#I know it’s not Monday but this is rotting my brain… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

euphoriaslux · 8 months ago

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two’s a party.

summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.

word count: 3.3k

warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (i’m sorry ((no i’m not))). no challengers spoilers!

a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!

stanford science hall. monday , march 3.

You swear the last thing you’ll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.

It’s 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you don’t think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. He’s teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that they’re taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that they’re on their phones. You don’t really blame any of them, because the professor’s voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like he’s begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. You’ve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of today’s lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.

This class is required for your biology major since you’re on a pre-medicine track. You don’t know why you’re doing it, the whole doctor thing, but you’ve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.

And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because you’ve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think it’s because you’re so focused on the curriculum.

Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since you’re in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.

“... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.

stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.

It’s 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.

“Hey”.

Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.

“Hi,” you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares he’s receiving from the other students studying.

“You know,” he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, “for someone advertising their services, you’re pretty hard to find.”

“You’re in Mr. Wilson’s class, right?” you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that he’s in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.

“And I’m trying not to fail, but you didn’t leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring services…” he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.

“That’s when you say who you are.”

You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set you’ve nearly finished.

“How do you turn in any of those, I can’t get halfway through one of them.”

You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:

“This new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.”

“Very funny,” he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.

“Why are you taking so many bio classes?”

“Because I’m a biology major,” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re making this too easy for me,” you raise your hands in conceit.

“I have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,” he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.

“Well, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,” you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.

“Tell the coach you’re there for Art. They’ll let you through.”

stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.

It’s 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like they’ve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you can’t hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.

“Who’s your friend?” you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.

“I’m Patrick,” he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.

“Are you in Mr. Wilson’s class too?”

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says “He doesn’t go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesn’t leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.

Interesting.

“Like, Andre Agassi level pro?” you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you can’t help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“Sorry, he’s like the only tennis player I know.”

“No, no I’m taking that as a compliment that you think I’m on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,” Patrick points at you.

“Will do,” you salute, turning over to Art.

“You ready to study?” you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.

“You do remember that’s why I’m here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.”

“I definitely have not forgotten that.” he says. You purse your lips just as Patrick’s eyes seem to light up.

“I’m staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,” Patrick suggests.

“Just studying?”

“Just studying,” Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you can’t crack it, so you shrug.

“Sure.”

“Let us finish this set, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

“Wow, what a privilege. Don’t take too long, it’s hell on Earth out here!” you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.

“You ever play?” he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.

“Tennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-” he’s cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.

“Go, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.

courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.

It’s 11 pm. There’s a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.

what are you doing?

You don’t have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that you’re on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. It’s like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until you’re planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood it’s thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. He’s smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you don’t say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the other’s presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.

“I brought studying fuel.”

You were never good at waiting.

Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. It’s small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lock the door, but you didn’t notice.

“Art’s not here yet?” you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.

“Art can be bad with time.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.

“Well,” you wipe the side of your mouth, “I told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we can’t do anything until he gets here.”

Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. “I guess we can’t.”

“How’s tennis… stuff,” you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.

Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.

“I’m kinda fucking it up right now,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“How? You were like, really good yesterday.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.

“I’m good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I don’t know. I just … can’t replicate it.”

You nudge him with your leg.

“Sounds like you two were made to play tennis together.”

He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.

“You and Art are pretty close?” you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a yes.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of Art?” he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.

“Yeah, or jealous of the girls he’s with. Either or.”

Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine.”

You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.

“What were you doing before I came?” you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.

“Practicing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.”

You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.

“You can tell me the truth, Patrick.”

He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“I think you know.”

You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.

You were really quite bad at waiting.

He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-

You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.

“Christ, I’m not the cops,” he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.

“You want to fuck him right?” Art asks, and you can’t help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he’s just staring at Art.

“I-um,”

“So, no one’s stopping you,” Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrick’s mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrick’s mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Art’s gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Art’s eyes.

“Come here.”

Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Art’s hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Art’s lips are softer than Patrick’s but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Art’s mouth as you feel Patrick’s tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Art’s cock presses into your back. It’s just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.

“Look at him,” Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Art’s hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrick’s hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.

“Who do you want first?

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minimickzy · 1 year ago

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Oh My God || Hazel Callahan

Listen- I believe in loser hazel and I find her to be perfect- I know this isn't my best fic but I've been in serious bottoms brain rot

dialog prompts:

"Hold my hand" "Absolutely not"

Characters: Hazel Callahan x Reader, the whole club

Word count: 2359

Hazel Callahan was your mortal enemy. Did she know? Probably not. It was honestly beside the point. Because what mattered was that bitch seemed to have it out for you since the start of high school. First, it was taking your topic for a history project. Whatever- no big deal. Then all the “accidents” spilling coffee on your backpack (she had given you money for a new one but still), tripping you in the walkways, and hitting you in the face with a volleyball (multiple times). After that, she got the better parking spot for senior year, and finally, the great big plump cherry on top, she took the lunch table you had practically reserved since freshman year.

At the end of the day, the whole ordeal may be a bit over-dramatic… but that table was perfect. In the corner, you could either hide or have a great undisturbed lunch with your friends. Hazel had sat there one day with Josie and PJ. which was weird in itself because they never had eaten in the cafeteria before and you didn't even remember them being friends.

For how much you didn't care about Hazel Callahan- she sure took a lot of your attention.

If anyone else had done any of those things- you probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But this was Hazel Callahan who despite your best efforts you could not stop crushing on.

The stolen table was a very recent development. As in on Monday and it was now Wednesday. You sat at the next best table with Sylvie and Krystal, watching as Hazel feverishly wrote something in her notebook as PJ seemed to make a grandiose speech.

She had no right to look that attractive while sitting in your spot. You groaned and face-planted into your crossed arms on the table.

“Are you good dude?” You rolled your head to the side to look at Sylvie and then let out another frustrated groan.

“Everything is awful and I hate it here.”

Krystal patted your back while Silive sighed, “You know what you need?”

“Hmm?”

“To hit something.”

You laughed from inside your arm fortress, “Okay Sylvie- what should I hit? A fucking tree? Jeff? A Huntington player?”

“No, you should join the fight club! It’s for women empowerment- I’m trying to train up to deal with my stepdad ya know?”

You lifted your head and gave your friend a questioning look. “Fight club? For women empowerment?”

Sylvie and Krystal both nodded excitedly.

“When and Where?”

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

Of fucking course.

When you walk in behind Krystal and Sylvie to the gym, the first person you see is Hazel.

Your body immediately fills with rage. At this point, it’s starting to feel like you're more angry at yourself for crushing on someone you barely even know. But you believe in self-love so you plan to continue projecting your anger onto someone else.

Everyone was milling about and chatting, you left your bag on the bleachers by everyone else’s and followed your friends to the middle of the gym.

Stella-Rebecca caught your eye and waved, which you gladly returned before PJ stomped as hard as possible on the floor to get everyone's attention.

“What time is it?!” She screamed and was answered by a chorus of “3:15”s

“That’s right you sluts! It’s time to get down and dirty!”

You couldn't help the look of mild disgust that passed across your features. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. After al, Sylvie made some seriously questionable choices- you thought you could trust Krystal though.

“Alright cunts- who wants to start us of-” PJ started by being cut off by Hazel who whispered something to her and then directed PJ’s attention onto you with a point of her pen. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” PJ gave you an unimpressed look which made you roll your eyes.

“I can leave if this is a closed cl-” You started to point behind you to the door but Josie stopped you by waving her hands

“No- no you're more than welcome. PJ just gets a little into it- you know flashbacks to juvie and all that.” Josie gives a reassuring (and awkward) smile.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Cool.” out of the corner of your eye you could see Hazel giving Josie a thumbs up.

“Well, Since you’re fresh blood let's see what you got,” PJ says while smiling at you.

“Okay,” you shrug. “I really don’t know what I’m doing though so don’t expect much.”

PJ just brushes you off, “Don’t worry. It’s mostly just instinct.”

You nod and step into the center of the circle of girls. Okay, maybe this was a stupid fucking idea.

“Let's see…” PJ looks around the circle, trying to decide who to pair you up with. “Hazel- why don’t you hop in.”

Hazel looks nervous, but she still nods and enters the ring, giving you a small smile and nod.

You look at her blankly, “Now what?” you ask.

“Now you hit each other.” PJ claps her hands together, “Fucking beat each other the fuck up!”

“What-” You can’t finish your question because Hazel deals a hard hit right to your gut. “Fuck!” you double over in shock before gathering yourself again. “What the fuck.”

Hazel looks a little confused but motions to herself, “Hit me now- that's how this works.”

You give her the best “what the fuck” look you can convey before settling into a fighting stance. You thought there'd be a little lead-up or something.

You swung and got in a decent hit to the side of Hazel's face. It left a stinging sensation on your knuckles but you tried to shake it off.

The two of you exchanged a few more punches and kicks back and forth before Hazel managed to catch you completely off guard and-

BAM

Your ass hit the ground hard. “Fuck!” you couldn't help the curse from leaving your lips. You let yourself unfurl onto the ground and stared at the ceiling. The girls around you clapped as you tried to catch your breath.

“Good fight,” Hazel said, reaching one of her hands out towards you on the ground.

You just looked at her, “Yeah. Good...” Suddenly your head hurt a lot more than it did a minute ago. “Fight.” This was definitely a stupid fucking decision. Maybe this is what killed you. RIP the girl who got her lights knocked out but the girl who was both the love and hate of her life.

You tried to sit up but the world was kinda spinning.

“Hazel, how hard did you hit her?” Josie asked as she joined Hazel looking down at you. Hazel looked like a lost puppy.

“I didn’t think it was that hard- are you okay.”

You laughed not handling the embarrassment of the situation well, “I am so good actually.” You went to stand up but stumbled before your legs gave out putting you back on the floor.

Hazel tried to grab at your hand to help you up but you retracted your hand on instinct. “Hold my hand.”

“Absolutely not.”

Silvie barked out a laugh- “damn rejected!”

Hazel looked at you- her big blue eyes filling with hurt. Fuck. You didn't want to have to see those sad puppy dog eyes. You took hold of her hand and let her pull you up. If you thought the world was spinning when you were sitting, now it was like you were on a tilt-a-whirl. “Shit.” you couldn't keep yourself upright and leaned into Hazel so you didn't fall back to the ground.

“Uh- I’m gonna take her to get some water.” Hazel sounded very concerned but you giggled. This was so embarrassing. Not only were you weak in front of your enemy- but also your crush. “Oh my god, I think I broke her!”

PJ scoffed, “You just gave her like a concussion- she’ll be fine.” You nodded to agree with PJ.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” Hazel mumbled as she walked you out of the gym.

“I’m so so sorry.” She continued to apologize to all the girl's bathrooms where she propped you against a sink. “I didn’t think I was that strong.” She gathered some paper towels and got them wet, dabbing them to your forehead.

In all honesty, you feel fine now. The dizziness was gone and replaced with a dull ache. But you were kinda enjoying Hazel being all over you.

“It’s fine. Don't worry about it.”

“If you want to hit me I get it- I deserve it.”

You laughed, “Yeah you can say that again.” You needed to practice biting your damn tongue.

“I’m so sorry- I can’t believe I did that- I always do something stupid around you. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard- I just can’t like to focus with you around and I’m sorry-” Hazel continued to ramble and you started to zone out a little before saying the only thing running through your mind.

“You stole my table”

Hazel stopped talking and looked at you. “No, I didn’t”

“Yes, you did.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never stolen anything let alone a table- I don’t even know where I would’ve put-”

“No Hazel, my seat. In the lunch room.”

She just stared at you and blinked.

“You stole my spot- where I have sat every day for the last and you spilled coffee on my backpack and hit me in the face with volleyballs and… and… and now you gave me a concussion with your fists.”

Hazel groaned and moved away from you holding her face in her hands, “Oh my god you must think I hate you.”

“Well yeah!”

Hazel just groaned again. “I just like you.”

“Oh yeah sure- wait- what did you just say?”

“I just like you okay,” She kicks the floor and starts to pout, “You’re just like really cool and like always around and you make me nervous.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know- i’m sorry- I knew you hated me cause of all that stuff”

“Oh my god-”

Hazel made more inhuman nosies as you started to laugh.

“Hazel what the actual fuck- you like me? You like me? For how long?”

Hazel stopped with the noises “I don’t know? Like freshman year? Why?”

“Despite all of the mishaps, and how much they pissed me off- I could not stop crushing on you… since freshman year.”

Hazels jaw literally dropped, “What, no way?”

“Yes way. Why didnt you just like talk to me?”

“Well everytime I did I would somehow manage you hurt you.”

You shook your head and laughed lighty, “thats actually fair, I can’t blame you for that.”

She cracked a bit of a smile, relief from the last few seconds flooding over the both of you.

“This is crazy.”

You laughed, “it is. And to think all it took was you punching me to the ground.”

She groaned, “god I really am sorry-”

“It’s fine- definitely worth it.”

She smiled, “now what?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know- we’ve wasted almost four years it seems like so theres no point in wasting any more.”

She gave you a dopey look and figeted with the rings on her fingers.

“Hazel come here.” She followed your instructions obditally and stood in front of you- close enough that you could feel the gentle wind of her breath.

You placed your hands on her shoulders, not entirely sure the right way to go about this- and maybe this was moving a bit fast and the common sense had gotten knocked out of your head but at this point you were kicking yourself for not making a move over the entrieity of your highschool career.

Her eyes were open, glued to your lips.

“Gotta start making up for all that lost time.” you leaned forward, barley brushing your lips together, when you pulled back Hazel stood completely still with her eyes shut tight. You smiled to yourself. “Do you want to..” Hazel keep her eyes shut but nodded.

You leaned again, this time trying to add in some movement. It was painfully obvious that neither of you really knew what you were doing. Hazel seemed to have a sudden surge in confidence after accidentally (maybe?) bitting your lower lip which drew some type of sound from you. She stepped forward, pushing you aagint the bathroom sink and putting the two of you in a much more intainte position.

Despite the awkwardness and surprise, it felt nice- or good? Something like that. You stopped anazlying everything and instead focused on the fact that their was a very attractive girl running her hands down your back and letting your shirt cover her finger tips as she explored you.

The second you started to thank whatever god was a above that it was after school hours so the building was essentially vacant- the door brust open, followed by two very loud “fuck”s.

Hazel rushed back away from you, her face already blushing a bright pink.

PJ and Josie stood in the doorway- matching faces of shock painting their features.

“No fucking way Hazel is getting puss before us.” PJ rolled her eyes.

“Uh- sorry we just uh- you know- wanted to make sure you were good.” Josie was doing a horrible job hiding her uncomforatbleness as she questioned you with a thumbs up.

You bit your lip to stop from laughing and gave her a thumbs up back, “Doing great in here. Thanks- but if you wouldn’t mind leaving-”

“Oh yeah! Yeah! For sure- we’ll let you two lovebirds get back to it.” Josie did a half bow before turning and pushing PJ out the door.

You laughed as hazel just looked mortified, “we’ll continue this later, I think we should get back to the club though- kinda wanna see you lay some bitchs out.”

She took a deep breath and patted down her shirt, before looking in the mirror and fixing her hair.

You gave her another thumbs up before the two of you left the bathroom to go back to the gym.

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

Send me requests please 🙈

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms x reader #ruby cruz x reader

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 5 months ago

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Oh my goodness! That story about Leo going into the future was SO good! The ending felt so natural (tho poor MC for being left out of the loop lol) Could you please make a continuation?! Or do other characters? No pressure or anything!

The diabolical streamer is acting weird

Leo started behaving weirdly after he saw his future with the honor student and everyone noticed.

Wc: 800

Notes: this doesn't fully capture how weird I think he would get, I'm talking full on side eyes and awkward silences.

He is having a hard time accepting that the student he almost got killed and someone he sees as an NPC to his life managed to get him whipped enough for him to marry them

I honestly was between this or him being awkward while getting them ready for a paid sponsor but couldn't decide which would be better...

There are many uncertainties in life, will your curse be cured? What is Hyde hiding under there? Where did all the staff cats come from? But now there is a new question, Why is Leo acting so weird?

Ever since last Monday he has been behaving unlike himself! Side eyeing you whenever he thought you weren't watching and huffing whenever you told him anything. What puzzles you even more is when you tell Sho about it and he just raises his eyebrows, acting but clearly not surprised.

“Uh Huh? Really? I don't believe you” his steel blue eyes focused on the quick swiped of the knife against the carrots, Sho's voice couldn't be faker.

“I’m asking seriously! Leo has been quite awkward with me lately, is it because I helped you drag him out?”

Sho lets out a knowing laugh but doesn't let you in on any insider knowledge. The night after their sneak out while bathing together Leo told him some things.

“Can you believe that stupid birdpond said I would marry the NPC?” dipping under the water until his collarbone was covered he mutters strings of words that Sho vaguely strings into something like ‘it must have been that darkwick rotted my brain, settling down with them’ and some bitter babbles into the bubbles.

