three of you get into the car, as Jonathan chose to drive his own, and arrive at the restaurant. You internally scoff at the bougie-ness of it all. Your single meal would probably cost your whole month’s expenses. 

Dinner is pleasant. The food is okay. The conversation is really more between your parents. You sit across Jonathan, studying his face and demeanor. Something about him just draws you in. He’s handsome and suave. The way he talks to your mother, answering her incessant questions smoothly kind of turns you on. 

Bored, you start to play footsie with him under the table. You nudge your heel against his leg, seeing his eyebrow quirk up at you. Smirking, you drag your foot higher up his leg. You quirk your eyebrow back at him. He smiles, you can see the corners of his lips lift, but hides it with his hand. What a shame, you think. Michael suddenly asks you a question, and you stop your antics under the table, conversing with him instead. 

It’s nearing the end of the meal, dessert being the only thing left. 

“This was a lovely meal, but unfortunately, I do have to go.” Jonathan dabs his mouth with his napkin before placing it on the table.

“Oh,” your mom sounds genuinely disappointed, “you won’t stay for dessert?”

“I would love to, but I made plans prior to this. It’s my friend’s birthday, so I do have to go.” 

“Who’s birthday?” Michael asks.

“Ted’s.” 

“Oh, why don’t you bring her with you?” Michael suggests, nodding towards you. “Ted is one of Jon’s closest friends. You’d get along with his girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a great idea!” Your mom claps excitedly, wanting you to adjust to the new life with new people.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jonathan starts to protest.

“Nonsense,” Michael cuts him off. “You’re taking my car, therefore, if you’re leaving this dinner, you’re taking her with you.” 

“Do you even want to go?” Jonathan asks, staring right at you. You know he’s silently begging you to say no. 

“I actually would love to.” You smile, looking right back at him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Great! Okay, go on. Have fun, be safe.” Michael grins. 

“Bye, love you.” You kiss your mom on the cheek.

You and Jonathan walk out the restaurant, heading towards his car. You roll your eyes. Of course he has a sports car. He opens the door for you, and you get in. 

“You should’ve said no. I’m taking you back home.” He shakes his head. “Buckle up.”

“Nope!” You cross your arms and grin, “You’re taking me with you.”

“I’m not playing around. Where I’m going isn’t for a doll like you.” He starts driving. You blush slightly at the compliment. 

“I can handle it.”

“You’re stubborn, Doll.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you I can handle it.”

“Can you handle this?”

He speeds up suddenly. The car is going way past the speed limit, he’s zipping between cars, and he’s drifting corners. You look at him focused on his reckless driving. He’s facing the road, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and occasionally licking his lips. His eyes have a fire to them, either passion or excitement or maybe both.

He’s hot. Fuck, your step-brother is hot.

He slows down. “You alright, Princess?”

“First it’s Doll, now it’s Princess? How many can you come up with?”

“As many as you want.” Jonathan winks at you.

“I’m fine. Racing isn’t new to me. Let’s go.”

“Alright, if you say so. Don’t go crying to mommy about it.” 

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes. 

The rest of the drive is silent, and you still don’t know where exactly you’re going. It isn’t until he pulls up to a parking lot where you realize. There are tens of sports cars and hundreds of people. Street racing. 

“Yo.” Jonathan greets a guy who you assume is Ted. 

“Hey Schlatt. Who’s this?” He nods towards you.

“Hi,” You introduce yourself and your name. 

“I’m Ted!” He grins and points to the woman next to him, “and this is my girlfriend, Grace.”

“Hey!” Grace smiles as well. She seems nice.

“Nice to meet you both!”

“First time?” Grace asks as the two guys start talking to the side. 

“Not really.” You shrug, “I used to race.”

“No way! You up to race tonight?”

“Oh, not at all. I got in an accident once, never again.” Your phone buzzes. You got a text from an unknown number. Eyebrows furrowed, you open it. You gasp at the photo sent: it’s a picture of your best friend and boyfriend kissing. 

Grace looks over your shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

You scoff. “This is my best friend,” you zoom into her face, “and this is my boyfriend.” You zoom into his.

“No fucking way.” Grace gasps. “Bitches.”

