#ILL NEVER GET OVER THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE

[letgomypartypiece]

JEEST INFECTION NATION RISE

[bigwishes]

Embarrassed?

Tom sat there staring down at his phone, typing like his life depended on it.

"if this is true I will literally trade anything to get bigger, you can make me a dumb jock, make my dick small, Ill even take being a walking joke, you can take anything you like so long as I can get huge!"

He had stumbled upon a site called "give'n'take" which was claiming that it would allow him to trade something he currently has for something he wanted. He had seen claims from guys claiming to of turned into their dream self over night by giving up something that they never really liked about themselves anyway.

But it was Hard for Tom to pick something he wanted to give up, he had almost won the genetic lottery in his eyes. A fat nine inches down stairs, 6.5ft tall, a good amount of body hair, not enough to be annoying but enough to drive guys wild. Everything had made him a walking stud that oozed confidence with every step. All but one thing that is. Tom had loved bodybuilding ever since he could remember, he loved the look of huge guys and he loved the idea of being one, but on his 23rd birthday he looked in the mirror and saw after years of work he looked nothing like a bodybuilder. sure he had some size but there was no real mass. He just looked like a guy who played sport on the weekend. He wanted to be so much bigger. He got hard imagining himself being the guy who had to turn sideways to get through a door or who rocked up to a house party in gym shorts and an XXL stringer tank top that clung to him like it was about to snap. Unfortunately his height was against him, his long muscle fibers took ages to develop and when they did it was so evenly spread out it didn't look like he had done anything at all.

He'd do anything to be bigger, he'd be happy with anything taken away so long as he was huge. So he left the choice up to the people behind the screen.

---

The next morning Tom woke up and instantly felt strange, he felt off balance some how like his body had gone up 30 pounds over night and when he got up and looked in the mirror he realised...it had.

"HOLY SHIT" Tom yelled out into his empty apartment.

His body had beefed up and become more defined without any more work. He couldn't worship himself for long though as he instantly began investigating to see what had been taken, but it didn't appear like anything was missing at all.

He was still packing, he hadn't shrunk in fact he might of even gained an inch or two and he didn't have any issues remembering anything from his engineering degree or any day to day stuff. The thought crossed his mind that maybe they had forgotten to take something, or maybe because he wanted to be big so badly they cut him a break.

Tom's worries melted away as he smiled and flexed his newly enhanced biceps.

"mmm, not as huge as I was hoping for but I'll keep working on it"

Tom picked up his gym bag and decided to head out to see what his new size could do, and to stick to the habit, he didn't want all this new size to make him forget to work out and end up losing it all in a few months.

Tom arrived at the gym and changed into his workout gear but he looked and felt different was he...bigger? nah, he thought to himself, its just him getting used to being this big although as he stared at his new size in his reflection a new thought entered his mind.

"Maybe this tank top is too tight...I probably shouldn't be such a show off and buy some looser clothes to cover up"

He shook his head and decided to think about it when he got home, right now he just wanted to see how strong he had gotten.

As Tom worked out something weird was happening, he knew how to exhaust his muscle, he new how to overload the weight and really make it feel like work but as he added weight with each set it felt just as easy as the last.

He'd occasionally see his reflection in the mirror wall and he looked like he was getting even bigger, and his tank top felt even tighter than before. Surely it was just the pump he thought to himself as he continued to lift and push his body.

He sat down at the cable row and put the pin almost at the bottom of all the plates, surely this would be a struggle for him. Tom leant back and pulled when suddenly.

Cutcshhhhhhh!

the sound of ripping fabric rung out in his ear as he felt the shoulder strap snap and felt the fabric split across his back.

"aw shit" Tom said as he stood up and took of his shirt.

Immediately he saw his reflection in the mirror, he looked huge. His muscles bulging he couldn't help but pull his gym shorts up and flex, this is what he wanted to be an absolute tank...

but, everyone probably thought he was a dickhead flexing outside of the changing room, he thought to himself. He started to wonder if he was that guy now, the guy who'd workout shirtless and annoy everyone in the gym.

He noticed a few dudes looking at him like they were waiting to get on the machine. His face turned a slight pink on his cheeks and he was flushed with embarrassment.

"oh s-sorry" Tom stuttered as he quickly tried to move out the way

Originally he thought he'd just move on to the next exercise but he realised he was shirtless and bolted for the changing room. Once inside he gazed at his reflection again.

"maybe...I shoulda asked to be just a little smaller, fuck now I gotta walk outta here shirtless"

Tom couldn't get a grip and didn't no what had come over him. He had never felt a shred of embarrassment in his life but now he was worried what people would think about him being shirtless in the gym.

The changing room was empty and Tom took the time for a few more poses before he was gonna make a run for the exit. He flexed his arms as hard as he could and felt the blood rushing into the muscle, but it was strange, the muscle wasn't just pumped up, it was like it was still pumping up. He tilted his head and watch in the mirror, slowly but surely his shoulders and arms were expanding, his chest was filling with mass and size. He saw his already huge legs slowly expanding out into colossal pillars as they stretched his shorts. He could hear the fabric starting to strain and quickly bend down to get his gym bag.

The moment he leant over he heard the changing room echo with a large tearing sound as he felt the tightness relieve across his ass. Tom's face turned bright red as he quickly reaches around to make sure it was just the shorts he had split and not his underwear.

He let out a sigh of relief as he felt his underwear was still in tact, he stood up and took a step hearing has his massive thighs tore and split his shorts with just one step. He was almost at the door when he saw his hulking figure in the mirror.

He stood frozen admiring his huge body, he flexed his entire body at once loving how huge he had become, he noticed his underwear was straining and the fabric was starting to become see through and then he remembered....he had to walk through the gym like this to get out....

A wave of embarrassment washed over him, everyone was gonna be staring at him

Tom quickly grabbed his bag and made a break for it through the busy gym. He had hoped to run but his body was so big that was almost an impossible task, so jogging was next but even just a slight jog left him out of breath and gasping for air. By the time he reached the door he had multiple people staring at him confused as he was huffing and puffing like he had just run a marathon.

He swung open the door to the gym and bumped between two guys that were on their way in. Tom tried to apologise but the only noises that came out were him gasping for air and trying to catch his breath. He flashed a quick apology wave as he climbed into his car which was luckily parked right in front of the entrance.

Tom looked down trying to slow his breathing and catch his breath when he noticed his huge hard on. His dick was like steel, the thought of everyone staring at him....judging him....

Tom started his car trying to ignore it but he heard the two guys he had just bumped into talking, muffled by his window.

"bro did you see that guy, there is just a thing as too big"

Hearing those worse Tom felt a swirl of shame and embarrassment swell in his stomach and work its way to his pelvis as he started taking deep and slow breaths.

"I know right dude, and the way he was so out of breath just walking through the gym, and working out in his underwear? what a loser"

the two men walking into the gym laughing as the door shut behind them

The words echoed in Tom's ears, he couldn't help it, he gripped his steering wheel so tight he thought he was going to break it, he bit his lip and closed his eyes as his dick began to twitch and erupt. Tom let out a pathetic moan as he looked down to see not just his underwear soaked but his car seat and thighs caked in cum.

Tom looked into his rear view mirror, his head, traps and shoulders completely blocking the view, his face was flush as he felt more embarrassed than ever before in his life, He started his car and quickly reversed out.

"god...I'm such..."

His dick instantly got hard again.

"fuck, I'm so big....I'm...too big"

Tom started panting as he drove out of the parking lot.

"I'm a fucking big, freakish, loserrrr--eerruuuuughh!!"

Tom couldn't help unload himself into his underwear and over his car seat thinking about how pathetic he was...

Well...he did say he was happy for them to take anything, His confidence seemed like a fair price.

[molinaskies]

What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

[fic-over-cannon]

Jason todd who finds out, though not from you telling him he just knows how to use his eyes, youre insecure about something. Your nose, eye color, not so white teeth. Unconventional things that nobody else really stops to think about.

But dont you know he could get lost in your eyes and he makes sure to do it often.

Suddenly he's booping your nose with his more, kissing the end of your nose etc.

Whitening strips appear in the bathroom "cuz he wanted to try em"

He never says anything about it, just does little things. When your insecurities shift to bigger things like height and weight, suddenly theres a step stool in the kitchen even though you didnt ask, (or if your tall he has emptied the lower cabinets and moved everything high up for the both of you), when he buys the groceries theres either sharpie or torn paper where the nutri' info used to be, oh did you wanna know the carb count, too bad he dropped the package in the sink and smeared the ink oops

this prompt was so beautifully written, it feels so in-character for him. jason's own body issues come into play with this, i think his own struggles make him perfect not only for noticing when someone doesn't like aspects of themselves but also the long road to learning to love yourself anyway. i hope you enjoy my little expansion on this!

Jason's got years of struggling to fit into a body he doesn't recognize under his belt to know the signs when someone's feeling insecure about something. He's seen it in the mirror often enough. So he notices when your eyes glide over a feature of your face, the way you stiffen when someone makes a remark (good or bad) about your appearance, how you'll spend too much time reading food labels. Catalogues the way you cover your teeth with your hand when you smile, frown at your side profile, huff at the sizes printed on your clothes.

Don't you know that all he wants is forever with you? That he doesn't care what package that's wrapped in as long as you're together? Every time he looks at you, he finds something more to love. The slope of your nose, the curve of your brow, the way the colour of your eyes is slightly different around your irises. He wants to kiss the sharp point of your elbow, the fullness of your belly, the top of your head. He loves the way you smile, how it takes up your whole face. Jason doesn't see what you call flaws as anything but the little details that make up you. But that's not how you feel.

So he starts making changes, little ones, without prompting or owning up to them. There's a step stool in the kitchen one morning and the cabinets are reorganized. The scale in the bathroom suddenly never has batteries to work. Labels and food packages always turn up ink splattered or torn. The harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom gets switched out for something softer that doesn't have you worrying about looking ill anymore. There's a ladder - the same kind as in Beauty and the Beast, the kind you've always wanted - attached to the bookshelf now. The sticky window, the one that had always secretly made you worry about being too weak suddenly opens just fine.

Little sticky notes start appearing on your mirror every morning, i love yous and looking gorgeous circled with hearts and stars. Must be the mirror learnin' to speak, he says when you ask.

Jason will help you take as many pictures as you want, but he'll go through them with you after and tell you a different thing he loves about you in each one. You brush him off at first, uncomfortable with the praise of the parts you wish he wouldn't notice. Jason understands that knee-jerk urge to deflect, to hide. But one day he hopes it'll grow a little less automatic.

You've shown Jason how to love his body, to inhabit it, own it, to come alive with it. Now he wants to do the same for you.

[carriondell]

ratio excels in all that can be taught, and teaches all he excels at. while you certainly recognise his scientific talents (but then, what contrarian fool would deny them?), you hold no respect for what he dares call pedagogy.

he is rude, tactless, emotionally unaware to the point of outright cruelty towards the most unfortunate of his students. he expels few, as they tend to drop out before he loses hope for their improvement, though that is little comfort to crushed egos. the 0,01% who pass are rightfully lauded as geniuses on par with their stringent professor.

three auditoriums over, you teach engineering—nothing lifesaving the way ratio's innovations are. still, your name appears in the occasional publication, and your students are proud to learn from you. you did assist in designing and building many of the genius society's and intelligentsia guild's spacecrafts. you're proudest of your wards' achievements; each work, each project, each test, an occasion to climb to newer, brighter heights.

your colleagues decry your methods. coddling and pampering, shaping a generation of prissy engineers, ill-equipped for the universe. you've gotten into scuffles with jerks who claimed you were bloating your students' results and their doctorates ought all to be revoked.

"maybe my courses have a 99% passing rate because i'm an actually good professor." you've said that a solid dozen times, and gotten punched at least half of those times.

somehow, ratio has never been among your detractors. the reverse is true. you criticise the way he forgoes teaching for bashing students' merest mistakes, as if they would find illumination in insults, and though you have attempted to bring it up to him, his attitude has hardly improved, and his classroom retention even less so.

"knowledge shouldn't be bitter medicine," you rant, voice nasal from the nosebleed you're pinching away, as he inspects the nicks and bruises on your face. he nods absently, and you waggle a hand before his eyes. "you above all! listen! listen well and good, knowledge should be fun, an adventure, a reward—it should be sweet. why do you insist on making it such a miserable chore?"

"should you be antagonising the man currently tending to you?"

groaning, you whack his hands off. "forget it. i'm fine. and i'll just ring up a doctor if it gets worse."

"i'm a doctor."

"a different doctor, obviously."

you slip down to your feet and take a few steps, wading past him with some effort, as though trying to walk in a wild river, pushed about by currents rushing your way. he grips your arm when you stumble, but you shake him off.

"signs of a concussion," he says. "call the hospital."

you flip him the bird, but fetch your phone all the same.

ratio is left alone, fingers tinged with your blood, unused band-aids and disinfectant on the desk. for all his genius, he hasn't mastered the emotional and interpersonal skills you value so highly. he used to loathe niceness for niceness's sake—a sycophant's game. but you support your students so all may succeed and do not suffer one mean remark about them. he admires that: your kindness, your grit.

[cicerfics]

Re: the headcanons I shared in this post...

Man. I really do enjoy headcanoning Q as the World's Worst Date.

