#I have a lot more thoughts but I didn't wanna make this too long!!

[blackdykegirlblogger]

can i req smth with sub!abby? literally anything there's a severe drought creative liberties all yours

a/n: ngl, as someone who never rlly saw abby as a sub, i was stumped asf at first. but i adore a challenge and ended up with this! enjoy <3

always the polar opposite of her girlfriend, abby anderson was never much of a smoker. sure she's tried it a few times in high school, and maybe once or twice in college, but that was as far as her experience led.

she didn't like the way weed made her feel, not one bit. the paranoia, the anxiety, the feeling of someone always watching you even when you're the only one in the room. she didn't like how her thoughts wandered and her mind grew blank and everything seemed to move in slow motion. it terrified her.

and as her resident pothead girlfriend, you respected that. sure, you loved your mary jane and couldn't really imagine life without it, but you also understood that everyone had their own experiences and boundaries and that someone's yum might be another's yuck. so in short, you were cool with it.

that was just how your dynamic worked.

but...abby would be lying if she said that she wasn't curious. she saw the effect the plant had on you, how it would have you laid out on the sofa for hours on end, not a thought in your pretty little head as you giggled your ass off at some random cartoon. or how creative it made you. or how sensitive. it was so easy to get you all worked up and soaked when your head was so far somewhere else, melting into the couch as her tongue worked magic in between your thighs. she envied that relaxation, craved it a lot more than she'd admit.

okay, okay, so maybe she's had a few not so fun experiences with it. but get knocked down nine times and get up ten! this time was going to be different, she was gonna make it be different. and that's the mantra her brain had on loop as she approached you sitting by the coffee table, screwing the top onto one of your grinders.

"....you wanna smoke? little ms. abby "i'll never touch another joint for as long as i live" anderson? very funny, where's the cameras?"

"i'm not joking."

you looked at her with thinly veiled skepticism before continuing, giving her your full attention as you placed a rolling paper back on the table. "are you sure about this? last time you smoked was like, what? 2 years ago? and didn't you say you were hallucinating horses or some stupid shit like that?"

"....that happens to everyone."

"no the fuck it does not."

but at the end of the day, she wore down your resolve, insisting that she was a grown woman capable of making grown woman decisions. and that was exactly how you ended up here, staring in shock and disbelief as she took a deep hit and gently exhaled, her eyes getting redder by the minute as she passed the blunt back to you, all dopey and lightheaded. "i love you."

"you're very high. but i love you too."

now unbeknownst to abby, depending on the type of strain you smoke and who you're around, it could have certain...asphoradic effects. effects that she was not at all prepared for.

she was feverish, lacing your neck with kisses and bites galore as she climbed on top of you, straddling your hips. she dug her teeth into your shoulder, eliciting a whine from you as she grinds her hips into yours. she was only wearing a thin pair of boxers and a wife-pleaser (no bra, because of course not), and you felt the damp spot on her crotch rub against your lace panties pleasurably.

you grinned against the hasty kisses across your face, quickly realizing that you had the upper hand here. you harshly twisted one of her puffy nipples over the cotton, causing her to unconsciously increase the pace of her hips against yours. you lightly bucked your hips, pushing at her arms to try and get her off you. "lay back for me, baby." for once, she actually complied, laying flat against the couch as her she felt all of her blood rushing to her pussy. "let me take care of you this time."

she watches you with a gaped mouth and hazy head as you make quick work of both of your clothes, leaving the two of you naked and sweaty on the sofa. you twisted your legs together, glued on top of her as you lightly began to whine your hips, testing the waters. her reaction was priceless, knocking her head against the cushions as her eyes crossed.

"fuck! fuckfuckfuckmommy-" she gripped at your hips feebly, the strings of slick and arousal keeping you together as you began to move your hips in rhythm. you pressed your full weight onto her, dictating the pace and making her cry (this was going in the fucking books) and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. she felt the coil in her tummy tighten and before she could stop it, she was cumming with the cutest whimper you've ever heard, various spurts of cum flying onto your bodies as you continued to work her into overstimulation.

she began to slap her hand against the flesh of your hip, too stupid to speak but still trying to signal that she was done. you rode her through her orgasm and then some, reveling in the way her wet cunt pressed against yours. why on earth would you want to stop something that felt this damn good? all you did was glide your wet clits together even more, not planning on stopping any time soon.

and when she starts to complain? just give her another hit!

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Have you thought about how it would go if Kant didn't tell Style that Fadel was a hitman? Style would still be hiding something from Fadel and maybe he's thrown off how forward Fadel is now that they're dating but he'd regroup and lean into it and would totally be down for a double date with his BFF and if Kant is making a special night for Bison why can't Style do the same for Fadel and then Fadel disappears for a week and Kant is a sad moo who isn't helpful and then Fadel is back and Style is so happy but Fadel gets that call from Bison but Style has no idea.

So I have actually thought about this scenario a lot. It would have been even more fucked up for Style, because he would be even more oblivious and innocent than he is in canon. Because yeah, he started to follow Fadel around for a car (and then for the principle because he got intrigued by the chase) but that is nothing compared to knowing the truth of them being hitmen.

Now, him still being unaware would have changed things a bit. He wouldn't have acted weird or suspicious immediately after Fadel agreed to date him. He would have fully embraced it. Did you see the way he was grabbing Fadel's face at the end of episode 4 when he agreed to be his boyfriend??? Style was so fucking happy about winning him over. That was genuine joy. And if Style has anything going for him, it's that he can't hide his feelings for shit. When he is happy, he lights up and bounces around.

So he would have never acted strangely and Fadel wouldn't have had that moment of WTF is going on here? I think he still would have been hesitant to trust Style, but I don't think any red flags would have been raised like they were in canon. Fadel really took a second to try to figure out why his newly acquired boyfriend would suddenly not want to be touched by him or why he was running away. Without that interaction, Fadel wouldn't have had that thought.

Style still would have gone on the double date because he is still actively talking to Kant. Kant just isn't telling him the truth. Style would have noticed Kant being a little off, but he would be way too obsessed with Fadel and seeing him and getting laid to wonder too much about what is going on with Kant. He'd just go a long with Kant asking him to take Fadel back home because at that point it wouldn't be a strange thing to ask. He'd probably just assume he wanted to do something with Bison, even after the fake out with Babe. He probably would have been like..ok Kant has it handled. You still wanna bang? And of course Fadel would be like...yes. because those two are compatible and kinky AF and would be fucking like rabbits, (i mean honestly. I don't know how Fadel gets anything done anymore with Style trying to touch his titties every five minutes lol)

Now, him not knowing may change some of their conversations, but probably not as much as you'd think. Before he knew the truth, he was already wondering about what Fadel was hiding. He's seen him kick three men's asses without breaking a sweat and has seen that he goes to grief support group regularly, so Style is aware that Fadel is hiding a lot of things and Style is a curious person. He would have 100% still tried to figure him out and find out what his deal was. I think they'd still talk about their parents and have the trust conversation. It just might not have as much layered meaning because Style actually doesn't know, but he WANTS to. He wants to know Fadel.

What would that mean for Fadel thinking he is a snitch later? Well, it would hurt a lot more. Because if Fadel reacts the same way as he did at the end of episode 6...and then slowly tries to find out what he's been lying about, he's not going to come up with a lot because Style wouldn't be lying. he would have no clue that he was being suspected of anything. He'd be totally clueless as to why his boyfriend is acting strange.

Fadel would also probably get frustrated at that because Style wouldn't act like a snitch would act. (He acts strange a few times in canon and Fadel would definitely be looking back on those moments with suspicion after the fact) So, if a confrontation happens, whether violent or not, Style would end up feeling more betrayed than Fadel. and Fadel would come face to face with the fact that Style literally didn't know a damn thing and he's spent all this time treating him with suspicion and anger and maybe even trying to punish him for hurting Fadel, when his feelings were genuine. I think Fadel would then redirect all the anger and frustration he feels at Kant for NOT telling Style who he was and tricking him into this whole thing because Fadel could have killed Style and it would have been the wrong thing to do because he was oblivious the whole time.

