#anyways i outed myself as a nerd just now so that's fun

[devastatinglygreen]

hey, uhm, so...anyone else familiar with eros and psyche wonder just how far they're taking this metaphor for them now that cressida named them as such herself?

like, you know. that whole pesky moral of the story being that there is no love without trust and how psyche had to endure a whole lot before eros forgave her and begged for her to be saved by divine intervention?

gonna go fling myself off a cliff now that i remember psyche was usually depicted with butterfly wings as well. bye.

[snixx]

slowly starting to understand the reason most people like me on a casual friend basis but never in a friend friend way is because i am kind of a huge buzzkill lol. like i hold myself to this impossible standard of altruism and guilt trip the fuck out of myself when i can't reach it and though i most definitely don't hold other people to the same standards they probably still feel kind of judged and shitty for like. enjoying themselves in indulgent ways around me. it's not like i do judge them or think they're shitty people for it but that's probably hard to believe when i would feel guilty and think that of myself if i joined in?? sort of like how people tell me they don't judge me for being fat and then shit talk their own bodies for being fat 24/7. self mutilation has collateral damage. and while i don't really think of what i do as punishing or hating myself and more like being hyperaware of the world around me in everything i do, it's the same concept. and there's nothing that can be done about that, we're just too different. and maybe that's not the worst thing. i don't need to be besties with everyone

[whimsyfinny]

Sexy F*cking Nerd

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean discovers a little secret of (Y/n)'s during a case research session he can't help but let temptation get the best of him.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, Oral (M receiving), slight angst if you squint, Dean having a glasses kink (not really a warning but not everyone wears them hahaha lucky bastards)

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 5688

A/N: It's taken a little while but here is the second competition winner from a few weeks back, the prompt provided by the wonderful @foxyjwls007 - I hope you like it!

The motel room was stuffy to say the least - that usual aroma of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener lingering around us. There was a dripping sound coming from God knows where and the AC hummed in between the concerning clinking from deep within the vents. It was crap. So crap. But it was home for a few nights; just like all the motel rooms that came before. Dean stepped past me and over the threshold, immediately slinging his duffle and jacket onto his chosen bed. He stretched his arms above his head, the grey Henley clutching his muscular abdomen and rising enough to flaunt what lay beneath. I sighed, following him in and slumping onto the bed beside his - the musty stench from the sheets enveloping me.

“Well…” Dean started, pulling Sam's laptop out of his bag and placing it on the small table by the window.

“Well…?” My voice echoed as I focused on the ceiling fan that spun off centre.

“...This is… nice?” His statement was more of a question as he looked around with raised eyebrows. I propped myself up on my elbows, flashing him a look of speculation.

“Seriously?” A moment passed before he huffed a long-held breath and slapped his large palms on his thighs.

“No of course not, this place sucks more dick than a hooker on payday.”

“You got that right,” I flopped back down onto the bed, a small dust cloud erupting under my weight. I closed my eyes and listened as Dean pulled a chair out from under the table, slumping down into it. Then there was the familiar click of the laptop opening followed by the sound of stuttered not-quite-touch-typing, presumably he was starting work on the case that we’d come here to investigate. The tap tap tap of whatever was leaking began to drill into my brain, my patience already wearing thin with the rooms dire ambiance. I pulled myself up to sitting, criss-crossing my legs on the bed and brushing whatever that dust from the bedding was off my sweater sleeves.

“When's Sam back?” I asked, watching as Dean searched the keyboard in front of him for some long lost letter.

“Uuuh, I'm not sure. He said to work this case without him.”

“Ugghhh, I bet he's having way more fun than us right now, it's not fair,” I plopped my chin into my palm and stared past the older Winchester out the window, almost willing Sam to appear and walk in like any other day.

“It's just some dumb wedding, I doubt he's having that much fun.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself, Dean breaking eye contact with the screen to throw me a raised eyebrow.

“Look,” I collected myself, “you didn't know Sam in college. He won't admit it but he was popular. Really popular. Not the total nerd you think he is. He's absolutely having fun with these people.”

“Yeah right. So who's at this wedding anyway? Why was it so important that he just had to be there?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing full well Sam had already told him all the details. Typical Dean.

“It's for a couple of friends who he and Jess were close with back then. Pretty sure the bride was prom queen in highschool or something and the groom was a trust fund jock. Either way, not my crowd,” I sighed slightly, memories from my college days flooding my mind.

Deans eyebrows twitched into a small frown, his thoughts seeming to cloud his vision for a second before he reluctantly dismissed them. I looked down into my lap for a moment, reminiscing how I always kept my distance from Sam whilst at Stanford, but he had always been that boy that would make my heart flutter when he spoke up in class or when I'd see him on the quad with his friends. I remember seeing him with his nose in a book once at my usual desk in the library, my cheeks burning when he caught me staring. Who would've thought several years down the line I'd be sat in a bottom-rung motel room with his obscenely good looking older brother researching monster lore. At least we would be researching monster lore, if it wasn't for the small growl my empty stomach had gurgled out. I couldn't stop the small pulse of embarrassment burning into my cheeks as Dean eyed me with a grin.

“Wanna get some lunch?” He asked, standing up like he already knew my answer.

“Fuck yes. I'm feeling burgers,” I shuffled to the edge of the bed and stood up, watching as Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and headed to the door, holding it open for me.

“Now you're speaking my language.”

*

The diner was almost as sad and withered as the motel room, however the food was nothing short of spectacular. I watched in awe as Dean polished off his second burger, a small glob of sauce sticking to his stubble and threatening to drip off his chin. He must've felt me watching in wonder - or perhaps disgust - as when he looked up from his plate he shot me a questioning glance.

“What?” His tone was a little defensive through the mouthful of fries he'd just shovelled in. I took a second before asking, half-genuine:

“Where do you put all of that?”

“Put what?”

“The food - where does it go? Do you have hollow legs? Two stomachs? Does it just evaporate as soon as you swallow it?”

He grinned, wiping the sauce from his face with a napkin.

“Goes straight to the abs baby. It's muscle fuel,” he leant back in his chair, stretching a little before patting his stomach to punctuate his statement. I simply rolled my eyes.

“Yeah right, you're not that muscly Dean.”

“How would you know? You've never seen me with my shirt off.”

“I know, and I plan to keep it that way.”

He feigned a pout before returning to his fries. We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, my mind absently going back to all the lore we should be trying to gather. I gripped my milkshake that had so generously been served in a thin paper cup, attempting to suck the practically solid beverage up the equally thin paper straw. Finding the nearest library would be the next task on our to-do list, despite the protesting I know I'll get from Dean.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” My train of thought was derailed at the sound of my name. The slurping of over-thickened milkshake from myself ceased.

“What's up?”

“What were you like in college?”