“I can’t believe it.” You shake your head. You feel betrayed. You feel angry, humiliated, and hurt.

“You gotta get back at him.” 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Orrrr,” She drags, “you send him a picture of you making out with someone hot.”

“You’re a genius and I already love you.”

“A simple thank you would’ve worked, but I’ll take it. You’re lucky you’re here tonight. Lots of hotties. Lots of ‘em.” She scans the area. 

You look around you as well. There are plenty of cute guys. You pick one out in the crowd. You ruffle up your hair, fix your gloss. “I’ll be back.” 

“Go get ‘em!” She cheers behind you. 

You start flirting. It’s a simple thing, really, getting a man to be interested. You ask him about his car, letting him explain everything to you as if you already don’t know the answer yourself. You giggle at his lame jokes, you lean over so he has a clear view into your dress. You lean into his ear, “Hey, wanna go somewhere quieter?”

“Lead the way.” He smirks. 

Bingo.

You grab his hand, bringing him to Jonathan’s car. There’s no time to really waste, you grab him by his collar and make out with him. You take your phone in your hand, making sure to take photos while kissing him. It’s not great, too much tongue in your opinion. The photos are all you need though, so you keep kissing him. 

“Couldn’t find anywhere else to do this shit?”

You pull away, hearing him groan. “Sorry?”

You turned to see Jonathan standing there with his arms crossed.

“Chris, get the fuck off my car. Get out of my face.”

The guy, who you now know is Chris, scrambles off the hood. “Yeah, sorry bro.”

He leaves without even sparing a glance at you. You scoff. Fucking bitch boy. 

“What the hell.” You throw your hands up. “I was busy.”

“Yeah, busy making out with a loser.” Jonathan scoffs. He steps closer to you. “Didn’t take you to be a whore.”

“I’m not a whore.” You feel yourself getting defensive.

“Why Chris?”

“I just need to make out with someone attractive. My now ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend. I got a picture of them making out. I’m sending him pictures of me making out with someone else as revenge.”

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” 

You pout. “I dunno. I thought it was a good idea…” you trail off. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

You don’t even notice Jonathan getting so close. Before you know it, his face is right there above you. The height difference makes you squirm.

He tips your head up, lifting your chin with his finger. “Wanna make him really jealous?” 

“Uh,” You don’t know what the fuck is going on. “Sure?”

“Doll, you into me?” 

You turn red. “What?”

He laughs. “Come on, Doll. I see the way you’ve been looking at me. You want me. Don’t worry, I want you too.”

He drops his finger and picks you up so you’re sitting on the hood of his car. He stands in between your legs. “You’ve been teasing me all day. Just say the words and I’m all yours.”

He’s so close to your face, you feel his breath on your face. His lips are so close to yours. 

“I want you.” 

That triggers Jonathan into action. He leans forward, putting his lips onto yours. He’s so much better than Chris. He kisses you eagerly, molding your lips with his. You moan slightly at the impatient nature of his kissing. He slips his tongue into your mouth with the opening. You tangle your fingers into his curls, trying to bring him closer. You want him to consume you whole. 

He sucks on your tongue slightly before pulling away. You whine unconsciously. He chuckles, “Don’t worry, we’re not finished. Let’s go somewhere else, yeah Doll?” You nod and jump off the hood. He smacks your butt as you walk towards the passenger seat. You roll your eyes at the action before he opens the door for you. 

The car is suffocating. You feel the tension, heavy and eager. You feel restless, shaking your leg slightly in anticipation. He’s so hot and this is so wrong, but it felt so good, you wanted more. 

He’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. His hand looks so big gripping your thigh. You wonder what it would feel like to have his fingers inside of you. You squirm at the idea. 

You feel him glancing at you every so often, but you keep your gaze straight ahead. 

“What’re you thinking, Doll?”

You turn to face him. He glances at you back. “Nothing.”

He squeezes your thigh, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You fidget with your fingers, “Your hands. They’re really big. Wanted to know how they’d feel.”

You see him smirk, a part of you hates feeding his ego. “Yeah? Was that so hard to admit?”

“Fuck off.”

“I get that you’re stubborn, but in the end, you’ll be begging me to fuck you anyways. You either act like a brat and get treated like one, or we can just be honest and have some fun.”