It would have definitely been interesting to see that all play out. I think it would have shown even more true concern from Style towards Fadel, and more confusion for Fadel when he'd try to catch him in lies and come up empty.

[mochimochimona]

Rewatching Arcane Only For Viktor and Jayce, analyzing for storytelling purposes as an artist* -S1 EP:4 or Viktors staring is sus

I loved that scene, where Jayce firstly implies Viktor to keep sitting so he doesn't need to crawl up and also for taking the blame completly.

A little disclaimer here because it might be confusing why I am doing this analyzis (?)...sss english is not my native language sorry - so I am an artist and Arcane is a huge inspiration for me and I wondered what the animators did to imply Jayce and Viktor being really close to each other, even having feelings for each other. And I do get the impression Viktor always had feelings for Jayce because he acts different in a lot of interactions with him. Body language is also an implication, so I will take a closer look on that as well. So I am going through scenes of them together and asking myself what makes me think they wanted to imply something more than lab partners, what makes me think that and HOW I would have done it differently to AVOID that. Also I want to know if I misinterpreted Jayce's behavior and read too much into it. So, here we go. It's actually part #3 already, I will put a post on tumblr with all of my guesses later. If you wanna share your thoughts, please do so!

Knowing what will happen and how sick Viktor gets, seeing it (really, seeing it because I can pay attention) and Jayce not noticing because he is so caught up in playing political figure hurts. Really hurts. And also I am sure now that Mel used Jayce most of the time to get what she wants (not in an evil way, honestly, she does take a liking to him later one, but I will say not as much as we get the feeling Jayce and Viktor care for each other) and she makes advances to Jayce, using his insecurity and jearning for acknoledgment.

I mean how can Jayce not tell that Viktor is immensly sick? I mean those two were working their asses of in the lab I get that, but I think it started right then and there that Jayce lost their dream, really, and the fact that Viktor is his best buddie (or whatever) and it got worse after he holds the speech.

And Viktor is clearly more devastated, which might even shocked Jayce too, than Jayce was, I mean the reaction:

Jayce really was surprised Viktor was so desperate. Viktor knew he was gonna die sooner or later so I think he thought with studying hextech he might find a cure for himself in the process. He didn't touch him, though, so Viktor wasn't shy, just shocked.

This scene made me laugh and choke, I have flashbacks of Jayce being in the Future but instead of seeing Mel and Viktor through the fire, we see him. Interesting choice to make the appearance of Jayce like that. Is that...is that foreshadowing again???? This makes my brain hurt.

Why am I doing this to myself again?

LOOK HOW HE LOOKS. WHY IS NO ONE ADRESSING THIS. Why am I doing this to myself, SEND HELP? Viktor was confidently asking "where have you been, they asked me to do the speech (or whatever)" but when Jayce touched him, said they were partners, he got a bit shy and even stuttered a bit. Okay so IF you are fine with your homie....anyway, the next thing:

"Not in front of" - there is a pause, his look:

"...all of them" and then THE STARE. Why would you do that? I am an artist myself and when it comes to visual storytelling, I am always asking myself what I want to tell people with frames and panels (if you make comics), so I am really wondering from a storytelling point of view: what did they wanted to make a point about? Apart from highlighting Viktor in this situation, to imply that he isn't comfortable in speaking to others okay. But his pause. Looking at Jayce...?

Because clearly Viktor is staring. Honestly, if they didn't want to make it read as longing, or something similiar/else, you would have took a different shot after he told "not for all of them", because if you did that, you wouldn't imply that he would have done it maybe in front of everyone, but not with Jayce staying there because it made him nervous being in front of him. ALSO really important thing I noticed here: when he interacts with Jayce in close proximity and out of context of research, he gets shy but he usually is a confident person.

And again, you could have approached Viktor not wanting to perform in front of a huge audience differently, if your only goal was to make that clear. Ya know, him being touched by Jayce on the shoulder, saying "You are my partner" and keeping a wide shot, making him gesticulate that he isn't comfortable, "in front of all those people" (he would do it in front of Jayce though). DOES ANYONE GETS WHAT I MEAN?

Still staring, or paying a lot of close attention to your lab partner.

And then he says "you - pause", AGAIN WITH THE CLOSE SHOT. I HOPE for the love of god that some people from the Studio will be at the Art Department in Berlin because I really want to ask about this. And I hope I won't get spooked so I ask lol. Because that's really what is interesting about this.

And then comes a really interesting thing, I guess. Sky approaches and she looks at Viktor. A short, acknowledging look from Viktor and he gets back to Jayce. So I was wondering why they made the shot like that again and showing she has interest in Viktor, but Viktor is just respectful.

And right back to Jayce but the next shot is a perfect masterpiece, I laughed so hard.

Replacing Vikor with the mug, where Jayces "Man of Progress" can be seen is, again, peak foreshadowing and storytelling. Again, you could have showed it differently, but every scene has a message and wants to convey something, so this is an important shot. Man, these guys from Fortiche are madmen. Stopping here or the post will get too long.

[tiny-crescent]

oh noo. I got a message in my inbox asking about Task Force headcanons, and now it's disappeared :') but I made these drawings to answer their questions– so I'm going to post it anyway!

long story short, I love the Task Force with all my heart, but I don't actually feel like I have many personal headcanons for them since I prefer to stick to canon as much as possible when writing fic. which is a really boring answer!! but I do have a few here and there, as well as just general thoughts on each character. so here they are!

[screambirdscreaming]

ok this is a long fucking shot but does anyone out here know anything about. Allergies but rather than having itchy runny-nose symptoms you just feel systemically like shit. Like fatigue, nausea, vague headache, moderate-to-severe excercise intolerance, that sort of thing. But correlated to like, pollen exposure. Or just air quality in general?

The best ballpark diagnosis I have is asthma, but I've never actually had An Asthma Attack so I don't know if that's.... right. And even if it is, I can't really find good research or resources on managing systematic effects of asthma at this like... non-acute, non life-threatening severity.

Sometimes with weird medical shit like this, there's information that exists if only you can find the right keyword to search.... maybe somebody's got something?

Or even just, it'd be nice to hear if anyone elae deals with this and I'm not, like, completely insane*

*for this. other insanity unspecified.

[redr0sewrites]

Viktor general romance hcs!

🥀A/n: HES SO POOKIE I LOVE HIM‼️

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, slight angst if u squint, switch!viktor

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

this man is such a workaholic, he genuinely never thought that he would fall in love

viktor is very inexperienced in the romance department, so he's definitely a little awkward at first

once he's close with someone, he definitely starts to open up to them a lot more! he'd really appreciate a partner that he can have deep, philosophical conversations with and definitely asks for your opinion on a lot of things

your a very valuable person in his life, and viktor makes sure that you know that. while he may not be great with words, his actions show that he truly cares for you

while he may not admit it, viktor loves when you complete acts of service for him or help him at all. he loves when you visit him in the lab and bring him some coffee, it always makes his day

because he works so much and spends so much time in the lab, viktor will often invite you to join him there. you two often spend hours together, just sitting in near-silence and working in tandem. viktor would love it if you got along well with jayce (and sky too but mostly jayce), you are his favorite people and he would love it if you all got along

viktor isn't the most cuddly person in the world, but he makes some exceptions for you! after a long day, he loves just melting into your embrace and having you play with his hair. viktor would spend hours just laying in your lap and rambling about hextech if he could

he's not big on pda, but he loves holding your hand. viktor holds your hand anywhere and everywhere, he always wants you as close to him as possible and he'll sometimes trace words into the back of your hand with his thumb when you are asleep. before he said "i love you" out loud, viktor probably traced it against your skin at least a million times.