I eyed him with caution, wondering what part of his brain was in control right now.

“What do you wanna know?”

Catching the wariness to divulge him to such information, he smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I'm not asking to be weird, I just-” he paused, choosing his next words tactfully, “the way you described Sam as being a totally different person - some hot-shot with the perfect grades, popular friends and a girlfriend like Jess - it just got me thinking. How would Sam have described you?”

I almost spat my dairy-goop back into the straw, my brain freezing.

“Dean,” I started before planning what I was going to say, placing my cup on the table. “Sam wouldn't be able to describe me.”

My words brought a small smirk to his lips.

“You were that hot, huh?”

“What the fuck- no- I wasn't- he didn't- Sam never- ” I stopped myself before I had an aneurysm and took a deep breath.

“I was in a totally different crowd to Sam. He was always surrounded by people and, well, I barely even had a crowd.”

“Lone wolf?”

“Bingo. But definitely not the cool, collected, stoic type. Think more, invisible to the public eye, always carrying books, and borderline selective mute because of how shy I was.”

“Oh… what changed?,” Deans tone changed entirely, genuine intrigue seeming to take the wheel. I couldn't help but laugh slightly, remembering my method to forcing myself out of my bubble.

“The only job I could get was in a bar. No one else wanted the hours and I desperately needed cash. I didn't really have a choice after that,” I paused, remembering how terrified I was on my first day and grinned slightly, grateful for the extra confidence I had now because I took that leap.

“Hey, what sort of crowd do you think I would've been in?”

I snorted, looking up into his expectant eyes - almost captivated by the glistening greens.

“What am I? A BuzzFeed quiz? I have no idea Dean, you're too much of a wildcard to predict. You probably would've fit in with anyone and everyone.”

“Even you?”

For reasons unbeknownst to even myself, my breath caught in my throat. The sudden soft sincerity of his voice contradicting his usual temperament, my heart starting to flutter in my chest. If the college version of myself had met Dean back then I just know I would have been enthralled at first glance.

“I don't think you would've noticed me. You would've been surrounded by every tall, thin blonde and brunette with perfect tits. Trust me, you would've been distracted,” I smiled an almost sad smile at the thought of him simply being on university grounds and having the time of his life - knowing it was something that he was never going to get the chance to experience in this upside down life of his. Of ours. He tapped his fingers on the table for a second, likely lost in some ludicrous thought I don't think I'd want to be privy to. I attempted another slurp of my milkshake when the paper straw gave out and flopped in half, the need to leave conversation and the diner suddenly looming over me.

“Come on, let's get to the library before it closes,” I stood and pulled my oversized sweater down so it covered my ass before reaching for my backpack. Just as my fingers touched the worn fabric of the strap it was torn away, my head snapping up to Dean who flung it over one shoulder with his signature grin on his face.

“Lead the way nerd.”

I couldn't help but beam at his playfulness. I hated the fact that he made it so easy to adore him. Hated that he completely overlooked how I was his total opposite in almost every way. How when we were talking, his eyes never left mine - how he was genuinely interested in what I was like in the past. And how, when I had his attention, he didn't even notice that the hot waitress had written her number on a napkin and left it next to him.

*

The trip to the library was about as eventful as it sounded. After checking out multiple books on cursed items, local lore and popular antiques from the seventies, we loaded ourselves back into the impala, made an all-important beer run before heading back to the motel.

The small table by the window was now totally smothered by a blanket of books, maps and empty beer bottles. Deans chin rested in his palms as he stared blankly at the screen in front of him, and I must've read the last sentence of the paragraph laid before me a dozen times without it even sinking in. The obnoxious dripping and humming of ancient appliances was starting to make me feel restless.

“It has to be the boots,” Dean groaned, draining the last of his beer.

“Either the boots or the disco ball. But my money is on boots as well,” I sighed, pushing the book away from me and standing slowly, gathering the quickly accumulating litter now scattered around us.

“I'm gonna make some coffee, my brain is fried over how fucking ridiculous this case is,” I ditched the trash in the bin before filling the coffee machine, listening to it whir to life whilst I headed to my bed. I could feel Deans gaze on my back as I rummaged around my bag in search of a specific item.

“What are you looking fo-” he'd started to ask the question but his voice died in his throat when I turned around. I quickly pushed my newly adorned glasses up the bridge of my nose, already feeling the oversized frame start to slip down as I tried not to make a big deal over them.

“What?” My tone was a fraction off aggressive when I realised he was staring. He seemed to snap out of his daze, quickly rubbing the back of his neck and turning back to the laptop screen. He cleared his throat

“I uh, I didn't know you wore glasses,” I could tell from the slight tremble in his voice that his mind was reeling.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No! I mean, no, absolutely not. They look good. The glasses, I mean. The glasses look good. Not on their own, obviously. On your face. They look good on your face. You have a great fa-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter, filling it to the brim with caffeinated goodness. I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my lips at Deans fumbling, almost finding the whole ordeal a little charming. I sat back down at the table and pulled the books back towards me, also grabbing my pen and tattered notebook.

“The guests at the club mentioned hearing footsteps - so it has to be the boots, right? A disco ball wouldn't make that sound…” my voice trailed off when I realised that, even though Dean was looking at me, he wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

“Earth to Dean?”

He flinched slightly at his name, but felt no shame delving in with a completely off-topic question.

“So how long have you worn glasses?”

“I’ve always worn them,” I slid back into my chair at the table opposite him, not sure whether to laugh at the shocked expression on his face or whether to be concerned about his observation skills.

“What?! No way, I would’ve noticed,” He opened another beer and took a sip before tracing the opening to the bottle over his bottom lip.

“ I only wear them for concentration work, and I have emergency contact lenses if I know I’m going to be around a lot of people as I don’t particularly like how they look.”

Dean made a small disagreeable expression before averting his gaze from mine back to the laptop, taking another swig of his beer. I placed my coffee mug down and settled back into the book I was reading before, and after a few moments I could feel my skin begin to prickle - as though I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I glanced up, my breath immediately catching in my throat. Deans eyes found mine, burning with an intensity that made my heart hammer in my chest. I didn’t want to look away, but under his gaze I felt like I’d been stripped bare, unable to hide my insecurities from an eye that seemed to scorch through to my very core.

“Dean-”

“(Y/n), you should really have more confidence in yourself; I think the glasses look cute as fuck. You should wear them more,” a fierce blush erupted across my face when he spoke, his assured tone leaving no room for disagreement. I tried desperately not to let on that his words held any sort of impact over my decisions so I looked down, away from his scrutiny and simply said:

“Maybe I will.”

He hummed in approval, finally looking elsewhere and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief when the pressure of his stare was averted.