You sputter a bit at him being so straightforward, but you don’t know what to say.

“Doll, you’re beautiful. I wanted you ever since I saw you get out of the car from the window. I want you now. I know it’s weird, but don’t think about it. You want me too, right?”

You sigh, it’s the only thing you want right now. “Yes.”

“Good. We’re almost there.”

You have no idea where you’re going, again, but the GPS says there’s twenty minutes left. You sigh and look out the window, bored. You start playing with his fingers from his hand on your leg. You smile a bit to yourself as you decide to have some fun.

You grab his hand, lifting it towards your mouth. Looking right at him, you take one of his fingers and put it in your mouth. It’s long, but you take it all the way down.

“Fuck, Doll.” He glances between you and the road. “You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “someone’s not keeping me company.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“What?” You feign innocence, “Nothing wrong with keeping myself busy.”

You take another finger into your mouth, making eye contact as you go from the top to bottom. 

“Alright. That’s enough.” He pulls over to the side of the road. It’s dead at night with no cars coming on the small road. 

“Hey!” You pout, “we’re not there yet.” 

“You’re being a tease and a brat. You don’t get to be fucked in the vacation home. You’re getting fucked on the side of the road like the whore you’re acting like.”

You can’t lie, you feel turned on just from those words. 

He gets out of the car and walks over to your side. He opens the door and holds out his hand. “Come on, we’re going to the back.” 

The two of you sit in the back seat. It’s hard with him being over six foot, but you make it work. You sit on his lap, body fully draped over his. His big hands are on your hip, balancing you on his lap. The two of you make out for what feels like hours. You whine a bit, wanting more.

“What’s wrong, Doll?”

“Enough kissing. I want you to fuck me.”

He pretends like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t know, you were kinda annoying the whole day.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge his shoulder, “Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.”

“You want to.”

He scoffs at that, “You want me to fuck you already. Without any foreplay. You’re more desperate for it than me.” 

“Well, maybe I am. I’ll just go back to Chris and get fucked by him inste-“ You move to get off his lap, but are stopped by Jonathan’s hands firm on your waist.

“No.” He growls, “You are not going to him. You’re mine tonight.”

“So make me yours.” You say, keeping eye contact with him.

He starts kissing at your neck, trailing down from your jaw to your chest. His hand ghosts over the nape of your neck, fidgeting with your dress zipper. He pulls it down, revealing your chest. He places kisses further down, trailing all over your breasts. He maintains eye contact with you the whole time, seeing you squirm at the feeling. He sucks at the top of your breast, leaving a mark just above your nipple. He licks at each nipple, making you whine at the sensation. 

He pulls away and grins. “Come on, Doll. Get your dress off.” With some maneuvering, you fully take off your dress and he manages to take off his jeans. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers, and it makes you blush. It almost feels like he means it.

“Not too bad yourself.” That’s an understatement. Jonathan looks so fine with his messy hair and lips red and swollen. You palm his cock through his boxers, feeling the length and hardness. He moans a bit at the sudden touch. You pull it out, pumping it to see the full length, drooling a bit at how big it is. 

“Next time you can put it in your little mouth, but right now, I’m going to fuck the shit outta you.”

He lifts you up and lines himself up to your hole, teasing by sliding it against your lips.

“Jonathan, please.” You whine. 

“You sure?” He looks serious. 

You nod and lean in against his ear, whispering “Fuck me so I can’t walk for a week.” 

He grins widely, lowering you onto his cock. You’re so wet it slides in, regardless of the big size. 

The car fills with the sounds of your two moans. He doesn’t move for a second, letting you adjust to him. “Okay.” You nod. “I’m good.”

He kisses your cheek, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You nod again. Jonathan lifts you up easily, holding onto your two thighs. He drills into you, keeping a fast and quick pace. You can’t help but moan at every thrust. 

“So good, Doll.” He groans, “Look at you, being a filthy fucking slut. Getting fucked by your step-brother. Getting turned on by him. Such a whore.”

You close your eyes and face the window, the taboo nature of it all finally hitting you, but it just turns you on even more. 

He chuckles, using one hand to grab your face. His fingers grip onto your cheeks. “Look at me. Look at your step-brother while he fucks you.”