viktor prefers to stay in for dates, and definitely enjoys staying up late with you. idk if they have television in the world of arcane, but it seems a little shocking that they can have giant magical teleportation portals and literal magic orbs and magic flying blimps and body enhancing drugs but haven't created a tv. so like. lets just pretend they do have television. cuz if they do, than you and viktor DEFINITELY have movie marathons and movie nights together

he loves making you little trinkets and gifts!!! whenever there is extra material leftover at the lab, viktor's first thought is to make something for you! he once made you an entire bouquet of fake flowers out of scrap metal, and told you that he would love you until the flowers withered (it would never wither cuz its made of metal ☹️). your home is practically overflowing with these little trinkets, but you REFUSE to get rid of any of them (i think i saw the flower scenario on a tiktok, but URGRHRHRH i wanna write it so... if anyone is interested... 😇)

honestly, the best time spent with viktor is in the comfort of your own home. you have a very domestic relationship, and he likes sitting with you in comfortable silence.

he'll call you pet names in zaun, even before you two are together😭

overall, viktor is genuinely such a sweetheart once he trusts you and will stay by your side no matter what

nsfw:

SWITCH LEANING SUB 🫵🫵🫵

because of his leg and overall sickness, viktor definitely prefers simpler positions that don't require a lot of physical stress

he likes having you on top of him so that he doesn't have to put pressure on his knee, and he definitely prefers not having to push himself too hard

i'd say his favorite positions would probably be you riding him, sitting on his face, lotus position, and maybe 69 or missionary too (but the last two are only on good days when he isn't in too much pain)

at first, viktor was insecure about sleeping with you because he genuinely does not think very highly of himself and didn't want you to think that he was weak or ugly :( please reassure him

ON THAT TOPIC!!! PRAISE!!!!!!

praise is literally SO important to him, while it is one of his kinks i genuinely think he appreciates it outside of the bedroom as well.

lots and lots of communication. "is this ok", "can i touch you here", type of stuff. he's very gentle with you, and obviously you are with him as well

because he wears his leg brace literally all the time, viktor has a handful of bruises and scars from the brace rubbing against his skin 24/7 (idk if he sleeps w it on tbh- im assuming not but u get the point) and he can be a little insecure about them. PLEASE kiss them and show his body a lot of affection in general

viktor isn't super vocal at first, but once he trusts you he lets out the neediest whines and moans. he curses a lot under his breath, and he has a verrryyyyy pretty fucked-out expression.

this man is a switch 100%. most of the time he subs and bottoms, but sometimes he'll dom from the bottom and very occasionally he'll dom from on top. when he's a sub i definitely see him as, like, the male version of a pillow princess. he definitely just wants to lay back and get taken care of, and will get very pouty if you do not do so. he loves being pampered and praised and he's SOOO sensitive when he's subbing. when he's in a more dominant mood, i see him getting off on your pleasure a lot more than his own. he loves fingering you, and definitely loves overstimulating you

viktor loves being marked and also marking you. he bites down on your shoulder a lot to muffle his moans, and he loves giving you hickeys. i genuinely think that's another one of his kinks as well

TOYS!!! im sorry but this man definitely has an extensive collection of sex toys you can't tell me im wrong bc im not. he isn't inexperienced by any means, but he probably got a lot of toys over the years because he just didn't really have that many partners and just wanted to try a bunch of things on his own yk? anyways, he fucking LOVES using them on you and teasing you mercilessly is definitely part of your guys' foreplay

this man has the most gorgeous hands and definitely puts them to good use‼️ you cannot tell me viktor does not have amazingly skilled hands bc your wrong. he literally does jayce told me

i don't think he's super vanilla but i also don't think he's into like SUPER hardcore bdsm? i think it would intrigue him but he's probably the type to be into what you are into and if you want to try something new, he's more than willing (as long as its safe. either of you getting seriously hurt is a major nono for him). that being said, i don't think he'd mind being handcuffed or experimenting a bit with shibari, but you guys DEFINITELY have a safeword. like even if you have 100% vanilla soft sex he still establishes a safeword with u and makes sure your comfortable.

overall, his kinks include: praise (giving and receiving), little bit of edging (receiving), overstimulation (only giving), marking, and kind of a wildcard but also maybe somnophilia. like he would NOT complain about waking up to head lmao- he's def the type to have wet dreams i want to write this omg

i am so! tired!!! still feeling very crappy but i am pushing through my classes until the end of the year 😭 i am so close and yet so far 🙂‍↕️

ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYED!!! FEEL FREE TO SEND IN ARCANE REQUESTS!!! ive also been on a huge jayce x viktor streak lately? im not usually a big shipper but their dynamic intrigues me. i want to put them in a jar together and shake them around a bit. but yea i love them both!!!

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N. 

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why��d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

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

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

[tellafairy]

thoughts on shifting + manifesting with ease. (as someone who's shifted many times, alongside manifesting)

coming back to this side of tumblr after spending years away from it has made me realized how many of you are truly the problem, it might sound kinda harsh but really. so many of you ask the same questions over and over again.. "but HOW do i do it?" "how do i shift" "how do i manifest" JUST DO IT. stop looking for signs, stop looking for methods or "cheat codes". just do it man.

your mind is so powerful and it actually kinda irritates me how many of you doubt it, just because it "seems to easy". you don't understand how you've been manipulated by society to not see your power. how have you been on loa social media, shifting social media, for soooo long — yet still don't see it?? let me tell you..

the moment i got off social media, the moment i took time to erase everything in my head and stop overthinking everything, was the moment everything came to me. i already had it, i just needed to stop telling myself i didn't.

it took me barely any time to get used to convincing myself i had everything i wanted, i shifted to my desired realities, and everything worked out in my favour. AFFIRMING IS ALL YOU NEED. I AM YELLING AT YOU. JUST AFFIRM.

really, please, affirm. the routine is so simple.

1. any bad thought is instantly turned positive.

ex: "i really want her waist"

to

"am i stupid ... i have her waist.. tbh mine even looks a little better.. am i crazy?? like actually? this must be a glitch or something cause my waist is practically identical to hers.. i literally love my waist"

exaggerate, say what you need to say to erase the negativity.

2. it's yours, so act like it..

ex: talk about ur DR normally. it's your reality, not a fantasy land you made up in a dream. ITS REAL. it's a reality. for example, i'd watch videos of my s/o in this reality, and speak about our lives in my dr. "i can't wait to see __ tonight... god i love __, it's so nice hanging out with them everyday.. wow they look so pretty in this video — i'm so lucky their mine". it's natural, they're yours aren't they? exactly, so act like it.. this is used the exact same way when manifesting..

you see someone with something you want? thinking of something you wanna do? something you wanna be? ... it's urs... so can you act like it?? like whyre u feeling sad someone else got a job promotion 😹😹 you literally got a better one ...