“For real? With the honor student?!” Howling laughter rolls from the deepest part of his chest and he has to grab the side of the bathtub while he catches his breath to not slip “anything else interesting?”

“You recorded up getting laid, disgusting pervert” Leo jokes as he pours some Epsom salt in while relishing on the disgusted gags Sho makes.

If Leo wouldn't have sounded half as playful as he did and Sho actually took him seriously, he would have figured the dilemma Leo was facing, what would have even attracted him to that NPC? They aren't the prettiest person they have seen ever, not even in Darkwick, Romeo and Jin would take that place. Their jokes don't always fall funny with him or their responses, witty. So what was it?

But after knowing his friend for as long as he did and the little chat inside the bathroom he manages to infer it's something to do with the future shown to him.

Without turning back to you he just sighs “sometimes he has those times where he acts weird, in a week he should be as usual… speaking of the devil”

And as in cue Leo slams the kitchen door open, his eyes looking down at his phone. Without even one word he links your elbows and pulls you from the table you were sitting on to the door on the opposing wall.

“Hey! Hey! Where are you dragging me?!”

“I sent you a message. I need you to boost my stigma. Now” and without giving you one moment to question back or argue he was already out of the kitchen and reaching the back door leading to the junkyard with you in tow.

And as usual when he calls you, he plops down on the leather couch throwing you down with him “Don't stand so far away, I can barely touch your hand” his voice whines as he drapes his right arm over your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest and ducking your head under his own.

“What are-”

“Hush, I can't hear with you babbling”

Maybe because of the way his left hand holding yours tightly or the bashfulness pooling under your stomach at the compromising position and the looks some students threw at you, you didn't notice how he didn't say ‘haxs’ to start using his stigma.

After a few minutes of ‘cuddling’ he pulls away and walks off to his room, seemingly deep in thought as he usually does when eavesdropping, so you pay him no mind and return to Sho, hoping he would give you a taste of tomorrow’s food truck menu.

Inside Leo's head he mused, partially shocked and partially expecting it “it didn't feel wrong… maybe even a bit nice... This shitty school is messing with my taste”

His cheek is smooshed against his palm while he scrolls the content of a burner phone, the page showing was a semi recent Wickhive post asking about reasons people like their partners, his thumb stops scrolling over an answer, mulling over it.

“It is the feeling of calmness I get when he hugs me, his chest snug against my arm fitting just right, like it was always meant to be. Like two puzzle pieces snapping together or Orihime’s relief at meeting Hikoboshi even if it has been only a few hours since we saw each other”

Sighing over the overly flowery language he seems to accept the answer and deletes the post, content for now with what he got.

#tokyo debunker #leo kurosagi #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker leo

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baby-yongbok · 1 year ago

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Baby its 9:30 am on a MONDAY. And here i am thinking, brain rotting over sex worker!seungmin and undiscovered pain slut!reader.

Like she knows what shes into, shes read the fanfiction, she knows what gets her going bit shes never acted it out with anyone, ya know?

So when seungmin grabs her by the hair and spits in her face shes 🫠🤤 "do it again"

9:30 am... IT WAS 9:30AM when you sent this. I was getting ready to see my THERAPIST. You made me wanna curse with the all the FILTHY thoughts you got running through my head🫠😭 As a masochist I love you for this request.

Masochist?

Sex Worker!Seungmin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Seungmin is referred to as Sky + Started a new medication so writing this beat my ass. My brain isn't mine yet, I'm sorry if it sucks

Word Count: 1,753

Warnings: Hair Pulling, Slapping, Spit Play, Cursing, Degradation, Biting, Choking (Sorry If I missed any)

✨Masterlist✨

You had to try it. You had to know what it was like but you couldn’t do it with anyone you knew and there’s no way that you’d trust a random guy from a bar to fulfill this need; they probably couldn’t even make you cum if they tried. That’s how you ended up here, in a motel room that was surprisingly clean and a hot guy that you hand picked like a thanksgiving turkey standing across from you leaning against the wall by the window. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt trying to look anywhere but at him. If someone would’ve told you that you were gonna hire a sex worker in the future to test out your pain kink you’d laugh in their face yet here you are doing exactly that.

“I take it that you’re nervous?” His tone is dry yet curious. His eyes haven’t left your frame ever since you two got to the room, you figure that he’s studying you so that he can do his job in the best way possible but you also have no fucking clue how this works.

“Uh, yeah.” Your words come out quieter than you wanted and you internally curse at yourself for it, you must be the most boring client ever.

“Then what’s the point of this?” His tone is flat and a bit harsh. It should bother you but it has you pressing your thighs together instead, something that the man in front of you noticed right away. “Are you a virgin or something?”

You look forward for a second trying your best to work up the courage to look him in the eyes but his raised eyebrow and crossed arms make you feel nervous all over again. You settle at staring at his feet instead.

“No, I’m not a virgin.” You scoff a bit at the question before sighing. “I just want to try something.”

“Alright? Spit it out.” Your thighs press together again at his rough tone confirming his suspicion. He internally smiles at himself for figuring you out.

“I just, I want to try out this kink and I’ve read about it and I’ve watched porn on it but I’ve just never done it so I -” You’re cut off by the man’s annoyed groan as his arms fall to his sides and he shifts his position against the wall.

“What are you, a five year old? Get to the damn point.” He watches you carefully taking in your body language which is the same as before only this time you whine a bit under your breath.

“I think I have a pain kink and I wanna try it out.” Your words come out in a shy whisper and the man in front of you scoffs.

“Can you speak? Why are you whispering?” He takes a step towards you, bending forward a bit to catch your gaze. You glance at him for a second before looking away.

“Repeat yourself.” He hisses at you as he straightens himself back up. The truth is that he heard exactly what you said but he enjoyed watching you react to him way too much to take it easy on you and from what he could tell you were enjoying it too.

“I- I said that I think I have a pain kink and I want to try it out.” You projected your voice this time, forcing yourself to sit up straighter and look up into his eyes for a second.

“Oh.” He clicks his tongue and nods his head as he slowly takes a couple of steps towards you. “You’re a pain slut?”

Your eyes flutter shut briefly before you shake your head. “I guess.. I haven’t had the chance to actually try it, hence why you’re here”

He slowly steps towards you until he’s right in front of you. You stare down at his black combat boots, too shy to look into his dark gaze. “So you want me, a complete stranger, to rough you up?”

His tone is teasing and condescending and you absolutely love it.

“Yes.. sir” He scoffs above you, squatting down in front of you, he successfully catches your gaze this time and you feel like you have no choice but to hold it.

“Call me Sky, not sir.” You nod your head at him and he lightly rests his hand on your shoulder. You jump ever so slightly at the sudden contact but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned or bothered by your reaction. He actually seems to be entertained by it.

“Is that your real name?” You ask out of curiosity and he laughs sarcastically.

“You think I’d give some lonely girl like you my real name?” He shakes his head at you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “Be forreal.”

“Sorry.” You look back down at your lap as an embarrassed blush runs over your cheeks.

“Will you just fucking look at me, already.” His hand quickly moves from your shoulder and laces into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back and forcing your eyes to land on his. A loud moan erupts from your throat as the sting from his grip sends chills down your spine and a wave of lustful heat washes over you. “We can talk about your fantasies all night or I can fuck you. You’re the one paying me so you decide.”

You swallow hard as your breathing picks up a bit, you take a deep breath mustering up all of your courage before speaking. “Do that again.”

A wicked grin tugs at the corner of his lips before it fades into an expression of faux confusion.

“Do what again?” He mocks you, tilting his head slightly. “This?”

He fists the roots of your hair again pulling you up with him as he stands. A pained hiss followed by a deep moan leaves your parted lips as you rise to your feet. Your hands instinctively wrap around his forearm in an attempt to ease the pressure.

“How pathetic” He hisses before he purses his lips and spits in your face. You feel his saliva paint your cheek and a groan escapes you. He pulls you closer to him so that your faces are no more than an inch from each other. “You liked that didn’t you? You like being spit on and treated like a slut?”

His free hand comes up to your face and wipes the spit from your cheek.

“Open.” You part your blushed lips just enough for him to slide his spit covered fingers into your mouth. You lick the saliva off of his fingers mixing it with your own and he shakes his head at you as he watches you melt into his grip on your hair. “Disgusting”

He lets go of your hair with a slight push causing you to stumble back into the bed.

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable just ask me to stop, think you can do that?”

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze with a new found confidence. You cross your arms against your chest as the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds too long “I’m not paying you to stand there.”

A grin stretches across his lips, he steps forward lacing his fingers around your throat and pushing you back into the mattress. “Someone’s feeling good now, huh?”

He hovers above you, supporting himself with one hand on the mattress next to your head while the other moves from around your throat and lands a sharp slap onto your cheek. You groan at the sudden sting, pressing your thighs together. He slaps you again this time a bit harder while he wedges his knee between your legs and presses it firmly against your cunt.

“Fuck, Sky.” The words leave your lips in a breathy moan as he wraps his fingers back around your throat pressing firmly at the sides and drawing a deliciously sexy whimper from you. He fights back his own satisfied groan as he leans down into your shoulder and bites at the exposed flesh just hard enough to leave a mark.

“She likes slapping, hair pulling, choking, and biting.” He pulls back from your shoulder, admiring how red your skin got from his previous actions, that’s sure to leave a pretty bruise for you to remember him by. “But can she cum from it?”

“Yes.” You moan out as you grind yourself against his knee, the soaked fabric of your panties causing the friction to feel even better.

“Show me then.” You nod your head as you continue to work your core against his knee, surely leaving a stain on jeans. Your body trembles as you close your eyes and arch your back, The pressure of his hand around your neck bringing you dangerously close to the edge. Just as you settle into the sensations a new one is added, you gasp as you take in the sharp pain of your sensitive nipple being pinched and pulled between his fingers. You let out a loud moan as your peak of pleasure sneaks closer and closer.

“Oh my god” You arch your back further into his body as you feel yourself come undone, your body trembling as pleasure floods through you.

“So she can cum from it.” Your eyes flutter shut as you try your best to catch your breath. You want to say something, anything but you simply can’t form any words. Instead you find yourself smiling out of pure satisfaction and pleasure.

“More.” You breathe out as you start to crave the high all over again. “More, please.”

“She’s begging, huh?” He lets go of your throat and lands another sharp slap across your face before spitting down at you. “Your desperation is pitiful.”

You moan at his words, your hands blindly searching for a place to rest. You sigh lightly when you brush across the tent in his jeans. Your eyes open and land on his before trailing down his torso and finding the bulge of his hard cock. “Fuck me.”

“Gladly, but first..” His hand slid into your hair again, fisting it tightly and pulling you up off of the bed. You stand with him and before you can place both feet on the floor he pushes you down by your shoulder until both of your knees meet the motel carpet and you’re gazing up at him. Your glazed eyes meet his dark ones as he bends forward slightly.

“Beg for it.”

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luvangelbreak · 9 months ago

Text

Deprived | Twenty

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking, suggestive? word count: 3.3k a/n: this series has been longer than I anticipated but I'm living for the slow burn so it's gonna be a while till we're done folks.

pov: layla

I spent the next week couped in my room, refusing to leave as I quickly smoked the bag of weed Wes had given me. Allie had messaged me in concern multiple times and I finally built up the courage to reply to her a day after her last message.

Allie <3 Monday hey girl are you okay? matt has been off all day 1:30pm Tuesday if u wanna talk im here <3 5:37pm Wednesday im getting concerned pls message me if u need anything 3:47pm

You sorry just havent been feeling good im okay just need time alone 10:21pm

Allie <3 im sorry :(10:23pm

You its okay i'll be at school tmrw 10:27pm

Allie <3 okay! see ya then <3 10:28pm

I locked my phone and threw it lazily on the bed beside me, rolling over to face the wall where my window was cracked open. I was glad my dad was out tonight, having to deal with him for over a week straight was draining and I felt like it didn't benefit my self-loathing in any way. I sighed as my mind always travelled back to the look on Matt's face, the pure hurt in his eyes that I knew I caused.

Part of me was glad he hadn't messaged or tried to talk to me. It meant that I could push him away if I wanted to. I did just that without even consciously meaning to. I got scared and made it his fault in my brain but as I continued rotting in my bed, I realised I hurt him more than I ever meant to. It wasn't his fault that I was afraid of someone being close, it wasn't his fault that I let something so small set me off. I needed to make him realise it wasn't his fault and I was just not used to the affection and accommodation he offered me daily.

I barely slept over the past week and this night was no different. My alarm went off in the early hours of the morning and I knew I had slept a total of 4 hours from the way my brain had constantly been reeling. I dragged myself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. I took an extra long shower to attempt to rid the disgust I felt towards myself.

After scrubbing my entire body head to toe, I jumped out of the shower and walked to my room. My entire body felt heavy and I felt tears prick my eyes when I looked over to the pink sweater that was still laying over my bag. I picked it up, realising it was the only clean sweater I had since I hadn't been bothered with laundry. I quickly slid it over my head before sliding on my black sweatpants and combat boots. I slid my leather jacket over the top, not bothering with any makeup as I lazily tied my now damp hair into a low ponytail. I grabbed my bag, quickly sprayed on some perfume and grabbed my phone off of my bedside table.

I quickly exited my house without food or water in my stomach and as I began walking down the road, I decided to light one of the last few cigarettes I had pre-rolled. I grabbed my headphones from my bag, slid one into my ear and plugged them into my phone. I clicked shuffle on one of my playlists and I let my feet drag on the asphalt as I slowly made my way down the streets of Massachusetts.

After an hour, I finally arrived in the parking lot of the school and I scanned the cars, my eyes landing where I saw the familiar silver minivan. I paused, letting out a heavy breath as I collected myself and began walking to the group of people in front of the car.

Nate was the first to notice me and he just looked at me with no expression before he turned back to the group. As I got closer I noticed the fact that Mia was standing beside Matt with her head leaned on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back lazily and I felt a pang of pure jealousy run through me. I tried to shake it off as I got closer, knowing I had no right to be mad about it right now since I was the one who caused the riff between the brown-haired boy and myself.

"Speak of the devil," I heard Nick say when his eyes caught mine and I was a few feet away, standing uncomfortably as I looked between all of them. All of their heads turned to look at me, Allie being the only one who didn't seem like they were looking right through me.

"Matt, can I talk to you?" I asked quietly as I didn't dare to meet his eyes yet and there was an uncomfortable silence that fell over us, "Please."

"About what?" he asked, his tone short and I looked up to see his face completely expressionless but his eyes held such hurt and aggravation that it felt like it cut right through me.

"Last week," I mumbled, ignoring the pain in my chest of seeing Mia looking at me with a slight smirk. I focused in on the boy I had hurt, his blue eyes piercing in the sunlight.

"Now?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off of me and I just looked at him, the judgement of his friends radiating off of them. He sighed heavily before swinging his arm out from around Mia and I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders but there was still a pressure on my chest, "I'll be back."

I looked at the ground as he pushed away from the hood of the minivan and he walked past me. I followed behind him, not daring to look back at his friends as we walked to the back of the parking lot before he stopped to face me.

He didn't say anything for a moment as I looked up at him and he scanned me head to toe before murmuring, "That's my sweater."

"Yeah. I left it on my bag all week but I didn't have any clean hoodies for today," I explained and he hummed as I picked at the skin around my fingers, my nails too short to bite now that I had been picking at them all week. I nervously chewed on my lip before I said, "I'm sorry."

"It took you a week to say that?" he asked, his voice quiet but his words laced with pain.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I reacted to what you said horribly but I just-" I cut myself off as I took a breath and looked down at the gravel below us, "I haven't had anyone take care of me the way you do. It scares me. I'm sorry."

I squeezed my eyes closed, chewing on my bottom lip far more aggressively than I intended but my heart raced as I waited for his response. I felt his hand fall under my chin and he lifted my face to look up at him, noticing now that he was slightly closer to me. He used his thumb to gently pull my lip away from my teeth as I fidgeted with the hem of the pink sweater.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" he asked, his tone softening as he looked down at me and I shrugged dumbly.

"I am bad at talking about that sorta stuff," I answered quietly, my throat closing from the sadness that invaded my body as I looked up at him. I had no right to be upset right now, I was the one who fucked up and made this so difficult, but I felt guilt invade my entire body when I realised I didn't want to push him away. It was habit and I was always bad at breaking them.

"Don't do that again," he demanded softly and I pursed my lips as I pushed my sadness down the best I could as tears sprung to my eyes, "Or I swear to god I won't talk to you again and I don't want to stop talking to you. Ever."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away. I just don't know how to deal with everything I'm feeling and I know it's shitty but I promise I'm trying. I have no right to be sad right now because this is my fault but I feel so horrible for making you upset. You deserve so much more than that and if I can't give that to you I understand if you don't want me to be around anymore," I rambled out all of my feelings and conflicting voices in my head but I was cut off by his lips on mine.