The evening dragged on and an hour and a half had passed since his loaded comment. I was on the third book we’d checked out of the library, now trying desperately to find the curse that would cause a pair of 1970s glam rock boots to dance for eternity and haunt anyone who tried to wear them. This case was absurd, and I could feel myself growing restless with the small amount of progress we’d made. I huffed out a sigh and leant back in my chair, the faux leather and rusted metal creaking under my weight. Pulling the hair bobble from around my wrist I scooped my hair into a bundle on the top of my head, securing it in place; the sensation of air on my neck seemed to clear some of the fog from my brain. The messy bun was comfortably enough that I could forget it was there, and I allowed myself a stretch before leaning back over the table, grasping my pen. As I began to read the next segment, I absently traced the end of the pen over my bottom lip, running it back and forth a few times before gently nibbling on the end. I heard the shuffling of Dean moving in his seat and a ragged clearing of his throat before the sound of vigorous laptop keys clicking ensued. Without looking up at him I continued reading, the pen still tapping my bottom lip, and when I neared the bottom of the paragraph, I slowly licked the pad of my index finger. My eyes never leaving the words, I turned the page swiftly with my dampened digit, the transition from one page to the next perfectly seamless. Another shuffle from the man opposite followed by a quiet groan filled the silence between us. Pen still between my teeth, I lifted only my eyes to glance at him and noted the dusting of pink across his cheeks and the furrow in his brow. Concluding that he’d had one too many beers I decided to ignore his persistent fidgeting, returning to my previous task on monotonous reading. Several sentences in and I’d almost forgotten Deans restlessness - that was until I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, deep in thought, that I earned myself a throaty groan and an exasperated sigh. I looked up just in time to watch him wipe a large hand down his face, momentarily masking his pained expression.

“Can you not do that? I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Upon asking my question I absently took the pen between my teeth again, quickly glancing down at the book to place a mental bookmark.

“That.”

“What?”

“That. That thing you do with our mouth, and the pen, and your tongue and your finger. Can you please stop before it kills me.”

The heat beneath my skin was immediate at his admission, knowing my small, absent-minded actions were playing on his mind and making it hard for him to think straight. I instinctively crossed my legs, a fluttering in my lower belly instantly dragging my mind back to the deprived things I’d imagined Dean doing to me in the depths of night. The places I’d imagined his hands travelling, the areas his lips would touch and the sensations his tongue could create. These were deeply, deeply personal fantasies, and right now as Dean looked at me with a restrained hunger, I felt like I was wearing these fantasies for the world to see. For Dean to see.

“It doesn’t help that you’ve been sat over there like a sexy fucking librarian all evening, but every time you do that anything with that mouth - shit, sweetheart you’re driving me insane.” His voice was gravelly as he looked at me with desperate eyes across the table. The overly rational part of my brain had shut down completely, and now the part of my mind that had spent hours conjuring vivid scenes of Dean Winchester ravishing me in my entirety had taken the charge. I stood slowly, taking a moment to reason with myself - unsuccessfully of course - before sinking to my knees in front of my chair. I could see Deans strong thighs were spread wide beneath the table so I crawled forwards, across the cold tiles and placed myself between his legs. Resting my palms softly on his thighs I made him flinch at the unexpected contact. He immediately scooted his chair back, allowing a gap for me to poke my head through - his hand instantly acting as a barrier between the edge of the table and my skull. I got comfortable and allowed myself a moment to gaze up at him, to take in the strained furrow in his brow and the parting of his lips. I observed the way his chest rose and fell in apprehensive breaths, and the way his free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh - like he was so desperate yet so scared to touch me.

“(Y/n)-”

“Dean,” I spoke softly, slowly running my hands up his thighs - delicate palms against rough denim, “you’re a smart boy - you know I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to do. So please, don’t say I don’t have to do this.”

Dean released a shaky breath the moment my fingers unclasped his jeans. I tugged them down slightly with his help, just enough so I could dip my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his half-hard length. The moment my skin touched his, his head lolled back and his eyes fluttered closed with a breathy moan on his lips.

“Fuck…”

I gently pulled him from his confines, coming face to face with the cock I’d literally dreamt of again and again. I took the scene in, committing to memory the sharp outline of his jaw and the way his long lashes rested on his lightly-freckled cheeks. The way that, every time he breathed in, I could see his defined muscle tone through the thin fabric of his shirt; and with every small caress that my fingers made against his length, it made his fingers twitch and teeth clench. I licked my lips before leaning in and took his tip into my mouth, not giving him a chance to finish sucking in air through his teeth before I plunged his entire length down my throat. 

“Oh FUCK.”

His hands flew to my hair, fingers gripping tight as they loosened strands from the messy bun, causing them to fall around my face. He’d lifted his head to look down at me, pupils blown as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked nothing more than enthralled. Infatuated. Entranced. I moved my head up and down, up and down, again and again to a steady rhythm, pressing my tongue to the underside of his now rock-hard cock to trace every vein and nerve-ending.

“Shit, (Y/n), I didn’t know you could suck cock, like, at all… how’re you s’fuckin’ good…” his voice was breathless as he continued to grip my hair, his head flopping to the side as pleasure started to overcome his senses. I released him with a small ‘pop’, wrapping my fingers around him and smearing the warm mixture of saliva and precum from tip to base.

“Despite everything I told you earlier, Dean, I’m not a virgin - and this certainly isn’t my first rodeo,” my voice came out more sultry than I’d expected and I could feel Dean tremble beneath my palms.

“Fuck, I wish I’d known that sooner,” I chewed on my bottom lip, quickly becoming addicted to the way he writhed at my touch. The way he moaned and gripped my hair tighter when I sucked him back into my mouth was like pure ecstasy, my insides heating up and throbbing with an ache of familiar arousal. Like a thirst that could only be satisfied by him. By tasting him, feeling him on my tongue and drinking in every sound that passed his plush parted lips. The sensation of my glasses slipping down my nose as I sped up my ministrations had me reaching to push them back up, but not before Dean beat me to it. With the rough pad of his thumb he pushed on the plastic bridge, his palm and fingers pressed to my flushed cheek in the most tender, almost heart wrenching caress. I thought my heart might stop when he tilted my face up to his; lustful eyes burning into mine with a vehemence I’d never encountered. I stopped in my tracks, all actions ceased as the spell he’d somehow put me under wouldn’t let me look away. 

“If you keep going like that darlin’ this whole thing is gonna be over before you know it,” his voice was raspy, a rawness to it from the harsh breaths and ragged moans that had been pulled from his throat. He slowly pulled his cock from my spit-slick lips and grasped it loosely, giving himself a few lazy pumps whilst his other hand never left my face. He stared down at me, taking a few moments as though he was committing the sight of me, knelt between his knees with flushed cheeks and swollen lips to memory. Once it seemed that memory was locked away in the depths of his mind, he grasped me by the arm and pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his fingers almost bruising against my skin. Immediately I felt him, in his entirety, press against me with the heat and wetness seeping through my jeans and past my panties. This time when our eyes met, there was a mutual desperation; a need to consume each other and to feel every inch of his heated skin against mine. He pulled me frantically down to him and crashed his lips against mine. 