You clench at his words. “God, Doll. I could fuck you all day. You want that? Huh? You want me to fill you up every single day? Sneak into your room at night and fuck the shit outta you?”

You moan loudly, “I can’t hear you, Doll. Use your words.”

“Yes! God, yes. Please.” You whine.

“So eager to please. So desperate, huh? Need your big brother to fill up your slutty hole.” 

He grabs his phone, “Let’s have something for your ex-boyfriend to think about, yeah?” He pulls up the camera app, recording but having the camera face the floor of the car. 

The idea of him recording this should make you freak out, but it just turns you on more. You whimper, trying to be quieter. 

“Come on, Doll. Let him know how good I make you feel. Tell Dave how I’m fucking you.” 

He thrusts into you faster, pulling your hair slightly along with it. You whine at a high pitch. 

“Say how you feel right now.” Jonathan pulls tighter.

“It feels good!” You cried out. “You fuck me so good, Jonathan. I love your cock, fuck.”

You stare into his eyes, seeing them get darker. “Good girl. Say something to Dave.”

“What?” You sobbed, Dave was the last thing on your mind. 

He drags you down with your hair, whispering into your ear “Tell him how much better I am, how he’s never made you feel like this.” 

“You’re so much better than Dave, Jonathan.” You sobbed, “He’s never made me feel so good. You’re filling me up so well.” 

“Good.” He ends the recording, throwing the phone into the driver's seat. He continues his strong pace. 

“Jonathan, I’m close!” The pressure builds up from inside and you can’t help but chase the feeling. You start pushing down onto his cock, wanting to climax.

“Good girl, working for it, yeah?” He lets go of your face, putting both hands onto your waist. His grip is tighter than ever and he quickens the pace. The pain of his grip and the thrusts escape you as the only thought in your mind is to orgasm. You need to cum. 

You don’t really remember what you say - begging, pleading, and moaning so loudly, you knew you’d be embarrassed. 

The shockwaves wash over you; his final thrust pushes you over the edge. He follows quickly after, filling you up with his seed. You whimper at the feeling of it entering you.

“Fuck.” He pants. “Shit.” 

You stay there, his cock still inside of you. You lay your head on his shoulder, both of you catching your breaths.  

“So.” You break the silence. “That was good.”

“Good? Shit, Doll, I expected a little more than just good.” He laughs.

You punch his shoulder, “It was amazing. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry if I was rough.”

“I liked it.”

He slaps your ass. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and go home.”

He lifts you up, and you wince at not being able to feel your legs. Jonathan grabs tissues from the front, wiping you down. You smile at how gentle he’s being. “Thanks.”

He just nods. Moving to grab your clothes, he puts on your panties, lets you put your arms through the dress straps. He gets out of the car, walking around to get your door. You try to stand, but you just can’t.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“I,” You cover your face with your hands. “I can’t stand up.”

Jonathan laughs. Laughs harder than you ever heard him. “Oh, you poor thing.” 

“Come here.” He gestures to you to move towards the door. You scoot over to the edge of the seat. He picks you up, bridal style, and opens the door of the passenger seat. Gently, he places you down and pulls on the seatbelt for you. Buckling it in, he closes the door and you smile at him through the window. He gets into the drivers seat, setting up the GPS to go home.

The windows are open and his playlist softly plays in the background. You hum along the lyrics, trying to fathom what the hell just happened. You giggle at the idea of telling Dave you fucked your step-brother.

“What’s so funny?” Jonathan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Just thinking about how Dave would freak at what just happened.”

He hums, “Yeah, I got the recording. I feel like it’s better than those fuck ass kissing photos with Chris.” 

Sending the video from his phone to yours, you craft a text to send to him.

you: found a much better fuck than you could ever be :) we’re done, lose my number (attachment: video)

“Sent!” You giggle as you see that the text and video were delivered. You see Jonathan smirk a bit. 

Immediately, Dave sends you multiple texts, even starts spam calling you. 

You scoff, “Couldn’t call me at all once I moved, but all of a sudden he’s free?”

Jonathan chuckles at that, but puts out his hand. You quirk an eyebrow, but he just nods at you. You give him your phone. To your horror, he answers Dave’s call.