I paused for a moment to register what was happening before my body melted into his, his arms wrapping around my lower back as I snaked my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, missing the way his body felt against my own more than I anticipated. It felt like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in my room for the past week with smoke-filled lungs. He gripped my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him as I tangled my hands in his hair before he pulled away to breathe for a moment.

"You're an idiot," he mumbled before he leaned back in to kiss me gently again.

"I know," I mumbled against his lips and he ran his tongue against my rough lips, the sting of his saliva hitting the open splits on my lips from chewing them. I hissed and pulled away as he looked down at me.

"You need to stop biting your lip," he muttered as his eyes travelled all around my face, "And stop picking your nails. You're not gonna have any left soon."

"I've been stressed the past week. I can't help it," I whispered as I looked up at him in awe. I had forgotten the pure oxytocin that ran through my system when I was with him and I refused to let it go again.

"Pretty girl," he gave me a sympathetic look and I shook my head as I pulled away from his face slightly, my arms still slung over his shoulders.

"Don't feel bad. This was my doing and I will make it up to you," I answered sternly and his face broke into a small smile. I sighed, the weight being lifted off of my chest now and my body tingled with joy.

"All I'm asking is that you talk to me next time," he whispered, leaning down to place a peck on my lips and I let it linger before I pulled back and nodded.

"I will try," I scratched the nape of his neck lightly and he bit his bottom lip as my face dropped, "Don't look at me like that before we have to go inside. I'll drive us back to your house right now."

"I don't see you for a week and you're ready to jump my bones already," he chuckled and I raised my eyebrows.

"How else can I make it up to you, ya know?" I joked as let my mouth form into a smirk and he shook his head as he pursed his lips, "Does this mean I can come to your game this week?"

"Of course baby," he smiled down at me and I felt the butterflies erupt in my stomach again, promising not only him but myself to never let myself ruin this again.

"By the way," I let my right hand trail from his neck to his chest, playing with the necklace that sat comfortably on his collarbones, "Allie's brother was just dropping me home. He tried to flirt with me but I shut it down. I wasn't lying about that."

"I know. I overreacted. I'm sorry about that," he said softly and I shook my head, twiddling the pendant between my fingers as I looked up at him.

"I know how it looked. I would've been just as upset. You don't need to apologise for it," I mumbled, trying hard to convey my feelings as best I could to which he didn't respond verbally. He instead placed another kiss against my lips and smiled against me as he squeezed my hips.

"Matt!" I heard Chris's voice call from only a few feet away and we both broke apart to look over at him, "You guys done? We gotta go to class."

"I forgot about that," I joked and Chris just gave me a deadpanned look as Matt chuckled.

"We'll be there in a sec," he called to his brother who just rolled his eyes and spun around to walk back to his friends, "They're more pissed at you than I was."

"I can tell," I mumbled as I watched their eyes pour directly into me, "Allie messaged me though."

"She was the only one defending you," he told me honestly and I hummed as I looked back up to him, "I'll talk to them."

"Don't sugarcoat it. You can tell them I'm a dumbass who doesn't know how to deal with her emotions," I stated and he shook his head with a smile, placing a kiss on the top of my head before swinging his arm over my shoulders.

"Come on," he said nodding towards the group and I hesitantly began walking with him by my side. Their eyes stayed glued to us as we approached and Mia gave me nothing but a scowl with her arms crossed, "Chill out. We talked about it."

"That didn't seem like talking," Mia spat and I remained silent, letting Matt handle the situation as I looked at Allie who gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't Mia," Matt deadpanned and she only scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "We talked about it and I don't wanna hear it."

"Only took you a week," Nate raised his eyebrows as he spoke and he looked at me. I pursed my lips while glancing between them.

"At least it happened," Matt retorted before the bell rang and he sighed, "We'll talk about it later. Let's go."

He began walking with his arm around my shoulder still and I followed suit, Chris moving to stand on the other side of Matt as everyone else followed behind. We made our way to our classes and once we sat down, a weight fell back on my chest.

Not only did I have to make it up to Matt, I had to win back his brothers and his friends.

+++

Pretty boy where did u go?? 12:23pm

You 🚬 be there in a minute 12:24pm

I locked my phone, sliding it into my pocket as I finished off my cigarette, throwing it onto the ground before I wedged it into the ground with my boot. I made my way back inside and straight to the cafeteria where I saw the group of friends sitting together.

"Hey," Allie beamed as she scooted closer to Mia to make space between her and Matt for me to sit. I smiled at her as I swung my legs over the bench and sat down. Matt placed his arm around my lower back as he continued his conversation with Nick.

"I don't want to wear a tie. That's why I got the red shirt," Matt groaned and Nick gave him a deadpanned look.

"It's prom. You're supposed to look fancy with a tie," Nick stated and Matt ran a hand across his face.

"We're all wearing a tie. Don't be a bitch," Nate pointed out and I tuned them out as Allie tapped my shoulder to gain my attention.

"You okay?" she asked quietly and I nodded with a hum.

"Yeah. Thank you for checking on me," I answered in a hushed tone and she shrugged with her sunshine smile that warmed my heart to know she wasn't annoyed with me.

"Of course. That's what friends are for," she said casually before she turned back to listen to the group conversation. I let her words hang over my head like a cloud.

That's what friends are for.

I don't remember the last time I had a genuine friend and her simple words struck me right in my heart. She had always been kind to me and from the moment we talked, she had been such a light in my life. I realised I not only wanted to share my emotions and feelings with Matt but also with Allie to show her that I appreciated her.

I wanted to be better for both of them.

"How long do we have to stay there?" Chris whined as he threw his head onto the table dramatically and Allie rolled her eyes.

"You're acting like you're being held hostage. If you don't wanna go it's fine," Allie responded, her tone quietening at the end and I could sense the slight sadness at Chris's distaste for prom.

"Al, I told you I'm going and I'll stick to that. I just don't wanna be there for five hours," he lifted his head up to look at her and she shrugged, eyes glancing at the table.

"We can leave early and go back to my house," she offered and Chris's mouth broke into a smile as he nodded.

"Works for me," he said triumphantly before sitting up again, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"How are we getting there?" Mia asked, looking around at the group and I just sat there in silence, deciding to go along with whatever plan I knew Allie had already set up.

"Meet up at my house at five thirty so we can take photos and make sure we have everything and then we will leave at like six-thirty to get to the hotel," Allie explained the plan and everyone seemed to hum along in agreement. I felt Matt's arm snake further around my back as he scooted closer to me.

"How are we getting there?" Nick asked and Allie smiled as she adjusted her ponytail.

"I got us a limo," she announced happily and Mia showed her first sign of happiness of the day as she squealed excitedly, "You guys won't drink right?"

Matt and his brothers shook their heads with a firm no and Allie turned to look at me and I shrugged, "Depends on what it is."

"Bottle of champagne in the limo?" Mia asked Allie and Allie nodded causing Mia's smile to widen.

"You're dad won't arrest us if we drink?" Nate asked, the half-hearted joke not landing well with Mia as she rolled her eyes.

"Not if he doesn't know," she pointed out with a slight smirk and Nate raised his eyebrows before nodding in agreement.

"Did you find a dress?" Nate asked, turning his attention to me as he attempted to make conversation. I assumed that in the time I'd been in my other classes and was outside Matt had talked to Nate, Chris and Nick since they weren't glaring at me anymore but they still felt slightly standoffish.

"No. I'm just gonna make my own," I explained and he nodded, his smile in a downturned smile.

"Mad impressive that you can do that," he complimented me and I gave him a half-hearted smile as Matt traced circles on my hip with his thumb.

"Thanks. I just hope I can finish it in time," I explained and I could sense Mia's disgust towards me radiating off of her but I was learning to tune her out like I had always done before Matt came into my life.

Suddenly the bell rang for our next classes and everyone began getting up. I stood up from the table before Matt spun me around and kissed my lips gently. I froze for a moment, shocked at the fact he did that in the middle of the cafeteria but I quickly reciprocated the action before he pulled away.

"See you after school pretty girl," he smirked at me before he walked away and I stood still for a moment as I watched him walk away with Nick, Chris, Nate and Mia.

"You guys are so fucking cute it makes me want to throw up," Allie rolled her eyes playfully beside me and I looked around to see people staring at me once again. I pursed my lips, my cheeks tinging red as I hid a smile and shook my head before I began walking out of the cafeteria.

tags:

@dsturniolo @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69 @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn @chrizznmetswife @ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @sturniolowhore @jebbie-project-blog @jaxyy219

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lexosaurus · 1 month ago

Text

stained teeth leave the aftertaste of rot (part 3)

Part three of my @ecto-implosion fic for @antleredweirdo's art [right here]! (seriously check it out it's amazing)

Characters: Danny Fenton Tags/warnings: minor character death, gore, ghost hunger Summary: Danny was just sick. It was probably some sort of ghost flu that was making his body heavy, his stomach hollow, and his eyes burn with fatigue. There was no way he was—no, he wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't. In the darkest corner of the room, something shifted.

[read on ao3]

[part 1] [part 2]

****

The days blurred together. Danny didn’t know if it was Monday or Wednesday or some other day that week.

The only way he could confirm that time was passing at all was how each morning when he woke up, he saw the shadow standing slightly closer to him than it had the day before.

The first morning, he’d tried to order it back into its corner. But it just smirked at him and refused to move.

So Danny had given up. And now he was wandering around Amity Park because…he couldn’t remember. Was he trying to go to Tucker’s house? Or was he coming home from Tucker’s house? He thought Tucker might have been the reason he was outside at this hour and still in human form, but he couldn’t quite remember…

There was no reason to be in his ghost form, anyway. There was nothing to patrol. Ever since Johnny 13, Danny hadn't seen his normal rotation of ghosts. Skulker seemed nowhere to be found, and Ember hadn't stopped by either, which was strange because she'd said she was going to debrief with him after the new Dead Teacher single dropped and now, some unknown days later, he hadn't seen her even once.

Maybe she'd forgotten?

Usually at this point, Youngblood was bored and looking for people to play a new game with, and the Box Ghost was out seeking new boxes to attempt to stake a very flimsy claim with. But strangely, neither of those ghosts had crossed over to the Human World either.

Since Danny was still sick with this ghost flu, he didn't particularly mind the peace and quiet. But, it did set him on edge all the same.

Why had no one appeared?

Had something happened in the Ghost Zone?

Or, maybe Johnny 13 had told them Danny was tired and needed a break?

...Yeah, no. Danny amended that thought as soon as it popped into his head. He'd complained about being tired many times before and the ghosts had never particularly cared. Maybe their years of being dead had made them all forget what it was like to have human needs like sleep. Regardless, his human necessities had proven to have little effect on their abilities to cause chaos in Amity Park.

So, if not that, then what? Why? Why were they staying away?

And why did he care?

He stopped, shaking his head. Was he seriously getting offended right now about this? Why did it matter if they were staying away from him?

Do they know? a corner of his brain asked.

There was nothing to know, he argued back.

The shadow laughed silently next to him.

"Stop following me around," Danny shot at it.

That only seemed to make it laugh more.

His core groaned, and he paused on the sidewalk, lightheadedness swarming his head like a beehive. He leaned against the building beside him and rubbed his forehead with clammy fingers that seemed too pointed to be human any longer. His core had begun doing this a few days ago. It had been whining at him to transform for a while now, but for the past few days, it was pulsing with a desperation he found almost impossible to resist.

And he was resisting.

He told himself that he wasn't transforming into Phantom because there was no need to. With all the ghosts seemingly avoiding Amity Park, there was no reason for him to become Phantom. It was too dangerous, anyway, with the Guys in White constantly patrolling, as well as his parents, Valerie, and all the little contractor ghost-hunting companies that Vlad Masters (that douche) had begun to employ.

Lies... the shadow seemed to say, though it hadn't said anything at all. It didn't have a mouth to speak with. It didn't have a face to gloat. It didn't have eyes to glint at him, nor lips to grin mischievously at him with. But Danny could feel that all the same.

"I'm not lying," Danny grumbled, his voice hardly loud enough to reach the air a few inches away.

The shadow, strolling across the middle of the road toward him, still with no ears to hear with, didn't seem to have a problem understanding him. You're lying.

"I'm not."

The shadow simply grinned a wicked smile at him in return, and Danny could imagine the ghostly fangs poking out from the corners of its lips.

It was all in his head, all in his head.

His core shuddered, and Danny closed his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to repress the frost that crept up his throat. But he wasn't strong enough, he couldn't hold his breath forever in his human form, and eventually when he opened his mouth to let out the air he'd been holding hostage in his diaphragm, a blue wisp containing microscopic ice crystals and snow escaped his lips.

His ghost sense.

The pull was overwhelming. And suddenly, it didn't seem to matter if his human half required air or not because he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe right now. There was simply no oxygen in the air.

Aura took over his eyes and, like an addict searching for his next hit, his gaze whipped around the air, searching desperately for the ghost.

It was here. He didn't see it, he didn't see it. But it was here. It had to be.

His ghost sense never lied.

He felt the overwhelming tug of his core again, and he realized with a mouth-watering hunger that it was directing him.

Boundless relief rushed through him. He was saved! If he just listened to his core, he could find the ghost after all!

Everything was going to be okay.

But then the human part of him stepped back in, begging him to listen to reason, to turn around and go home because if he listened to his core, if he gave in to the goading of the shadow and the hole in his body then he would lose every last drop of his humanity that his ecto-infused cells still clung to.

It was disgusting how easily his transformation snuffed out the screaming of his human consciousness.

Finally silent, his brain exhaled. Now, there was no confusion. No moral drama to tend to. All he had to do was follow his core.

Yes.

Finally.

Phantom floated down the street as if in a daze. He rounded the corner, and continued on his merry way, humming happily. His core whined, and he shushed his body, promising to fix it all soon.

He didn't have enough sense left in his brain to pay attention to where they were going. He didn't know whether there were humans around him, or if any of them were trying to get his attention for a selfie or a Tiktok as they often did. He found that, for the first time, he didn't care about anything as insignificant as the wants of other humans. Why should he? He was a ghost, after all. And besides, he was busy.

Hunting.

The prey was near. He could sense it. The switch in his core, from electric whining to a hushed hum. He shifted out of visibility. For most ghosts, that wouldn't matter; they could sense when another specter was nearby. But for a ghost like this...

Phantom peered around a building and saw it: his target.

"Will you be my friend?" the ghost asked a cat rubbing itself against a wooden post.

The cat made no motion that it'd heard or even cared about the green ghost in its pink-striped pajamas. It stepped forward, letting the rough wood on the pole stroke across its body, and then turned around to get the other side of its long body.

"Why does nobody want to be my friend?" the ghost wailed, bringing thick fingers up to hide its face. It bowed, bobbing until its blond hair brushed over its fingers as if it were trying to bury its face in shame.

Well, it wouldn't need to feel shame for much longer.

Phantom crept forward, slowly, raising invisible claws but not directing power yet to the tips of his fingers. He needed to get closer if he wanted to make this clean.

Perhaps he was more eager than he'd realized at the prospect of bringing down this great beast because he'd hardly moved more than a foot around the corner of the building when the ghost sensed him.

A startled grunt escaped its lips as its head shot up from its hands. "Who's there?" it asked.

The world tunneled, and darkness began to shroud the edges of Phantom's vision. He grinned, the tips of his teeth pricking the delicate skin of his lips, but he could hardly feel it.

"Do you want to be my friend? I'm looking for new friends."

Phantom prowled forward, inching slowly. The muscles in his claws flexed as anticipation shot up his spine.

The weak smile slipped off the ghost's face, and its hands raised in submission. It said weakly, "Please come out."

Phantom's core cackled. This ghost was scared. It could sense his intentions. Good. Be scared.

"I just want to make friends."

Phantom was sure the smile on his lips was wicked. And suddenly, some ghostly part of him urged him to drop his invisibility. To let the ghost see how easily it'd been overpowered by him.

So Danny unshrouded his body from the linen robes of invisibility and watched in glee as the ghost's face relaxed in recognition.

"Oh, Phantom? It's just you. You know, for a second I thought—"

Phantom glided closer to the prey, the points on his claws turning knifelike as his teeth sharpened dangerously.

The ghost's mouth fell open in horror.

"Wait, please. Phantom—I—please..." it babbled, trying to scramble back.

One last flicker of humanity, the part that recognized this ghost as one with a name, with personality, as Klemper, yelled at him to stop, please, stop! But Phantom just laughed, his chuckle twisted and cruel, biting the air with the acrid taste of starvation. Because Phantom was starving, and this was the solution.

Phantom's acid eyes slowly meandered back to the trembling, lowly ghost hugging its torso with baggy, pink arms. Its red eyes stared pleadingly, welling with tears as its broken voice let out one last whisper.

"I thought we were friends."

The last of Phantom's patience drained away in an instant, and he surged forward, closing the distance to the prey before it could react. His claws made contact with something soft, and he pushed power through his palms, throwing the prey into the alley behind it. It hit the wall hard, cracking the brick as shockwaves pounded the air.