Some people describe their first kiss with someone like butterflies in their stomach, or fireworks exploding all around them. That wasn’t at all what this was like. Kissing Dean Winchester was different - it was wild and untamed - and describing this experience in such a mundane way would be like adding water to a top-shelf whiskey. Kissing Dean Winchester was like driving the impala at one thirty with the roar of the engine drowning out the rest of the world. It was like trying to ride a wild mustang without a saddle, or daring to stand on the highest peak on Earth with nothing to tie you down. It was exhilarating in the most dangerous way imaginable - and I was now officially a thrill seeker. 

The warm taste of the beer on his tongue and the masculine scent of old leather and cologne was pulling me under. Breathing no longer mattered as long as his mouth was on mine and his fingers were in my hair, now tugging the bobble out and throwing it to the floor. As my hair tumbled free he grabbed under my thighs and stood effortlessly, moving me from his lap to the edge of the table without his lips leaving mine. I winced slightly as the corners and several books and the laptop jabbed into my rear and I fumbled to move everything aside, failing when I refused to unlock our lips. Deans patience was non-existent and with one sweep of his strong arm everything tumbled to the floor - including the laptop. I threw the remaining books from underneath me down to join them, no longer caring for their wellbeing. Before I could pull Dean back in - to allow him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to me - he hastily pulled off my boots and tugged down my jeans, throwing every item to the growing pile of chaos beside us. I discarded my sweater and top, but before I let his fingers touch my bra I wanted nothing more than to return the favour. 

“I guess you can forget about that whole ‘never seeing me shirtless’ thing, huh?” he smirked through the sexual fog, not waiting for a reply as his lips hungrily found mine again, his own top falling to the floor. 

“Shut up Winchester. Now are you gonna fuck me or wh- OH FUCK-”

Two thick fingers crept under my panties and plunged into me with zero hesitation, curling up and stroking the sensual cushion deep within my core with skillful precision. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you?” Even with my face now buried in the crook of his neck, I could hear the smirk in his voice, the tormenting tone going straight to my brain.

“Y-yes- fuck- please,” my knees twitched either side of him, squeezing at his hips with every push of his fingers. I gripped his shoulders tight, nails indenting his skin as I leant back to look at him better. Seeing the beads of sweat on his chest and brow alongside the raw, carnal desire in his eyes could have undone me there and then. He frowned in disapproval when I moved to remove my glasses, the fingers that were just inside me now wrapped forcefully around my wrist.

“What d’ya think you’re doing?” straight away I knew his growling question left no room for negotiation.

“I was just-”

“The glasses stay on.”

“To the end?”

“‘Til I say you can take them off.”

I did as I was told, moving my hand to grip the soft strands on the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over his scalp and drawing a shiver from his spine and a groan from his lungs. He pulled me against him, crushing his lips against mine one more time. He swiftly pulled away and I leant back on my hands, both of us taking a moment to drink each other in - to bask in lascivious glory. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and looked up at him through my lashes, the lenses of my glasses starting to fog around the edges. Another deep moan rumbled from his chest as his heated gaze stayed locked to mine.

“I can’t wait any longer now that you’ve looked at me like that. Fuck.”

With a large hand gripping the soft flesh of my thigh he pulled my underwear to one side and lined himself up, slowly sinking in. Blissful moans harmonised between us, the rawness of him stretching me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and my quivering thighs wrapped around him, pushing him to the hilt. He secured his large hands on the soft flesh of my hips and held me in place as he slowly withdrew. I could feel him; feel every ridge and vein drag out and then in, out and in, over my most sensitive, intimate, area. The slick sounds of our intimacy  began to echo around the room as he picked up speed, strong thighs working at a feverish pace. With every thrust he pushed against that one spot that made my legs jerk and eyes water, my arms almost giving out underneath me as the table rattled beneath my weight. With the ferocity of his pounding and the heightened sensitivity he’d curated between my legs only moments before, we both knew that neither of us would last long. The sounds of his ragged breaths and throaty moans alone had me clenching around him already, and I know my constricting muscles already had his hips stuttering as I sucked him in with every thrust.

“Fuck (Y/n)- You’re so fuckin’ tight-”

I chewed on my bottom lip as his desperate eyes met mine.

“Oh yeah? Well I feel like you’re cock is in my fucking ribcage- oh fuck-”

He slipped one hand between us, his large palm resting on my lower belly as his thumb drew fast circles around my clit. The immediate contact on my bundle of nerves had my whole body quivering, the knot of an impending climax already starting to twist tighter and tighter in the depths of my core. The way that Dean fucked me into the motel room table was something that I would be able to feel deep in my soul for the rest of my life - my body and entire nervous system having never been worked in such a feral way before. Dean dropped forward and crushed my body into his - one large strong arm wrapped around my trembling body and kept me pressed against him as his head dropped to the crook of my neck. Soft lips pressed hot kisses against my shoulder, teeth gently nibbling the soft flesh as the coil wound and wound, the wave of orgasmic bliss rising higher and higher as my mind emptied, leaving behind only one thought.

Dean.

He was all consuming - all I could see, taste and smell. All I could feel. Oh God could I feel him; driving me to the brink of pure bliss as he frantically sped up - desperate to seek his own undoing as well as my own. One… two… three more fervid thrusts and the peak he’d helped me ascend to shattered around me as I practically screamed his name, the white-hot euphoria scorching my insides as I clamped like a vice around him. 

“Oh shit- (Y/n) I can’t- fuck-”

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his mouth to mine as he came undone, spilling inside me as he worked through his own white-hot euphoria. 

The kiss we shared evolved from hot and needy to soft and wanting - the sensation of hot cum running down the inside of my thigh and cooling against my skin being the only thing to pull me away. Dean continued to lean over me for a moment, looking down at me with an expression that told me he had so much he wanted to say. Instead, he looked down at his release now starting to pool on the floor beneath us, then to the books and laptop that had been thrown across the floor before turning back to face me with the most devilish grin on his face.

“You know that this mess is all your fault, right?”

I scoffed.

“My fault? How is it my fault?”

“Because, sweetheart…” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and pushed lightly on the plastic bridge sitting on my nose.

“You put on on those fucking glasses.”

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

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @libby99hb @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung

[gracie-eilish]

party girl

an: ok so i love this little duo. as someone who used to be so uptight and scared and didn’t go to parties or anything until like my junior year of college, i would have LOVEDDDDD a night like this. anyways, i miss going out😭 being only 22 and post grad is not for the weak. the trashy college bars are calling me.

also this is so long but oh well.