3. that's literally it

you don't need a fancy method (although it can give u some peace of mind.. let's be real, a lot of methods set y'all back and make you overwhelmed, blocking ur beliefs and making everything seem harder). you literally just need to live. tell yourself it's done, over and over again. nothing matters. it's done, it's yours, you have it, you're happy and fulfilled. other peoples sucess should really mean nothing to you negatively. it shouldn't make you stressed, shouldn't make you feel behind.. why would it when you have everything, you can do everything, go anywhere, and you can be anything.

it'll seem like manifesting blogs and shifting blogs just repeat the same things.. which is true, they do, because i'm telling you there's nothing more to it than what you've already read. it is that easy. all it takes is your mind. decide, and tell yourself.

as i said before, it took me barely anytime to switch my mindset once i actually started focusing on myself, my journey and not every body else's results. repeating stuff to yourself WORKS. repeating is literally ALL i did. choose what i want, told myself it's mine in any way i could describe it. and there, it's mine. ive shifted to many different realities, along side gaining a better life in this one after years of convincing myself there was nothing for me. if i can break out of the cycle, trust me you can too. i cannot describe how desperate i was at the beginning, how long i took in false info and wasted time on methods all while doubting every single thing.

so why don't you believe it? you'll sit there and tell yourself over and over again that you're ugly, or broke, or friendless... but you won't tell urself that you've shifted? that you have your dream body...? girl okay i guess....

once you realize nothing besides your mind truly matters, is when you'll be free with yourself. circumstances don't matter, past feelings don't matter, doubts don't matter, your mind is all you need.

yes this is just loa explained longer, that's the point of the post because some of u still can't get it in ur heads

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[thatonegayship]

I had to

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[essenceofelegance]

A Year || LN4

summary: A year can really change someone in a lot of ways.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

notes: THIS IS MY FIRST SMAU SO LMK WHAT YOU THINK! also english is literally my third language and this isn't proof read/ grammar checked so mistakes are bound to appear :(

SMAU/ Written

Summer 2023

Max Fewtrell added a video to their story.

tagged: @/yourusername @/LandoNorris

yourusername posted!

yourusername Ibiza!!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxfewtrell and 94,879 other

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/MaxFewtrell

user1 DJ LANDO!!

user2 y/n feeding us dj land content. she's the real queen here

user3 I thought y/n said she didn't like to go clubbing

➥ user4 maybe she's just there to be with lando

user5 bro did anyone see that video on TikTok? y/n looked so uncomfortable I feel so bad for her

➥ user6 RIGHT?

➥ user7 she's such a good girlfriend, if I were her, I would've just left lando at the club by himself lolol

user8 salivating bc Dj landooo

user9 BARK BARK BARK

➥ user10 y/n looking at this be like...

user11 does anyone know what club theyre at?!! I'm in ibiza I wanna meet them!!

➥ user12 bro leave them alone

➥ user13 @/user12 I don't see a problem 🤷

-

You never liked clubbing.

After all, you were only here because of Lando.

The music was too loud, people were pushing up against you, you never really liked to drink because you had a really low alcohol tolerance, you could make an entire list of why a club was not your go-to hang out.

"Lan," you yelled, trying to speak over the music, "Yeah?" He said, taking one side of his DJ headphones off so he could speak to you.

"Can we go back?" You asked. There was nothing you wanted more than to go back to the comfort of your hotel room with your boyfriend.

"It's only midnight." Lando said, "Why would you wanna go back? Are you not having fun?" Land asks you, but you could tell he wasn't really focused on you. You could see it in his eyes.

"I don't wanna stay any longer, clubbing isn't really my thing." You said, a hint of pleading in your tone.

"Soon, baby, okay?" Lando said, not even giving you a chance to protest before turning back to his DJ set.

You sighed in defeat, before retreating to a quieter corner of the club.

It was going to be a long night, like any other you've spent in a club, with Lando.

Summer 2024

Max Fewtrell added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

yourusername added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

Lando Norris added a photo to their story.

caption: taking pictures of my pretty girl

tagged: @/lando.jpg @/yourusername

yourusername ibizaaaa im backk

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 107,897 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/yourbestfriend @/MaxFewtrell

alexandrasaintmleux miss you! ♥ by author

lilymhe ditch him for me!!! ♥ by author

➥ yourusername say less 💍

➥ landonorris ???????? @/AlexAlbon

➥ alexalbon atp im used to it

user1 both of them are so pretty its not fair

user2 no DJ Lando content?!

user3 Not even following y/n because she's lando's girlfriend, im following her bc she's Y/N

user4 that jawline

user5 why do they keep going back to Ibiza

➥ user6 litt, like, why can't they go literally ANYWHERE ELSE

user7 OMGOMGMG I WAS tHERE AND I SAW LANDO GO UP TO Y/N FROM BEHIND AND LITERALLY PULLED HER INTO HIM BY THE WAIST AHHHHHHHHHH

➥ user8 WHATTTTT

➥ user9 picture or it didn't happen

user10 dj lando...?

-

You were about to head to the bar to get another drink, seeing as Lando wouldn't want to leave anytime soon, and your best friend was probably hooking up with some hot Spanish guy, when you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne surrounding you, along with the smell of alcohol.

Lando nuzzled his head into your neck, mumbling something quietly, so quiet you couldn't hear him over the club music.

"What is it?" You said, raising your voice slightly, so he could hear you over the loud buzzing of the club music.

"Nothing." He mumbled, "Missed you, is all."

A small smile unwittingly showed up on your face, "Im gonna go get a drink. Go party."

But, Lando shook his head, "Can we go back to the hotel? I wanna cuddle." He said into your neck, instinctively pulling you closer.

You were shocked, to say the least. A year ago, he wouldn't leave the club no matter how hard you tried to convince him. He was a party animal, but now, he was asking if you wanted to leave.

You checked the time on your phone, it was barely midnight, Lando never left anything before midnight, let alone a club.

"Why, are you feeling sick?" You asked him, turning around to face him.

His arms wrapped themselves back around your waist, "What?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "No." He said, "just wanna cuddle with you."

"That's new." You commented as you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I always wanna cuddle." Lando said.

"Yeah, but not at the extent of leaving the club early." You said.

"Can we please go?" He mumbled again, looking at you like a puppy.

You nodded after a few seconds, "Never liked clubbing that much anyway, I only come to be with you."

As Lando and you and Lando were heading towards the exit of the club, you bumped into Max (Fewtrell). "Leaving so soon?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," Lando nodded, "Going back to the hotel to cuddle with my girl." He said, raising you hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"You've really changed him," Max joked, "Lando being the first to leave? Never in a billion years."

You laughed, "Believe me, I don't believe it either."

"Can we go?" Lando all but whined.

You laughed again, "Okay, okay, lets go."

You waved goodbye to Max and led Lando out the club, and when Max saw his best friend look at you like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, he knew you'd changed him for the better. And that his best mate was well and truly, in love.

-

yourusername sleepy boy chronicles 🤪

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 108,950 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris

landonorris at least I look cute ♥ by author

➥ yourusername can't disagree with that

user1 how does one fall asleep in the middle of packing?

user2 hes jus like us  🥺

➥ user3 relatable king

landonorris I was only that tired because you kept me up all night doing cardio..

user4 lando and y/n are so cute tgt I cannot

user5 Im convinced Lando only made it to 24 because of Y/n

➥ yourusername I mean..

➥ landonorris hey!

user6 Lando has no bad angles

user7 I SAW THAT LANDO

➥ user8 y/n is just a girl and lando is just a boy.. they need their cardio ;) ♥ by author

➥ user8 Y/N PLS MARRY ME

landonorris ❤️

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 709,897 others

yourusername is this what you do in your free time? take pictures of pretty girls?

➥ landonorris only of the ones that I love more than anything

➥ yourusername so you're saying there's more than one? 🤨

maxfewtrell Happy for you, mate ♥ by author

comments are limited

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 3

Despite your promise not to sneak behind the team again, you find yourself in a compromising position when you’re forced to ride in the same car as him.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Nipple/breast play, dry humping, semi public, dirty talk, and technically this isn’t car sex but everything happens in a car, there’s just no penetration. ~2.5k words (not proofread)

A/n: This wasn’t supposed to be in my WIP but… I blame him for looking so slutty in that shirt. Btw, this is shorter because I already have a lot on my plate but I really wanna squeeze this in, so enjoy! If you’ve been following since the first part, our kinky, slightly exhibitionist duo is back

You liked to think you had a good sense of self control when it came to your sex drive. In your past relationships, you were rarely the one to make the first move. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy sex—far from it, actually—but you didn't see it as the centerpiece of a relationship. Sex was enjoyable, yes, but it wasn’t everything.