"Wait!"

But Phantom was done waiting.

His aura glowed like a blizzard as he followed the prey into the alley. The air was growing darker, darker, and there was his prey, glowing with fresh ectoplasm.

He shot forth, sinking his claws into the prey. His fingers tore through the pajamas easily, knifing the ectoplasmic body underneath and slicing the membrane skin like it was putty.

The moment the scent of fresh, liquid ectoplasm hit Phantom's nose, his eyes stopped seeing, his fingers stopped feeling, everything his brain knew and loved was green.

The first drop of the nectar of the gods hit his tongue, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. His body was a black hole, devouring ectoplasm with drunken craze as this sweet, citrus liquid candy flowed into him.

This was beautiful. This was everything.

He hadn't known why he'd been so afraid before. Why he hadn't let himself indulge in this incredible delicacy. Why he'd been so foolish as to let himself starve.

Now, he was saved.

The cries of his core lulled as he filled his stomach with ectoplasm. He could feel his energy rising again, and the black hole in his chest began shrinking, shrinking, until it was nearly gone. But not quite.

His body was alight with the thrill of the hunt, the enchantment of this feast. He scooped more ectoplasm into his sticky fingers and poured it down his throat. At last, his core let out a satisfied purr and settled down for a nap, and with a flash of light, the urge to dine was over.

Awareness came to his senses again. The gravel digging into his knees, the tingling of his feet as it ached with sleep, the chill of the evening air prickling his wet skin.

His wet skin...

He felt the blood drain from his face first. Then, nausea rolled through him like a tsunami, crushing his heart and lungs and brain with a sea of putrid green battery acid.

The urge to run had never felt so strong, and yet he couldn't move. His legs were plastered to the ground under an inch of ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that he alone had put there.

The pink-striped pajamas were nowhere to be seen, likely having dissolved to join the rest of the spilled ectoplasm the moment Danny tore Klemper's core from his chest.

Klemper. Oh Ancients, Klemper.

Danny was shaking—violently—eyes searching for a ghost that no longer existed as the world began to spin. His eyes darted around the carnage, frenzied as he searched for Klemper's toothy smile. But Klemper wasn't here.

Klemper's weak words, his last, defeated muttering of "I thought we were friends" bounced off the cavernous walls of Danny's mind. And then he felt sick all over again. He bent over, gagging, trying to expel all the poison that he'd just consumed. Klemper, it was Klemper. But nothing came up. His body refused to let him eject the disease within.

Ectoplasm dripped down his chin, and he furiously tried to wipe it away. But his hands were too sticky with the substance, and all he succeeded in doing was smearing the remains around his cheeks.

He trembled, and the cold bit him. His hands were still shaped more like claws than human fingers, and the taste of lime and acid and something sweet was still on the back of his tongue. His breathing picked up, ragged and icy, as an invisible hand reached into his chest and squeezed his lungs.

Delusion was still fighting his brain, and for a moment he could almost convince himself that Klemper had gotten away. Danny had injured him, but he was okay. Danny hadn't...he wouldn't...

No.

No!

Danny shut his eyes and rocked back and forth, the tips of his claws digging into his cheeks. Danny was the good guy. He was the hero. He wouldn't kill another creature, even if that being was already dead. He wouldn't.

He wasn't a murderer.

Where was Klemper?

His eyes flung open, desperate to try searching one last time for the ghost, and then he froze.

Standing at the entrance of the alley was the nameless, faceless shadow. It stood between the glow from the street lamps and the ectoplasm puddled on the ground watching him without eyes, without expression. It made no attempts to come closer, nor back away. Its posture wasn't tense, nor relaxed. And where Danny expected a goading grin, it had none.

"Say something," Danny growled at the shadow. "Fucking damnit, say something!"

But it just stood there doing nothing.

It didn't have a face. It didn't have a mouth to grin at him with. It didn't have any body language to even hint at an emotion.

And it never did.

It was just standing there. That's all it'd ever done.

A lampost in the street flickered, and the shadow wavered like a candle flame brushing the wind. And then, to Danny's horror, he realized that it wasn't a humanoid shadow at all, but the shadow of a trash bag lying next to the dumpster.

His stomach pitted once again, and his eyes glazed over.

He thought back to this week. At the shadow in his bedroom—the curtains wavering in the open window—or the shadow following him to his classes—had there been a shadow at all?

All this time. All this damn time. There wasn't anything there. There'd never been anything there.

He bent over now, his breath hoarse. His lungs burned with ice and acid, and every time he opened his eyes, all he could see was the wreckage that he'd done.

Him. Danny Phantom. A murderer.

No.

It was too much. Too much. His ribs were collapsing on his body, and everything hurt.

He forced himself to stand. To get up. He looked away so he didn't have to see the ectoplasm clinging to his jeans like a child glued to their mother's legs.

"I—I'm—" Danny tried. I'm sorry. But he couldn't.

He couldn't do it.

So instead, like a coward, he ran. The ectoplasm squelched under his shoes, crying tears of abandonment, and it sickened him how he could remember how good it'd tasted, how he could still taste the remnants on his lips.

The hurricane winds slammed his brain, and he snapped, triggering his transformation and shooting into the air. Invisibility was quick to cover him again, hiding his crimes from the public eye and himself.

He didn't know how long it took him to fly home. Time no longer mattered to him. But, crossing through his windowpane, he didn't stop. He was dirty, covered in ectoplasm that had begun to dry on the flight home, and he couldn't let it stain his body. He needed to get it off, to clean his skin, to cover and lie and hide every particle of the monster he'd become from the world.

The water pelted his back like ice pellets. He didn't have time to wait for the shower to warm up. He was too dirty for that.

He stood unmoving until the water heated, head bowed as he watched green mix with water and swirl down the drain. Steam began to cloud the air as the water turned scalding, but he refused to look away. Refused to turn away as Klemper flooded his drain.

He's still alive, his brain tried to reason. You didn't kill him. You wouldn't.

No, Danny knew. He was a monster. A cruel, evil monster.

He was shaking again. His limbs were growing heavier by the second. It took all his strength, but he managed to lift his hands—he had human fingers again—and scrub every inch of his skin and hair. Then again. And again, until the water that pooled at his feet was no longer tinted green.

He shut the shower off and watched the water as it slid down the drain. His legs refused to move until he could be certain that Klemper wasn't going to try climbing back out of it.

Danny wished the ghost would.

His bed was as soft and comfortable as ever when he reached it, but he didn't deserve it. Only humans could sleep in beds. And Danny wasn't human. So he lay on top of his comforter instead, letting the cold air nip at his skin. But his Phantom core thrived in the cold, and it was delighted to have the night to feel the chill air, and Danny wanted to hurl his phone at the wall and scream because his ghost core didn't deserve anything after what it'd done.

He got up and paced his room, human fingers gripping his hair and pulling while his arms shook and his stomach sloshed with ectoplasm that it refused to let Danny hurl up.

Monster, monster, his brain yelled. He was a monster. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. His shivering limbs and shuddering breath wouldn't allow it.

Eventually, he crawled back into his bed and stared wide-eyed at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Delusion was still creeping into his brain, lighting candles of hope that Klemper was still alive somewhere. That he'd snuck away invisibly. That he was hiding and recovering. That it wouldn't be too long before Danny saw his toothy smile and heard his annoying voice asking for friendship again.

Danny was too tired to fight the delusions this time. He turned over in his bed and let them take him into their fantasy. And maybe, when he opened his eyes again, the fantasy would be real.

****

"Jeez, what happened over there?" Sam asked.

"What?" Tucker peered from the video he'd been showing Danny on the phone.

"Look!"

Danny looked over at Sam whose purple-gloved hand was outstretched and pointing up ahead. Danny followed her finger along the sidewalk until he spotted something that sent his stomach plummeting through the pavement.

There was a trail of green on the sidewalk leading around the corner into an alley. It was ectoplasm, Danny knew implicitly. Even though it was beginning to dry and its glow had died down, Danny had seen enough ectoplasm to know with absolute certainty that this was it.

He hadn't realized that this had happened so near his house. That it was on their path to school.

Denial was a stubborn creature, and at once Danny's brain was trying to throw out possibilities. That this was from a previous ghost fight, that the sidewalk had always been green here, that his altercation with Klemper hadn't been bad enough to lead to this much ectoplasm outside of the alley—but he knew, as he approached the entrance with his friends, that this was from last night.

The sight of the ectoplasm only grew as they approached the alley, and Sam and Tucker sped up, gawking at the bloodbath. Danny trailed behind, trying not to throw up the contents of his breakfast in front of his friends.

"Holy shit!" Tucker exclaimed, reaching the entrance.

Sam blinked, her jaw opening and closing as if searching for the right words to describe what was before her. Finally, she settled on, "Holy shit is right."

The last few steps felt like wading through wet cement, but at last, Danny caught up with them.

He looked up and took in the scene.

A sea of ectoplasm met his eyeline. It painted the ground with dry edges and pools of ectoplasm in the middle. Slashes of it crawled up the brick wall and tagged the dumpster, painting trash bags around it.

It was a massacre. A feral, insane massacre.

It was Klemper.

It was all that remained of Klemper.

Any last thread of denial that Danny had still been clinging onto in the aftermath of his shock faded in an instant. There was no way Klemper had survived this. Even if Danny didn't remember flashes of his disgusting hand reaching into Klemper's chest and ripping his core from his body, there was far too much ectoplasm here for anyone to recover from.

"What the hell happened here?"

Silence hung in the air, and it took Danny a moment to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene to see Sam and Tucker staring at him questionably.

As if they knew.

Danny glanced down at his hands, half expecting to see claws dripping with green, but only his human fingers remained. Then he remembered that Sam and Tucker weren't asking because they'd seen him in the alley, but because he was the town's protector, and this was a lot of ectoplasm.

An excuse crawled up his throat, but he faltered. His hands began to tremble again, and he shoved them in the pockets of his hoodie. His mind was drawing a blank. He didn't have an excuse.

He could tell them what happened. He could spill his secret right now. He could say that he was a monster, that he'd been craving ectoplasm for weeks now, that he'd ignored it because it was a repulsive desire and he wouldn't do it. But in ignoring that need, he'd starved his ghost half, which retaliated in the most brutal way possible. He could talk about how he'd lost control of his morality and had given fully into his desires just like Vlad would and that he was no better than his worst ghostly enemies.

He could tell them.

But then they would hate him. They'd see him for the monster he truly was and they'd never speak to him again.

It was selfish of him to want friends he didn't deserve. But he was a ghost, and ghosts were selfish.

So, he shrugged.

"You didn't see anything on patrol?" Sam asked.

Danny shook his head, not trusting his voice to answer. He wasn't sure he could speak without cracking.

"Well, whatever it was, it must have been brutal," Tucker said, awe tinging his voice.

It was brutal.

"One of the ghosts didn't make it out, I'll say that for sure," Sam echoed.

She was more right than she knew.

"Maybe feuders?" Tucker turned to Danny with a raised brow. "You know, ghosts that died fighting each other so their unfinished business is that they try to hunt each other down? Maybe they accidentally fell through a portal and ended up in the alley, and one finally finished the other off."

"Probably," Sam agreed. "Definitely looks like some sort of animal fight."

Danny shrugged and looked down at his shoes. It was an animal fight. A rabid, crazed animal fight.

Hardly a fight, the shadow in his brain said. It was an extermination.

Danny recalled how delirious he'd been without any sense of right or wrong, willing to murder his friend if it meant not having to starve. It was despicable, the way he greedily swallowed each mouthful of ectoplasm as if it were the first and last meal he'd ever eat in his life. It was sick and twisted and vile and now here was the aftermath.

Klemper had never stood a chance.

Sam and Tucker gave the alley one last glance and turned away to continue down the sidewalk. They had school to get to, after all. And as they began walking, Danny heard their conversation slip back into video games or whatever they'd been talking about before coming upon this bloodshed.

But Danny couldn't turn away. He remained in front of the alley, staring into the mess of gore and the last of Klemper's life and blood splayed out in front of him.

"I thought we were friends," is what Klemper had said.

There was no way anyone could be friends with a monster like Danny.

****

Thanks for reading!

And HUGE shoutout to antleredweirdo for the amazing art!! I literally saw it in the submissions and it immediately went to the top of my list. I've always wanted to write a super dark Ghost Hunger AU fic, and this was the PERFECT opportunity! Loved playing around with the shadow, and ahhhhh the whole art piece is amazinggggg!

Hope y'all enjoyed!

****

< part 2

#danny phantom #phicc #ectoimplosion2024 #ghost hunger #my writing #fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

chronoghoul · 1 month ago

Note

I loved ur velvette x muscular gf scenario SM ty for the food cus it fed me well 🤭 I have another one shot request cus you write so well I just had to (*≧∀≦*)

Idk if what I’m asking for is too complicated or not but what about velvette w a female reader who’s also an overlord (who’s more powerful than velvette), the two of them basically have a rivals relationship and claim they hate each other but they’re obviously in love

(Bonus points if you can make reader sassy/dominant/confident and velvette being into that) like I’m imagining dom mommy like reader in a business suit and velvette as the loud, bratty type (readers doll)

Ty for listening to me rant about my brain rot ≧﹏≦

- ✨🌷

╭﹒⊹⋆﹒ @ 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑 2024.

୨ ,, vel x dominant/sassy fem!reader, powerful!overlord!reader .ᐟ

𖦹 ｡° note : I'm always happy to see people requests again! I'm glad you loved my writing, honestly I wrote this faster because I'm extremely motivated after finding out there's no school on Monday so 😛, sorry if it seems sloppy or rushed I didn't really proof read any of this 😭 lmk if I made mistakes 𖥔 ݁ ˖.°. ⭑

﹒｡ꔫ﹒wc : ~740+

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭

The clack of your heels echoes down the marble corridor, each step resonating with purpose. Demons part around you like water, bowing or averting their eyes, anything to avoid drawing your ire. The seat of power was yours, and you'd ensured everyone knew it.

Everyone, that is, except her.

Velvette sits at the far end of the room, lounging with a casual defiance in a sprawl that somehow manages to convey boredom, confidence, and provocation all at once. The moment her eyes lock onto yours, her lips pull into a smirk—cocky and lazy, like she’s sizing you up for her next meal.

"Well, well," she drawls, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Look who finally decided to join us. The Big Boss herself." Her tone is dripping with faux respect, each word deliberately crafted to rile you.

You narrow your eyes, lifting an eyebrow. “Charming as ever, Velvette. I see you’re still living in that delusion of relevance.”

Her grin widens, and you know you’ve hit exactly where you aimed. But it only makes her eyes gleam with mischief, a dare, a challenge. “Relevant enough to get under your skin, darling.”

The word rolls off her tongue like honey, sticky-sweet and thick with mocking affection. You exhale, smoothing down your tailored suit—a crisp, dark cut that fits you like a glove. It's all part of the role, the image you’ve meticulously crafted: cold, untouchable, powerful.

Velvette’s eyes linger on the lapels of your blazer, her gaze tracing every inch of the material down to where it hugs your waist. Her stare feels like a caress and a taunt at the same time, challenging you without words.

“Like what you see?” you murmur, tilting your head, voice low and condescending. You give her a pointed once-over, letting your gaze sweep slowly, a silent reminder of the hierarchy here. “Or just wishing you could handle it?”

A scoff. “Please,” she sneers, rolling her eyes in that dramatic way of hers, but there’s a blush creeping up her neck. “You know I’m just wondering how much of that bravado would last if I ever got my hands on you.”

“Oh?” You fold your arms, letting one eyebrow lift in mock curiosity. “And how, exactly, would you plan on handling me, Velvette?”

She leans back further, arms crossing over her chest as her gaze never wavers from yours. “Depends,” she purrs, voice dropping an octave. “Do I get to see what’s under that perfectly polished armor, or are you all bark and no bite?”

The tension between you is electric, sparking with the intensity of every unspoken dare. You both hold each other’s gaze, neither willing to blink first. This is the game you play, day after day—a clash of wills, power, and something much deeper neither of you wants to admit.

Stepping closer, you let your presence fill the room. Velvette’s smirk falters just for a heartbeat, and it’s enough to satisfy you. Reaching out, you tug lightly on the front of her outfit, pulling her just close enough that she can feel the breath ghosting off your lips. She stiffens, her eyes widening briefly before she schools her expression.

“Admit it, Velvette,” you whisper, voice a deadly calm. “This little act of yours? It’s all for show. You’d break if I even touched you.”

Her laugh is a low, throaty chuckle, but there's a sharp edge to it now. She’s on the defensive. “I’d love to see you try.”

You lean in, lips barely grazing her ear. “Careful what you wish for,” you murmur, voice thick with menace and promise alike. “You’re not ready for what I could give you.”

There’s a moment of stillness where all you hear is her breath catching, her heartbeat quickening. And then, as though reclaiming the upper hand, Velvette pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. She smirks, but it’s less certain now, her bravado cracking ever so slightly.