The second Billie burst through your apartment door, you knew she was up to something.

She was grinning, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief, her jacket slung over one shoulder like she had just walked off the cover of a college magazine. You barely had time to glance up from your book before she bounded over to you, excitement radiating from her like an uncontainable force.

“Baby,” she started, practically bouncing on her heels. “Guess what?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You finally learned how to sit still for more than five minutes?”

She let out a dramatic gasp. “First of all, rude. Second of all—no. But I did get invited to a huge frat party tonight. And before you start—yes, I already know what you’re gonna say, and no, I’m not accepting any excuses.”

Your stomach immediately twisted. “Billie—”

“Nope! Not listening,” she sing-songed, plopping down beside you on the couch and tugging the book out of your hands. “You study way too much, babe. You need a break. And what better way to relax than getting absolutely wasted with your super-hot, super-athletic, very fun girlfriend?”

You sighed, biting your lip. “It’s not that I don’t want to—”

“Uh-huh.” She smirked. “But?”

You sighed again, playing with the hem of your sweater. “I don’t really… do parties.”

“I know,” Billie said, her voice softer now, less teasing. “But that’s why I wanna take you. You’re always working so hard, and I just think—” She paused, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think you deserve a night to just be. No stress, no books, no deadlines. Just you, me, and a whole lot of bad decisions.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “I don’t know, Billie…”

She pouted, leaning in dramatically. “Please, pretty girl? Just one night?”

You looked at her—the way her eyes sparkled, the way her lips curled up just slightly at the edges, the way she was looking at you like you hung the damn moon—and you knew you were doomed.

With a deep breath, you exhaled, “Fine.”

Before you could blink, Billie let out an excited squeal and tackled you into the couch, peppering your face with kisses. “YES! I knew I could convince you! My cute little nerd does have a wild side!”

You giggled, squirming under her. “Billie, get off!”

“Never,” she declared, grinning as she nuzzled into your neck. “Everyone’s gonna be so jealous that I get to take home the prettiest girl at the party.”

Your face burned. “Billie!”

She just laughed, sitting up and clapping her hands together. “Okay! Time to get you dressed. And before you even think about reaching for your oversized sweater, babe, no. We’re going sexy tonight.”

You giggled and groaned. “What did I just get myself into?”

✨

You sat on your bed, cross-legged, while Billie was rifling through your closet like a woman on a mission. “No… nope… absolutely not… too nerdy—no offense, baby—ooh, this is hot.”

She turned, holding up a short black dress with thin straps, giving you a smug grin.

Your eyes widened. “No way. Absolutely not.”

Billie pouted, walking over and holding it up against your body. “Why not? You’d look so good in this, baby. Just imagine—me, all over you at the party, everyone wishing they were me because I get to touch you.”

Your face burned. “Billie—”

“Please,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “For me?”

You hesitated, running your fingers over the fabric. It was pretty. Maybe too pretty.

But after a second, you sighed. “It’s just… it feels like too much for a frat party.”

Billie studied you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. That’s fair.” And then, with a glint in her eyes, she turned back to your closet and started digging again. “Lucky for you, I’m a problem solver.”

You frowned. “Billie, what are you—”

Then, suddenly, she gasped. “Babe.”

You blinked as she spun around, holding up a black crop top you had completely forgotten existed.

Your sister had insisted you bring a few of her going out tops to college, saying you needed “just a few things to push you out of your comfort zone.” You had shoved them to the back of your closet the second you unpacked.

Billie grinned like she had just discovered buried treasure. “What is this, and why have you been keeping it from me?”

You bit your lip. “It’s… just something my sister made me bring.”

“Well, she was right to make you bring it.” Billie held it up to your chest and smirked. “This. With your ripped jeans. This is the one.”

You hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Billie stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Baby. You have to let me be selfish just this once. I need everyone to see how insanely hot my girlfriend is.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I swear, if I feel uncomfortable—”

“I’ll give you my jacket. Promise,” she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Now sit over here. Let me do your hair.”

You obeyed, sitting at your desk turned vanity, as Billie stood behind you, running her fingers through your hair, removing the elastic holding it up.

She hummed. “I say we ditch your cutie ponytail tonight. Let me curl it, yeah?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know, Billie, I always—”

“I know,” she cut in. “You always do the ponytail. Tonight, we’re switching things up. Trust me, babe. You’ll look so hot.”

You sighed but nodded. “Okay, fine. But if it looks bad—”

“—you’ll be the prettiest girl there,” Billie finished, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As she worked, you closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of her fingers gently styling your hair. Every now and then, she’d tuck a strand behind your ear or run her nails lightly against your scalp, and your heart would do little flips.

“That feel good baby?” She giggled at your droopy eyes and blissed out smile. All you could do was hum a response, making her giggle more.

When she finished and stepped back, she let out a low whistle. “Oh, babyyy. You look like a supermodel.”

You turned to the mirror, blinking at your reflection. The soft, cascading waves framed your face beautifully, giving you a completely different look. You looked perfect.

Billie grinned. “I might have to fight someone tonight.”

You laughed, reaching to take off your glasses, but Billie grabbed your wrist. “Wait.”

You hesitated. “What?”

She bit her lip, studying you. “Okay, yes, you look insane without them. But honestly?” She gently placed them back on your nose, brushing her fingers against your cheek. “I love your big doe eyes too much. Even when you’re looking all sexy.”

Your stomach flipped. “Billie.”

She smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, come on, supermodel. Go get dressed.”

Billie went over to sit on your bed, twirling a strand of her own hair around her finger as she watched you hesitate near your bathroom door. “Baaabe,” she whined playfully, dragging out the word. “Go put the outfit on! I need to see my sexy girlfriend in all her glory.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater. “What if I don’t feel comfortable in it?”

Billie tilted her head, giving you a soft smile. “Then we’ll find something else, no big deal. But at least try it on for me? Just once?”

You sighed, glancing at the little black crop top Billie had laid out on your bed earlier. It still felt like a lot, but the excitement in her eyes made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But if I hate it, you’re letting me wear my sweater.”

Billie smirked, crossing her arms. “If you hate it, I will personally wrap you in my jacket all night. Now go, before I lose my mind wondering how hot you’re about to look.”

You rolled your eyes, but her words sent a flutter through your chest as you finally stepped into your bathroom.

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of your mirror, smoothing your hands over your ripped jeans and adjusting the hem of the little black crop top. It felt… different. More revealing than anything you usually wore. You weren’t used to showing this much skin, and your nerves were starting to creep back in.

Swallowing, you hesitantly stepped out of your room, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt as you walked back into your room where Billie was waiting. She was scrolling through her phone, but the second she looked up and saw you, her jaw dropped.