Like, I adore Q. He's my special baby boy. And I think Bond adores Q, too. I think Bond believes Q is the best date.

But on a date with anyone else, I feel like Q just sucks so bad.

First of all, there's only a 30% chance he'll show up. He may get busy in the labs and forget he had a date. He may have one of his eternal and recurring 'work emergencies' (which he always refuses to explain). One of his cats may develop a slightly upset tummy, and of course Q is not going to keep the date if one of his babies might be ill! Never mind that you booked this restaurant six months in advance or that those theater tickets are nonrefundable and cost you £200 apiece!

But even if he manages to keep the date, I feel like Q is still just The Worst.

He will talk, very passionately and enthusiastically, about some really boring topic his date absolutely does not care about. (Might be something to do with physics. Might be some obscure detail related to 17th century French oil painting. Might be something about cat biology. Who knows! Q has so many interests and opinions, and he would like to share all of them!)

He will 'well, actually...' you. Not with malice! Not to mansplain! Just because he thinks being accurate and factual is extremely important, and of course you want to know if you're mistaken about something...don't you??

He will debate things over the dinnertable. He will provoke a passionate, determined, bare-knuckle academic debate at a candlelight restaurant while a violinist plays in the corner, because that is what's fun for him and he forgets this is not always fun for everyone else.

Q is extremely cute and extremely kindhearted and extremely loyal and really a lovely partner overall! ...But he literally never gets asked on a second date.

Until he meets James H. Bond, who thinks it's very fun and interesting when Q infodumps at him about nanotechnology! He delights in Q arguing with him about increasingly pedantic things, stubbornly refusing to cede any ground whatsoever!

And of course Bond understands about cancelled dates and work emergencies. (He is probably at HQ, too, dealing with the same emergency!). And of course he would not expect Q to keep a date if one of the cats are unwell.

Honestly, I think Bond is very contemptuous of the men who previously dated Q and foolishly declined to ask him on a second date. (You couldn't handle it when Q argued with you for 20 minutes about the aesthetic merits of neoclassical architecture? Skill issue, tbh. Bond is built different. Arguing is such a fun activity! The best part of any date! Needling and pestering and provoking one's partner is the height of enjoyment! Truly, some people have no appreciation for the finer things in life...)

IDK, I just like it when 00Q are meant2be in the most eccentric of ways.

[internetscenarios]

YESS cc!reader x tgc would go hard please do it NO pressure tho!! 💕

ok i had an idea for isaac,, IM SORRY I ONLY DO HIM OR YUMI i promise i will do the others soon

drunk driving ♡︎

it was a normal day for you, wake up, get food, do a stream if you had the energy.

today was a different day, your boyfriend isaac was hanging out at your house as the two of you wanted to get some stuff done.

it was a nice day together, you both went grocery shopping and had a cute little date in a cafe

tonight you had a stream planned, your viewers knew you were close friends with the group, but never knew why you ended up becoming friends

isaac had introduced you to them and you all grew close since then

“babe? i’m just about to start a stream, i think im meant to be drinking.”

you laugh softly, searching for him as he wandered around the kitchen, soon enough finding him.

“you should let me be in it.”

“what about your face being in it?”

“i can put my mask and glasses on.”

your mind hesitates, pouting slightly as you think whether you would want him causing chaos on your relaxed streams.

although both of you had been together for a while now, neither of you told your viewers. it would be a nice introduction stream, and also suprise everyone.

“okay fine. but you can’t be screaming into my microphone, my streams are more relaxed than yours.”

he rolls his eyes, yet nods and smiles as he looks down at you.

(🤤🤤)

soon enough the stream was starting, isaac was still downstairs cleaning up as you welcomed everybody and let people join.

you were playing american truck simulator with yumi, tanner, and soon to be isaac. but you didn’t mention that and would let isaac come in whenever to surprise your viewers a little.

once you joined the vc, you were suddenly met with yumi angry about how he couldn’t exit a parking lot, and tanner laughing.

“y/n, is mr 6’2 joining us?”

“he should be, hes just cleaning downstairs.”

“malewife!!”

you giggle, reading your chat as you opened up the game. the call was deafened so you could answer questions from your viewers.

mr 6’2???

is shaquille o’neal in ur house??

WHO IS 6’2 THEY ARE TALL

as you giggle, leaving your viewer’s confused and looking for answers you start up the game.

“so i have to take a drink everytime i crash??”

yes

YES

drunk y/n time oh no

you laugh, when suddenly a notification of a donation comes through

isaacwhy donated 20$: “ill be up in a minute, u look good tonight :)”

the donation reads out, which leads you to rub your forehead in annoyance but amusement

“isaac you can just text me!”

this leads your chat practically screaming at you.

ISAACWHY???

WHY IS ISAAC HERE

HE IS MR 6’2 WHATTTT

you rolls eyes, undeafening in discord and getting onto the game.

within the span of 5 minutes isaac wasn’t up, but you were focused on driving and desperately trying not too crash; in which you failed and had already had 4 sips of your drink already.

suddenly, you feel a strong bicep go around your neck playfully. it was isaac, he wasn’t actually hurting you, just faking it for the stream

“chat i will literally kill her.”

he say’s playfully, with you playing along and saying some muttered “noo” and “helpp!”

Y/N NO

POUR YOUR DRINK ON HIM

RUN

he laughs, letting go of you as he stands beside you, only his body in view

(😫😫)

height difference check when??

“let me move my chair, out height difference isn’t that bad.”

you move your chair, standing next to isaac. your full body and face was in the the camera view, while isaac practically towered over you.

you laughed, getting back in your chair, as isaac crouched down next to you with his mask and glasses on.

soon enough, you had crashed about 50 times and isaac was your servant on getting you another drink.

“do you need another drink?”

“yessss”

“too bad you’re not getting it.”

“babee..”

your drunken self not realising that petname had slipped out, you both tried to keep the relationship lowkey throughout the stream.

but your intoxicated brain had slipped up, causing the chat to go wild.

babe??

EXCUSE ME

bro called him babe

y/n and isaac marriage when??

you laugh, reading your chat with your head spinning.

“when are we getting married?”

“i thought i was already your malewife?”

a few giggles come out from you, hearing tanner screaming down his mic that him and isaac were already married.

soon the stream ends, and you flop your head on your desk.

“come on babe, you can’t fall asleep there.”

no response.

he sighs, lifting you up with ease from you chair and throwing you over his shoulder, which might’ve been a bit heavy on your head from dangling upside down.

within minutes you were placed in your bed, changed into more comfortable clothing and fast asleep.

ok lowkey i do not like this at allARGHH someone tell me if its good or not 😢

bit of fluffy isaac at the end thooo

[idwt-money]

Mercy

MDNI 18+

1.6k word Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

CW: switch!noah, breeding, breath play (ish??), aggression, begging, unprotected sex, oral sex

you were (needless to say) in a bad mood due to work. your boss was bitching in your ear all day about documents and slide shows that needed to be done and signed off before the end of the week. you had a regular 9-5 office job, yet it was the biggest pain in your ass.

you walked into your home, sighing and fighting the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. you set your purse and keys on the coffee table in the center of your living room.

you took a look around to see Noah nowhere in sight. you walked up to the room you both had designated as his recording studio. you heard soft hums of the drums coming through the computer.

you knocked on the door and you were greeted with your gentle giant. there was a significant height difference between you and Noah, it always made you giggle because no one knew that behind closed doors Noah had begged for you in almost every way you could think of.

“hi baby! how was wor- oh shit” Noah wasn't able to finish a sentence before you were dragging him to your shared bedroom.

you opened the door, pushing him back onto the bed.

he propped himself up with his elbows and watched as you stripped yourself into nothing but your bra and panties.

“i had the worst day at work, baby.” you sighed as you straddled his lap. your hands explored his bare chest. you loved how often Noah wouldn't wear a shirt around the house. it made him look like a 5 star meal. his tattoos on display and the muscles on his arms made you feel like you could fall to your knees and admire him like he was an ancient greek god.

“what happened, love?” his voice innocent and unknowing of the situation he was going to be in within the next 15 minutes.

“my fucking boss. such a fucking prick. she thinks she the shit because her daddy gave her the fucking job.” as your words got more passionate with anger, your nails started to scratch Noah's skin like claws.

with a slight hiss, Noah replied.

“i see what's happening here. need to get it out, baby?” one of his hands going to caress your hips when you smacked it away, now leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“don't fucking touch me unless i give you permission.” your words were harsh, but Noah knew you'd never have any ill intent with them when it came to your bedroom activities.

you kissed down his jaw to his lips. the kiss was messy and full of lust. Noah always let you melt away after a hard day of work with no questions asked.

pulling away from Noah's lips, a string of saliva connected you both. disregarding his heavy breathing, you kissed down his chest, leaving soft bites before reaching his shorts.

you could see the outline of his cock through them already.

you placed kisses on the outline of his cock, giggling every time you felt it twitch under your lips.

you looked up at Noah, something devious brewing in your eyes. you bit the band of his shorts, slowly dragging them down his thighs all the while keeping eye contact with him. you let your hands do the rest of the work and pulled them off of him.

you pulled his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out of them. you took your time giving teasing licks and sucks to the tip of his cock. enjoying the sounds of desperation falling from Noah's lips.

you gave in, giving the bottom of his dick one more lick for good measure before taking him as deep into your throat as you could manage.

“oh my fucking god!” Noah cried out, his body jerking with the feeling coming onto him so fast. his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying his best not to grab two fist fulls of your hair and fuck your throat unmercifully.

you held him in your throat for as long as you could before you started to get dizzy from lack of air. when you pulled his cock away from you, you took deep breaths. Noah's eyes were already glazed over with the most lustful gaze.

you started to move your head up and down, the tip of his cock poking at the back of your throat everytime.

“fuck! please! please let me touch you! i fucking need to!” Noah's words were dripping with torment. you paused your actions.

“oh really? you need to?” you raised eyebrows as you wiped the spit off of your lips with your finger.

“yes! god, i could get down on my knees and fucking beg you. please just let me touch you!” it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

beg on his knees?

“then do it.” your voice was stern.

his eyes widened.

“wh-what..? i didn't think you'd actually like-” he was once again cut off.

“i said fucking do it.”

you stood up from your knees, waiting for Noah to get on his. it felt like 10 minutes had passed when he was finally in front of you, on his knees, crying out his begs. the tip of his cock poking out through the band of his boxers, his hair messy from squirming around on the sheets, his cheeks pink and rosey from the slight embarrassment of what he was about to do. fuck. he was so pretty.

“please, baby, please. i can't- i need to touch you. i fucking need to feel you. please! have mercy on me!”

a satisfied smirk painted itself on your lips as you watched him beg beneath you. you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his head back once your got to the back of his head.

“you can touch me.” you placed a kiss on his forehead before you took your panties off, placing your cunt in front of his mouth. he took no time diving into you, his arms around your legs pulling you closer. your eyes were sewn shut and your hand once again found its place in his hair, tugging at it in pleasure.

“fuckkkk, baby, your tongue is so fucking good. shit.” your moans were relaxed and smooth until he plunged two fingers into you whilst his tongue took care of your clit.

your moans became higher pitched and you started to grind against his mouth. Noah was 1 in a million. he knew you better than you did, he knew how to cum in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. he was just so fucking good, you weren't sure if you would ever wrap your mind around the fact he was all yours.

Noah hit just the right spot with his fingers and you felt yourself start to crumble under him.

“right there, oh god right there, baby!” your cries started to become closer and closer together before you let yourself release. if it weren't for Noah supporting you from beneath you, you would have fallen onto the floor.

as your orgasm washed over you, your legs shook and the pull you had on Noah's hair only got harder. when you came down, Noah softly pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and shared a kiss with you, letting you taste yourself.

somewhere in the midst of kissing, Noah picked you up, laid you on the bed and you were now in the position he was in just moments ago. he soon turned you over and you had your ass up.

Noah took it upon himself to unclip your bra. he slipped his boxers off and had no patience with pushing into you.

knowing how your day had went, Noah didn't take it easy on you. he immediately started to fuck into you, reaching for you hands and pinning them behind you with his own, leaving your face buried in the sheets.

Noah's cock pushing deep into you made you feel like you were having an out of this world experience.

Noah never failed to give you exactly what you needed. the way he fucked you made slapping sounds to echo in your ears. that mixing with his grunts and breathy moans were like ecstasy to you. it made your heart flutter and your pussy clench around his cock.

“fuck, youre so perfect for me. jesus christ” Noah was barely able to get his words out without moans interrupting him.

you didn't even try to reply, your face was buried deep in sheets and your head was too fuzzy from the treatment Noah was giving you.

Noah had helped you up, your back to his stomach and whispered filthy words into your ears.

“want me to breed you? make you full of my cum, hm?”

“fuck! yes, baby!”

Noah wrapped his hand around your neck, cutting off the blood flow, giving you a dizzy feeling.

“gonna pump you fucking full of my babies.”

you were too into the feeling of you second orgasm of the night coming onto you to even register his words.

“i'm gonna make you forget all about your shitty day at work. you feel my cock? so fucking deep isn't it?”

you answered back with a pathetic nod and “mhm” before letting your orgasm push you into bliss.

Noah pulled you in closer and kissed the side of your head and he shot strings of cum into you.

you were both gasping for air when you came down from your highs.

after cleaning yourselves up, you laid down and took the rest of the night to be together.