“Maybe I’m the only one who could actually handle you, darling,” she breathes, voice tinged with something vulnerable, something genuine.

You feel a pang of something unfamiliar. But you don’t let it show. Instead, you release her and straighten, giving her one last smug glance.

“We’ll see,” you say, turning on your heel. "Maybe next time you’ll find the courage to do more than just talk."

As you walk away, you feel her eyes on you, burning into your back. And somehow, you know this isn’t the end. Far from it.

#୨୧┇𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 #୨୧┇𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 #writing #one shot #oneshot #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #fem reader #female reader #wlw post #wlw #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #velvette x reader #x reader

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roadkillremi · 2 years ago

Note

This has been rotting my brain… Randy with a bimbo-ish reader, like they are so so smart and nerdy at the same time, but Randy doesn’t know that and reader really likes him… but he doesn’t get why?!?! And imagine it took place at stu’s party (minus the ghostface) and AGHHHHHHHH 🧍‍♀️🤭

Ooo! I love it!

Bullshit

Randy Meeks X F!Reader

MasterList

Warnings : language, Randy has a small perverted moment, mentions Sex, Underage Drinking.

Summary : the ask above.

Randy tried not to be fooled by your pretty clothes and makeup. He imagined you woke up at 5am to get ready to look that good. You looked like those girls that would date jocks and get impregnated by graduation. Though he never saw you flirt or date a jock ever.

It all started at Stus party, you decided to stay with Randy. Tatum and Stu were busy doing God knows what. Which was most likely having sex.

"I think you'll like this one" Randy said pushing the cassette in the VHS player. You took a sip of a beer before placing it down on the coffee table. While bending down your white frilly tank top gave Randy the view of a lifetime. He stopped in his tracks staring, he swallowed clearing his dried throat.

"It.. uh has Jamie Lee Curtis in it from-"

"Halloween, The Fog, Terror Train, and My girl." You said sitting back up. Randy nodded a bit impressed, "Yeah. You know you're movies.".

"Duh. I have a life outside of school, y'know." You said. Randy sat down next to you. Some other people wandered in with some popcorn. Randy ignored them knowing they wouldn't care about the movie.

"Do you know if we have a test this Monday?" You asked Randy while watching the TV. Randy shrugged, "No fucking clue. I hate environmental science anyways."

"It's not that bad. It's just depressing.". You said leaning your head on the couch cushion. You looked at Randy's side profile studying his face. You bit your lip, "I prefer Carpenter movies. Or just a good fantasy movie..". Randy looked over, "Wait you.. you know who Carpenter is?".

"Yeah." You said smiling, Randy turned to face you.

"Escape New York is one of my favorite movies.". You said. Randy smiled, "You're the first person I met to know what that movie is.". You shrugged, "What can I say? I'm pretty amazing." You said playfully. You leaned your head on Randy's shoulder.

"This okay?"

"Yeah." He crooked. You smiled, you tried to focus on the movie. Randy's echoing heart beat fastened, you slowly moved inches closer. Your bare thighs against his denim covered ones. He squirmed not knowing what to do, his face completely red. Tatum and Stu ran down stairs quickly, "Stu it wasn't funny!" She yelled.

"Come on, babe!" He ran after her.

"Y/N say bye. We're leaving." Tatum said grabbing her purse. You nodded, "Bye Randall. See ya at school.". You kissed his cheek before getting up to leave. with Tatum. Stu looked at Randy before ruffling his hair.

"She's totally into you!" He said with a wide smile. Randy blankly looked at Stu, "Shut up!".

You walked into the video store giving Randy a wave. Tatum was with you and headed straight for the rom-coms. You'd glanced at Randy and then looked at Tatum. Tatum would playfully push you, you'd whisper to her. Randy kept glancing over watching you. Your pink skirt riding up when you'd stretch to the bottom shelf. He looked away trying to focus on restocking the movies. A small tap on his shoulder stole his attention.

"Randy." Tatum said trying to pull him back to earth. He looked over at her, "Yes?". She smiled, "Uh, Y/N kinda has a crush on you.". Randy sighed and kept restocking, "Tatum what did I tell you about trying to set me up with people?".

"No! She likes you! And she's a total nerd like you! She just has great fashion sense." Tatum said smiling. Randy shook his head, "Yeah, okay. Did Stu put you behind this? Or some Jock guy that likes her? Because I'm too exhausted to get pranked today.". Tatum scoffed, "You're such an idiot! A girl finally likes you and you can't handle it!". Randy chuckled, "Bullshit!". Tatum stomped away from Randy. He watched her go over to you and whisper in your ear. Your face changed, you were no longer smiling. You looked at Randy a bit disappointed, Randy felt a knot in his stomach.

He tried to ignore you in the store and go to the break room. He sat in the cold metal folding chair, pondering. There was no way you liked him. It's not that he didn't like you, it was that you were way out of his league. The door to the break room opened, "Randall Meeks.". You stood in the door way one hand on your hip. Randy sat up, "Uh, yes?".

"Why don't you believe me?" You tried to sound angry and confident. You matched over in front of his chair.

"Believe what?"

"That I like you." You said softly. He watched your glossed lips frown. Randy looked down, "it's not you. It's just-"

"Billy and Stu prank you? A lot?"

"Yeah.". You shook your head, "I really do like you Randy. Billy and Stu can fuck it. And all the other "Jocks" that like me.". Randy's face turned pink from embarrassment.

"I'm sorry.".

"You better be. And you can make it up by taking me to the movies this weekend, got it?" You pointed at him. He nodded, "Yes". You nodded, "And I'll call you tonight. If that's okay.". You said softly.

"Id like that."

You smiled, before marching back out the door.

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namis-namis · 4 days ago

Text

Monday Night Raw WWE analysis ( as a first time goer )

Spoilers ( as recommended ) because I went to a double taping and didn’t even know it.

WWE wrestlers mentioned:

Jey Uso, Rhea Ripley, Liv Morgan, Iyo Sky, CM Punk, Seth Rollins, War Raiders, Judgement Day, Damian Priest, ‘The Incredibly Attractive Scottish Cultural Themed Wrestler’ aka Drew Macintyre, ‘The goth wrestler’ aka Dexter Lumis, Sami Zayn

When was the last time you had it raw?

4:30pm: I come in and am already impatient. It’s who I am as a person. I mean, standing in the cold does that to a person. But it’s interesting to take in whose here. What a wide and diverse community! There’s even a clown themed familt! My family is incredibly liberal but I would never think we would do such a thing. Unless it was for halloween. Then again, my parents are divorced, so, we aren’t doing much of anything together.

5pm: we all get stuck waiting to scan our tickets. I have taken note of the fact there is a big disability community within the wwe fandom. They aren’t given a separate line, only if they ask to be wheeled in a TD garden provided wheelchair. I think this is the closest to equality we have gotten, but, it’s not quite reaching equity.

5:30pm: I have secured myself a truly wild berry. I have only just realized how close I am to the stage. I will see everyone running out and exiting, as well as getting all the blood, spit, etc. On my face. I think I’m assimilating quite well. I just wish I hadn’t worn my Aryton Seena shirt! Now they know I am a Formula One fan in disguise ( i’m kidding, they don’t. ) A friendly man strikes up conversation. And I mean this genuinely, he’s a friendly guy. We talk a bit, I admit this is my first WWE event ever, he says he has been to several. I text Megan, one of my best friends, and facetime my mom to show her my seats. Seat Floor, Section C, Row 6, Seat 7.

5:50pm: I think long and hard about Jey Uso. I take a walk around TD Garden and think of buying some Jey Uso merch. I look at them. I think it’d look far better on my 12 year old cousin who suffers from Chronic Brain Rot ( Yeet seems to be popular terminology in this generation. ) And… Jesus, 35-40 dollars for Merch?! It’s December 16th!! Christmas is in 9 days. I do not have the money for that. I buy m&m’s instead. I hope my Noyz perfume I drenched myself in to have my ‘Y/N’ moment is not too obvious to the people around me.

6:00pm: the children are howling at each other. It’s so interesting. This community is so stereotyped as hillbilly rednecked. But the reality is, these people have such an innate sense of community. No one is pushing to get to their seat. If you want to be closer to barrier, people make way so you can make your pictures. Any imposing on your space is accidental. And is that… no way… is that… a man blowing his nose? With a disposable tissue? And not just hacking into his arm or my space? These people have been stereotyped for far too long! I will be the voice that shows people that they are different!

6:10pm: the children continue to howl. T-minus 20 minutes until show.

6:20pm: I assume the reason the seats are open are because most of the fans are stuck in like buying merch or food. Though, I am hopeful to get closer to barrier. It’s the slimmest of chances.

6:30pm: the grand entrance. The movement. The theatrics. It’s like being at the ballet. The men fighting right now? Beautiful. I want to scream, not their beautiful faces! Spare the beauty!

7:04pm: The grand entrance of CM, ‘Chick Magnet’, punk. Now, this man is a silver fox if I have ever seen one. 47 years old, retired from WWE briefly only to return, large arms littered completely with tattoos of all colors, chocolate brown hair slicked back to reveal his scratchy-looking facial hair that has hints of grey hairs between each brown facial hair, and ravens foot that emphasize the soft brown eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck with a glint in them.

7:15pm: WWE, I was not aware of your gay subtext game. I feel as though every sports community has this happen. It might be mostly due in part that men are not typically allowed the intimacy of friendships like women are and, thus, when they are able to bridge that gap and express their unity in the same way women do, they simply crave more. It’s like when someone gets into a relationship for the first time and all they want is more time and affection with the other person. They have what they want, but, simply desire more. Seth Rollins has appeared, and he is not tolerating CM Punk’s claims and, in fact, is willingly to stand alongside with the audience. Oh, because he is actually physically in the audience… By the way.

7:30pm: i almost ran into another person in the bathroom. Advice kids: do not chug your wild berry truly. First of all, it’s carbonated nightmare. Second of all, you need to piss badly. And third, you can’t figure out if you’re typing in English or French!!! All you can remember is you love jey uso and the first introduction wrestlers were hot. And women are so beautiful. Rhea Ripley… Liv Morgan… Iyo Sky…

8:12pm: i wonder if anyone else noticed this is softcore porn. Also, people keep yelling ‘count faster’ to the ref. I wonder if people realize this is scripted? They have to, right?

8:30PM: War Raiders versus Judgement Day. Now. Do I feel bad for the War Raiders throughout the match and cheer for them more? Of course. But I would feel wrong to lie and claim I didn’t secretly cheer for Judgement Day. ‘Why would you cheer for them?’ You may ask… Well… Some people just love villains. Besides, War Raiders don’t need my support… They have Damian Priest on their side, securing them as World Champs.

9:01pm: The incredibly attractive Scottish cultural themed wrestler begins to make a commentary about how no one bothered to check in on him when he was healing from his injury. It’s quite insightful and thoughtful, especially when you do look up the injury photos and find the images of staples on his head and blood shielding his face. It’s met with boos and negative attention, though. Perhaps from moreso insecure men or because it’s what the WWE network wants us to believe.

9:11pm: HE’S HERE! Jey Uso is HERE!!!! Yeet, Yeet, Yeet.

9:45pm: I have noticed very quickly that there is really no time to sit or think at these events. Everything is very quick and, yet, they are able to jam pack multiple fights and promos in. You will be thoroughly entertained, whether you like it or not.

9:57pm: the goth wrestler has charmed me. Please beat the shit out of whoever you please.

10:15pm: The incredibly attractive Scottish cultural themed wrestler is back again. And may I just say sir, your pecs are enormous and your leather kilt is stylish. However, your scream and fire did frighten me for a moment. Perhaps you don’t know this, after all you are from Scotland where this is not a major problem and as a main event you travel all over the world, but as an American when I hear an explosion… I tend to assume i’m already dead before i’ve realized the reality of the situation.

10:37pm: OTC just beat the shit out of Jey Uso and Sami Zayn. What a moment. And what a lovely red turtle neck! Fashion-Sports intersection is quite interesting to see. I never wrote this earlier, but I should now: Seth ‘Freakin’ Rollins, I commend you for your stylish nature and committing to fashion before practicality.

11pm: and that concludes Monday Night Raw at TD Garden. I am grateful and pleased to say that I got a fist-five from Sami Zayn, despite the fact he seemed to be struggling from a back injury sustained during his fight. And to this newfound space I have made my way in, I am grateful to have experienced it in real time.

#wwe raw #wwe #my diary #writings and scribbles #writing #analysis #jey uso #rhea ripley #liv morgan #iyo sky #cm punk #seth rollins #seth freakin rollins #war raiders #judgement day #damian priest #drew mcintyre #dexter lumis #sami zayn

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random-thot-generator · 2 years ago

Text

Promises, Promises

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mac Tavish x Fem Reader

Summary: Soap has been trying to move your relationship out of the friend zone for months, and finally gets his chance when an innocent game of pool and a friendly wager lead to progressively dirtier tactics to make the other lose. Let’s just say Soap is “in it to win it” and makes a bold and filthy claim that he’s more than eager to prove to you.

Aaaand... then smut happens. Yeah, I know. Big surprise, right?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit sexual descriptions (bc that’s how I roll), thigh riding, oral- fem receiving, improper use of a pool table, Soap has a filthy mouth- for multiple reasons, no Y/N,

(N/A: This thot hit me Friday night and it’s been rotting my brain ever since, so I’m purging this smut. I was going to share it for Super Soap Sunday, but then my internet died, so you’re getting a MacTavish Monday special event. So, gather ‘round the pool table, my good hoes, and let’s get into this.)

Word Count: 4489

🎱

“Ah, c’mon, hen. Give it up. Ya know yer gaggin’ t’go out with me. Admit it. Yer mad fer me, ain’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes at the handsome sergeant sitting in front of you at the bar, a rueful little smile quirking up your lips. He didn’t even realize how right he was. You were mad for him, and that was the sad truth of it. Head over heels for him, in fact, but you would never admit it to the cocky Scottish bastard. His pretty head was big enough as it was, already.

You had decided a while ago that it was best to just stay friends with Johnny MacTavish. He liked to keep his sexual relationships casual, and you couldn’t do that with him. You already cared about him too much, and you didn’t want to go through the pain of losing him when another woman eventually caught his eye. It sucked not being able to have him the way you wanted him, but it was better than not having him at all.

“Oh, come on, Johnny. I doubt you could even find the time to take me on a date, considering how crazy your schedule is,” you pointed out, trying to deflect his advances. “Besides, weren’t you dating that redhead? What’s-her-name? You’ve not mentioned her in a while. Things not work out?”

Soap made a frustrated face, waving a dismissive hand. “Tha’ happened months ago, Ya know good an’ damn well it was jus’ a quick feck in the lavvy every once in awhile t’relieve some stress.”

You tried your best to ignore the ugly pang of jealousy that curled in your chest. “Relieve some stress, huh? And what’s got you so stressed? Your job?”

“’M stressed ‘cause ya won’t go out with me,” was his quick retort, giving you an impish grin. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light, and you felt your heart give a pitiful little flutter.

Shaking your head, you tossed your towel on the bar and huffed in exasperation. “What’s it going to take to get you off this? Besides, going on a date with you?”

His face fell into a pouting frown. “Don’t see why ya won’t do it. It’d be a proper date, none o’ that ‘Netflix an’ chill’ shite.” Then his frown morphed into a dirty little smirk. “We can do tha’ after the date,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Aye, but I’m yer eejit.”

You wished.

Exhaling a weary sigh of resignation, you turned to check the clock on the wall. Finally. Closing time. “Last orders!” you shouted out to the pub at large. You glanced back at Johnny and pointed at his empty pint glass. “Do you want another?”

“Naw. ’M good.” He leaned his arms on the bar and smiled at you..

After the last of the customers had shuffled out, you locked the door behind them and started sweeping. Johnny jumped off his seat and began turning up the chairs and stools for you, then went to fetch the mop bucket from the supply closet. He had gotten into the habit of hanging out with you after hours and driving you home after you locked up for the night. On nights like this, he usually ended up passed out on your couch if he didn’t have to be back at base, his snores drowning out the telly. You didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that he had never tried to follow you to your bedroom.

Working together, you had the pub cleaned and the bar restocked in less than an hour. Ready to call it a night and go home, you went to turn off the lights when you spied a couple of cue sticks left out on the pool table, a few pool balls scattered about its felt top. Figuring what the hell, you picked up one of the cue sticks. Johnny grinned as he watched you line up a shot, knocking the two ball into a corner pocket with a satisfying crack.

“Didn’t know you could play, hen.”

You gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged as you took aim at the seven ball next. “My uncle taught me how.” You sank the seven in a side pocket.

“If I’d known tha’, I would’ve ‘challenged ya to a game. I’m pretty good myself, ya know. I bet I could take you.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Oh, yeah? Willing to place a friendly wager on it?”

He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked. “What d’ya have in mind?”

“If I win, I get to choose where we order takeaway, and you have to pay for it. If you win. I’ll pay your tab tomorrow night.”