You can hear your ex-boyfriend’s voice through the phone.

“What the fuck was that vide-” 

“Listen, fucker. You cheated on her with her best friend, and she found someone better. Don’t worry about it, I’ll treat her right. You heard in the video, right?” 

“Who the fuck is this?” 

“None of your business. Lose the number. She’s blocking you.” Jonathan hangs up and hands it back to you. “You’re blocking his number now.”

You can’t help but tease. “But what if I don’t wanna?”

He says your name threateningly, “You’re not talking to him anymore. You’re not talking to anyone anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says your step-brother who wants to protect you.” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a loser.”

“Not what you were saying ten minutes ago, Doll.”

“Shove it.”

He pulls up to the house, parking next to another expensive car. He turns the car off, taking out the key. Turning to face you, he smirks.

“So, same time next week?”

(taps mic) ahem. yes. so basically i watched culpa mía and my fault: london and thought schlatt was so nick coded. there was so much more i wanted to add (schlatt street racing scene???!!???!!) but idk car terminology like that so it would not have turned out good LOL changed some plot from the movies ofc but still is very similar i did not edit this piece so sorry if it's not the best.. also my first smut post AWOOGA

[haydenthewitch]

heres what i want sob stories to be based on the stills that recently came out and my own goddamn degeneracy:

buck saves dog by doing something incredibly stupid

Eddie freaks out because he barely saved buck from fucking dying, and buck just goes "But i didn't die!" and eddies all like "Yeah, because i was there! What happens when i leave for Texas??"

everyone is all ohhhhhh shitttttt and buck/eddie have a "silent treatment" fight where they are both on edge and brushing each other off and not talking about it

Eddie goodbye at the station (Buck storms off and doesn't say goodbye)

that catches bobby's attention and he gives a DAD tm speech about not letting loved ones know your feelings because nobody is promised tomorrow and "Are those really what you want your last words to be, buck?" ect.

Buck Spirals

Buck shows up at eddie's front door with the intent to apologize but they just get into a bigger fight about everything because eddie is WORRIED and buck is feeling ABANDONED and they are full SCREAMING at each other

"WHY? WHY AM I SOOOO IMPORTANT EDDIE? WHY DO YOU INSIST ON SAVING ME?" "BECUSE I LOVE YOU BUCK"

Passionate buddie kiss that's filled with anger and longing becuse 'fuck you eddie for leaving' and 'how dare you try to die on me buck you're important to me'

voiceover about love and fighting and stuff

last ten minutes cliffhanger about the maddie kidnapping situation

[spiderlot]

allow me because there needs to be more of him🗣️

tmasc nat who decides he doesn't want to go to college but rather tries to pursue on being a tattoo artist? sure he might need to go to a school to practice and get his license and all that but he rlly wants to go for it. has all these cool tattoo concepts that he draws in his sketchbook

maybe being a regular client for him? you like his style but also start crushing on him?👀 or maybe you mentor him and let him practice on you?

-⭐️

he looked so good this episode oh my glob 😭😭 thinking about tattoo artist!nat who wears bandanas like this....and tank tops to show off his arms... ink stains on it sometimes....especially when he'd do stupid stick and pokes when starting out.

maybe there's this park/cafe that he always goes to so he can draw and he accidentally leaves his sketchbook while in a hurry bc he's late for class...finding it and the only thing in it is his name (he probably practices his signature in it ☹️😭) so you decide to take it home and come back tomorrow to see if he returns. giving it back and mentioning how cool his art is and if he's an actual tat artist...he says he's going to school to become one and you jokingly ask if he can give you a tattoo.

getting his number and setting up an "appointment" 😁 you're rly just going to his house and he practices so hard 😖 grumbling when he fucks up the stencils and apologizing for taking so long....staring at his shoulder freckles the whole time he does the tattoo... feeling his breath hit your arm and tensing up so much cause he's so handsome, and he asks if u need a quick break because he can feel u shake 😭

if you're a regular at the shop, you always request him!! even if he's booked, you'll wait weeks just to have him. always praising his skill and style and loving how he blushes... nat showing you some new ideas he has after he's done and accidentally forgets he drew you on one of the pages O__O asking him who's gonna get that tattoo 😭

thinking about dating him and still going to the shop to get ink done and he gives you a discount :3 walking down to a little sandwich shop on his break and eating with him, telling him all about work and he tells you all about how some grown man nearly passed out while he pierced his nipples 😭

[cherryeclipses]

my boy | billy loomis

Billy loomis x reader

Non-gendered reader, no use of Y/N, mini one shot, what it’s like dating Billy

Word count: 300

⋆ ｡⋆ ｡⋆ ｡

Billy Loomis is toxic, psychotic, and insane. He’s possessive and a flirt, but so damn handsome.