“thank you, handsome.” you said, giving him a kiss before laying your head on his chest.

[littlemelaninfics]

Hey girl❤️🥰As a POC I absolutely love your work. You truly do make all of us feel so seen. I have a kinda odd(?) request for a Buck x Reader imagine. Obviously you don’t have to write it if you aren’t comfortable with it but I feel like you’d be able to do it justice

Could you write something about the reader having a bad period and Buck being there to comfort her/take care of her and then some period sex after…yk? I feel like that could be good and I really wanna read something like that.

A Crimson Connection ❤️ || Evan Buckley Smut

WARNINGS: Period Sex, 2.55K words (I got carried away and that's a warning in itself🥰)

A/n: I love you so much! That really means a lot to me and is the whole reason I create for Black (POC) readers 🤎 Thank you for your request and I'm so sorry it took me two months to complete! Period sex is a different kind of horny. You’re SO sensitive and a little sore. A little embarrassed <3 and blood feels so different from your usual pussy lube. Thinner, less viscous, and there’s so much of it. Uh, or so I've heard 👀

After being woken up by a piercing pain in your stomach, you rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom. Even though you didn’t have to go, hunching over in a solid seating position helped the cramps pass a little easier. You could feel the pressure rising and started to get really nauseous, really fast. Before you knew it, you were prying the lid open and down on your knees.

You closed and flushed the toilet, still breathing heavily. You slouched over, gripping your abdomen and squeezing your eyes shut in pain as another deep pang hit you. It was then that you heard the bathroom door slide open and you didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Buck. You were still moaning and groaning in pain while he slid down next to you, taking you in his arms. You mold into him, but you weren’t prepared for the cold sensation on your forehead and jumped slightly,

“Whoa, sorry. It’s just a rag, baby.”

“Hmmm."

Buck felt bad that your period was this painful every now and then. You suffered from random ovarian cysts that affected your cycle and made you violently ill for at least 24 hours. You two were in the ER two weeks before when your suspicions of the sharp pain were correct. The ultrasound showed a decent size cyst on your left ovary and you were just happy it wasn't both like last time.

He continued to wipe your face with the cloth, pulling you in more and kissing your clammy forehead,

"Is there anything I can do, baby?" He spoke with his lips still touching your temple. The vibrations his voice went through you, sending a calming sensation over your body and mind,

"Mmm mmm," you replied.

"Can you stand?" You just nodded and he began to get up from the floor, you gripping onto his forearm to not lose balance. He walked over to the tub and turned on the shower,

"I need to brush," you said softly while pointing to the counter.

"Shower first. The hot water will feel good, I promise."

You debated extending your argument, but you instead found yourself gripping on to Buck's shoulder riding out another cramp. It faintly passed and you accepted your boyfriend was right. You breathed heavily and nodded your head. Buck helped you pull your night shirt over your head before kneeling to help you step out of your panties. He placed a kiss on your hip, then swiftly stood to his full height,

"I'll be right in the room. Just yell if you need me, okay?" He said as he helped you over the tub.

"Thank you." He smiled gently and kissed your head once more before exiting the bathroom. You slugged your feet to move under the shower head; heavily debating on sitting down but quickly remembering you wanted to clean the tub earlier that day and never got the chance. The hot water sent chills down your spine as it ran though the rows of individuals and onto your scalp.

You grabbed your wash cloth drenching it in the hot water and placing it on your abdomen while you took a few deep breaths. The pain subsided minimally, but you took advantage and quickly finished your shower. Exiting the shower, you grabbed your towel and immediately went to the sink to brush. Instead of opting for your already simple night routine, you made it even simpler by just applying moisturizer, hair oil, deodorant, and chapstick.

You rewrapped your towel before bending down to pick up the clothes you were wearing earlier to put them in the hamper when you felt something run down your inner thigh. Thinking it was water, you wiped it away when you realized it wasn't water. You quickly cleaned yourself up before looking under the cabinet just to find that you never moved the new box of Tampax to the bathroom. Tears immediately started to well as you prepared to leave the bathroom. Buck could hear the sniffles and knocked on the door gently enough not to scare you,

"Baby?"

You didn't answer, but tried to move faster,

"Y/n?" He called through the door while pushing it open. He found you with your clothes bunched in your arms and tears in your eyes,

"Baby! What happened?" he asked as if you were a little kid. And well, you responded like one with your face bunching slightly and the tears falling freely. You couldn't help it. He might as well have asked, "are you okay?".

Buck waited with his eyebrows up, but not actual worry yet. He waited for you to catch you breath, soothing you through your spell,

"I started my period and my tampons are out here, but my cramps are too bad to leave a tampon in right now and I don't have any pads and I didn't want to wear underwear, to be honest. But now I have to pick one because it's usually light the first night so I would've worn my granny panties and no tampon and it would've been fine. But I don't wanna wear underwear," you sobbed out; the words basically strung togther.

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Baby. Baby. It's okay," Buck said bringing you into his chest trying really hard not to laugh. He would never laugh at your pain and/or the fact that you were upset. It was simply the reason you were upset. He held you in the threshold of the bathroom while you calmed down.

"C'mere, Baby." You followed as he grabbed your hand and led you around to the foot of the bed. He reached behind you and grabbed the shirt he picked out for after your shower. Buck unwrapped your towel, letting it fall on the hardwood beneath you. He inhaled deeply while shamelessly taking a flashing glance at your naked frame in front of him before sliding the shirt over your head. This drew an instant blush to your cheeks as you knew what was going through his mind. No. His reflexes. He went against his own instinct to push you back onto the bed and fuck you into oblivion.

He picked up the panties and chucked them across the room, earning a laugh from you,

"There she is," he said smiling widely, "think you can stomach some Tylenol?"

"Please," you said almost begging for a less painful nights sleep.

He walked to your side and grabbed the medicine and water he set out for you.

"You really thought of everything. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And almost everything," he said turning to leave the room. You were confused as you took the pain reliever, but relished in the way the water felt going down your stinging throat. You heard the thudding foot steps coming back and Buck coming back in, when he unrolled a maroon colored towel down on your side of the bed.

"Everything!" He said sticking his arms out and displaying his goofy grin. You were beyond grateful, but instinctively declined because you didn't want to risk anything,

"Y/n. This way everyone is comfortable and if anything happens, who cares?"

You take him on his word and climb into bed. He reaches for your scarf and helped you neatly wrap your hair. Buck leaned down to kiss you, softly running his tongue over your lips. You reach up and grab his neck when he groans begrudgingly and pulls apart. You smile, feeling warm that he still wants you even at one of your lower times. You snuggle in, getting comfortable with the new texture on your butt, while Buck strips down to his briefs and climbs in next to you.

You want to lay on your back, but the medicine hasn't kicked in yet and another cramp was coming. You turned over on you left side and curled into a ball. Buck immediately turned his body your way and brought you close. The cramp faded and you slowly uncurled,

"This sucks."

"I'm so sorry," Buck replied while kissing the good spot behind your ear.

"Mmmm."

"That sounds a little different than before. Does this-" *kiss* "-feel good?" *kiss*

"Mmm hmm."

"Mmmmm," he moaned lowly as he kept kissing that spot. He kissed a spot that was only 3cm over, but it tickled like no other, so of course Buck took advantage and kept kissing that same spot, then all over your face.

You were laughing hysterically when you couldn't breathe,

"Okay. Okay. OKAY! Ha Ha! Stop! Stop! Stop! Don't make me laugh! I'm not wearing underwear! Ha Ha!"

Buck let out a hearty laugh before diving in one last time, just to reach over you and flick the lamp off. While his torso was extended over your body, you could feel his semi-hard cock press into you. He plopped back down next to you, taking you back into the position he had you before. Your eyes were open, but you were surrounded by darkness.

“Mmm. I love you, baby.” He said lowly in your ear,

“I love you too,” you replied. Buck kissed your right shoulder, tightening his arm around you to bring your body closer to his. He rested his head down and got comfortable with you in his arms. As his muscles we tensing and relaxing with each movement, he let out a string of low hums and throat clears.

It’s nothing new. In fact it didn’t take you long to realize he’s just making boy noises. But this time, you’re feeling the vibration of his chest against your back and his mouth is basically connected to your ear. You start to wiggle slightly and let out little moans of your own, but they didn’t mean the same thing as his.

Or maybe they did.

He removes his arm from around your torso and starts to gently rub the side of your thigh, trying to get you settled. He planted one more kiss on your shoulder and you’re pretty sure he felt your body react. You take his hand and slickly snake it up to your chest. He pulls you once more, this time with more intent as he squeezes your tit.

He picked up right where he left off and started placing kisses to your spot again. His groans laced with lust and desire as he attacked your skin, nipping down to the side of your neck. You hips are grinding into each other. Your eyes go wide, realizing there is a point of no return and you're approaching it rapidly.

You halt your movements and push your hand back to stop Buck. Your chests are rising and falling, your bodies getting flustered so quickly.

"Buck. We've never...."

"And we don't have to if you don't want to."

"You want to?" You asked, craning your neck back to look at him in the dark.

"I crave you in any form you're in. So yeah, I want to. I want you." He whispered the last part like a sly fox.

"But-” you cut yourself off trying to think of an excuse as to why this is not a good idea,

“Let me help you feel good, baby,” He said, nudging your head back to the side to kiss your spot again. Your eyes close gently and your arm reaches back to hold his the nape of his neck. Buck begins to slowly grind his hips back into your t-shirt covered bum, nipping at your skin while still peppering kisses. His fingers hook your jaw and he brings your lips to meet his. It takes no time for the fight for dominance to take place, but you retreat. Letting Buck take the reins tonight.

Your kisses deepened, passion overcoming any lingering uncertainty. As your tongues explored one another’s mouths, giggles and warmth filled the air. It felt liberating, shedding the last remnants of hesitation and embracing the whole of each other, unfiltered and raw.

His hand travels down your silhouette, softly tracing his fingers along your thighs once more. He brought his body even closer into you, making you moan into the kiss. You reach back, palming his cock through his briefs and getting a similar reaction from him. Buck hand starts to inch in towards your pussy, causing you to break away,

"I'm okay tonight. I just need you."

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Mmmhmm," you say, pulling him back in. The truth is you were hesitant enough about having sex on your period and the thought of staining his fingers red was too much to handle right now. Buck moves his lips to nibble on your shoulder through your shirt as he frees his cock, wrapping his left arm underneath your body and puling you back to him like a little doll.

He rubs his cock against your slick hole before gently prodding. You lean your head back on his shoulder while he takes his left hand and lightly wraps it around your throat,

"Are you ready, baby?" He asks directly in your ear.

"Yes, please. I need you," you beg, reaching your hand back to pull him in this time. He chuckles lightly at your impatience and reminds you of your safe word. Buck finally pushed his hips forward, both of you moaning at the stretch. His movements were cautiously slow, paying attention to every single reaction. The pain was a lot at first, but focusing on the pain slowly turning to pleasure distracted you from the blinding cramps.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Every touch, every whisper, felt electric. You was surprised to find how the experience intensified your sensations. Rather than feeling restricted by your period, you were allowed to feel empowered. You and Buck created a world for yourselves that night. One where you could fully embrace your desires without boundaries.

Buck transcended your whole being into an unknown world. You both thought you had little left to explore together, yet here you are with the love of your life on the adventure of a lifetime. The moans and deep grunts filled the room as you both chased down that high. When he knew he could, Buck applied more weight to your hip as he pushed himself up and deeper into your body. Practically now fully on top of you.

His thrusts became more frantic, yet never missed the mark. He lowered his torso over yours, cradling your angelic face and your orgasms crashed into both of you. His movements never stopped has beads of his sweat started to drip down on your from the tip of his nose.

Buck's hips finally slowed as he leaned down for a lingering kiss, the kind that lingered longer than any other, filled with warmth and connection that transcended the physical. In that moment, you felt closer than ever—a bond deepened by you willingness to break societal taboos and embrace your bodies as they were.

You welcomed his weight on top of you as your breathing started to slow. Rain began to patter against the window, and you two drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The night held no judgments, only the promise of a love that was true and unashamed, building a foundation on trust, intimacy, and the freedom to explore the beautifully messy reality of life together.

[1for5]

yes im changing

paige bueckers x reader

(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)

masterlist

synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?

chapter 2

“excuse me?”

“oooh..” the people behind the blonde teased.

peyton signaled y/n to just leave the group of girls alone, but y/n didnt. she gave the ball back with a glare. the blonde went up to her, saying sorry and that she “didnt mean to throw the ball that hard.”

y/n just replied with a cold “asshole” and went back to peyton and headed for the dorms. while walking back, peyton said “you did not just do that.. like the blondie over there is uconn’s star! and nika was there too, she’s like my girl crush you know. anyways what im saying is.. they’re a big deal here at uconn! i always watch their games since my dad’s bestfriend with their coach.”

“i dont care im just tired, and plus she hurted me! on my first day too.” y/n retorted back. “whatever you say y/n, let’s just focus on our actual first day tomorrow. my dorm buildings the other way. goodluck on your roomie and see you!” peyton bid her goodbyes.

meanwhile, in the uconn huskies women’s basketball team, the blonde named paige, was complaining to her friends about the girl who she had accidentally hit. she was complaining specifically to nika, azzi, aubrey, and kk. “i can’t believe it! you guys dared me to hit on her, and now ive been called an asshole” paige said. “we said hit on her.. as in ask for her number or flirt or something” nika retorted. “you guys didnt explain properly! we should never have truth or dare sessions while walking back to the dorms ever again” paige further complained. “you know you’ve been talking about her for about 10 minutes now.. and you don’t talk about people like that. might as well just say you find her pretty.” kk nonchalantly replied.