At least, that's what you thought until now.

You recently reached a realization that three factors led you to reconsider this long-held belief, and unsurprisingly, they all revolved around Spencer Reid.

The first one was his choice of clothes. It seemed like he had woken up one day and decided that undoing the top buttons of his shirt was the new norm. It was as if he was taunting you, and it was working. The moment you saw him wearing that shirt this morning, all you could think about was dragging him into a storage room and have your dirty, nasty way with him.

The second thing was the way your heart raced when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours as you both reached for the car keys. Emily had asked you both to interview a key witness, and naturally, you assumed you’d be the one driving because Spencer rarely volunteered to take the wheel. But to your surprise, he insisted on driving.

It was strange. You wondered what had prompted this change, but you didn’t protest. In fact, you let him. Happily. Because this set the stage for what became the third significant moment that made you reconsider everything.

Him driving the damn car.

You found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him. The way his hands gripped the wheel, moving with effortless control that hinted at a confidence he rarely displayed. Your gaze traveled up his arm, noting the tension in his muscles, and the way his shirt tightened across his shoulders with each turn.

Then there was his face. Your gaze drifted to his jawline, appreciating the sharp angles and the way it tightened slightly when he was deep in concentration. You had to squeeze your thighs together because watching him drive was enough to make you wet.

It was highly inappropriate, of course. You were both on the job, and there was a witness to interview. So you forced yourself to stay professional. It wasn’t until after you finished, after you and Spencer had informed Emily of what you had found and given her the necessary details over the phone, that your ogling became more prominent on the drive back to the station.

And despite being subtle about it, Spencer seemed to know the effect he had on you.

“Is there something you want to say?” His voice was low, slightly amused, as he spared a quick glance in your direction before focusing back on the road.

You forced yourself to look away from his hands. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… distracted.”

You swallowed, trying to muster up an explanation that wouldn’t give away too much. “Just thinking about the case.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. “Really? Because it looked more like you were deep in thought about something else.”

You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks. “Well, maybe the case isn’t the only thing on my mind.”

“Oh? And what else were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know if you’d be interested.”

“Try me.”

You turned your body towards him. “It’s highly inappropriate.”

“Now you’ve really got my attention.”

You hesitated, feeling the car’s warmth envelope you, making the space seem smaller, more intimate. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I was thinking about... how well you handle the steering wheel.”

Spencer laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the car. “Is that your way of saying you like my driving, or something more metaphorical?”

“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, a person’s driving does say a lot about them, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed. “And what does my driving say about me?”

“That you’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours briefly, and you squeezed your thighs tighter.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said finally, his voice low. There was a brief pause and you wondered whether you had gone too far, whether this wasn’t the right time or place to flirt so openly, but then he spoke again.

“And since we’re sharing, I was thinking about something a bit inappropriate too.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “Like what?”

“Like how it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re looking at me like that.”

“…how am I looking at you?”

He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Like you want me to pull over to the side of the road and kiss you.”

A silence fell between you, and for a moment, you could hardly breathe. You felt a flush of warmth spread through your body, and you bit your lip, considering his words.

“And what if I do?” You asked softly.

You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting to maintain his composure.

“Then I’d have to find a quiet place for us.”

Your body responded immediately, a wave of heat coursing through you as your breath quickened. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your veins, an urgent, needy beat that matched the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Pull over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours. Then, without hesitation, he scanned the road for a safe spot. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him steer the car onto a narrow, dark lane shielded by dense shrubs. The path seemed to swallow the sound of the engine as he drove further away from the main road.

The silence that followed was thick as he turned off the engine. You both stared at each other, acutely aware of what you were about to do, about the potential consequences, but everything blurred as you both moved at the same time.

Everything was fast, a rush of motion and emotion as Spencer leaned over the console. His lips met yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, while you clung to his arm. He kissed you hungrily, desperately, as if trying to communicate every unspoken word through the press of his mouth against yours. The more he kissed you, the more you felt the heat between your thighs and you realized that, in fact, you really had no control over your sex drive.

You then opened your mouth, letting him sink his tongue into you, pressing your body against his. But he was too far away, and you needed more of his heat, more of him. So, you undid your seat belt and did the only thing that felt natural—you climbed onto his lap.

You both moaned when his cock finally pressed against your core, and he found your lips again, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested firmly on your hips, urging you to move. The movement was instinctive, a rhythm that was driven by desperation.

You felt his mouth kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, marking a trail of heat that had you burning for more. Your fingers found the buttons of your shirt, and before you could second guess yourself, you undid them one by one.

Spencer’s hands followed the path you created, tracing the newly exposed skin. His large palms moved along your ribs before they rested just beneath your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples through the fabric of your bra. You gasped, your head falling back in sheer pleasure.

His lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. His fingers pulled down your bra, exposing your breasts, and when he quickly sucked on your sensitive nub without warning, you bucked your hips, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

His sound of pleasure vibrated against your skin when you moved your hips at a steady pace, the friction driving you both to new heights. You could feel the material of your underwear sticking between your wet folds, and you wished desperately that there was no barrier between you. But time was ticking, and you both knew you were on the clock.

This had to be enough.

Spencer pulled back slightly, your nipple stretching with him, your supple skin following his movements until he let go with a soft pop. He then turned his attention to your other breast, his tongue teasingly circling your hardened nipple before hungrily engulfing it in his mouth.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you arched your back. You felt his hands roaming over your waist, holding you steady, grounding you even as you felt yourself spiraling higher into a state of pure ecstasy.

“Spence,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His response was to look up at you with those intense, brown eyes as he continued to suck on your nipple.

His mouth moved with deliberate precision, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, driving you completely insane. You could feel your control slipping, your body responding to his every touch, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but him. The way he made you feel, the way his touch ignited every nerve in your body.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. His lips left your breast, trailing kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, was everything you had been longing for.

“More,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a desperate plea.

“I know, I know,” he murmured back. “I got you.”

You shook your head, breathless. “I wanna feel you.”

He groaned. How he wanted that to happen, but you were both gone long enough and reality was beginning to intrude on your stolen moment.

“We can’t, not here,” he said, his voice strained with desire as he rested his forehead against yours. “We don’t have enough time.”

You bit your lip, trying to push back the disappointment. “I know, but I-I need you.”

“Soon,” he promised. “When we have more time, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Your hips moved faster. “Everything?”

He nodded, his eyes fluttering close when he felt you pressing harder on his cock. “Everything.”

“You’ll finally fuck me?”

His breath hitched at your bold words, his control slipping further.

“Say it. Say you’ll fuck me.”

His self-control wavered, the raw desire in your voice pushed him to the edge as his palms gripped your ass.

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

You never thought there would be a time when you’d hear those words from him, and yet here you were, craving for more. You nodded and grinded against him, trying to find that delicious pressure on your clit.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice laced with urgency. “I want you to fuck me hard.”

Spencer groaned, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Then imagine me inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Think about my cock sliding into you, filling you up completely.”

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, moving against him rhythmically. Who would’ve thought he’d be good at this?

“Imagine my hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto me,” he continued, his breath warm against your neck. “You’d feel every inch, deep and perfect.”

Your heart pounded as his fantasy played out in your thoughts. “Yes,” you gasped, finding it hard to keep steady. “Please, keep going.”

“I’d set a rhythm that drives you crazy,” he murmured. “Fast, then slow, teasing you, drawing out every moan and gasp until you’re begging me not to stop.”

“Oh God…” you moaned. “Please…”

He continued, relentless and commanding. “And when you’re close, when you’re right on the edge, I’d look into your eyes, whisper how beautiful you are, how good you feel wrapped around me…”

“Spencer, I—”

“And then I’d thrust harder, deeper,” he cut off your words, his tone intense. He pressed a hand against your lower abdomen as if to illustrate his point. “I’d fill you completely, over and over, until all you can do is cling to me and take it.”