“Alright. I’ll rack, you break. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The match was fairly even, Johnny just barely beating you by knocking in the eight ball first. You took the loss in stride, ready to put your cue stick away, when he stopped you. “Let’s go double or nothin’.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, cue stick held aloft to be slotted back in the wall rack. “What d’you mean? I have to pay for takeaway twice if I lose again?”

“Nooo,” he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m changin’ the stakes. If I win, ya have t’go on that date with me.”

“Really? And if I win?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

You scoffed, snickering at him. “Unh-unh. No, if I win, you have to stop pestering me for a date.”

He sniffed, frowning. “If tha’s what ya want,” he grumbled, pouting.

You dropped your chin, shooting him a dubious look. “I thought you were sure you could take me. What have you got to worry about?”

He sneered at you, unable to ignore the challenge. “Alright, hen. Just be prepared to pay up when ya lose, again, aye?”

This time you racked, and he broke. Two solids dropped in their pockets, and his grin went wide. “Best decide now what yer goin’ t’wear for our date, hen.” He gave you a cocky wink before lining up his next shot.

Left to his own devices, you knew he would end up running the table, and you couldn’t let that happen. Sidling up next to him, face simpering, you murmured in a high, sweet voice, “Who said I was planning on wearing anything, Johnny?”

His shot went wide and glanced off the cue ball, making him swear under his breath. He turned to glare at you. “Tha’ was a dirty trick.”

You giggled at him. “Oh no! You missed your shot. That’s too bad,” you crooned in mock sympathy, poking out your bottom lip.

“So, tha’s how it’s goin’ t’be, then?” He gave you a slow nod. “Alright then, hen. We’ll do this yer way. Jus’ remember, it was you tha’ started it.”

You grunted, not in the least bit intimidated. Let him talk all he wanted. You could ignore him if you had to. You walked around the table, choosing your next shot, then bent over to line it up. Just as you went to tap the cue ball, Johnny leaned over and breathed hot on the side of your neck. “Mm. Ya look good bent over like tha’, sweetheart,” he hummed low and filthy in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you flinched away, your shot just barely tapping the ball you were aiming at. You gave him a baleful look. The bastard knew his voice always got to you. “That was a cheap shot.”

His grin was smarmy as hell as he patted you on the head. “No. That was a missed shot.” He bumped you out of the way. “Now, if yeh’ll excuse me, I got a game t’win.”

Ooh! That cheeky little shit. You’d be damned if you were going to let him get away with that. When he bent over to take his next shot, you ran your cue stick up between his legs and giggled when he startled, missing his shot. He spun around to pin you with a warning look as his lips pressed into a grim smile. He cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Keep it up, hen. See what ya get,” he told you, his voice gone sinfully low and husky.

You swallowed, feeling your belly swoop in arousal. Keeping a wary eye on him, you circled the table away from him and chose your next shot, being mindful of where he was standing. He remained on the opposite side, hands braced on the table’s edge, a salacious smile on his face. As you lined up to take your shot, he hummed, a dirty, rumbling purr that skittered up your backbone and made your lower belly grow warm. Your core pulsed in sympathy.

“Got t’say, love, ya got some gorgeous feckin’ chebs,” he commented, and you lifted your eyes to see he was peering straight down your shirt. “How ‘bout givin’ us a taste, hm?” he drawled, a wicked smirk tugging up the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, scowling. Just ignore him, you reminded yourself, but it was really hard to do that when you could feel your nipples tightening into hard little peaks. You growled under your breath and took your shot.

Johnny grimaced when you made it, scoffing, “Got lucky,” he mumbled.

Feeling like you had the upper hand, you strutted around the table until you were standing beside him again, then bumped him out the way. “Are we still talkin’ about this game or, uh... your game?” you asked, with a nasty little smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “An’ what’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?”

You took another shot, sank another ball, then straightened to give him a sly smirk. “You talk a good game, Johnny, but you’re never gone for more than five or ten minutes when you sneak off with one of your little birds. The way I see it, if they managed to get off at all, it would have to be pure luck.”

His mouth fell open in shock, and an airy little giggle bubbled up out of your throat at his expression. You turned your back on him to line up your next shot, feeling all full of yourself and confident, but then gasped when you felt his hands take hold of your hips and tug you back against him.

His mouth was right at your ear when he rasped out, “So you’re timin’ me, are ya, hen? Are ya jealous? Hmm? Don’t you worry tha’ pretty head o’ yers, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll have ya screamin’ my name in five minutes. Give me ten, an’ I’ll have ya cummin’ 'round my cock.”

You literally shuddered at his words, a trembling breath stuttering out between your parted lips as lust coursed through you, hot and heady. Holy shit, were you actually shaking right now?��Get your head back in the game, you silently admonished yourself. Averting your eyes, you sniffed in derision, “Please. You think you could get me off in five minutes?” you scoffed and shook your head, but there was little force behind your words with you voice gone all quavering and breathless.

He pressed himself closer, a low, filthy chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I’d get ya off in three, hen,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

Heat pulsed through your core and you felt your panties grow damp. Shit! You bit your bottom lip and did your best to maintain your composure. “Hah! Th-Three minutes? I call b-bullshit,” you stammered out.

His hands gripped your hips tighter and he pulled you right up against his crotch, letting you feel just how much this little back-and-forth was affecting him. He gave a slow rut of his hips, rubbing the bulge in his jeans on the swell of your ass. “I wouldn’t even have to use this on ya,” he taunted, rutting against you again. “Jus’ me mouth.” His tongue traced the curve of your ear.

A strangled little whimper caught in the back of your throat, your knuckles going white as you gripped the edge of the pool table. “F-Fuck, Johnny...”

His lips were skimming down your neck, his breath coming out in soft, hot pants against your skin. “Let me show ya what I can do fer ya, sweetheart. Let me be good to ya, make ya feel good, aye?”

He hadn’t even really touched you yet, but you could already feel your arousal seeping out of your clenching channel to pool in your panties. “W-We shouldn’t...” you breathed out, trying to argue, but then his hands slid around your waist, one hand trailing down until he was cupping your clothed pussy in his big hand. A low, guttural moan clawed its way out of your throat. Your knees gave a little wobble.

You were in trouble.

Of its own volition, your head tilted to the side to give him better access, and he groaned into your neck before he began trailing hot, wet kisses up to your ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth before pulling it between his lips to suckle at it. The hand cupping your pussy squeezed, and another filthy moan escaped your lips.

“Y feel s’good, love. S’feckin’ hot,” he whispered, and your heart gave a hard thud in your chest. When his hand came up to clutch at your breast through your shirt, you whimpered. He gave a frustrated growl and turned you in his arms, crowding you back against the pool table as his arms wrapped around your back, hands gripping and pulling at you. “Feck, let me kiss ya, hen. Please?” he asked, voice desperate and plaintive.

You peered up at him, enthralled by the darkened blue of his eyes, the expanded void of his pupils. The way he looked at you had your hands shooting up to grasp the sides of his head, pulling him down to crash his lips to yours. This time, he whimpered, melting into you for a brief moment, but he soon recovered and took charge of the kiss.

No one had ever kissed you like that before. There was hunger in his kiss, an aggression that spoke of pent-up lust and insatiable need. The fierceness of it had you gasping against his mouth, and Johhny, never one to miss an opportunity, delved between your parted lips, tangling his tongue with yours as he groaned into your mouth.

He had slotted his knee between your thighs while he kissed you, and he lifted it, now, notching it firmly against your aching sex. You whined at the contact, hips bucking on instinct to gain more friction for your swollen clit.

“Feck, tha’s it, love. Ride it,” he encouraged you. One hand supporting your back, he used the other to help guide your hips, hissing out curses as he dragged your aching pussy back and forth along his flexed thigh. “God, I bet yer feckin’ soaked, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You could only whine and drop your head to his shoulder as he slowly pushed and pulled you to the very edge of orgasm. “J-Johnny... I―”

“Jus’ let go fer me, love. Let it happen,” he crooned at your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Jus’ like that. Tha’s it. Feckin’ hell, yer so beautiful like this. Cum fer me, sweetheart. C’mon. Let me have it.”

A wavering cry fell from your lips as your orgasm swept over you like tidal wave. Sparks danced behind your eyelids, and your body went slack in his arms as your knees clamped around his thigh.

“Tha’s good, sweetheart. Ride it out. Did so good fer me,” he murmured, grasping the nape of your neck as he helped grind you against him, not stopping until your legs gave out and released the vice grip on his thigh.

His voice and hands were both trembling as he caught you by the thighs and lifted you up to set you on the pool table, whispering praises in your ear. You could do little more than lean into him, pressing sloppy kisses at his throat as you pawed at his chest. “Oh, my god...” you breathed into his skin, panting.

His hands were rubbing circles over your back, giving you time to come down from your high. “I want ta make ya feel good, sweetheart, show ya what I can do fer ya. Will ya let me, love?”

You nodded like a dashboard bobble head, as you gasped out, “Yes! Please, Johnny.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Leaning past you, he swept his arm across the pool table, scattering the remaining pool balls in all different directions, before laying you back on the crimson felt. His hands went to the waist of your leggings, fingers curling into the material, giving them a quick tug. A sexy little smile appeared on his face when you eagerly lifted your hips to accommodate him. He pulled them down your legs, taking your underwear with them, giving a sharp inhale when his eyes finally landed on your slick lower lips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, rushing to yank the shoes from your feet before stripping off your leggings and panties, and then tossed them aside. “Would ya look at tha’,” he whispered, brushing his thick knuckles down your wet slit. “Yer s’soft, love,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to his mouth to drag his tongue over the bony ridge. A grating moan was exhaled. “Mmm, ya taste so good, too.”

Your whimper came on the heels of the slick you could feel seeping out of your quivering folds, running along the seam of your pussy to drip onto the edge of the table. You were staring up at the ceiling in a daze, not caring what he did, so long as he touched you down there. “Johnny, wh-what are you―”

“Shh, love. Jus’ lay back an’ let me take care of ya. Tha’s a good girl.”

His hands were gliding up and down your sides, pausing briefly to massage your breasts. “Sweet Jaysus, cannae wait to see these,” he mumbled, brushing his thumbs over the nipples. He gave them a teasing little pinch, huffing out a breathy laugh when you whimpered and squirmed. “Sensitive little thing, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

You threw an arm over your eyes, embarrassed. “C-Can’t help it. Don’t laugh.”

“No no, love,” he cooed, pulling your arm away. He leaned over you to stare into your eyes. “Not laughin’ at ya, love. I jus’ can’t believe I finally have ya like this.”

He pressed his lips to yours, sighing into the kiss. You could feel his cock flexing inside his jeans, straining to get out. He pressed himself against your weeping core, slowly grinding against you until you were whimpering again. “Can’t wait t’be inside ya, love, but there’s somethin’ I got t’do first.”

His body slid down yours, lips grazing over your sternum, kissing each breast, pushing your shirt further up to plant soft kisses over your belly and hips. He licked a wet stripe above your mound, catching your hips in his hands when you rolled them up into his face. “Bless me, the way ya move, hen. Drives me feckin’ mad.”

His pressed his nose into your sex and inhaled, moaning into it before you felt the first touch of his tongue. He had dipped the tip of it into your wet folds, flicking it over your clit, before drawing back as you jolted in his grip. You looked down your body, worried that you had done something wrong or did something he didn’t like, but when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, all you saw was the wolfish grin on his face and the devilish gleam in his eye. He fiddled with the watch on his wrist, removing it and noting the time, before pressing it into your hand.

“Keep an eye on it, hen,” he husked above your folds. “Remember. Three minutes.”

Your brows shot up, mouth gaping open. “Wha― Haaah! Fu-Fuck!”

Johnny didn’t waste any time, plunging his tongue into your wet heat. His hands were like vice grips on your bucking, squirming hips as he devoured you, making the most lewd, wet, sloppy sounds as he devoured you. He slurped at your juices, sucked at your clit, slithered his tongue up into your clenching channel, all while you mewled and cried and flailed, helpless against the onslaught. You could feel the orgasm building, rocketing towards that blissful peak, and you panted out his name again and again, your hands clutching at his head, not sure if you wanted to push him away or pull him in closer, it was so overwhelming.

He was lapping at you, snaking his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, swirling it around the taut little nub. When he sealed his lips around it and began flickering his tongue over it, you gasped, then a warbling cry flew past your lips when he drew it between his teeth and sucked, so hard. The cry turned to an escalating wail as your back came off the table, but his hands held you down, and he moaned into your pussy, the vibration sending you right over the edge.

Your climax hit you like a Mac truck, barreling out of your core in a rush of hot slick. You could hear Johnny, still buried between your legs, moaning and growling as he gorged himself, refusing to let a single drop escape his greedy mouth. Tremors shook through your frame, your legs flopping to either side of him, unable to control your shaking muscles. You were a virtual rag doll, helpless against his lewd ministrations as he drew your orgasm out to the very last quivering spasm.

You laid there, spent and shaking, heaving for breath, mind spiraling in a tailspin. You were barely aware of his hand coming up and taking his watch from your limp fingers, wondering at his grunt of satisfaction. At some point, he stood, and you could feel his hands on you again, petting you with soothing, languid strokes.

“Look at me, love,” he coaxed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “C’mon, sweetheart. Come back t’yer Johnny, now.”

You blinked your eyes open to see him hovering over you. The entire lower half of his face was smeared with your slick, lips swollen and shiny, a gleaming bright red hue. His mohawk was a wild, spiky mess, his flushed cheeks bunched up, blue eyes crinkled at the corners by the huge smile stretched across his face. “There’s my girl,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

You could taste your cum on his lips, on his tongue, and so help you, if you didn’t feel that heady swoop of arousal in your gut again. You were ruined. He had completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else, and he knew it.

He lifted his watch up in front of you, brows raised. “Two minutes, forrty-seven seconds,” he informed you, grinning. You huffed out an exasperated breath and rolled your eyes shut. “Ah-ah,” he murmured in a tender but teasing tone. “No hidin’ from me, now, love. C’mon. Open those pretty eyes fer me.”

You dragged open your heavy lids, peering up at him with hooded, glassy eyes. “What?” you rasped out, your voice gone husky from― God help you�� screaming his name. Just like he said you would.

His face softened. “Are ya alright, lovie?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It wasn’t too much, was it?”

Your hand came up to cradle his jaw, your thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip. “I’m okay. Think I’m just still a little out of it. No one’s... Nobody has ever made me feel that way before, Johnny,”

If Johnny thought he had fallen for you before, he was dead certain of it now. Your confession sent him soaring into orbit, even as it melted his heart. “Yer never gettin’ rid o’ me now, hen. Yeh’ll have t’beat me off with a stick, an’ even then, I’d still come crawlin’ back t’ya.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t tease me like that, Johnny.”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not teasin’ ya, sweetheart. I mean it. I finally ― Jaysus, I finally got ya, an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya go.” He dipped his head down to catch your eyes. “I hope ya feel the same.”

You stared at him, eyes searching his face, looking for that smirk to appear, for him to say he was just messing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and affection reflected in his eyes. It felt like a weight lifted off your chest. “I do. Always have.”

His smile could have lit up the whole of London. “Aye?”

You smiled back at him and nodded. “Aye.”

He darted his head down to kiss you again, his hands starting to roam again with purpose. Your arms came to twine around his neck as his hands grasped your thighs and tugged you forward.

You broke the kiss, startled, and looked up at him. “What are you doing?”

He reached over and grabbed his watch, wrapping your fingers around it. “Did ya ferget what I told ya, lovie? Remember? I said I’d have ya screamin’ me name in five minutes, an’ have ya cummin’ on me cock in ten.” Your eyes went wide as he reached down and undid his belt and jeans, pushing them down til his cock sprang out. It smacked against his lower abdomen, and you gulped as you took in its length and girth. Apparently, they grew ‘em big in Scotland. Holy shit.

“Now, love,” he murmured, grasping your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. “I’d advise ya to hang on, ‘cause I’m about to make good on the rest o’ that promise.”

And let it never be said that Johnny MacTavish was nothing if not a man of his word. Needless to say, you didn’t make it into work the following evening, not the way you were walking.

#super soap sunday #cod soap smut #johnny soap mactavish x fem reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x fem reader #mactavish monday

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anteroom-of-death · 11 months ago

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Teacher's Pet part 8

Synopsis: Truths are revealed, jeopardizing what lies between these two lovers. Why? And how?

A/n: Angst! Angst! And in this chapter, I personally will relinquish a grudge, Sophia I forgive you now, sorta. I swear things may improve! Also, Petronella is a girl's girl and alive. Fuck what the Canon says.

You never expected the tables to turn that quickly. You never wanted to have an affair. You just subconsciously wanted him. Maybe more than subconsciously.

How dumb.

You left his office and went off to your tutoring. Your chest still ringing from beating too hard. Your ears were tingling.

You figured one would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not notice your obvious puppy dog. (Or how did he put it just now? “A fawn separated from it’s mother too early”…?) Crush you were developing on him.