“no? what are you talking about? i mean yeah our height difference is cute and her eyes are pretty, and plus she smelled good, and overall shes really pretty.. i just.. NO?” paige convinced her friends.. or convincing herself.

“whatever you say bueckers. well we are here now in the dorms guys, ill see you all tomorrow” azzi said, rubbing her eyes from tiredness.

as they arrived to their dorms, they all lived in the same floor, everyone bid their goodbyes. goodbye everyone! oh and i get to meet my new roomie today.. wish me luck guys” aubrey was the last one to say goodbye.

aubrey then opened her dorm room, she wasnt able to know who her roommate was as she only got to the dorms today, and her roommate probably was in either orientations or class.

“oh no..”

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Comin’ back for more? ❞

ghostface!leon kennedy x ftm!ghostface!reader | r! has had top surgery and bottom growth | porn with some plot | friends-with-benefits, implied attempt at a relationship (r! had commitment issues, lmao) | wc: 8k | not proofread

warnings: yandere!leon and yandere!reader, piquerism, carving his name into r! skin, blood kink, overstimulation, leon takes pictures and videos of r!, dumbification, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick), use of boypussy & boy cunt.

“Actually,” Leon sighs, “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen him.”

Her shock is evident but to Leon’s surprise, it turns into exasperation.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Kennedy?” Ashley puts her hands on her hips and then points a finger at his way.

“He likes you. (Y/N) (L/N). He likes you, Leon Kennedy. So,” she comes around to him and despite the height difference, Leon feels slightly intimidated by her frown.

“Just fuck his brains out and tell him you’re not gonna let him go! That’s the only way you’re getting through to him, okay? God, I swear the both of you are so dimwitted!”

authors' note: heed the warnings, leon and y/n are high-key deranged, lmao. also i wrote this in a rush but enjoy!!

“Do you think he’s like…big?”

That alone was enough to make you rip your eyes away from your laptop. She chews on her glossy lip, twisting her phone to show you a Tinder profile of some douchebag that checks off everything on her list.

Awkwardly angled photos to show his jawline? Check.

Dimples? Check.

Two pairs of horrendous matching sweats? Check

A random photo of him holding some poor relative's baby to appeal to women? Check.

“Surprised he didn’t leap out from your brain,” your dry tone makes Ashley pout. “Honestly, be a little proud of me, (Y/N). He’s not holding a fish,” she turns the phone to herself. Pursing your lips, you return your attention to the report that’s been rotting in your laptop.

“Yeah, his sister is probably relieved her baby’s face is plastered on a hook-up app.” Ashley reaches over and smacks your hand. The yelp you let out turns a few heads; dark eyebags and caffeine-fueled veins already making them irritable. Exclamations of pain weren’t appreciated.

“You’re such a pessimist, (Y/N). I swear I have no idea how we ended up being friends.” An attempt was made at stifling your laughter but it tumbles out from between your fingers in quick intakes of breaths. The glaring turns into mumbling but none would speak up. Between Ashley’s status and your own, along with your golden reputation, no one could find themselves wishing ill upon the both of you.

Ashley was from a wealthy family. All you'd need to do is look at her to see she was dripped in luxury brands that were so exclusive you probably never heard of them. She met you through one of her mother's annual parties. It was an attempt on her end to play matchmaker with Ashley so she was quick to push Ashley and your sibling together.

Unfortunately for her, both you and your sibling were queer. Ashley was just glad to have real friends. How did the saying go? You win some, you lose some?

"You have your mother to thank for that. Remember how she was convinced you were a lesbian because we kept hanging out? Before I came out and everything." Ashley rolled her eyes, leaning on her elbow as she scrolled through the array of people with mild interest.

“Woah, what was that for?” Her lack of reply makes your brows raise. Closing your laptop, you reach a hand out to swipe her phone away. She gasps, attempting to swipe it back but you lean back on the chair, balancing precariously on its two legs. “Give it back, you ass,” she hisses, still trying to keep her voice low as she raises from her seat. Exiting from Tinder, your thumbs work deftly to open her messages and scoff as you go through her archived chats to see her mother’s messages were there. “You put your mom in archive jail? Woah, she must have really pissed you off,” she grunts as she tugs her phone back into her hands. You let her, folding your arms behind your head as she taps out from your intrusion. “What’s up? Did she bug you about university again? I swear she’s as anal about making those planners as you are.” “As opposed to how you live through life relying simply on your phone’s battery? Not to mention, you keep overcharging the hell out of your phone too. You should really change it — “ Ashley tucks her hand to her chest as you stand up, your chair banging as you ground it before you do so. At this point, a few people have plugged in their earphones anyway. “You’re stalling, Ms Graham.”

Ashley does this thing with her mouth. Sucking in her cheeks and chewing the insides as she contemplates spilling the metaphorical can of beans. It seems she relents as she settles next to you. There’s a sense of gratitude in her eyes as your knees are now facing her as you sit.

“These recent killings, it’s got her on edge,” she said. “She’s even been telling me I should have an escort everywhere I go. I don’t know, I just want to be normal. It’s hard enough that people treat me more like a concept or a walking ATM — an escort would just further that divide.”

A glance over her shoulder makes her words more concrete. Their eyes were clear in their intentions; flashes of green embedded in the very whites of their gelatinous orbs. Whether it was envy or greed was hard to decipher but it was clear Ashley wasn’t a person to them. She was a myth brought to life.

“You told her that?” she pushes her lips forward into a pout and you cock a brow. “Like she’d let that be an excuse. I understand her concerns but I’m not a damsel in distress. The Ghostface killings aren’t even aimed at this university, they’re completely random.”

“But you gotta admit, the close proximity would set anyone on edge. Your mother just happened to be someone who was born right on it,” you reach over to poke her cheek and she swats your hand away with a huff. “Can’t you ask her to hire secret agents instead? At least that way, nobody will see them.”

Ashley groans out that you’re the opposite of being helpful. Her phone buzzes in her hand and whatever she reads is clearly exciting enough for her to completely drop the conversation because she reaches forward and smacks your knees so hard it jerks up involuntarily.

“(Y/N), look!”

You’re half-expecting a new Tinder profile but instead, it’s a shittily made poster for a Frat Party. The curling of your lips has Ashley whining and she inches closer — her knees now between yours — as she wags the phone a bit.

“Dude, c’mon! We gotta go, everyone will be there!”

And if everyone was there, Ashley would have to be there too.

“Yeah, what better way to piss off your mother than to go to an overcrowded and overrated Frat Party,” you reply dryly. High schoolers made better posters. This one with the Comic Sans font, blurry PNGs of the hang-tight emoji, and Rick Sanchez lowered your confidence in the Earth's crust. Ashley scoffs.

“Shut up. Besides, the only reason you don’t want to go is because Mr Waitlist will be there,” she dodges your attempt to smack her arm. “Seriously, I have no idea why you choose to be in denial about your feelings for him. The chemistry between you two is insane. It’s almost sickening.”

“Almost? Guess we should try harder,” you mutter as you turn to face your laptop again. Ashley does not relent. “You should. I agree. It’s obvious you two like each other. I’ve already made a wedding plan for you.”

“Ashley,” you groan out. “Nothing is happening. We’re just...close friends.” "Again. Stage 1, denial," your eye-roll makes her inch closer and closer. "Not that anyone would blame you. He looks like some European model even with those weird side-part bangs." "Ashley." The finality in your tone makes her giggle. "(Y/N). You're attracted to him. The second you see him I swear your pupils just blow up bigger than when you're on molly. What's stopping you from just being exclusive-style?" Knowing she won't stop her sudden fixation on the topic, your shoulders droop just as you slip down your chair. Sinking deeper into your oversized hoodie, you sigh and attempt to entertain her as your fingers hover over your keyboard.

"We tried, but it didn't work, Ashley."

"Barely, tried. You had one foot out of the door before the relationship even started. I still remember you trying to keep it a secret, that's not trying that's giving up with extra steps!"

The violent shushing of a particularly peeved student causes Ashley to flinch. Pink dusts across her milky skin and she bows her head apologetically, her teethy grin gone in an instant. He seems satisfied with her expression. That quickly fades when he sees the stare you give him; his brows furrow and he frowns with a slow curl of his nose. Like a kitten hissing.

You recognize him from some of the classes you took. He was the kind of guy who'd continue to badger the professor with questions, acting so smug as he did so and never catching how exasperated they'd be. Obscenely polite because his parents were big spenders in the university's bank account. His greasy fingerprints on the steel frame of his glasses and pathetic excuse of a beard piss you off enough to curl your lips into a wicked grin.

"Sorry, were we too loud?"

The apricot sweater he wears reeks of cologne, the kind that pierces your nose and makes your eyes water from how strong it is. As he lifts his arms to cross it, Ashley straightens her back to put more distance between him.

"The two of you have been loud the second you got here." There's more he wants to say, the twitching of his lips and the tightening of his fingers prove that much. But you're staring up at him like you know something he doesn't — an omen is within your eyes and the chill it gives him shuts him up enough to leave with a comical stomp and huff.

Ashley cringes, glancing around to see if anyone felt the same as he did but is distracted by your question. "Everyone is invited to that party?" Excitement flashes in her eyes as she sees the same in yours.

"Fine. I'll go too."

The music is so loud you're convinced it's rattling your bones. People are spilling out from the threshold of doors, and windows, on the stairs and the porch, and possibly on the sloped roofs of the house. The lights are everchanging. Streams of neon blue, green, and red are flashing through the fog that's flowing down from the corners of the room. The scents. The sounds. The feeling of bodies bumping into you no matter where you walk. It was a goddamn watering hole.

You had come here with Ashley, but she split off with some of her girlfriends. Last time you checked, she'd been invested in some girl's sob story as they crowded around her with red cups in their hands and slurred words. Ashley had given you a grimace but gestured for you to just enjoy herself.

You'd try to but there'd be no point in doing so considering how vapid everyone was.

So you nurse your drink in the corner, back facing the stairs, and smile as people walk by or above you. The music isn't all that bad, typical party music with some early 2000s songs that earns a good 'oh fuck, this is my song!' from the crowd.

Scanning the front door, watching every face that comes in, your hunger becomes more and more endless. Like a predator digging its claws into the bark of trees, you're restless in that little shroud of camouflage; shifting your weight from one side to the other, sighs escaping liquor-flavoured lips; grin getting more and more grim.

The touch on your nape has your head tilting away from him. Those calloused fingerpads — which not many people in this slice of "heaven" had — press into the solid bone on your nape; it elicits a barely there moan and your features soften immediately.

The cup he's holding is perspiring in his hands and you've spent enough time under his hands to know it had every right to be red and sweating. Deft fingers pinch the rim of your cup and you give him no resistance as he pulls it away to trade his drink.

"Thought you said you didn't wanna be here, Trustfund," Leon said as he leaned on the wooden panels of the walls. The shoulder bump he did is deliberate, a soothing croon to ask you to stop staring people down the second they enter the house.

"What gave you that impression, Waitlist?"Leon grunts, downing what little is left in your cup down his throat. Risking a glance away from the entrance, your eyes chase after the trail of wetness that slithers down his chin. God, he was gorgeous. A face so pretty it's no wonder he pisses off other men around him. His odd, dry, humour doesn't exactly help either.

"The lack of replies to my messages, maybe, geez, who knows."

"Oh, poor Leon," your pout earns a frown from him. "Couldn't get your dick wet when I was going through exams? Oh, poor widdle baby," he leans away from your fingers as they invade his face to pinch to what little adolescent fat still stuck to his cheeks.

"Oh, suck a dick, (Y/N)." Your smirk as you bring your lips to the rim of his cup. "Down, boy. We're in public, don't start begging just yet."

Unamused — or attempting to look unamused — Leon simply follows your focused gaze and tilts his head.

"I'll ask then. What's up with the staring problem? You attracted to doors now or what?"

The drink goes down with an awfully wheaty aftertaste and you smack your lips together in bemusement. "Fuck - what beer is this?" "Don't be an ass, they're doing a beer run, alright? I grabbed what I could. Are you gonna answer my question or not?" You swallow with a grimace. "D'you know that kid in Mr Pinto's class? The one with glasses and that god-awful voice? That know-it-all?" Leon nods. "Yeah, kinda looks like the typical nerdy douchebag, right?"

You lean in and Leon lets you. The both of you pretend not to feel the way his breath shudders as your wet lips brush the side of his cheeks.

"I wanna kill that rude little freak. Cut him open and smear his brains all over the fuckin' sidewalk." Leon's eyes widen. As you peer at him through your lashes, his grey-metal eyes all but melt to reveal that bloodthirsty animal stalking between reason and lace-thin morality. He gulps thickly, casting a side-glance briefly to the entrance before he darts them back to you.

"Why?" He strains out after clearing his throat.

Oh, this is why you adored Leon Scott Kennedy.

It was the way he tried so hard to deny how twisted he actually was. That abashed flutter of his lashes, the skim of teeth over his rabbit-tongue-colored lips; everything contrasting to how violently he used his strength to thrust a knife into someone's rib; how easily he swiped and cleaned a hunting blade using his gloves.