You were practically trembling now, his words and slight touches driving you wild.

“I’m so close,” you managed to breathe out, your movements becoming less rhythmic and more desperate. His hands went back to your hips. His grip tightened, steadying and encouraging your frantic movements as he felt his own orgasm nearing.

“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing himself closer to you.

His words, his grip, his presence overwhelmed you. You felt the buildup, almost unbearable, as if every nerve in your body focused on the impending release. Then, with a final, mutual push, you felt the wave break.

Pleasure surged through you, intense and all-consuming. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down as he drove himself up, his name spilling from your lips in a cry of release. You felt him tense, heard his own cry muffled against your skin, as he reached his climax with you.

Panting, you both slowed, the car filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft hum of the engine in the background. Spencer’s hands softened on your hips, caressing now, soothing the spots where his fingers had pressed.

You ran a hand through his thick hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a dirty mouth?”

His grin was both sheepish and proud as he met your gaze. “You’re actually the first person to hear it.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his hands carefully adjusting your clothes. “It seems you have a way of bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had.”

You watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was so much you wanted to say, so many feelings swirling inside you, but the words felt too fragile for the moment. Instead, you settled for the silence.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He tapped your hip gently, drawing your attention. “Come on, I think we need to drop by the hotel before we go back to the station.”

When he caught the startled look you sent him, he laughed.

“To change my pants. Nothing else.”

“…oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

You blushed, caught off guard by his remark and your own reaction. “No, I just—” you started, then paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, yes, maybe a little.”

His smile widened, pleased by your response. “I’ll tell you what,” he began. “After we finish this case, after we fly back, let’s spend time together. Just you and me.”

Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. You wondered what it would be like to have him pressed against you with nothing between you, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat directly under your palms.

The thought made you both nervous and excited at the same time.

“Really?”

He leaned in for a kiss. “Really.”

“You promise?”

He smiled against your lips.

“I promise.”

[miniimight]

❝ CAN WE LEAVE ? ❞ feeling overstimulated at an event, you ask him to take you home

with deku, bakugou, todoroki ( pro heroes )

notes something short while i work on requests ! they are open so shoot me an ask with whatever scenario want me to write ! <3

it was so loud. it was too bright. and the music's vibration grated on your sanity with every rhythmic thump. there were too many people—too many bodies, so many conversations, and shit it was so hot. you felt as if you were floating, in a woozy state as you made your way over to your boyfriend, who was chatting with a couple friends.

IZUKU

at your hushed whisper, izuku immediately honed into your expression and body language. his eyebrows creased in concern as he guided the both of you to a corner. "what's wrong, love?"

you pursed your lips. "there's just... there's a lot of..." you sighed, unsure of how to phrase it.

he leaned into you, blocking you from the party scene behind him. "it's okay, sweetheart, we don't have to stay if you don't wanna." he read your mind and you couldn't be more grateful.

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your head pounded. "izuku..." you whined, massaging your temples.

deku shushed you and pulled you into his chest, helping you walk out of the venue. "let's go home."

"thanks..."

"no need to thank me." he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he hoisted you up and into his arms. "i was over it a while ago."

you giggled and he flashed a goofy smile.

he took you to your side of the car before climbing in himself, turning down the radio and resting a loving hand on your thigh. "rest up."

you laughed softly. "if i sleep, i might not get up, even when we get home. you'd have to carry me."

he looked at you playfully, a smirk on his lips. "it's cute how you think that'd be a problem for me, love." he pat your thigh as if that was a done deal, pulling out into the road.

the comfortable silence lulled you to sleep.

BAKUGO

"home?" he asked.

you nodded shyly.

he stood up and said a brash goodbye to his friends, lacing your hand in his as he pulled you through the crowd. once you were both far away enough from the party, you heard each other loud and clear.

"how long did you wait?" he mused as he fished in his pockets for keys.

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"how long did you wait to tell me?" he gave you a pointed look. you looked away and pursed your lips.

"you were having fun with your friends, and i really didn't want to cut it short..." you mumbled, your eyes stinging.

he opened your car door for you, leaning over the car as he watched you buckle your seatbelt. you stared up at him with glossy eyes and he softened, brushing his thumb over your cheek. the silence was welcomed as your eyes fluttered shut.

"don't be an idiot." he murmured. "just tell me the second you feel uncomfortable, 'kay?"

you leaned into his hands with a smile. "i will."

he smiled and shut your door, slipping into the driver's seat. he took your hand in his again, kissing your knuckles as he sped off.

TODOROKI

"now?" he cocked his head to the side. "are you not enjoying the party?"

your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head, the movement alone making you feel dizzy.

"okay." he set his drink down. "okay, we can leave."

"thanks..." you followed him, unsure of his feelings at the moment. he opened your car door and closed it shut once you were inside, walking to the front of the car. you saw him out the windshield picking up a call, pacing slightly as he conversed.

you grew more nervous by the minute, wondering if you should've just grinned and gotten through it. he was having a good time catching up with his friends, after all.

finally, he sat in the driver's seat, sighing as he leaned back. you watched him with concern and a little bit of guilt.

"i'm sorry, i... we can go back if you want. really." you said.

he looked at you incredulously, his expression reading utter confusion. "but... i thought you weren't enjoying it?"

"well, i—" you stammered, collecting your thoughts. "you were having a great time with your friends and i should've thought of that before i asked to leave."

he shook his head and leaned towards you. "i'm just as tired as you are, darling." he smiled. "to be honest, i'm glad you asked to leave."

"who were you on call with?" you let curiosity get the better of you.

"midoriya, he was just concerned about you." he buckled his seatbelt and brought the car to life. he cast you a little smirk. "i'm afraid you're not very good at hiding your expressions, love."

your face heated as you turned back to face the windshield. he laughed softly, "it's alright. we both aren't."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[bunnigumi]

─ FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

YOU KNOW HOW hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

cw. megumi x reader , incest , porn with plot , reader described with small chest , brief mentions of drinking/smoking , Toji is referred to as dad/daddy (nonsexual) , light exhibitionism , dead dove

an. hi guys!! thank you!! for!! 600+ followers!!!!! i lowkey accidently edged you guys at the end srry in advance i didn't have motivation to write out a full smut scene and i hope theres no typos in this bc ill cry if i see it too late... happy reading ^u^ ^_<

There's a lot of things Megumi can't do when Toji's around. Shower for too long and use up all the hot water, sneak his beers. Get handsy with his sister.

But he seems to do the last one all the time, whether his dad is home or not.

Toji is always too loud watching baseball or horse racing on the TV to hear the noises you make when your brother tries to shove his fingers up your virgin ass for the second time. You chickened out the first because you heard the front door open, your dad coming home for the first time in weeks.

Thought he was going to walk in on the two of you. Ask how your day was, what you've been up to. Something along the lines of what a normal dad would do. All he ever does is mope around. She's dead and you're all grown up.

But Megumi likes to humor you, Let's do it under the covers then.

Especially when you're so irrational, Wanna feel good, right? He won't hear a thing by the time I get my fingers in.

Sometimes he's too passed out drunk to see the bedroom door open with Megumi's hands groping your breasts. They're too small to be properly fondled, but he's always liked girls with small tits. 

You've shared a room since forever. There's only two, one for you and Megumi, and one for your parents. But daddy spends most of the nights on the couch, never makes it a step past the living room.

It probably wasn't the best idea. Megumi started touching you all inappropriately at night, your stuffed dolls from family friend facing away when he fingers you, fucks you, kisses you.

You know how hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

Your brother liked to kiss you a lot when you were younger. Regardless of where you were, who you were with. Simple, fleeting kisses on the lips. Your mom and dad would do it all the time.