Billy always has a hand on you. Holding you by the waist, wrapping his arm around you tightly. Intertwining your fingers loosely, running his thumb along your knuckles. If he can’t touch you, he always has an eye on you. You’re his and he’ll never let you stray too far.

Billy kisses you like the world is ending. Full of desperation and passion. Clutching your face in his hands, barely breaking away to breathe.

As much as he adores you, Billy still enjoys terrorising you. Calling your phone teasing you with his ghost face voice. He’d never actually hurt you, but he gets off on hearing the fear on the other end of the phone. Once he even made Stu break into your house so he could show up to save you. And fuck you silly while high on the adrenaline…

Sure he was flirtatious with other people but you were the one. Never letting another person put their hand on him. Only you.

He loved making stupid jokes to make you laugh. It was the only time he seemed soft was when you were laughing together. Only when no one was around of course. Passing you notes in class to make you giggle, knowing it would get you into trouble.

Date nights usually consisted of the two of you (and sometimes Stu) cuddled up on the couch watching horror films. Prom Night, Halloween, The Exorcist, My Bloody Valentine, you name it, you've probably seen it. Billy would always over explain his favourite scenes to you, whispering in your ear as you watched the tv. You never thought about how he always seemed to get turned on when the final girls were being murdered.

⋆ ｡⋆ ｡⋆ ｡

[midnightblosm]

Evan didn't put a lot of time or effort into what tabloids and those strange shows that claim to be entertainment news said about him. He stood for cameras on red carpets, he'd even wave at a paparazzi here and there when he was out and about, but other than that, he kept himself pretty oblivious. On purpose. Early on, his agent advised his parents to get a therapist for him -- back when he was still a young teenager trying to break into Hollywood after acting school. He thought it was silly at first, dumb even, but he grew to appreciate it as he got older.

He'd ask for a few appetizers just so they could soak up whatever alcohol they'd be consuming in the next few hours. If this was his shot with Stella, finally, he wasn't going to fuck it up by getting messily drunk and saying or doing something stupid. He'd let go of her hand, only to switch it to the other and wrap his arm around her shoulders to pull her in and press a kiss to the side of her head. "I wouldn't expect anything else from you. I'm sure you'll find something that will scream Stella, and whatever you end up wearing will be stunning." As much as Evan loved her personality, the person she was as a whole, he'd be lying if he said he didn't also appreciate that she was absolutely gorgeous and presented herself that way as well, inside and out. When the bartender set their drinks down, he'd let go of her hand to pick up his glass, clinking it to hers before taking the first sip of glass number 2. His other arm, however, remained around her shoulders as he even pulled her more towards him.

"Okay, that's good to know. I wouldn't judge you if you had, I know what the industry can be like. But I'm glad it's all real for you." She said, wondering a moment about his type. Was it her? Or was she the outlier? It wasn't like she paid attention to his quick dates or flings. She noticed a few in photos here or there but she couldn't recall their faces now. Either way, it was flattering that he liked her and didn't seem to want this to be something casual. Hopefully the tabloids would see that too and not insinuate that she wasn't important.

"Yes, exactly!" She said, snapping in his face right back. She finished her drink and set the glass down with a little clink. "Again thank you, I really do appreciate the offer. I'll give her a call later this week. I just want to make sure I'm still myself. I don't want to dress a certain way because I'm working with a brand or I'm promoting a movie. I want to dress like me." Stella explained, freezing for a moment when he held her hand again. It was nice, as simple as that sounded. She hadn't held hands with someone for a while, and it was nice to have that intimacy with someone. "Yeah sure, another of the same please." Then she took a sip of her water, wanting to make sure she didn't loose her head too quickly.