The low, guttural, grunts he makes as he thrusts into you during that high. How he's so careful with his strength outside of the bedroom but during the heat of it? He's so shameless that he leaves hand-shaped bruises all over your hips and arms and even leaves indents of his teeth into your flesh. If he was really impatient, he'd fuck you all while wearing the Ghostface mask, holding that still-bloody knife to your throat as he fucked you so hard you walked funny for a day or two.

Despite how much he enjoys it though, he still asks ' why? '

Why him? Did he do something bad to you? Why not him?

Why? Why? Why?

It didn't exactly matter why. Leon never says no to you.

"He was a bitch to Ashley."

Someone bumps into him, and he braces his hand on the base rail of the stairs. Drunken laughter muffles the minute silence as he peers down at you. His broad shoulders look bigger this time. You faintly recalled Ashley slyly mentioning how he seems to work out more often now ("always jogging past near your accommodations, you must've seen him once in a while. Has he ever come over for a quick post-workout boost?" "Gross, Ashley...A few times, yeah -").

"That won't do." He said with furrowed brows. "No, it won't." Circling your arms around his waist, you pull him in with a Cheshire smile.

"Ashley's like family to me. Besides, her mom's been worried about all these — " you giggle, trying to push down the urge to by chewing on your lower lip but failing. "What?" he asks, the tip of his nose on yours as he savours the sound. "C'mon, what'd she say, babe?"

"She's worried about these Ghostface killings," you playfully hiss out. He isn't sure if it's the party, the drinks, the bloodlust, or just you but he starts laughing along with you.

"So we gotta make sure he isn't dangerous for her sake, hm?" He noses under your jaw and the way you turn your face away makes his mouth water. That neck is far too untainted for his own liking; how long has it been since you've fucked? Since he's driven a knife into someone's skull?

Ever since that awkward break-up in your car, after that honest-to-god perfect night of killing that annoying and creepy line cook and fucking under the stars in the woods. That was the last time the two of you fucked and that was months ago. It caught him off-guard. That haze of pleasure being fanned away by the typhoon that was your sudden request to just break up.

The handjob on the wooden floors of your dorm followed by a blowjob was more recent but Leon just wanted to sink into that tight hole again and again for hours for him to be fully satisfied. The only reason he even stopped was because your alarm rang for an early class, one that you apparently couldn't afford to skip. All lies. He knows the alarm was just the weekday alarm that always went off at 9 am — he knows it's because of the beat of silence that followed after you came around his fingers.

The gentle panting from both of you, the sweet kisses he was leaving on your thighs and then your face.

You only pulled away when it got too real.

It just makes him more determined to show you how deep his devotion for you was. Whatever the reason behind your fear of commitment was, there isn't a line Leon wouldn't cross to show you how willing he is to be yours.

"Exactly," you whisper. How he hears it despite the music and people should surprise him but it doesn't. His body is hyperaware of your very presence. The minute changes in your expressions, the octave changes or lilts in your voice, the wordless way you communicate with him from across the room; Leon just knows you.

"A little birdie told me that he actually has a crush on you, Mr Kennedy." Leon doesn't pause in his actions. His tongue laps at the rising pace of your pulse, teeth brushing over skin and you try very hard to continue your speech despite the hand that cups your crotch.

"Somethin' 'bout you helping him pick up his books when the fucker tripped over his own fuckin' feet." You gasped as he started mottling your skin, capillaries just imploding under his ministrations. "Fuck, Leon." The cup is crinkling under your tightening hold and Leon simply cages you in between his toned arms. It's hard to focus on anything past them as you eye the prominent veins that disappear under the sleeves of his black shirt.

"Leon, calm the fuck down." He bites your neck in retaliation and you're glad some popular song plays over the speakers because the cheers that follow mask your moan.

What a ridiculous statement. Here you are, in his hands; perfect and handsome and sexy and yet — not his. It’s all a bit fucked up for him. Growing up alone, life offered no reprieve for little Leon Kennedy. His parents dying while he was young, then going to an orphanage — it all cemented into him that he was fine being independent. A partner sounded nice but he didn’t give it much thought.

Until you came.

Stubborn, silver-tongued, rich, handsome, so fucking handsome.

Not at all his type.

Waitlist, he hated that nickname. So he crashed a little late and unprepared for his first class. Sue him. Not his fault the school plucked out his name late too. Among the giggles of the classroom, yours stood out. It made sense since you were closest to him. Ashley was smacking your arm, sharing glances his way and you turned and mouthed a ‘sorry’ that Leon knew you didn’t even mean.

But then he kept seeing you around. Bumping into him during parties, always sitting near him in classes, accidentally hitting him in the face with a ball while you were chilling on the grass.

Fate was too perfect for him.

Leon was snarky and stubborn and he had nothing to give you that you already didn’t have.

But then, the night he saw you covered in blood. Everything seemed to shift. Because suddenly you weren’t this unreachable, little asshat with a wicked tongue and Leon was no longer a mutt with nothing to offer.

Suddenly, he saw that you were just as twisted and hungry as he was. A lone wolf with its teeth stained and its ribs showing under all that extravagant fur and Leon couldn’t resist himself chasing you after that.

The man who was bleeding out next to you had been desperate to try to sleep with you. The bruising around your neck and the dishevelled state of your clothes pieced the puzzle together. Leon used that to justify killing him.

For you. Just for you.

He was finally using the sharp teeth he had. Those blunt claws he’d been desperately trying to file down dug themselves into the dirt and he ran with you all the way down to Hell. Kicking the earth behind him, his breath visible as his teeth bare into a wolfish grin and you were right there.

Two lone wolves finding each other in a world full of rabbits and squirrels and deers.

Because that's what the both of you were. Not spiders with silk-weaved webs or snakes with venomous fangs. You were a wolf stalking its prey with your tongue lolled out and eyes so wide they shine like the moon.

Unapologetic killer.

If only you’d get the fact that you’re not a solitary animal into your thick skull.

Leon grunts when you pinch his sides, forcing himself to pull away with a disgruntled glare that you return.

“Did you hear what I said about the plan?” He tilts his head. “Was I supposed to?”

You click your teeth, placing your hands firmly on his chest to push him away. Leon resists but he lets you go after a split second.

“Christ, Waitlist.”

Leon reaches his hand out but you take a turn into the living area and suddenly he’s bumping into bodies. They’re bouncing and shaking and he feels like a sailor in rough waters.

“(Y/N)!” his voice doesn’t reach past his own nose. The music is so loud he doubts you’re even deliberately ignoring him. “God fucking dammit!” Leon ignores the hand that clumsily tried to seduce him and the glossy lips that follow it, just shouldering through the sea of people.

The kitchen hails no signs of you. He’s glad to see the beer run was successful enough and grabs a bottle of your favourite to soothe whatever it is he did.

“Leon! You’re here!” Ashley pops up from across the island and Leon smiles at her way. “Hey, Ashley. What’s up?” she eyes him skeptically and places her hands on the island. She quickly regrets this because of how suspiciously sticky it is but doesn’t miss a beat as she asks him; “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen (Y/N) but I guess those beers are for him.”

Ashley wraps her hand around a can and uses the condensation to somehow alleviate the stickiness. She would use the sink but with the state of a poor boy vomitting inside it and the amount of couples fucking in the bathrooms, this was the best she could do.

“Actually,” Leon sighs, “I was gonna ask if you’ve seen him.”

Her shock is evident but to Leon’s surprise, it turns into exasperation.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Kennedy?” Ashley puts her hands on her hips and then points a finger at his way.

“He likes you. (Y/N) (L/N). He likes you, Leon Kennedy. So,” she comes around to him and despite the height difference, Leon feels slightly intimidated by her frown.

“Just fuck his brains out and tell him you’re not gonna let him go! That’s the only way you’re getting through to him, okay? God, I swear the both of you are so dimwitted!”

Ashley walks away and Leon stands there for a second to process what he’d just been told. The beginnings of a smile threaten to crawl onto his face so Leon purses his lips and just walks on towards the hallways to see if you’ve snuck into any of the rooms there.

He instead finds another person. Quite literally, they were shoved straight into his chest (thank god the beer was in a bottle). It takes a minute for Leon to notice him, really notice him, but after their half-assed apologies are shares Leon sees who it is.

From over his shoulder, he spots your half-hidden face just as you slink out of view.

“Hey, you’re...Michael, right?” the brunette perks up considerably and nods. “You’re in Mr Pinto’s class?”

Michael jumps into the conversation. “I am!” he exclaims though considering the state of the party, it is not out of place. Leon smiles charmingly and leans on the wall, offering Michael one of the bottles he’s holding.

His hands practically tremble to take it.

“You’re pretty smart, huh?” Michael scoffs at his words, his cheeks flushed despite not one sip taken. “I guess you can say that, I mean, 4.0 GPA but yeah. I guess I am pretty smart.”

This was going to be a long night, Leon thinks as he takes a swig.

Dancing with Michael proved to be easier than talking to him. He’s much more pleasant when you can’t hear him bragging about being the smartest guy in the room or how his sister is as dumb as bricks (”It’s no wonder she resorted to bulimia as a last resort to get hitched” “Oh, wow.”).

Leon thought rich kids were already unbearable but the smart rich kids were worse. The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that he’d see glimpses of you. A sliver of (H/C) coloured through the flashes of light. At times, he swears he even hears your laughter through the crowd and music.

Michael grabs at his arms and pretends to be coy as he squeezes and asks how much Leon works out. “I see you runnin’ sometimes!” And Leon suppresses the urge to cringe at how close his face is.

Did this make him an asshole? All this pretending to be nice, if God was real, was he shaking his head at Leon?

‘ If God was real he’d open the gates of hell to swallow you up the second you were born, ‘ he thought derisively.

But then, the Devil answers his question in the form of you. He sees you dancing, hands up in the air with your teeth bared in a giant grin. Leon's entranced; your arms slither down to your neck and Leon's not sure how he sees it with the flashing lights but he can see the hickeys he left on you. Michael is speaking, his ears relay to him. But he can’t pull his eyes from you. Leon doesn’t understand how you do it.

When you’re in the room it’s as if you’re the sun; the very center of his universe and he wants to implode into you. Be devoured and destroyed within your maw. A hand on his face and Leon is now staring at Michael. God, he’s staring at Michael.

Before he can speak, Leon asks; “Do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?”

They’re in the back of the house now. Music is more muffled despite the way the walls reverberate. The wood panelling must be screaming from the LED strip lights pasted on it. All the lamps had a red cloth over them, the room would look terrifying if it weren’t for the clouds of smoke and slurred giggling from the bodies on the bean bags.

Michael’s palms get clammy and Leon pretends he doesn’t feel it. Deeper in the room, at the back, where the cove of a past reading nook was built. The heavy velvet curtains stink of weed and cigarettes. He doubts the stains at the end are anything but alcohol or vomit. Aptly named make-out nook, the windows are covered by old sports magazines so no one from the outside can gawk.

Leon pressed Michael to the window panes and he gasps, hands coming to rest on Leon’s waist. He does that annoying squeezing thing that makes Leon’s skin crawl. His lips are on him and Leon narrows his eyes, staring at the smiling bodybuilder with his bulging muscles and tanned skin. Superman underwear and all. Leon wonders what he’d think of the sight before him; if any of these frozen-in-time athletes coo and gasp at the scandalous activities this nook has seen.

The curtains rustle as Michael chews on Leon’s lower lip. He’s biting down harder than he should — Leon jerks back, hissing softly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry — Are you okay?” Michael pauses as the curtains part and your giggles flood through, tendrils of smoke slipping through your teeth. An act. You’re closing in for the kill, and Michael has nowhere to run.

Still, he looks oh-so-smug as he tightens his grip on Leon.

“Leon?” you gasped while Michael sneered at you as he took a handful of Leon’s crotch. Both pretend not to feel how soft he is. He squeezed and purred. Leon’s eyes remained on you, brows raised in a challenge. “He’s busy with me, (L/N). So move along,” Leon slid his toned arms around his waist. The sight was like a match being struck, and your eyes burned with fury.

‘ Now? ‘ his eyes ask. You nod, reaching for the pocket knife you tucked away in your (Leon’s) leather jacket.

‘ Now. ‘

Leon wanted to kiss you so badly that he felt his fingers shake as he reached for his own hidden knife.

“Dude, not cool. You can’t make out with me like 10 minutes ago then just make out with someone else!” You exclaim, clambering into the nook and letting the curtains naturally slip close. “Leon — c’mon,” you beg so sweetly when you’re pretending. Michael sighs, getting his filthy hands off Leon, and faces you.

One finger jabs at your chest and you tilt your head at it.

“Fuck off, alright? Not everyone is dying to fuck your used hole —“

He inhales sharply, lashes fluttering as metal sheathes itself into his flesh. Leon pulls out his knife and then plunges it inside his back.

Again and again and again and again and again.

Michael braces his arms on your shoulders, and your breath shudders. He looks up at you in panic. He doesn't pay attention to the knife you’re holding too, he inhales and the way his mouth opens tells you he’ll try to scream.

The blade sinks through his neck, and when he tries to swallow the blood that floods his airway you can feel his muscles and Adam’s apple squish and move it. So you twist and dig in deeper. Leon’s blade pulls out again, blood is quickly spreading beneath Michael’s legs but the room is already cast in red — as if anyone would see.