Her mouth parted slightly, eyes dragging over you slowly, like she was committing every inch to memory. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

Your cheeks burned as you crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “Is it… too much?”

Billie blinked, shaking her head quickly as she stood and strode over to you. “Too much? Doll.” She placed her hands on your waist, fingers brushing over the bare skin between your top and jeans. “You look insane. Like, actually unreal. Are you trying to kill me?”

You let out a nervous laugh, biting your lip. “I just don’t usually wear stuff like this.”

Billie’s teasing softened into something more tender as she tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I know, baby. You don’t have to do anything different, don’t have to be anyone different. Just be you, and I promise you’re gonna turn heads the second we walk in.”

You hesitated. “You really think so?”

Billie smirked, leaning in until her lips brushed your ear. “I know so.” She let her lips linger just below your jaw, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your skin. “But don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll be right by your side all night.” Her fingers squeezed your waist. “No one gets to enjoy this view but me.”

Your stomach flipped, and suddenly, the nerves in your chest felt just a little lighter. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

✨

The house was packed. Music thumped through the walls, the bass rattling your chest, and the scent of cheap beer and too-strong cologne filled the air. Groups of people stood around, red cups in hand, laughter and drunken shouts echoing through the space.

You were definitely out of your comfort zone.

But Billie? Billie was thriving.

She was at home in this chaos, her arm draped protectively around your waist as she guided you through the crowd. Every few steps, someone would call her name—girls from her team, random partygoers who had clearly seen her dominate the field—and she’d flash them that cocky, dimpled grin, giving them a wave but never once letting go of you.

“You okay?” she murmured into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple.

You nodded, gripping her hand tightly. “Just… a little overwhelmed.”

She squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I got you, baby. Just stick with me, yeah?”

You nodded again, feeling the warmth of her body against yours.

“Now,” she smirked. “What do you wanna do first? Dance? Drink? Make out in a dark corner?”

Your face burned. “Billie!”

She laughed, pulling you closer. “What? Just putting all the options on the table!”

You huffed, but before you could respond, someone shoved a drinks into your hands. “Drink up, O’Connell!” some guy called, grinning at Billie. “And, uh— girlfriend?”

Billie rolled her eyes but took the drink. “You wish you could handle my girl,” she shot back, shoving the guy away, smirking as she turned to you. “C’mon, babe. Just one?”

You hesitated, eyeing the cup.

“Live a little,” Billie whispered teasingly, scrunching her nose and smirking, her fingers brushing against your waist.

You took a deep breath smirking a bit… and knocked back the shot.

The burn was immediate, spreading down your throat and warming your chest. You coughed a bit, eyes watering making you giggle, and Billie grinned. “Atta girl!”

One shot turned into two. Then three. And before Billie knew it, you were the life of the party.

She watched in pure disbelief as you laughed, your once-shy demeanor completely forgotten. You were dancing—actually dancing—and her heart swelled at the sight of you, all carefree and beautiful and hers.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?” Billie teased as she came up behind you, her hands finding your hips.

You turned to face her, your eyes bright and a little hazy. “You wanted me to have fun,” you giggled, your arms looping around her neck. “So I’m having fun.”

She chuckled, leaning in close. “Oh, you are something else, pretty girl.”

You smirked up at her. “Your pretty girl.”

Billie’s breath hitched. “God, I love when you say that,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

For the rest of the night, she didn’t let you out of her sight. Every time someone looked at you a little too long, she tightened her grip around your waist. Every time someone tried to flirt, she pulled you into a kiss. And when you laughed, your head thrown back, your eyes crinkling at the edges—she swore she had never been happier.

Because this? Seeing you happy, seeing you let go, even for just one night? It was everything she ever wanted.

As the party raged on, Billie tugged you into a quieter corner, tilting your chin up with her fingers. “You having fun, baby?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Mhm.”

She grinned. “Good. ‘Cause I think I might be a little obsessed with drunk you.”

You giggled. “Drunk me is fun.”

“Drunk you is so fun,” she agreed, pressing a kiss to your nose. “But I think it’s time I take my girl home before she ends up challenging someone to beer pong.”

You pouted. “But I bet I’d win!”

Billie laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, I know you would. But I’d rather get you home and take care of you.”

You hummed, wrapping your arms around her. “You’re so good to me.”

She softened, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “Of course I am, baby. You’re my girl.”

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “Your girl.”

Billie smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, she bent down so you could hop onto her back, wrapping your arms around her neck and shoulders—because, really, what better way to end the night than carrying her very tipsy, very cute girlfriend home?

���

Now, as Billie carried you out of the frat house and toward her car, you arms were slung lazily over her shoulders, keeping you close. You were still giggly, still warm from both the drinks and the buzz of the night, and Billie was eating it up.

“You, my love, were a menace tonight,” Billie teased, shooting you a sideways grin as she unlocked the car.

You blinked at her, your big, glassy doe eyes blinking slowly. “Me?” You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest dramatically. “A menace?”

Billie laughed, opening the passenger door for you. “Oh, absolutely. My shy little bookworm turned into a whole different person after those shots.” She watched as you plopped into the seat with a happy sigh, your head lolling against the headrest. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

You giggled, adjusting your glasses as they started slipping down your nose. “Maybe ‘cause I never did shots before.”

Billie smirked, leaning down so her face was close to yours. “I think I kinda liked it. My baby all carefree, having fun…” Her fingers ghosted under your chin, tilting your face toward hers. “Looking as hot as she did tonight.”

Your face burned immediately, and suddenly, the confidence you’d had back at the party fizzled out. You shrank back slightly, covering your face with your hands. “S-Stop.”

Billie just grinned, laughing as she helped buckle you in. “Oh no, no, no. You don’t get to hide from me now, sweetheart.” She tapped your knee before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

Once she started driving, the car ride was filled with your soft giggles and Billie’s affectionate teasing. At one point, your glasses slid crooked on your nose again, making Billie glance over and chuckle.

“Babe, your glasses,” she said, reaching over at a red light to gently straighten them.

You scrunched your nose. “Why do they keep doing that?”

Billie smirked. “Maybe ‘cause you had a few too many drinks and your giggling so much you keep knocking them around.”

You pouted. “I like my glasses.”

She softened, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. “I love your glasses, baby.” She tapped the frame lightly. “You know I can’t get enough of these big, pretty eyes.”

Your blush deepened, and Billie loved it.

“Okay,” she said, steering the conversation elsewhere as she drove. “Tell me the truth—did you actually have fun tonight? I know this wasn’t, like, your usual scene.”

You hummed, resting your cheek against the cool window. “I did. Like… a lot.” You looked over at her. “I’m really glad I went with you.”