Grown ups would fawn over how cute you were as children. How well you two got along. How they wished their children were as well behaved as you two were.

It's not all weird for their age. Shiu said it's just what kids do, kids are parrots, not that he has any. But'chya better teach ‘em it's not normal, or you’re gonna have inbred grandbabies. He says it with a quirked lip, chuckling, and a cigarette in between his fingers.

Your dad, unfazed, gnawed on his own, the sliding door open, summer on your face. Puppy stickers trailing up on the glass that don't make it past the handle.

On a good day, Toji's got a Playboy magazine in one hand, a cold bottle in the other. C'mere, boy. He likes to call Megumi from your room to taunt him. Don't she look just like your sister? Flat out drunk. Well, with that rack, it's more like your ma. See, now this one's more like your sister. Isn't that funny?

He tears out the page, careful to not cut through the model's hips, and tosses it in Megumi's direction. His eyes never leaving the magazine. Not even when he takes a swig of the bottle.

Don't fucking talk about your daughter like that. The hell's wrong with you? Megumi says it partially under his breath. And he says it like he isn't hard in front of his dad, like it's not because of the thought of his sister. 

His face twitches with mock disgust. It's as if he isn't folding the page and slipping it into his pocket when he heads back to your shared room.

It all went through one ear and out the other—television static. Toji doesn't look up, doesn't notice Megumi leave. The daggers stabbed into his hollow head. The hard on his son’s got at the mention of his sister. He never notices anything at all.

And it's whatever. You're waiting for him. You want to show him the new panties you bought when you were out with your girlfriends, the money courtesy of your brother. Not in exchange for sex, of course. He loves you more than to treat you like a prostitue. Plus, you'd do it for free, so that makes you a good sister slut.

Megumi doesn't like his new part time all too much. ‘Part time’ means being away from you, leaving you alone. Government code to keep families apart. Buy whatever you like. You're a people pleaser.

Your dad babies you a lot. He still doesn't understand how teenagers work. Coddles you to death like you're still five when his breath smells like spearmint.

It's about the same for Megumi, that kiddy treatment. Still offers runs out to the nearby store to buy ice cream, loitering for the air conditioning on days when cold baths with you aren't enough to kill the heat. Sticking their faces in freezers, your mom twirling you in circles. Letting you go like a wind up doll, spinning and spinning ‘till the world was dizzy.

You inherited her smile, her upturned eyes when you laughed.

And you hate the way Toji let himself go. The person he became. The safety, the warmth. Detached too early from nurturing. Spiraling all the way down from the tree, the nest.

You, me, your sister. Like we used to.

He never got his ass off the couch. Not for those recreational things at least. Everyone knows that, but Toji still tries.

Not to say that Megumi isn't a fan of tradition. Cold baths with you, having you warm his dick while he washes your hair with strawberry, 3-in-1 kid shampoo. Sucking your little tits and biting down on your tender neck. Rubbing your needy clit in circles, your hips bucking, water sloshing. Suds popping and flying in the air. Soapy residue clinging to tile walls.

Your dad doesn't question why you still do it together when you're in your teenage years, or how you two should have outgrown baths already. It's a win-win situation.

He never has a reason to leave; no wife to nag him about remembering to buy fabric softener at the store with the groceries because he forgot the last time. It's not that important, only sissies need soft clothes to survive.

When he does leave, it's for days on end. And you never really notice when he does until you’re on your way out the door to school in the early morning, and there's no one on the couch, not a note on the counter.

When you were a kid, you used to imagine what death was like. They say death is hardest on the living, but you werent old enough to remember your mother, the funeral. Just the one memory you jogged your mind for at night, when you were cold and no one was home yet. Your dad would tell you how much you looked like her, so you'd stare in the mirror at night, trying to remember her face.

And with experience, you think that it goes something like this: Watching the soul drain with grief, sorrow and self pity. Seeing the living corpse rot until you familiarize yourself with the body on the couch and the smell of death. Until it disintegrates to pieces, and you don't remember seeing it ever happen.

Tugging at the hem of your uniform shirt, slipping on your shoes and leaning on the door handle you’d drill holes into the Toji-shaped spot and the door is quietly shut behind you, your brother still asleep.

He's gotten into the college near home and has been taking on more night shifts. Most of his classes start in the afternoon and you miss walking with him to school.

Megumi's the one paying attention to you more, and even extra attention on nights when dad isn't home and he's back from work.

You can be as loud as you need to be, fuck as much as you want. You've grown to be one spoiled girl, that's for sure.

Toji saw him feeling you up once in the kitchen when he went to grab leftover takeout from the fridge. You thought he wasn't home. Turned out he hadn't left the house since yesterday, passed out in his room. Still smelled like a bar, nicotine, and a skank.

You think it's the first time he actually slept there since, well, you know. 

The hell you kids doing. It wasn't a question. He said it with a yawn, with glaring indifference in the base of his tone. Megumi ignored the way his shoulders were slumped over. How he rested his weight on the fridge handle.

And you could act like it didn't happen, like your older brother wasn't pressing up against your backside, trying to stick his junk inside of you.

Nothing, daddy. It's all in your imagination. Just playing. You've just been watching too many pornos. By the way, are you hungover? Your breath reeks of cumsluts and prostitute whores.

Megumi finds that Toji tends to only register the sound of your voice rather than your words. He'd gotten pretty good at that thing with your mother. When you hit puberty, you started to sound like her.

And it's easy for Toji to turn a blind eye. To forget and be at ease. Megumi could really just have continued to go and fuck you right there over the kitchen counter. You're real good at quick and dirty. There’d be the high pitch of your moans and Toji could care less.

It's what happens when you have a dead mom, a college roommate of a dad, and a touchy brother for a family.

Shiu managed to lure Toji out of the house tonight with the promise of girls and booze. Like a dog hearing the words ‘park’ and ‘treat’. Pathetic, is what it is.

You’re wrapping your hand around your older brother’s cock. Pressing your cheek against his thigh. Pleading eyes staring up at him because you’re unsure of how to start. Red knees on scratchy hardwood floor. It's been a while since you had time for foreplay more than kissing and fingering.

“Suck it like a popsicle. Careful with your teeth,” He says in a low voice. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

You've always been a quick learner. Daddy doesn’t know that. Grey rings on unopened report cards turned coasters.

But your brother sure does. He likes to encourage your learning with a hand tangled into your hair. And he’s not all too strict of a teacher, relenting in his grasp when you dig your nails into the side of his legs. Pulling off with saliva dripping down your chin. Lips pouty and shredded like paper, your jaw aching. Thighs rubbing together, always desperate for something more.

Megumi lifts you up onto his lap so that you're straddling him, and taking the initiative, you throw your arms around his neck—pressing your bodies together, grinding down on him and zealously chasing after his lips.

You love like it's second nature.

Intimately to the ideal of union. Crossing lines just to hear the way they snap, it's more satisfying from the other side. In privileged rebellion; the temptation that comes with this taboo of want.

He can taste himself on you, with notes of sugar from home baked cookies and cheap frosting on your tongue.

Megumi has to force you still, his hands squeezing tight around your waist.

Petulant like a child, a whine leaves your mouth at the halt of friction. He manhandles your position so that your back is resting on his chest. Legs dangling off the edge of the bed, kicking and making a soft thumping noise against its side. 

Lifting up the hem of your shirt, his shirt that you’re wearing, reveals nothing but white panties soaked wet from the way your brother nips at your bottom lip when you kiss, from humping him, the way he loves you, too.

He shoves your panties to the side, smearing your slick all over your cunt with his fingers, onto your clit. He rubs light circles, eliciting breathy moans from you before abruptly stopping to pull your underwear down the rest of the way, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Resting his chin on your shoulder and marking the dip between your neck and shoulder with red indents of his teeth, the sting of his canines, he slips his middle finger into your cunt. The ring, to stretch you out. Then the index, to see how much you can take.