“You enjoyed the little shit, Kennedy?” Michael claws at your jacket as you tilt the knife up, slicing through more of him until he starts spasming. His choking and gasping makes you groan in relief, breathing in his death with a smile.

"He was". You don't dare pull out the knife. Not now. A little puddle of blood is fine but more than people will really notice. The thrill of it all is too much for Leon; the crowd of people being hidden only by curtains, a warm body sputtering and choking on you as you held the knife; your eyes staring up at him with nothing but adoration in them.

Try to deny him as much as you want, (Y/N). You can't hide from Leon's hunger.

Ashley's voice echoes through his head.

"Kept groping you like some sort of pervert, what a fucking loser. Heard he got caught stalking the swim team captain. Pathetic, right? Think we can drag this pile of shit to the pool?"

Why are you talking about this waste of space?

Leon grabs him and with no more than a grunt, tosses Michael's body to the window pane where he thuds and slides down onto the floor. Splatters of blood spray onto the magazine covers, forever staining them just like the vomit stains on the curtains, and Leon pushes you against the window.

You replace the knife you held with Leon's jaw, smiling into the kiss as he sticks his tongue into your mouth. Fuck, he tastes good. Like your favorite beer. He's relentless as his hands grab the mounds of your ass.

From the outside, people snicker at the thumps they can hear.

"Fuuuck, Leon — Mfph, you're so fuckin' hasty," you groan. "Sorry for rushing when — fuck — when there's a dead body next to you."

You laugh and when Leon dives in again to suck the soul of your body he tastes the heavy smoke of marijuana lingering in your mouth. Michael is grunting, attempting to pull out the knife in his neck and you're especially cruel as you dig the heel of your shoes into his crotch. When he groans spurts of blood come out of him like a deflated waterbed.

"You're acting like this is something new," you retort. Leon just focuses on your neck again. Sucking over his marks and the slight pain that follows causes you to moan, gripping onto a fistful of his hair as your legs part.

What did Ashley say exactly? Fuck your brains out and tell you he's never letting you go?

He kneels abruptly, you're still catching your breath when he licks up your stomach, his bloodied knife now in his hand. You help him by lifting up your top, watching him lap at your happy trail with a dark blush across your face.

"Gonna suck my dick? You miss it that much?" Leon does not reply. Instead, he unbuttons your pants and you're chewing on your lip in excitement, gulping thickly as he pulls it down under the swell of your ass.

There's a wet patch on your underwear and Leon moans, pulling your pants down even further until it pools at your ankles. His knife is cold on your outer thigh, you hiss softly as the edges press and nick you but his tongue lapping at your dick through the cloth derails any complaints.

"Shiiit, Leon — " he slips the knife under your underwear, the serrated edges licking at your hips before a riiiiiiip! is heard. Ashley would be pissed knowing one of the designer underwear she gave you as a gift was purposefully torn apart but perhaps she'll be forgiving knowing it was to fulfill horny, filthy, purposes.

He must be really fucking excited. Leon's tongue is making a wet spot appear on your underwear and as if flimsily slips away from your hips, you swear you can feel the growl he releases as he sucks your exposed dick.

It twitches on his tongue, flushed from his attention as his tongue laps underneath it and his lips wrap around it.

"You miss me, baby?" You let out a sound of confusion at the question. "Yeah, you fuckin' do. You're so fucking hard."

Was he...was he talking to your cock?

"Bet you're dripping for me too, hm?" "Leon, what the fuck are you — "

The knife is now between your thighs, Michael's blood smearing itself there as he presses a kiss to your cock.

"If you're gonna cut me, wipe that pig's blood off." Your sneer is the last thing Michael sees as his eyes finally cloud over. In all honesty, you'd forgotten about him until now. The thought of his blood on you just disgusted you.

Leon wipes off his blood in his signature move; simply using your ripped undergarments in replacement of his gloves. Despite your annoyance, you won't deny how hot it was seeing him do it.

"Want me to cut you?" he hitches the blade to your inner thighs, the still-warm blade makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. "Can I?"

"...Not there. Somewhere else."

Leon stands, the tip of the blade on your stomach. He towers over you, his broad shoulders making your cunt ache for more. "Here?" You shake your head so he flicks his gaze to inspect your torso.

Taking the edge of your shirt from your hands, he instead slips it between your teeth and you narrow your eyes at him. With your hands free, you lean back onto the windows, chest rising and falling in anticipation as Leon traces the knife all the way up to your chest.

He pauses at your collarbone but you shake your head once again and so he lowers it to your pec. You shake your head but Leon is gazing at it intently. He strokes tenderly over the surgery scar then pulls the skin of your chest taut and before you can protest he digs the tip of the blade in.

You bite down on your shirt, hissing as he drags down the tip. Crimson seeps through, beading up like delicate pearls before it gushes out in small streams. Leon's knee digs up your cunt and the spark of pleasure makes you lurch forward to grip Leon's shoulders. He pushes you back, the thump once again earning giggles from the group on the outside.

"You know I love you, (Y/N). I'm sick and tired of pretending you don't love me back."

Bewildered, you stare at him with furrowed brows.

He twists the blade and you inhale sharply as he slices it, lifting the knife at the end which cuts you shallowly at the end of his...symbol?

What the fuck was he cutting into you?

"Since you're too fucking stubborn to accept it, I'll make sure you know it. I don't know what rich boarding school trauma you have or if mommy and daddy never showed you how love is supposed to work — you're fucking mine."

He drags the blade down, three quicks slices follow and your eyes well with tears while your hips gyrate down on the delicious friction he has provided.

"You think I won't understand you? Think I'll hurt you? I'm the only one in this fucked up world that'll love you unconditionally, Trustfund. I love you, (Y/N)."

The next letter — you belatedly realize — hurts more as he carves a jagged O.

"I love you. I love you, I fucking love you, I'll love you till the day we die, and even in Hell, I'll find you and I'll love you."

N hurts less, Leon's gotten the hang of the angles and how quick and deep he should do it.

"I'll burn the whole fucking world down if it meant I could stay by your side."

Your chest is bleeding, rivers of red escaping and it stings in the cool air so Leon presses himself closer. The warm of his body on yours numb out the pain of the pressure he had applied. Blood is staining your torso, dripping and mixing with your slick and his jeans and you're so turned on you can't find the words.

Leon just kisses your cheek, licking up the tears that escaped and you moan as he kisses you.

Leon thinks his ears are fucking with him. He pulls back, not far enough to let your lips leave his but far enough that he can look at you. There's a dopey grin on your face, and he can feel the shape of your lips as you speak.

"Luh — Love you too, Leon...Love you s'fuckin' much."

It's a miracle no one has pulled the curtains back.

Maybe the noises were keeping them away. Everyone's a voyeur until the chance is actually presented in front of them, right? Hearing the both of you is enough. Seeing is too embarrassing.

You're completely wrong, by the way. Ashley had chased everyone out, locked the goddamn door of this red room with a giggle. Not knowing the true horrors that were hidden.

It was for the best.

Leon has you lifted in his arm, lapping up at the blood on your sternum as his cock bullies in and out of your cunt. The gymnast staring at him from over your shoulder makes him grin and he pulls you firmly down onto his cock, groaning as you squeal.

"Fuh — Fuck! Fuck! Leon!"

You're gripping onto whatever leverage you can find purchase off without ripping off the pictures. But he's balls deep and you keen, hands finding itself tangling with the curtain rod. Leon is so rough, so intent on destroying your cunt as his hot breath protects his name from the air, every jostle and thrust makes you clench around his cock like a vice.

"Fuck, this boypussy's made just for me, huh? Sucks me in every time I pull out, greedy little cunt." His words are making your vision blur with tears, he latches onto your nipple and your arm jerks.

The curtain rod falls with a crash and Leon immediately pulls you in. He shield your naked body with his own, completely ignoring the dead body inches away. He expects horrified screams. The both of you are greeted with silence instead.

The room is empty.

More space to fuck you in, he thinks as he smirks.

Limply, you lay out like a starfish on the couch. Cunt gaping and slick with your juices and blood and his spit. His dick is streaked with blood and your cum coating it, he spits a glob off spit onto your dick and you whine, reaching for a throw pillow to hold onto as he uses his thumb to jerk it.

"Fuck, you look so fucking handsome right now."

"How...how have you not cummed yet...?" You pant out, hips lifting and twisting in an attempt to escape Leon's thumb. He presses your hips down with his other hand and you groan, eyes rolling back.

"Needa' make up for lost time," he says as he licks his lips. "Missed this hole so badly. Shit, look at the way he's winking at me."

"Stop talkin' to my cunt!" He grunts as you kick his shoulder, turning to bite into your calf with a gleeful chuckle.

"Fuck, I wanna make a movie with you." Your pretty little prince-y parts are more forthcoming than you are. Your cock jumps and he sees the way you squeeze down.

"Say less, baby." You try to kick him again but he leans back faster than you. He meanders towards his discarded pants, pulling out his phone. You try to catch your breath, one arm tossed over your eyes as your legs go lax, thighs twitching as you try to calm your heart rate.

The light from his phone feels warm, but maybe that's just you being sensitive. He makes sure it takes in all the details of his carved name, then pans down to your sopping hole and a throaty moan escapes you as his fingers slip inside with ease.

"Jesus, I can feel your heartbeat." The casual way he says it makes you whine, he pumps his three fingers in and out before curling it up, and your back arches. The cutest "ah!" coming from you.

He hopes the phone picks it up. He admires the way you as he lines up his cock to your cunt. Slides it through your lips, hissing in pleasure as he bumps his cock with yours, and you squirm, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Leon, cum in me. Please, fucking Christ, just cum in me already."

His cock is so thick. The stretch of it never fails to make your mouth open in a silent scream, choked-out moans of his name or God escaping. When his balls smack against you, you see white behind your eyelids, and Leon chuckles as he feels your walls spasm around him.

He pulls back. The streaks of liquid on his cock just make him all the more eager. Leon lets the camera take in your body as it takes him. Plowing into you with abandon, bracing himself on his fist as his hips rattle yours.

"Fuck, yes. Tighten up around me, that's it, baby. Yeah, that's it."

He angles the phone away, wanting to see your face without it blocking him. It falls onto the floor and Leon steals your breath away as he kisses yo. His mouth tastes like blood and beer and you.

His brows pinched as his back rippled with pleasure. "I'm close," he warns and you whimper, locking your ankles behind him just as you wrap your arms behind him.

"C'mon, baby. Fill me up, yeah —Nghah! Yeah! There, right there! Fill me up, Leon, please — Ah!"

Pressing his forehead with yours, he claims your lips once again and his thrusts get sloppy, uncoordinated. He comes with a moan of your name, sheathed in as deep as he could get and the warmth that fills you makes your cunt clench around him tightly, milking him as your orgasm washes over you for one last time that night.

"Fuck, (Y/N)..." Leon presses gentle kisses to your cheek, stroking your neck as he pants.

"I...I promised Ashley I was gonna jog with her tomorrow," you mumble out, whining as Leon's hips stutter into you. He chuckles, trailing kisses down your neck.

"I'll take responsibility." "You better."

"Poor Michael," Ashley's brows slope as she watches the TV replay the news.

You're honestly impressed Leon managed to sneak out with the goddamn body, he wrapped it up in the curtain if you recalled, and placed it on his backseat. Leon didn't wanna leave you in the car but you were passed out, sleeping peacefully. So he spent a good hour or two just tossing the guy's body in the school's pool.

When you came to, you were at home with him wiping you down and your chest wrapped up.

It's been a week since the two of you were official, Michael's case seemed more and more hopeless — Leon had done a good job erasing traces of evidence. Like a proper killer.

His fingers squeeze your calves, and you groan softly, curling your toes as he massages it. Ashley turns back to peek at the both of you. You with your legs splayed over Leon's lap and him casually working out the kinks in them, all while you were wrapped with a blanket around your shoulders.

"You two aren't the slightest bit scared? He was at the party y'know. Michael and that Ghostface dude," she shudders and looks ahead at the screen. "Fuck, what if I made out with him!?"

Leon snorts, shaking his head. "I'm sure you didn't, Ash." You nod in agreement, adjusting the pillows under you, ignoring the sting of the wound under the bandages.

"Bet if you did, you'd know. He'd be so fucked up you'd probably taste blood in his mouth or somethin' freaky like that." Leon glances your way, and you give him a grin.

Ashley pouts, sinking back. You reach a hand out to play with her golden locks. It makes her shoulders droop and she leans back to you.

"You didn't even know the guy, Ashley. Ya' know what they say about killers, right? They only kill the people they know, you know any killers?"

She thinks about it.

"...You scream at the sight of a cockroach and Leon can barely parallel park without getting teary-eyed..."

"Hey," Leon's ears turn red. "That was one time and everyone was staring, okay?"

Ashley laughs, shaking her head as she switches the channels. Yeah, you were right! She didn't know any killers. She was safe hiding out here in your apartment with Leon until the police wrapped up their investigations.

As long as she had the both of you, she'd be safe. Which she wasn't wrong about — Ashley meant too much to you to be hurt. Her mother didn't have to worry about the Ghostface killers attacking her, the two of them were right behind her. Braiding her hair, asking if she wants popcorn for their movie night.