Was it desperation and he was merely scratching an itch? Something to warm his bones after a dry-spell since his wife died? If not, why not just go see an escort? (You shuddered at an accidental outing.)

You doubted it was a crush, like you held. Do men in their upper fifties (Your best guess at his age…) get crushes? You also doubted that.

And why did it seem like he had twice the amount of pulse in his body. If you didn’t know anatomy, you would swear he had two hearts in his chest.

You shook your head and left silly thoughts and trying to define this experience.

Whatever it was, it began to happen fast. You would meet up between classes in his office for a quick fuck. Or if he saw you on campus he’d guide you to somewhere secluded for a kiss on your cheek and a remark about your latest diatribe in class.

You still met up every Monday for some actual tutoring on his class.

Once he took you out to park at the edge of town for a little coffee date.

He respected your work schedule and always never asked questions.

You were dearly grateful.

The term was coming to an end, and you were in the library. It was late and you covered in highlighter ink and were approaching clinical insanity. You felt a now-familiar set of hands on your shoulders.

“Burning the candle at both ends? I see.”

“Hey.” You broke out of your reverie and statistics-essay informed stupor. It might have been a tad bit louder than you intended.

“Play hooky from work this weekend. I’ve got to go to London for my other job.” First time he ever mentioned a second job. Did the university really pay it’s professors that little? You heard a few, more junior ones kvetching once. But him? He was definitely tenured.

“Another job?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I made a bad choice in the 70’s. It’s followed me around since then. Do come. I’ll do us somewhere special.” So your calculations on his age were wrong. He was maybe just a tad bit older than upper fifties…

Probably lower sixties.

“Sounds fine by me. It’s been slowing up.” You remarked.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Do ditch the energy drink. They’re ever so bad on human’s guts.”

A weird quirk. He’d always say humans or apes. As if he was above or different. Maybe it was the fact he was an old white guy.

Yeah, that was it. Old white guy brain rot.

“Meet me at that park… Friday, around three PM.” He instructed.

“Okay…”

“I’ll let you go back to your studies. I know how much you value them.” A final kiss and he faded out as quickly as he appeared.

You texted your manager and explained that you weren’t able to do the weekend shift, but definitely Thursday night. If you were to go to London, you’d proceed some mad money to spend on your own if his second job left you hostage for too long to your own devices.

And you canceled on a few regulars.

“Family issues.” Always a surefire way to get out of these things. Vague enough to not garner questions and would gain some sympathy. You hoped some other girl wouldn’t nab them, but you knew how people were. That one girl, Sophia, once stole your biggest tipper who saw you on both Friday nights and Sunday evenings because she’d do oral without a condom.

Damn that stomach flu you had that weekend.

You worked that night, slow but a big tip had materialized. Perfect.

By the time you had gotten home and napped for a few hours, you had a dilemma. Obviously you didn’t want your work knickers and robes mixing in with your real life clothes. Taint the divide you had.

You stared at your open suitcase. It was a little carry-on one. Yet the empty inside could swallow you whole. You threw in the most fancy of your basics in. It seemed the best idea. You pressed your hand to your mouth and let out a nervous scream.

Why was picking out what clothes you’d wear to probably just stay in a hotel all weekend stressful?

And were you entering kept whore territory?

Your situationship was dreadfully unlabeled.

You definitely knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. That word was horribly trite and evoked images of teens and young adults running about to dinner dates and cuddling each other on the bus. Or feeling each other up behind the seats in a cinema.

Not that you had particularly a detailed actual history with long-term or healthy relationships.

That’s life.

Did he even drive? How were you two getting to London? You just sat there on the bench after going to the park. It was nearly three.

You scratched at your eyelid, fighting the urge to tear off your lower lip with your fingernails.

Checking your phone, you didn’t see the big black Range Rover pulling up in front of you. The back passenger side door popped open, startling you a bit. “Hey you, get in. Apparently I’m very late.” You saw him in the back, a few soldiers in it with him. (They looked like soldiers. You decided they were.)

You grabbed your little carry-on suitcase and went in. An anxiety attack was bubbling up. What was his other job? You slid in and clenched your suitcase and purse between your legs.

You were going to London, so you chose a classy, sleek, small black number. You made the right choice. It was positively crowded in here.

There was a cute, disgruntled looking girl with an oversized knit scarf and some hipster glasses on in the front passenger seat.

“Hi! I’m Osgood!” She stretched back and offered you her hand. “You’re his...assistant?” She seemed confused by your general existence, but pleased you were another girl in this car of men. You couldn’t blame her! You took it and shook.

“She’s my companion.” The bastard finally labeled your situationship. Companion, very old timey. He let out of beaming smile, and continued on, “Petronella Osgood, (y/n's full name). (Y/n’s full name), Petronella Osgood. The new lead scientific advisor and assistant to the Head of UNIT!” His hand nearly swiped one of the soldier’s faces. “You’re both clever and don’t think like a normal human. You’ll be friends by Sunday night…”

If you could have balled yourself up and rolled away like a pill bug of you could.

“Do you like Costa? I’m trying to convince these people to stop by on our way home! Usually he just shows up, you know how he is with that TARDIS of his. But the Doctor said this would be best for him to do today…” She battered you with information and words.

You’d discuss this all with him further in private. Right now, you had to play a role.

“Yeah, I could go for…a Cortado.” You choked out. Coffee would help this all be absorbed a lot quicker.

She began fiddling with the vehicle’s GPS.

They all began talking about whatever techno-babble and such. It was over your head. You felt yourself getting heart burn and a migraine.

Petronella asked you something. And like a baby with dribble on it’s shirt, you said sluggishly: “What?”

“Do you think that we should do a frontal advance?”

“Maybe not?” You just started making things up on the fly. Filling it in ad-lib style!

You wanted to kill yourself.

“I mean, if… you go… from the front…all in. They’ll be…able to see you?” You heaved. “If you go from the…sides…and like, guerilla style…whatever is happening will…be a surprise …you remember like, the Germans against Rome or Boudicca, also against Rome…yeah.” You ended. You deserved a little chewing on the inside of your cheek, as a treat.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a Costa, Petronella seemed very eager to order in-shop. And to drag you in.

You collected the soldier’s and Professor Smith (Oh! Yeah, they called him Doctor…you’d demand the truth later.) Orders.

You were so eager to leave the car for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, mind if I smoke real quick?” You had quit, but there was a lose one in the purses pocket, and the situation called for one. If ever there was a time to start smoking, it’d be now.

“I have asthma! But sure! I can wait.” She went into the weird little room that’s neither inside nor outside that commercial spaces tend to have. She got a phone call.

You could use this as an opportunity to get information about the man who you had been fucking. She’d be more helpful here. She clearly knew him better. Sure you had seen him naked. But she knew him on a more intimate level it seemed.

You finished up your cigarette and crushed it under the heel of your shoe. You got a bottle of perfume out and began dusting it on a heavy layer. You took one big inhale and rolled your neck around. It cracked and you relaxed a bit.

Entering the Costa, she hung up her phone and smiled.

You both ordered. You got yourself one of their fruit biscuits and went to get out your cash.

“Oh no! I got it! All of it.” She whipped out a black card and tapped it to the reader. “Perks of the job.”

You nodded your head. You had heard of UNIT, but couldn’t be arsed to care.

“So, the Doctor.” The name sounded foreign coming out of your mouth. “How long have you worked with him?”

“Oh! Five years now!”

You placed a hand on your throat and rested your jaw on it.

“What’s his deal?”

“Wish I knew, but we should all be glad he exists, he’s the best we got.”

Oh!

You let out a little “mmhmm.”

Before you could get your next question, the drinks and your snack came.

She grabbed her milk babyccino and handed you your Cortado as you left the Costa. You didn’t want to get back in the Range Rover. This all seemed like a very bad idea. You should have never agreed to this.

But here you were, so you had to deal with it.

You got back in the back, the solider driving said they’d have to speed along, no stops.

You shrunk in the seat. You felt his one hand stroke your upper arm. He was trying to comfort you. You wish you could recoil, but you had grown too addicted to his touch. Against all instinct, you leaned into him and sipped your coffee. Just sat an observed, chiming in when people would outright ask you for your input. More sipping your coffee and staring glumly out the front windshield. You felt like a caged beast.

Soon enough you were in London and you could get out of the car. Sadly, it pulled into an underground military-style bunker.

You were very proud of yourself for keeping your cool and now having a major breakdown in there.

You entered a lift, still carrying your suitcase.

It went all the way to the top.

Some woman in a very impressive suit and a silk scarf met you all there.

More introductions.

The Doctor – Professor Smith- whatever his real title or honorific was, took your suitcase and told someone to take it to a place. You didn’t retain or hear. You were positively swimming. You hated how good this artificial, florescent lighting made the hollows of his face looked. He was a bit more formal in his dress than he ever was at the university. In this moment you hated how you were reacting to him. Obviously he had to confess things to you.

Obviously, there was a bit of a double standard, but this outweighed your little evasions and white lies.

There was a meeting and grand plans were drawn. Choices were made.

And you had to make choices for yourself.

It was close to midnight when you finally got out of the meeting. Tomorrow apparently they’d denote a device, after it was programmed and set up during the night. Apparently that’d save the Earth.

He was swanning along like he owned the place. Everyone was reverent. His word was law and his advice was the loudest.

Maybe you shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette beforehand. Maybe you needed several shots of vodka. Maybe you just were way out of your depth.

Soon enough you had an escort of two soldiers for him and you to a suite with the bare essentials of comfort. Your stupid suitcase was there. Like a fancy barracks.

The door locked and you were alone with him.

“It’s time I tell you some truths.” He said, sitting in a chair at the desk.

You threw your hands up, “You fucking think so?” It came out as a screech. You clapped your hand to your mouth.

“What the fuck?” You clapped your hands together as you leaned over and down to face him. “What the fuck was all that?” You crouched into a squat.

“Let me tell you.” His tone was silencing. Like you were in the wrong for this reaction.

“Fine!”

“Firstly, this changes nothing about the past months. But I am an alien from a planet far away and long since gone. I am over two-thousand years old. My name, my title, is the Doctor. Well the closest translation to any Earthling's language.”

You leaned back, gesturing with your hands in the “okay” position.

“I may be a little fucking slow, I may have a few learning disabilities, but I’m not fucking stupid. Are you…aware…of how incredibly far-fetched that sounds?” Your body swaying with the position of your hands. The hands quickly moved to press into the center of your forehead.

He undid a few buttons on his shirt.

You groaned.

He grabbed at your hands and you tried to escape. He flattened the palm of one and pressed it against his chest. You felt two hearts pumping. Your little observation after the first time you hooked up on how it seemed like he had two pulses wasn’t so stupid suddenly...

“Two hearts, fawn.” He said, using his pet name for you. “I’m alien.”

Your lower lip quivered.

No wonder he felt different than any other man you’d fucked previously. His body was different. He was.

Hot tears burned at the corners of your eyes, starting to splash out. You pulled yourself free and slunk onto the closest wall.

Figures that your first big infatuation that actually seemed to value your life was a fucking ancient alien. You felt like a total freak, were you really that screwed up that the only way you’d get anything resembling a healthy relationship was with an alien!

Your head found its way between your thighs.

“Nothing changes.” He repeated.

“How many others have you done this to?” You spat out. Pure venom.

“Rarely like you.”

“Oh, so I’m just the latest and greatest girl you’ve lured into submission! How kind! I was chosen! I feel special!” You raged out. Giving a little sarcastic bow from your sat position.

He joined you against the wall. You skittered yourself away from him.

“You’re special. Trust me. I had stopped. You met me in a different way. No danger, no trauma-bonding. No Nothing. If not for duties I neglected here for too long, I would have keep you safe. Continued to be your Professor John Smith. Existed…but I couldn’t bear not seeing you for as long as this will take here. Separate. Not my traveling assistant, not anything. Just my little fawn and our perfect microcosm of the universe.” He slid forward and looked you dead in the eye.

He cocked his head, “Remember when I was talking about what the universe owed us? I figured this was my long-awaited, pleaded for reward. To have you, for as long as this little life of yours could allow this fling to last.”

He was very good with words and you could feel them echoing pure and true in your head. Something made you relax and let your guard down.

You hoped it wasn’t some alien superpower he had.

You began openly weeping. Loud, a total cacophony. You started choking on your tears and having a hard time breathing.

He wiped the tears.

You let our a hiccup. He started rubbing small circles on the middle of your back.

“I planned on seeing a West End play with you, a proper date, like a human man would take a human woman to. If you don’t want to, I can order a car and you can go back to Bristol.” He offered.

You started crying even harder.

“Can I shower first? Before I can make a choice. On anything. Even you...” You admitted, needing to revise on your end if you even wanted to be with him in any capacity anymore.

“Understandable, (y/n).” The Doctor helped you up, and gave you your suitcase. You found your toiletries bag and shuffled in. You swore you heard him mutter, “Well, don’t overthink.” But you left that be. You had enough to think about, just add that to the list.

After getting undressed, you turned the water on the hottest it could go.

You began to wash away the day…

So much to think about…so little time to do so.

#personal #doctor who #i wrote this #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor x you #you x 12th doctor #reader x 12th doctor #unit times #no beta we die like men #self insert #teacher student #yeeet #doctor who fanfiction #dr who sponsered mental health crisis

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innocentlymacabre · 6 months ago

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They Bring Me Flowers

Innocently Macabre Presents: Micro Monday Edition 2

tw death, grief, funeral

“They called me selfish, you know,” Ishaan said, settling down on the ground with his back resting against a tree. He took a heavy swig from the bottle of whiskey he had tucked under his arm and set it down next to him. “For not being there yesterday. You don’t think I’m selfish, do you?”

Ishaan didn’t know what to do with his pauses so he drank again. He followed the burning sensation trickling its way down his throat until it settled in his stomach and vanished instantly.

“No,” he finally said, prying the bottle away from his lips and answering his own question. “You don’t think I’m selfish. How could I have been there, man? Thirty years, we knew each other. Thirty fucking years. No one in that room had anything on us. None of ‘em could hold a candle to that kind of time.”

Despite himself, Ishaan chuckled involuntarily at his accidental joke and turned to face Aayush’s pyre for the first time since he sat down. “Guess you showed them, huh?” he said, looking at the candles arranged around the burning body. “Largest candle around.”

Ishaan paused to slowly sip on some more of the single malt. He wished it burned more, but he’d been drinking for so long his throat had been numbed.

“I always said I would never drink when sad. Didn’t want to make that association in my brain and whatnot. But what else am I meant to do right now, really? If you were here, I would have drank only half as much, so it’s your fault really. Guess something good did come of all this, eh? Free pass to blame the dead guy.”

Ishaan toasted with the spirits around him and drank some more. He wondered how much he would have to drink to actually start seeing ghosts, and then wondered if he would find out tonight. He knew the bottle with him wasn’t enough on its own, he needed more than that. His memory was already hazy though, so he couldn’t say with certainty how much he’d drank before he stumbled onto the funeral grounds.

He hadn’t intended to end up there. He just wanted to get out of the house. It was beginning to feel like the walls would cave in at any second and trap him underneath, suffocating him while he died a slow, agonising death.

But he wasn’t the one who was dead. Aayush was. He was here and Aayush was gone.

“I came, you know,” Ishaan declared, looking straight at the pyre. “None of them know this, but I was there. Briefly. For a moment. I was there. That hill behind us,” Ishaan pointed, turning around, “you could see everything from up there. I saw them light you on fire. I saw the fire grow and fade into the sky, and then I left. When I came back, there were only a few people left, but I stayed up there anyway. They milled about, not really saying much to each other, and I didn’t bother to try and make out who they were. It didn’t matter. None of them were me and you.

“Anyway, I stayed long after they left too. I stayed and I just…watched. I watched the fire take you over completely and I, I couldn’t do anything. I had to let you burn. What else could I have done? You don’t think I’m selfish, do you? I wasn’t meant to stop that or anything? Did you want to be buried? Nah, you wouldn’t want to rot away with the maggots and shit. Yeah, this was better.”

Ishaan didn’t say anything for a long time after that. He just stared into the fire fuelled by Aayush’s burning body and drank in silence, accompanied only by the occasional crackling of the pyre. The wind picked up and buffeted him so he scootched closer to the only source of warmth around.

Aayush burned with interesting patterns, Ishaan noted. All the little flames were various hues of orange, some deeper and angrier than others, but they all danced to their own beat. Ishaan wondered who the band was, but then remembered music was for weddings, not funerals. Unless you’re in a movie. Then everything gets a song.

Some of the little orange people danced in a circle, as if they were trying to raise the dead. Ishaan would have very much liked to join them. Others strung one another along in a strict, straight line and looked very serious, as if they had somewhere important to be. There were a few that seemed to have been cast out to the side. Ishaan reached out to touch these ones.