Facing the open door, no one's on the couch while your big brothers got a hand between your thighs. The other sliding under your shirt, agonizingly slow up your chest in a way that sends shivers up your spine, translating into hunger for your brain.

You don't wear bras at home, but you enjoy wearing frilly, lacy ones. Little white bows on the center of your chest. Dolly and cute to the point it was sexy, but not overly so. In blue and pink pastels bordering white.

Megumi was always poked fun at for hanging out with you during lunch and breaks in middle school. Always badgered by his rag-tag group of friends. 

C’mon, Fushiguro. Hang out with us. Just for today at least. That pink haired one was always so whiny. Cute, maybe, but whiny. Or what about after school? You always go straight home. He got on your nerves. You hated him. 

Only sister fuckers hang out with them at school. The brunette was fairly pretty. Skinny legs, good tits. Glossy lips when she said her snide remarks. You always had this fear that Megumi would leave you for her. Irrational, did he mention? You shot her a glare, green eyed monster, and hated her too.

You’d ask Megumi to follow you to the girls bathroom after lunch. Undoing the buttons of your blazer. The first, second, third one of your dress shirt—flashing starstruck eyes with a new bra. Arms pushing your breasts together, offering him a sweet smile. Lustful persuasion.

Then you would leave him for class and he'd have to jerk off to get rid of his boner. In a stall over the toilet, quick so no one hears him. Grinding his teeth together, biting down on his lip, chewing the side of his mouth to muffle the noise until it all hurt.

You’ve always liked to rile him up. To leave him high and dry, no hand holding on the way home, then give him all of you the second you step into the door without so much as a glance to see if anyone's in the house.

You like to tease him, even whenever Toji is near. 

Simulating the tent in his pants with your feet under the table while daddy is smoking with Shiu.

Staring at your brother from across with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Waiting for his cool composure to break until he’s got only two options: Bend you over the table and fuck you right then and there, or play his little sister’s game, her rules. Puppy dog eyed, exhibitionist freak.

Your hips continuously grind up to meet his knuckles. Clutching his wrist, whispering as he curiously stops his attack on your neck, “More. Want more,” and you hold your breath.

You feel him smile on your skin. Without a word, he flips you onto the mattress, and knows exactly what you want, exactly what you need by the way you hook your legs over his back, locking your ankles together. Pulling him in closer. Effectively caging him in. The world can't have him. You've claimed your stake on him a long time ago.

And the words that leave your mouth feel nothing but natural. Your voice is airy, breathy. This insatiable desire tugs harshly at your heart.

Your lips purse together for a moment, just a single moment before the words seamlessly roll off your tongue. 

“I love you," like you were born to do.

[archangeldyke-all]

i had a crazy thought–imagine sevika's wife saying something that annoys/peeves her just a tiny bit and ceo!sevika doing the most over the top thing the next second.

imagine they live in a huge expensive modern penthouse and sevika's wife says "how come we live in the same house but we don't see each other?" and on the next day sevika is already taking her around to go see houses for sale 😭😭

or when her wife trips over the huge glass coffee table in the middle of the living room, and it's gone in the next hour and replaced by a smaller, cuter coffee table

i just wanna see sevika simping for her wife pls im begging i think she's so so cute 😭😭😭 like a grizzly bear 😭😭😭

this is like the epitome of ceo sevika i love her so fucking much

men and minors dni

you shouldn't be surprised.

this has been happening long before you and sevika were even dating, back when you were just assistant.

you can still remember the first time sevika did this to you. you ran into the office, discombobulated and late, worried that sevika would be upset.

she wasn't upset, though. it was the oppisite. she sighed in relief the moment you walked through the door wrapping you up in a hug. "fuck, i was worried you'd been carjacked on your way here! i can't lose you. not before the board meeting."

you laughed and relaxed in her arms, breathing in her expensive cologne. "sorry. my phone is fucking ancient and can't hold a charge anymore-- it died overnight and my alarm didn't go off."

"hmm." she'd said. at the time, you thought that was it.

then you got home that night, and found three brand new cell phones sitting on your doorstep.

you blinked down at the boxes, confused. a small envelope caught your eye, and you picked it up, flipping it open.

pick your favorite. -s.

the extravagance only grew once you got together.

"ugh, my back is killing me." you complained one morning.

"'s wrong?" sevika asked, a worried look in her eye. you shrug.

"think i pulled something yesterday while restocking the cabinets above the copier." you say.

that night, you pout in confusion as sevika takes the wrong exit off the highway. "where're we going?"

"you'll see."

"awe, sevika, i can't do a date night tonight baby, i feel like shit."

"it's not a date. well, it sorta is... just trust me, okay?" she'd asked. you nodded.

"of course."

sevika pulled the car into a spa parking lot. you frowned. "spatopia? aren't they closed this late?"

"i made a few calls for us." she said with a shrug, kissing you over the center console and then hopping out of the car. she ran around the car, pulling open your door and walking you to the store front.

two hours and two couples' deep tissue massages later; you were both too relaxed to drive home and you had to call an uber. it was one of the nicest gifts of your life.

now that you're married, it's only gotten worse.

you make a passing comment about your couch being stiff, and sevika's taking you furniture shopping that weekend.

you trip over a (incredibly expensive) persian rug in sevika's study more than once and she's rolling it away and buying one that doesn't snag your toes.

you once complained about the lack of legroom in her fucking porsche, so she bought you an suv. she's fucking insane.

and now she's done something truly crazy.

"you bought us a fucking house!?" you squawk. sevika shrugs with a smile. "sevika, we have a house!"

"we have a penthouse. penthouses don't have gardens. you want a garden."

"wh-- i do?!" you ask. sevika laughs.

"yeah, you do. remember? you told me on our first date what your dream house would be. you said something with charm, something you could make your own, something with a yard big enough for a garden and some pets."

the memory is so distant and blurry to you-- at the time you'd mostly just been talking out of your ass and fantasizing. but sevika remembered. because she's incredible.

"y-you're fucking insane." you cry. sevika smiles.

"good or bad?"

"sevika." you break down in tears, wrapping your arms around your wife. she laughs against you, rubbing your back. "y-you can't just buy a house without asking your wife!" you scold. she giggles.

"most people can't-- but we've got the money for it. i could buy you a dozen houses if you wanted."

"no!" you squeak. she laughs. you rip out of her arms to glare up at her. "you have got to stop doing this shit sevika, you're gonna give me a heart attack eventually!"

"you're gonna have a heart attack when you see the main bath in this place." she whispers with a sweet, excited smile. you burst into laughter and pull her in for a kiss. "if you hate it we can just put it back on the market, y'know." she mumbles. you snort.

"well... at least let me see the place first."

sevika grins, big and wide. you shake your head at her, in love and endlessly endeared by her. "i love you. i'd spoil you in any life, but i'm glad in this one i got the money to treat you the way you really deserve." she says.

you sigh dreamily and cup her face. "please tell me there's already a bed in there."

"...yeah, why?" sevika asks. you grin.

"i'm gonna ride you until you're paralyzed from the waist down, baby. c'mon. show me around my new house." you request, tugging sevika into the house by her tie.

sevika follows you with a dopey smile and hearts in her eyes.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Part One

Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.

Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together

If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.

Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.

The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.

Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.

Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.

But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.

So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.

About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.

Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.

But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.

After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.

But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.

"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.

They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.

He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.

The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.

"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.

He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.

Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.

He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.

Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.

----

When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.

He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.

"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"

"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.

Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"

Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."

"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"

After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"

Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.

"No, Steve."

"Oh, the famous Steve."

Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.

And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.

"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"

"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.

Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.

As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"

Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."

Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."

Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.

Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.

Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.

Great.

Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.

Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."

Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"

Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."

Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.

Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.

Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."

"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."

And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.

Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.

Holy. Shit.