[marlynnofmany]

Faceoff

Ever get cognitive whiplash going from one group of aliens to another? You’d think I’d be used to the variety since I’ve spent so much time bopping around the galaxy, but some things just catch you by surprise.

It was a simple difference. I’d been talking with my smallest crewmates while we walked into the space station, trying not to loom over anybody or step on a tentacle in close quarters. The hallway between our corner of the docks and the central concourse was a narrow one. Then Coals realized he’d left something on the ship, and Paint volunteered to go back with him to help find it, and Mimi took a side corridor off to the public bathrooms, with a comment about checking how the local mechanics handled sanitization fields.

It’s possible that he even meant that. As long as he didn’t steal any parts for our ship, I was more than happy to let the octopus alien’s bathroom time be his own business.

I was thinking that, still slouching a bit after waving goodbye to Paint, when I turned a corner and was suddenly the smallest person around.

Hulking shapes in scales and space suits filled my vision, clustered near the entrance with no way to see past, much less wriggle by. I hadn’t heard the voices over the chatter of the crowd that had to be out there somewhere, and the ambient music. (Something with drums. Much better than the leg-singing screeches from the last station we visited. At any rate, it was loud.)

I stopped in my tracks and straightened up, glad I hadn’t slammed into the broad back in front of me. The spacesuited individual wasn’t even looking, and neither were the other two next to him. (Her? No idea.) I couldn’t see the faces from where I was standing, just the burly, hunched shoulders, and the short reptilian tail. Smashers, that was the name for these guys. I’d never been on the receiving end of their disapproval, and I wasn’t about to start.

The raised voices got louder. I peeked past a giant elbow to see that some scaly members of this huddle seemed to be facing off with the Smashers.

Uh oh. The scaly guys were Armorlites. While most races that I’d met were likely to take the threat of a good smashing and back away, Armorlites never backed away from anything, even (especially) if it was a good idea. Not that I would speak ill of any intelligent race’s common sense, mind you. It’s just that after a few run-ins with these frat house dinosaurs, I had something of an opinion about their skills in diplomacy.

Picture a T-rex with good arms and bad self-preservation sense, baring his teeth at someone roughly his own height, who’s wearing a space suit and speaking in the deepest of voices that makes the very air vibrate. I’d honestly thought it was part of the music, an instrument I didn’t recognize.

But no. It was threats.

“You think you can just claim a table here without paying your respects?”

The Armorlite in front waggled his claws. “We can claim anything we want. You should be respecting me!”

“You’ve got to earn respect, blunt-fang.”

Those were definitely fighting words, and I was concerned. I hopped in place, trying to peek around the meat slab blockade to see if the station had any kind of security forces nearby. No luck. And with the music thumping away, I couldn’t tell what reactions the people on the other side were having to this confrontation.

Just as I turned to rush back down the corridor, the group broke out into sudden movement, all of them lunging and dodging. I watched over my shoulder for a couple of steps, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Were the Smashers aiming to head-butt the Armorlites with their face shields? Those things weren’t rated for combat. Unless they were. Or —

Unless they were dancing instead.

I stopped dead as the laughter registered in my brain. The two groups were having an honest-to-goodness dance-off next to the food court, and that had been the plan from the start.

“You’ve gotten slow, with footwork like that! I thought this would be a challenge!”

“I’ll show you a challenge! Stand back with your short tail, and let a real expert show you how it’s done!”

“Oh, a real expert? Did you bring one with you?”

The trash talk and deep-voiced chuckles blended with the music while the crowd of giants stomped and jumped and spun. They moved away from the entrance a bit so they’d have room to properly cut a rug, and I caught glimpses of many staring faces at a safe distance. Not a single security officer was among them. Several recording devices were, though.

I edged back in their direction, cautious of flying elbows, and sidled along close to the wall. A cluster of Frillians moved aside to let me escape, busy as they were with filming the dance battle and also laughing about it. They were on the tall side for their own species, but downright spindly compared to the dancers.

Once past, I took a deep breath. I’d reached the food court. Nice to see that it was populated by a range of species, all of whom were going about their day as if this kind of nonsense happened all the time here.

I stood tall and set out to find some human food. There was bound to be someplace that carried Earth cuisine — likely mixed together in bizarre combinations that no Earthling would have done on purpose, but little surprises are a way of life out here.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[onsunnyside]

💤. 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Stalker!Ari Levinson x reader (College AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK THEMES AND ELEMENTS, SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON, DARK!Ari Levinson, stalking, implied drugging. College IT!Ari, camboy!Ari, outcast!Ari, size difference: 6’8!Ari. non-consensual filming & posting, perving, somnophilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, dry humping, size kink, masturbation (f & m), slight cumplay. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Beware the quiet ones.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.3K

𝗔/𝗡 | this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic Friday the 13th Challenge, and I picked stalker. Here’s the Pinterest board. this is my first time participating in a challenge, so i'm a little nervous, but here we go !! this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read. all mistakes are my own. [all asks & drabbles]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“I’ll call you when it’s fixed or if anything c-comes up…” 

You nod, quickly gathering your things. His throat tightens, fingers itching for yours. “I-I could walk you home, I don’t have any more appointments today.” 

“It’s fine. I live on campus.” 

“But it’s getting dark—”

“I’m okay.” You repeat firmly, softening the blow with a smile, “but thank you, Ari, I appreciate it.” 

You don’t give him another chance to protest and leave. When you step out, the smell of rain engulfs you, cool air washing away any traces of him, but your goosebumps never leave. 

Whatever. At least it’s done. 

You flip up your hood and start the short trek home, forcing yourself not to glance back—even though you just know he’s watching from the window. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and since your coursework list was neverending, you had no choice but to book an appointment with the IT department. One click, one stupid click on a link was all it took for your laptop to go haywire and then completely unresponsive. 

You couldn’t afford to miss another deadline, even if that meant sitting face-to-face with the campus outcast. 

Nothing was wrong with being alone or preferring solitude, but Ari had a strange energy around him. It was suffocating and unsettling, either too quiet, too friendly, or too close. 

There weren’t many places for him to hide with his towering height and broad stature, yet he blended in almost too naturally, adapting to the surrounding space as if he belonged there—when that was far from the truth. He didn’t belong anywhere, regardless of how hard he tried to pretend so.

The only tell was the feeling of being watched. 

His blue eyes set in steely glare, dissecting you like one of those dead specimens on the aluminum tray.  

You had a lab with him one year, and you remember the shivers crawling up your spine when he smiled and made his way over. You thank the universe every day that Natasha slid into the free chair and asked very loudly if you’d be her partner.  

“He’s a fucking weirdo.” Natasha grumbled in disgust, glaring at his retreating back, “I don’t have to know him to know he’s into freaky shit.”

Rumours were always just gossip, ill judgment spreading around like wildfire but at this point, you’d believe anything about him, anything to fill that empty void of unease.

Was there any proof that he was into fucked up shit? Or that he was a dark web lurker or a disgusting pervert? No, but your gut told you to flee whenever he was around and that was enough.

Ari was a proud introvert, an odd balance between shy and awkwardly friendly. A small part of you pities him—the different, nerdy reject shrouded in alleged disturbed mystery. You’d never admit it but he was devilishly handsome and in an alternative dimension, he’d be exactly your type. 

In any other classes you shared, you purposefully arrived late so he couldn’t sit next to you and so far,  it’s kept him at bay. You felt weird around him but so did everyone else. 

If there were something truly wrong with him, all of those lingering suspicions would’ve exposed him by now, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

It was easy to blame everything on stress, the pressure of school and your impending future weighing heavy on your shoulders. Like most lonely nights, you dive into the virtual passions of the Internet. 

With earbuds in, you scroll through the profiles, your gaze lingering on the lewd photos and biographies. One catches your attention, a little red ‘Top Hot 20’ pinned by the username and a teasing picture of flexed abs and a dark happy trail. You read over his most recent videos: 

Jerking off and cumming in library (almost caught) – public masturbation

Eating sleeping girlfriend’s wet pussy – puffy clit, spitting, pussy slapping

You tap on the last one:

Dry humping girlfriend while she sleeps – dirty talk, cum shot

Clean runners softly pad on the carpet floor, the blanket is pulled back and exposes the girl’s backside. The dim flash barely illuminates her body, just an outline of her figure bathed in the moonlight. His big hand caresses her thighs, wasting no time in rubbing over her core. 

Almost in a trance, you replicate his motions, tracing over your clothed slit as a quiet breath flutters from your lips, drowned out by his heavy groan.

“Look at you, all ready for daddy…” He rasps, his words slurred, “You knew what I needed tonight, huh?” He touches her petals, spreading the panty-clad folds, “Such a cute little pussy, Want me to fuck you?”  

She sleepily rocks against his hand and he laughs, silencing her murmurs with a hand on her back. He manhandles her as he pleases, tossing pillows and blankets to the floor before straddling the back of her thighs.

You exhale and dip your fingers beneath the band of your underwear, seeking that needy bundle. Tingles fill your tummy while you circle your hole, gathering your juices up to your clit. 

His fist squeezes his base and slides up to the angry red tip, smearing the pearly dribbles with his thumb. He’s thick and long, veins protruding from the smooth girth before disappearing under his bushy pubic hair. He grinds against her ass, his pre cum leaking all over her panties.

“You’re so fucking wet, I can smell you.” 

With heavy groans, he rocks against her and the camera shakes. Primal thrusts slide his solid cock between her cheeks, staining the poor cotton. His big hand lands a series of harsh spanks, they’re so hard you feel the burning sensation too. 

You fuck yourself with your fingers in time with his grinds and whine, imagining his fat length rubbing against you just like that. 

“One of these days I’m gonna rub my sack all over your cunt. Get you all messy.” A forceful thrust sends the girl sliding a few inches up the bed. “Awh, you dropped your stuffie, little dummy.” He reaches out of the frame and returns with a stuffed animal. 

It takes you less than a second to recognize the black and white spots. To your horror, he places the stuffie on a pillow and pets the head right between the small horns. 

“There we go, gotta make sure Milky is watching. You gonna be quiet for me now, baby?” He laughs, “oh, why am I even asking? It’s not like you can wake up anyway.”��

Your heart plummets to the ground, shattering every layer of the Earth until falling into the endless oblivion of space.

“Can’t wait to fuck your ass, maybe I’ll do it while you’re sleeping, just like how I ate your cute cunt.” He spits, roughly groping her—your flesh, “bet you woke up all sore. Was wondering why you were so sensitive, like someone tortured your pussy.” He curses lowly and his hips stutter,  “sorry for bein’ so mean. You make me into a fucking animal.” 

All air is yanked from your body when his cum spurts out, covering your panties and lower back. He groans shamelessly, jerking off with his own seed to expel every last drop before pulling down the back of your stained panties. He rubs it into your skin like a sick claim of ownership. 

“I love you so much, baby. You have no fuckin’ clue.”

Despite the lightheadedness, you scroll to the comments. Every blink momentarily focuses your blurry vision on the bright screen: 

Cute stuffed animal lol

should’ve taken her panties off. I wanted to see that pretty pussy

damn, she’s knocked out cold. How does she sound when she’s awake?

MrSinister: absolutely divine. She’ll be awake in my next video, I promise.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: my oh my 🫡 i feel very dirty, like i need to physically scrub my brain from this whore behaviour. happy Saturday besties.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! be sure to check out the other fics for bones' challenge !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[yumiis]

yumi nsfw?? maybe best friends pining over each other until they can’t take it anymore??? passionate kisses and touches and hickies perhaps… :3c

OK HUGE this is my first nsfw rq, so i might be kinda rusty?? forgive me if this isn't good :,) I PROMISE ILL GET BETTER AT WRITING FULL ON NSFW BUT FOR NOW THIS IS WHAT I CAN GIVE ☹️

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 far too long ; blake

　 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; suggestive but fluffy

type; headcanons

cw // 17+ only. suggestive themes, leaving hickies

read below.

Every single one of the guys in TGC knew that you and Blake had a thing for each other. However, neither of you ever acted on it. It was killing the both of you.

You both got the house to yourselves. Just for a night. The rest of the boys had gone to a bar, which Blake opted out of; he had other plans.

Blake decided it would be best if he just ripped the bandaid off quickly rather than slowly. He got your attention, quickly pouring his heart out to you.

"Look, Y/n, I've had my eyes set on you since the first day we met. I've never been more infatuated with someone, and I really, really want you to be mine, and I'll be yours," He thought it was cheesy, but he figured it'd come across as more endearing. "If you'll have me."

You were floored. You felt the exact same, and by God you needed him. "Of course I'll have you. I feel the same, I just, I didn't know how to say," He cut you off by putting his hands on your waist. "You don't need to say anything."

He pulled you closer to him, your height difference now becoming a bit more obvious.

He started by running his hands up and down your waist, simply just admiring you. He'd wanted this for so long.

Before you could do anything, he moved his head downwards to start leaving marks and soft kisses on your neck and jawline. They'd definitely be noticeable to the boys, but you really didn't care at this point.

He'd started littering your neck with blue and brown bruises, something he'd wanted to do for a long time.

Blake sighed, "'Y don't even know how long I've been waiting, baby," He paused, "Come on." He lead you to his bedroom, moving you so that you both sat on his bed. You were straddling his lap, almost sitting down on him. He stared slightly upwards at you, "God, look at how pretty you are."