They were warm, but they didn’t burn. He liked dancing his fingertips across those little droplets of fire, playing the keys of an imaginary piano. If Aayush were there, he probably would have said something about that being the only piano Ishaan could play. But Aayush wasn’t there.

“It was meant to be us against the world, man. Till the very end,” Ishaan muttered. “You promised.”

Ishaan put the bottle to his lips and started gulping down the remains, not caring to pause even when he had the almost uncontrollable urge to cough up the liquor that had just been poured down. He stopped just short of the end of the bottle. He looked at the tiny volume left inside the tinted glass, and, for the first time in two days, a small smile appeared on his lips.

“Last sip’s yours, right? I’ve got a lifetime of last sips ahead of me, so I’ll let you have this one.”

Ishaan poured the remaining whiskey over the pyre and watched as it violently rose and cracked satisfactorily.

When it had calmed back down a little, he lay down next to Aayush, Ishaan and Aayush under the stars together one last time, and, unable to fight off the exhaustion any longer, gave in to sleep.

↝✧↝

thanks for reading! if you want future installments sent directly to you way before the rest of the world sees it, hop on over to innocentlymacabre.com/#micro-monday!

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arbiterofsecrets · 8 months ago

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please don't repost !! unless with credits !! 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹

「。。。

bnha characrer reference sheet is by and from Iya5RT on deviantart ! if you are interested in making your own character sheet, please check them out /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

under the page break is more information about my oc (i.e. fun facts, quirk explanation, backstory, etc.) it will be word heavy, so if you enjoy brain rots and yapping, please feel free to read !

warning/s: mentions of blood (quirk drawbacks), slight oc x character shipping, words...a lot

「hero name:

kokhav — is a hebrew name that literally translates to, "star". this has been a name i've thought about for a while but did not really consider for which oc. considering her quirk, i decided it would be perfect for her. it is also a bit unorthodox considering hero names in the bnha universe have english terms such as, "one for all".

—

「name:

amaterasu — is the famous sun goddess in japanese mythology. i wanted to further emphasize the star characteristics of her quirk, hence the name. considering her name to be pretty long in terms of pronunciation, she is often given nicknames.

fujiwara — was/is a clan that was known to be powerful in the imperial regents of japan. they have ever since been prosperous even during the ancient times. the family was known to be married into powerful government positions, to which they gained power. sinilarly to this, these events are a great reference to amaterasu's backstory.

—

「voice actor:

fun fact ! : as i was choosing her voice actor, it was my first time hearing a japanese voice over for twilight sparkle (a character from the famous "my little pony" show) and it enthralled me to which i decided miyuki sawashiro is what amaterasu would sound like. adding to that, she also has voiced kurapika from hunter x hunter !

—

「birthday:

05 13 — in theory, if bnha's time is based on 2035, amaterasu would be 15 and born in the year 2020. with this, on the month of may, the day 13 was set on will be on wednesday. as most know the poem/rhyme, "monday's child", the infamous line of, "wednesday's child is full of woe" is something i wanted to greatly emphasize.

fun fact ! : 13 is considered to be an unlucky number which is why when going to a hotel, the number "13" is usually skipped.

—

「quirk:

star strike — is a quirk i have invented probably in the late 2020's. initially, the concept was a quirk that can physically manifest crystal-like structures with a purple-ish/blue-ish hue with a specific star's characteristics. they can be "shards" that can float or held to be used as weapons or even restraints. the best quirk in the anime that is similar to this i would say is something like hero: cementoss, shoto todoroki, villain: geten. if wanted to, this crystal-like structure can also only possess in-general characteristics such as gravitational pull, brightness, or heat. with this concept still in mind, i kept thinking of where to draw its first condition in order to properly manifest this:

extensive knowledge about a specific star (i.e. a star's approximate gravitational pull, etc.)

further, i wanted to add drawbacks as a good lesson we have been taught in the anime is to think that quirks are like a "muscle".

i thought that this quirk is quite "op" (though that wouldn't even really matter considering she will never be canon !) so i decided some sort of heavier drawback. "stars that shine the brightest, often burn the fastest" is a line that would best fit amaterasu's quirk drawback. the more she continues to use powerful motions with her quirk, the more she gains detrimental effects on her body.

cracks would start to form first from the core of her body and spread. the longer it remains untreated with the constant use of her quirk, the wider these cracks form which would lead to blood seeping out.

fun fact ! : she uses her quirk so often that it has carefully wedged its way into her daily activities causing a few things to float around and about ! her hair is an often victim of this which has lead to the unruly top part of it.

—

「backstory summary:

coming from an elite family, she is often indoors and coddled. this leads to the unfortunate events of a weaker immune system which has caused the doubting of her heroic abilities considering she gets sick quire often. she passed the entrance exams for UA and even gained extensive recommendation letters from her professors from her previous school but with lingering doubt, she chooses the support course with an unsure, missing feeling.

instead of the general or business course, she chose the support course as she already has slight experience with item engineering.

though all that trouble of choosing which one to pick has come to an end when an anonymous recommendation to move her up to class 1-A surfaced.

with a more set in stone (and practically no choice) decision, she sets foot in the classroom of class 1-A. with little surprise, she sees an (un)expected familiar two-toned hair.

—

「easter egg ! :

fun fact ! : when looking closely on the pins of her bag strap, you would see a buster sword from ffvii (final fantady 7). the entire franchise of final fantasy means a lot to me, and discovered that horikoshi (the author of bnha) has quite the liking for the franchise as well. i thought it would be a fun addition to have amaterasu canonically like final fantasy as well.

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milkycarnations · 1 year ago

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For my legal guardians (I am twenty) @13tinysocks and @itsabee for the irreversible brain rot they have bestowed upon me. As a fair warning, this is not proofread. If I did not publish it today, I would have to wait until Monday at least and I just couldn't.

____________________________________________________________

Ptolemaea | nonbinary!Bloody Painter x afab!reader | 2.2k words

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: religious hedonism, body worship, bloodplay, sadomasochism, knifeplay, enthusiastic consent, accidental edging, tease and denial, minor body mutilation/mentions of body mutilation, crying ho1c

There xe sat, in front of you like a Thanksgiving feast. The image alone filled you with a giddy sense of pride. It was not very holy of you, but Helen thought otherwise. To them, you were absolute divinity. You didn’t need to be pure. You didn’t need to be perfect. Xe wanted you unadulterated - even the messy bits that your Master didn’t like. Oh, how he’d fume if he saw you sat mightily in a chair, Helen prostrating at your feet. It made you feel good. Overwhelmingly good, like stealing a cookie from a cookie jar or playing hooky.

Helen’s hand reached out to grab your ankle, gently caressing the flesh before wrapping their fingers around it. Xe looked up to look into your eyes, their glare chilling.

“How lucky I am to meet eyes with such beauty,”

Trying to hide the warmth splayed across your face, you tilted your chin. Xe pulled on your leg as a response.

“You aren’t getting shy on me, are you? You know, I was hoping you’d let me portray the more… intimate side of you someday,” their voice tilted into a deep mumble as xe stared between your legs, “My actions are not hindering the chance of this, are they?”

Speechless, you meekly shook your head. It was so wrong. Xe wanted to paint you naked? It was an action your Master would execute you for, yet Helen wanted to memorialize it. Regardless, the idea itself made you squirm. Helen’s observative gaze raking over your body would drive you mad. their laugh arose beneath you, light yet bold and gorgeous on your ears.

“I’m glad. Perhaps for a separate occasion, though,”

You continued to let them lead the conversation, as they clearly knew what to say more than you did. It wasn’t your fault that you did not know how to be worshiped. Usually, you were the one worshiping. Frankly, you were unsure how to handle it. It was a bizarre change of pace. A gentle kiss to the front of your ankle tore you from your thoughts.

“As you’re ready we can start liturgy, yes? I can’t wait much longer,”

“I’m ready,” you said.

“Wonderful,” a second kiss was placed, now higher than the previous. You tried to hide it, but you were spiraling. You were being worshiped. It left you with an out-of-place sense of being. You’d spent so long groveling on your knees, giving, and being taken from - you could stand taking for once. This time with your own rules in place. Helen made you believe you belonged here.

“Let me show you my devotion, then we can begin.”

The third kiss xe placed reached your knee, pressing gently against your bare skin. From beside them, sat on the floor, xe grabbed an athame. Xe made it themself: a ritual blade to share between the two of you. Its blade was simple; the handle, a lovely embossed steel flaunting their intricate handwork. It was exquisite, not brutish or cruel. Xe made this to show their devotion to you - to hurt themself in love for you.

Xe ran the blade along their forearm, sharpness cutting down any stray black hairs that lingered. Xe sighed.

“If only we weren’t hindered by our afflictions. I think a scar would be rather lovely. Alas, we make due,”

Blood poured from behind the knife as xe sliced, seemingly materializing out of thin air. It was mesmerizing, the way it flowed down their arm and fell off their wrist, splattering into tiny droplets on the tiled floor. You wondered if they’d stain, purposeful or not. You wondered if - years from now - you’d notice those tiny speckles and recognize them. Xe exhaled into the action, growing noticeably hard between their legs.

“You have no idea how important this is to me,” blood flowed as xe spoke. “no idea how long I’ve seen myself in this exact spot.” Eyes rose to gaze upon your breasts. Legs inched closed in response. Helen’s studio wasn’t exactly warm. As a result, your nipples were hard. The thought of them looking made you feel exposed, but what could be more exposing than sitting in a chair naked? their head rested against your right thigh and xe moved in closer. Showing no pain, xe swiped a finger over their wound letting it pool at their fingertip. Silent, xe traced lines of blood across your thigh.

You supposed this was their attempt at creating runes for the two of you, representing this false religion you’ve created. Admittedly, as you watched, the runes meant nothing more than gibberish. The lines, shapes, and symbols xe drew had no translation. They might as well have been some satanic henna designs, yet you adored them. Xe carefully mapped out a sun, drawing rays of light with their blood before they spoke.

“Nothing to say? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Your thighs rubbed against each other. You could be enjoying yourself more. A smile rose on their face.

“I’m alright,” you told them.

Helen’s wound was already starting to heal, blood coagulating and clinging to itself. Xe made another slice. This time their breathing shook.

“Really? I was hoping you were waiting for something more,” xe traced bloody finger paintings further up your thigh, nearing closer towards your pussy. You were trying to hide how embarrassingly wet you already were. Xe hadn’t even done anything to you. If marking your leg up with blood was enough to make you horny, maybe you were a slut. Maybe it was exactly what xe wanted you to admit. Tell them. Tell them you want them. Tell them you’re a slut. Tell them to make you theirs. You resisted these urges.

“Something more could be nice… What did you have in mind?”

“My muse,” they giggled, “you and I both know exactly what I have in mind.”

Helen’s left hand reached up to grip your waist. Sprawled over you like a Renaissance painting, xe whimpered, “Please?”

Xir begging went straight to your core. Aching for them, you leaned back, shyly opening your legs. Helen’s head instantly found itself nestled in front of your pussy. Xe used their thumbs to spread you open, looking at you before swiping their tongue along your folds.

“You’re glistening,” xe said, mystified, “my prayers must’ve been answered.”

Xe continued to lap away, seemingly drunk in you. Each glide of their tongue - though lazy - was practiced. Xe didn’t neglect your clit, looping back and forth to suck, flick, and tap against it with the muscle. Their expertise had you squirming. Flinging your legs, you wrapped them over their shoulders for support. Quickly, you found your hand in their soft hair. A loud moan filled the echoey room as you tugged the strands. Instantly, xe shoved their lips back up against you, muffling the noise with your body. You keened, causing you to pull harder, spurning the two of you on.

“Don’t hold back. You sing like a choir,”

You let yourself cry for them as xe swirled their tongue around your clit. Unable to hold back, you held their head down, pushing them nearer to you. Tears brimmed your lash line as xe ate you out. Letting loose, you bucked and squirmed and pleaded with them, “Don’t stop!”

In return they teased, slowing down into a traitorous pace, barely pressing kisses against your puffy clit. Pulling at their hair you wailed, “Take that as an order!” You fought the want to say please. Someone of your status should not beg to be worshiped.

Dominance felt sexy in your hands. It felt different. Was this what it was meant to feel like? Was this the confidence of knowing you could ask Helen to do anything for you and they would oblige? There was a playful glint in their eyes as xe sped up, returning to a proper pace. You couldn’t think about it much, suddenly overcome with the returning pleasure. Feeling the sensation build, you panicked. Shit. Were you gonna cum already? Xe just started, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes!

Surely reading your thoughts, xe focused on your clit, sucking heavily and humming against you. You gripped onto them for dear life.

“Fuck, no!” you cried.

“No?” xe stopped, face painted with concern.

“Helen, I need you,” you mumbled, panting. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,”

Worried you’d lose your orgasm, you attempted to push them back down but they resisted.

“Promise me-” they started. “Beg me. Let me know that you want me. I need you to say it before I go any further.”

“Please, please, please, don’t stop. I’ll do anything to cum, please. I want you to make me feel good. Make me cry, make me scream, put your cock inside of me! Ravish me, Helen. Worship me.” -but you were already crying and screaming; fingernails clawing at their shoulders until bright red rivets trickled down.

A smirk crept upon their face. Wordless, xe tore you down from your chair and laid you flat on your back. Teeth nipped at the nape of your neck, forming love bites that busted the skin and deepened in shades of blue. Lining themself up, Helen slipped inside of you agonizingly slowly. Each time xe fucked you, xe still managed to stretch you open.

Moaning as xe bottomed out, xe sucked more loved bites into your skin, prodding until your breasts were spotted with bruises. Xe didn’t stop until your collarbone was lined.

“Please,” you sobbed, “how much longer do I have to beg? Didn’t I get the point across?”

Helen dragged their cock out, making you whine.

“I hear you my little muse,” slamming back into you xe groaned. “I just like hearing the words you say. Bless me with them for a moment longer?”

They started at a slow but rough pace, slamming into you and filling your cunt to the brim each time. Pussy aching, your toes curled. Their cock hit every part of you and each thrust brushed against your g-spot in all the right ways.

“Oh my god,” you muttered.

“Does it feel good?” you nodded, unable to speak, but that wasn’t what xe wanted.

“Tell me, my muse.” xe moaned.

“I don’t want you to stop,”

“I won’t,”

“It feels fucking wonderful,” you managed. Chuckling, xe thrusted. The sound of xir balls slapping against you was intense, but it only reminded you that everything happening was real. You were defying your Master again. You were committing among the most loathed acts among your cult, yet it was never really yours to begin with. Was it? You were being a slut and you had no regrets. Eyes snapped shut, you vowed to never let such trivial matters deprive you of human relationship. Zalgo could suck your dick.

“You like it too, don’t you? You like to fuck my pussy?” The flavor of dirty talk was odd on your tongue. You used the same words, but it didn’t sound the same as when Helen spoke them to you. However, xe didn’t seem to notice, enamored by your change in attitude.

“Fuck-” the word came out gargled and deep, “I love fucking your cunt. You’re made to fit around my cock aren’t you? Why else do you fit so perfectly? We’re meant to be together, muse”

“Then please, can you fuck me deeper? I need you,”

“That’s it, my love.” xe swung your legs to wrap around xir waist. Instantly, you felt how much deeper xe was, reaching the point of too much. Eyes rolling back, you spoke, “I can’t go for much longer.”

“That’s okay. Show me how beautiful you are while we cum together,”

The rough pad of xir thumb ghosted around your clit. Helen knew just how sensitive you’d become and knew not to push you too far. Just a little bit would be enough. As xe rubbed your clit and pounded into you, you quickly neared your orgasm again. You felt dizzy and your legs shook with voracity.

“Are you close?” you asked, trying your best to hold back.

“Yes, my muse. Cum around me. Let me fill you with my cum.”

Helen said this knowing that the moment you’d clenched around them they’d be completely at your mercy, unable to hold himself back any longer. Moaning, you hugged them, wrapping your arms around their neck.

“Cum for me,” they repeated.

Your body twitched and spasmed mercilessly underneath them as you came. It was dizzying how rapidly your cunt pulsed around them and you thrashed as you rode it out. Helen held you in xir arms until you’d both cooled down; after that lying down to be by your side.

“Come here,” xe nudge you to face them, leaning you over to trace lines up and down your back. You wiggled your feet. Your muscles felt loose, as if you’d had the perfect stretch.

“Can you stand?” xe asked.

Could you? You began to worry. Everyone would definitely know Helen fucked the cult-follower out of you if you couldn’t walk for days!

“Why do you look so scared,” xe laughed, “no worries. I’ll take you to your room.”

“Could you stay after for a bit? I’d like to keep laying beside each other.”

“You’d like to cuddle?”

The word felt so squishy and silly from xir mouth. You shrugged.

“I guess so, yeah. I’d like to cuddle. If you’re up for that.”

“Of course I am.”

#I literally dropped my mouse on the floor like four fucking times when writing this #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #bloody painter smut #bloody painter x reader #creepypasta bloody painter #bloody painter #🤍 nova's one shots

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