He lifted your shirt, pulling it off of you. Blake breathed slowly, his warm breath meeting your stomach.

"You're so pretty, baby." You smiled as you leaned down closer to his face, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss, shutting his eyes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You started to grind down onto his lap; maybe you needed this just as much as he did.

Blake pulled away from the kiss, groaning a bit. "Be patient honey, we'll get there."

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Getting some Berserk thoughts down, because the last time I was in my feelings about Griffith and the Golden Age arc, I’d promised at least one anon that I’d talk about it later and then I didn’t shfhff

But dam the Primrose Hall speech is such Wuthering Heights level miscommunication! It makes me ill!

Griffith positing that: a) having a dream is thee most important thing in the world and b) he cannot respect or consider a friend anyone who does not have their own dream (implicitly a dream different from his, so those two spheres never need interfere or threaten each other) or someone who is subordinate to him and therefore in danger of dying for his dream.

And then like five chapters later we get Casca’s flashbacks about Griffith and that immediately establishes that he is a lying liar who lies when it comes to his own emotions and guilt, but also that we can’t really know what he’s feeling in the present day, exactly, because he’s a different person now.

Contrary to what Griffith stan nation might say lol, I don’t think the dissonance between his two reactions to a child’s death directly resulting from him striving to achieve his goals is actually him just being a better liar by the Golden Age era.

He’s become indelibly crueler over the years and like, twenty is not fifteen.* He’s older and spent the entire time in between at war, killing other people, and commanding his own troops to die, for his dream. Age has hardened him. Meanwhile, him succumbing to that cruelty, to steel himself against personal grief, is literally the culmination of the Golden Age arc!

*caveat that the ages are messy, but he appears to be a teen and at least four to five years older by the Primrose Hall speech

But that flashback sequence is truly the key to Griffith’s character. It establishes both that he feels a general guilt over the blood on his hands, but also that he is motivated by a catastrophic level of sunk cost fallacy.

I also think him musing that the child must have really admired knights and wanted to be a knight himself, and that he always looked at Griffith like he was a hero out of a story is more indicative of Griffith and his initial perceptions of glory/his dream when he was younger, than simply an element of his guilt for leveraging the sense of hero worship he invokes in his followers (which is def an element at all)

It’s just very telling that this comes on the heels of Guts’ guilt over Adonis’ death and being reminded of his own younger self when seeing him.

Griffith’s own dream likely started out of naivety and simply wanting glory/to be a hero/to ascend when he started the Band of the Hawk as an adolescent. I think that child’s death represents him understanding the cost of being a mercenary, and leading people to their deaths for his own gain, when it’s far too late and he’s already sitting on a pile of corpses. And the only way to make it up is to keep grasping at his dream so that at least those deaths weren’t for nothing. I really don’t think he’s particularly torn up about Adonis’ death in the moment, but the larger abstract sense of guilt very much threatens to crush him if he ever falters.

And you know who has historically made him falter and put himself at risk, threatening his dream?

So, I think he’s very deliberately talking about Guts here actually, rather than the usual shipper line that he’s not even considering Guts when he says this.

And I think he’s very deliberately bringing up the key differences between himself and Guts (having a dream; Guts viewing himself as nothing but a tool to him despite!!! Griffith trying to convince him that they’re equals) and trying to convince himself that Guts shouldn’t mean much to him/that he cannot respect his life.

Because what’s one thing we know Griffith does? He pretends he doesn’t care while visibly caring very much.

And interestingly, what Griffith claims not to respect at all when speaking to Charlotte, seems to be what drew him to Guts in the first place. I’d argue, part of how Guts makes him falter, aside from an emotional connection, is potentially that he’s envious/tempted by the concept of being so uniquely unburdened with personal goals, considering Griffith himself is practically drowning in his own ambition.

Which, arguably, could simply be traits he values in any subordinate but not an equal. But we’re told several times by Casca that Guts is a unique case for him, that he’s never deliberately sought someone out to join him. And ostensibly, in that moment that observation is the only thing Griffith knows about him.

And it’s also worth noting that he initially simply asks Guts to join them. (More specifically he just says “I want you.” Super normal). The dual and its terms are something Guts sets, resulting in this moment.

But even after that point, he keeps trying to nudge their relationship into a more personal dynamic. Confiding in him, making it clear that he doesn’t tell anyone else these thoughts. And of course the famous scene where he insists that his own life isn’t worth more than Guts’ at all.

But Guts views himself as a sword to be wielded by Griffith (something we see Casca echo too) and keeps reinforcing the fact that he only does as Griffith demands.

And Griffith is very willing to leverage that and use Guys’ obedience to his benefit. At the heart of it, Griffith has always been mercenary even about this relationship. He’s very much trying to have his cake and eat it too, where his close personal friend and confidant is also his dog who he can bring to heel whenever it suits him.

It is very telling the way Griffith reacts when Guts tries to leave him. Where when he realizes he can’t talk him out of it, he decides to make him stay.

To me, this all ties back to the Primrose Hall speech, and how Griffith is trying to distance himself from his feelings for Guts, because he’s so much closer to his goals at that point. And ostensibly both the Princess’ favor and the attempt on his own life have made him really reevaluate how close he is to achieving something real and to not let something petty like feelings get in the way of that.

…and then Guts breaks up with him and everything falls to pieces.

[irradiatedrosegarden]

Benny Gecko headcanons

disclaimer: these are all my personal headcanons for him, no worries if they don't align with yours! everyone's interpretation of this guy is different, and that's pretty cool imo :3

5'7" and wishes he was taller.

Bisexual (I mean, look at him)

Trans man

Changed a lot (maybe the most, out of all the Boot Riders) after becoming the Chairmen, both mentally and physically. "Ciao to the old ways, baby - time to swing in style. If the shoes fit, you wear 'em." He adjusted the fastest out of all of the Boot Riders/Chairmen, as well, adopting his new persona flawlessly - from the wardrobe, to the vocabulary, to his new dreams of one day running the city himself. He molded perfectly with the Vegas lifestyle, gained weight once he wasn't walking through the desert for days on end and had every meal already secured, and thanks to the New Vegas Medical Clinic, was able to medically transition. He thrives off of the luxury, but has to pretend he doesn't miss the old Boot Rider days sometimes.

Mostly, what he regrets about transforming the Boot Riders into the Chairmen is the loss of some of their camaraderie. There's a different kind of companionship, of ride-or-die bonding that comes with being one of a band of nomads, relying only on themselves and each other to survive the harshness of the desert. The Chairmen are still incredibly loyal to one another; the sole reason no one other than Bingo opposed Benny's choice to move into the Tops once he was the leader - not enough to physically do anything about it, anyway. But some of that closeness they used to have was lost. Benny grew distant from the rest of his tribe, rising to great heights as the leader of the Tops, the one in charge - even being adopted as House's protégé - and leaving the others in his dust.

(this is pretty much canon but) he never had a second thought about agreeing to House's offer. He never thought for a second that the Boot Riders shouldn't become the Chairmen.

Trust Issues™

Terrible at controlling his facial expressions, often pulls involuntary faces (grimaces, scrunching his face/nose, pouting, grinning humorously, etc.) (all very briefly, just a split-second reaction to something or nothing) - often there's nothing going on that would elicit such an expression; it just happens involuntarily.

Gets random muscle spasms throughout the day, mostly in his hands or feet/legs. He'll accidentally hit/kick stuff, knock stuff over, or drop anything he's carrying.

Likes to sit on the floor while he eats, but doesn't like other people to know that. He'll sometimes lock himself in a bedroom or bathroom just to eat on the floor without being given funny looks.

Gets along best with Arcade, out of all the companions/roommates living in the Lucky 38. Has semi-frequent spitting matches with Cass that start out genuinely spiteful, but eventually transform into the one way they really bond: sibling-esque bickering. They get into a fistfight pretty early on, though, after Benny makes the mistake of calling Cass "Whiskey Rose" after learning that she hates it (dick move on his part, to be fair, but did he deserve his nose broken?).

Struggles with mental illness, has hallucinations and delusions that he takes medication for (which he gets from the New Vegas Medical Clinic), but has a very low alcohol tolerance as a side effect; he tends to avoid drinking.

One of his delusions is that the city of Vegas is somehow actually, truly alive, and it chose him specifically to rule it, to lead it to a new glory - a new independence. He believes he, and he alone, can run the city the way it was meant to be run - the way it needs to be run.

Maria was given to him as a gift from House, along with the checkered suit, the wingtip shoes, and the keys to his new home: the Tops Hotel and Casino.

Even before becoming the Chairmen, living the rich man's life in Vegas, Benny had a liking for the finer things in life. Especially nowadays, he appreciates spending the extra caps for the finest of the fine, smoking a distinctive, expensive brand of cigarettes, wearing his nice suit even on a trek through the desert, etc. His favorite food is oranges, another notably expensive thing to regularly eat (they aren't exactly common in the wasteland), part of the reason why he loves them so much.

One of his favorite ways to show affection toward someone is by peeling an orange for them, handing them slices one by one.

Speaking of affection, Benny is very showy, often cheesy, in how he shows it. The grander the gesture, and more importantly, the bigger the reaction it garners, the better. He loves surprising his partner, with anything from gifts to kisses.

His breath usually smells like cigarettes and oranges, very occasionally with a hint of alcohol.

Drinks water out of wine and champagne glasses, partly for the expensive aesthetic, partly to hide the fact that it's only water that he's drinking.

Very intelligent and cunning, but tends to be short-sighted. He has these big, great plans, but overlooks the finer details, and ultimately ends up failing more often than not. (See: plotting out the courier's ambush and murder, but neglecting to ensure they were actually dead; figuring out how to (with help) reprogram an entire Securitron, but then double crossing the person who helped him; successfully sneaking all the way into the Fort, with the Platinum Chip in hand(!!!), but getting caught because he didn't wear a helmet so as to not mess up his hair, etc.).

Sleeps around; canonically a pretty boy, very much plays into the persona of the smooth-talking, sensual, gorgeous casino-owner. Either intentionally or not, his good looks can't be denied as part of the reason the Tops is as popular as it is. Who doesn't want to patronize a casino with a charming, handsome owner - who can often be found hanging out on the ground floor, overlooking the tables, talking up whoever will listen? There are some rumors, shared in a hush underneath the rolling of the roulette wheels, the overhead swing music, that Benny is the town bicycle; rumors of people he's supposedly had a fling with. He's a regular Casanova.

Paranoia™

this man is doomed by the narrative and it's making me insane

His hair is curly, but he styles it with so much gel (gotta look like a 1950s gentleman, y'know) you can't tell, save for the single curl that always seems to fail to remain smoothed back. Living with Daisy (my courier six!), especially during the recovery after Benny is rescued from the Fort, he wears his hair loose, which Daisy particularly appreciates (she loves when he lays his head on her lap/chest and she plays with his hair; much nicer when it's not all crusty or greasy with hair gel or spray).

Small feet

Canonically disappears for days - sometimes weeks - at a time, deciding on a whim to wander who-knows-where around the Mojave and be alone for a while. Brushed off by the others back in Vegas, namely by Swank, as "a cat needing some time to swing," but they get worried when the days turn into weeks. No one really knows where he goes. All they know is that in seven years, he hadn't ever failed to return - the Fort changed that (in my game, he was held captive there for several months).

Loves physical contact as a way to show affection, loves hugs, hand-holding, massages, and people playing with his hair. So does Daisy, which makes for a pair of absolute lovebirds once they're living together; they're inseparable, pretty much always touching one another, even if it's just a hand resting on the other's shoulder or waist, an arm around their shoulders, hand in hand and side by side. They're practically glued at the hip.

Bottom™

Runs his hands through his hair as an anxious habit (maybe the reason for the aforementioned loose curl), taps his feet, and bites his lip, often to the point of bleeding. He tries to be subtle in his anxious stimming, but if you know him, and know how he acts, you'll always be able to tell when he's nervous.

Used to be married to Swank, but after too much changed - after Benny changed too much - when the Boot Riders became the Chairmen, they divorced. It was Swank's idea, coming to Benny's suite one night and explaining honestly how he felt, how he felt things would continue to change moving forward, and how he realized that, in order for things to continue going smoothly, the nature of their relationship needed to change. Swank wasn't going anywhere - he had Benny's back, and nothing would change that - but he couldn't, in good conscience, continue to be Benny's husband. Too much had changed; he felt like Benny was trying to hide their relationship, treating him differently in front of others, even the other Chairmen. It didn't feel right.

Still calls Swank by the name he had before they became the Chairmen.

Never stopped wearing the wedding ring Swank gave him; switches it to his right hand after he marries Daisy.

Writes little letters, (like "Thanks, baby") and attempts to write little poems, for his partner. His . . . unique vocabulary comes across in writing, but the romance of said writing is . . . debatable.

Good leader. Like it or not, he earned his place as chief of the Boot Riders, and kept up that leadership position after the transition to the Chairmen, for seven years and still going strong when the courier comes and messes everything up.

Has big dreams, big, big ideas and hopes and ambitions. Sometimes, they're too big. Sometimes, they end up with him falling flat on his face when he tries to reach too high, to admittedly dangerous unattainable heights. Does that stop him from trying? Fuck no.

Terrible nightmares and night terrors, goes on long walks outside (usually staying within the city limits) when he's scared at night.