Billie beamed, glancing at you briefly before turning back to the road. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers. “I even… kinda liked my outfit.”

Billie gasped dramatically. “Stop. My little bookworm liked the sexy outfit?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” Billie said, but she was grinning. “I told you you’d look amazing.”

You sighed contentedly. “And I even liked my hair…”

Billie reached over, running her fingers gently through your styled waves. “Good. ‘Cause you looked like a supermodel, baby.”

You turned your head to hide your smile, but Billie saw it. And she loved it.

When you finally arrived home, Billie helped you inside, keeping her hands steady on your waist as you wobbled up the steps. You were still giggly, still buzzing from the night, and Billie was adoring it.

As soon as she shut the door behind you, you collapsed against her, wrapping your arms around her waist and clinging like a koala. Billie chuckled, rubbing your back.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled into her neck.

She smirked. “That’s ‘cause you’re all over me, babe.”

“Mmm. I like being all over you.”

Billie’s heart swelled. She could definitely get used to this.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But before bed, let’s get some food and water in you, yeah?”

You groaned dramatically, your grip tightening. “Nooo. Don’t wanna.”

Billie smirked before effortlessly scooping you up into her arms. You let out a surprised squeak, but it quickly turned into delighted giggles as you clung to her.

“Why are you so strong?” you marveled, blinking up at her dreamily.

Billie grinned, carrying you toward the kitchen. “‘Cause I gotta carry my pretty girl around when she gets all sleepy and clingy.”

Your face burned, but instead of pulling away like usual when flustered, you just whined and buried your face in her neck. “Not fair.”

Billie just laughed, setting you down on the counter before grabbing a water bottle and a snack for you.

“C’mon, baby, drink some water for me,” she cooed, twisting the cap off and holding it up to your lips.

You pouted but took a few sips, making Billie smile.

“Good girl,” she praised, making your face burn.

After some light coaxing, you nibbled on the snack she gave you, still kicking your feet playfully. Billie smirked.

“You’re so giggly tonight,” she mused, running a hand up your thigh. “I love it.”

You giggled again. “I love you.”

Billie’s smirk softened into something more affectionate. “I love you too, baby.” She tapped your knee. “Alright, let’s get you in pajamas.”

She led you to the bathroom, where she attempted to let you brush your teeth yourself—but you kept missing your mouth, more focused on looking at her on the mirror with those big, drunk, bambi eyes.

Billie melted.

“Oh my God,” she giggled. “Okay, I gotcha, baby.”

She carefully helped you brush your teeth, laughing as you scrunched your nose at the taste of mint. When you were done, you wiped your face clean and changed into a big, soft t-shirt and sleep shorts.

Once she finally got you into bed, you immediately latched onto her, nuzzling into her chest and curling up like a koala.

Billie laughed, wrapping her arms around you. “Oh, we’re cuddling immediately, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, sighing happily. “You’re so comfy. I love you.”

Billie smiled, kissing the top of your head. “I love you too, baby.”

As you drifted off, Billie just held you close, feeling completely and utterly smitten. She loved when you got all sleepy and snuggly with her. She loved that she got to take care of you, that you trusted her this much.

Yeah. She could do this forever.

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT ONE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: You're studying on a Friday. Natalie doesn't like that.

wc: 4200 (blaze it) (im not funny)

warnings: none. I think.

a/n: happy birthday 2 me. here is another chapter. lowkey i wasnt planning on have two chapters in a row with a ? in them but oh well yolo and all that fun stuff. anyways this chapter is basically just two losers yapping (next one will b longer promise)

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK?

NEXT - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE ONE

The thing about Natalie Scatorccio is that she always seems to find you when you least expect it. It’s like she has a sixth sense, some radar that tells her exactly when you’re trying not to think about her—and then she shows up, smirking like she knows all your secrets. 

Today is no different. You’re sitting on the steps outside the library, flipping halfheartedly through a history textbook, when her shadow falls over you.

"Studying on a Friday, Princess?" She lets out a low whistle, "Now, that's tragic."

You roll your eyes and let a scoff fall from your lips, "Listen, not everyone can afford to just… throw caution to the wind or whatever. Some of us actually need to study."

Nat snorts as she fishes a cigarette out of her pocket, bringing it to her lips and lighting it, "I do study, just not on Fridays, like a nerd." She gives you a pointed glare, but it lacks any actual heat.

Without giving you a chance to object, she throws her duffle bag down on the steps next to you and sits down with a grunt. "Seriously, though." She ashes her cigarette, "Why're you sittin' alone out here, head in your…" She glances at the cover of your textbook, "history book when you could be doin' anything else?"

You shrug and close your textbook with a sigh, "I dunno. I guess it's just… the way things are, or whatever. Never really been the type of person who goes out on Fridays." Nat nods in understanding as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, "Yeah, I get that. Nothin' wrong with that. But it gets boring after a while, yeah? Doin' the same thing every week, set in some constant routine?"

"I guess," You sigh and move to put your textbook into your backpack, "But don't you have routines? I mean, soccer and all that?"

"Yeah, I got some routine. Some days, I get up earlier than others to make it to practice. Some days, I spend some time after school kicking around a ball in the field. But that's not my point." Another drag of her smoke, "My point is that you can have some routine, but life is so fucking boring if that's all your life is." She rolls the end of the cigarette between her thumb and pointer finger for a few seconds before looking at you, squinting against the harsh light of the sun that beats down from behind you. "You gotta have something to shake it up every now and then, yeah? You don't gotta go to a party every week, but what's stoppin' you from goin' to one now and then?"

"It's just never been my scene, I guess. My friends and I don't really… do parties, you know? Like, we have small get-togethers or whatever, but we don't party. Never really seen myself as a party person, either." You shrug, zipping up your bag and moving it to rest on the step in front of you, "I dunno. I guess the…" You wave your hands around as you think of the proper words to use, "loud music and annoying people isn't exactly what I consider fun." A fond shake of your head and a gentle laugh, "But, hey, all the power to you if that's what you do find fun."

"You ever been invited to a party?" Nat chimes in after considering your statement for a few seconds.

You have to think about that question for a few seconds. "Yes." You finally manage, which earns you a skeptical look from the woman sitting next to you.

"Then why'd you have to think about it?" 

"Oh my God." You roll your eyes, "Because it's been a while since I got invited to one, alright? Like I said, I don't hang out with the type of people that go to parties. So…"

Nat hums at that, seemingly accepting the answer you've given her. "Alright. So what do you do on Fridays? Or the weekend? Or whenever you aren't with your nose in some book." She gestures to your backpack and the textbook inside of it by extension. "Nothin' wrong with it, but you gotta do something else, yeah?"

A huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it, "Well, you've caught me sketching once or twice, yeah? I'm a pretty big fan of that. Uhhh…" You think for a few seconds, feeling like this is an awkward first date where the person is asking, "What do you do for fun?" and it takes everything in you not to give out the most generic answers possible. "I think I mentioned meteor showers to you before? I, uh, I like stargazing. And I guess I kinda play games sometimes? Although it's usually just… simulation games or whatever. The mindless stuff."

"Right." The girl smirks to herself as she muddles over your hobbies in her head. "Drawing, stargazing, and simulation games. Yeah, you, my friend, are a walking funfest, you know that?" One last drag from her cigarette before snuffing it out on the step, "That stuff is fun and all, but you need some more excitement in your life."

"What? Like… stealing BuzzBalls from corner stores?" A faint smirk tugs at your lips, "Or taking joyrides in stolen Maseratis?" 

"First of all," Nat cuts you off before you can continue, "It was a Mazda. There's a huge difference. Second of all…" She hums and leans back, resting her elbows on the next step up. 

She looks over you in a curious sort of way, appraising your form and being. "You could skate. Could convince Kev to teach you a thing or two at the skatepark, as long as you aren't gonna cry if you fall. If you play simulation games, you might not be half-bad at pool or darts. Hell, even thrifting or something. Refresh your wardrobe. I swear, every time I see you, you're basically wearing the same thing, just in different variants." Then, a sly grin. "But the fun stuff? Bet I could teach you to tag stuff without getting caught. You're already an artist; you should leave your mark on some places, yeah?" Her grin widens, "Maybe I could even convince you to bust into an old factory with me." A beat, "Unless… you're afraid of ghosts?" Then, she's laughing to herself.

You try to fight the grin on your face, but it's hard when you find her smile to be one of the most contagious things you've ever seen. "I'm not afraid of ghosts, thank you." A dramatic roll of your eyes earns another laugh from Nat, her smile wide and plastered on her face like she's having the time of her life. "But, also… I dunno. Maybe I could be convinced to try something new." "Maybe?" Nat parrots, still half-laughing. "Nah. I will convince you to "try something new"; you just haven't seen how convincing I can be yet." A self-satisfied grin replaces the smile she was wearing, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "And I can be real convincing, Princess."

And… yep. You're blushing again. Nat, of course, notices this. Her grin gets ten times toothier, clearly satisfied with herself, and she leans back again. "But," She shrugs—as if she didn't just fluster the shit out of you with a single sentence. "That's for a later date."

Before you get a chance to respond to that, you catch sight of two girls wearing practice uniforms approaching—a simple grey shirt with the mascot's name on it and some shorts. You've seen them around before; it's a small town, after all. 

Jackie Taylor—homecoming queen and captain of the girl's soccer team. Beside her, Shauna Shipman—who you… honestly don't know much about. You're pretty sure the two of them are best friends despite the fact that they seem like polar opposites. 

Something something opposites attract, or whatever.

"Nat." Jackie stops in front of the two of you, regarding you with a half-assed smile for a fraction of a second before turning back to Nat, "You will be at practice today, right? You aren't gonna ditch again to do—"

"Yes, Jackie. I will fucking be at practice, alright?" Nat cuts her off with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. You swear she's gonna add something else but opts against it.

"Well… good." Jackie nods, then glances at you for much longer than she did initially, a curious expression on her face. 

You don't have to guess why the expression is there, either. You aren't that dumb. You don't really look like the type of person Natalie Scatorccio hangs out with—not with your textbooks, sketchbooks, and meekness. No, you've seen the people she hangs out with. Misfits, mostly. There's that one goth kid, that guy with curly hair, and the redhead chick—who also plays on the soccer team with Nat. Then there are the… less than savoury characters. The people who she isn't seen around as much, but everyone knows she is around. Not hardened criminals per se, but people who are very, very rough around the edges. People who have longer rap sheets and far more "experience" being criminals than Natalie does.

Either way, Jackie doesn't comment on the stark difference between Natalie's usual crowd and you.

You give the team captain a tense smile as she looks at you, which she quickly returns before looking back at the girl sitting next to you, "We start in thirty."

"Yeah, I know, Princess." Natalie rolls her eyes, "I'm well aware what time practice starts, thank you."

"I was just trying to—" Jackie huffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. Be there." Then she walks off, seemingly pouting, and Shauna gives Nat a shrug in apology before following.

Once the pair are out of earshot, Nat groans and pushes a hand through her bleached hair, "See, that's someone I call a princess in a derogatory manner."

You snort, "But it's not derogatory with me?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, "With you? It just… feels right. Dunno. Like that one chick we called "Crystal the Pistol" a few times. It's an affectionate nickname, or whatever." She waves a hand dismissively, "Not my point. Point is, when I say it to you, it's…" A beat of hesitation as she tries to find the right words, "Ugh. I don't know. I'm not good with words. Just know it's a good nickname, not a bad one."

"Right." Your eyes narrow slightly at that, but you don't push the topic further.

Which Nat seems grateful for, anyway. "Anyways. What the hell were we talking about?"

"Uhhhhh… hobbies, and how mine are, apparently, drastically boring?"

"Oh. Right." She nods, thinking about the previous conversation for a minute, then she gives a fond roll of her eyes and turns to you with a soft grin, "I mean… you said it. Not me. I just said you need some excitement. I'm not the one that goes stargazing for fun."

"Right. And most of your suggestions were…" You hum in mock thought, "Illegal, no?"

"'s only illegal if you get caught, actually." Nat shoots back, "And where's your sense of adventure, huh?" She nudges you with her elbow, "Gotta live a little, Princess. I know that BuzzBall was probably the first time you've ever… partaken in something illegal."

You roll your eyes and lean your back against the railing as you turn at the waist to face her, "Sorry, I don't willingly rob stores for fun in my free time. My bad."

You think you see Nat's jaw twitch at the comment, making you think you said the wrong thing, but before you can dwell on it too long or too hard, she lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, well, certified adrenaline junkie and all that. What can I say? Robbing stores gives me a rush." But the words come out slightly strained—like she's not telling you the whole story.

She clears her throat, clearly eager to move on from that particular line of conversation. "Whatever. Still. Like I said, I can… get Kev to teach you how to skate. Or… hell, you ever kicked a soccer ball around before?"

"In PE, yeah. But that's about it."

"Hmm." The blonde considers this, "You any good at it?" You snort, "Hardly varsity material, but I'm not, like, terrible at it or anything."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can show you how to be junior varsity material. Shouldn't be that hard to play better than a few freshies, yeah? Maybe I'll even teach you some soccer tricks." She grins to herself, "Teach you the basics of freestyling soccer balls."

"Mm, promising a lot here, Nat. First, you're saying that you'll teach me to play good enough to beat some "freshies" in soccer, then telling me you'll teach me tricks?" You click your tongue, "How do I know you aren't gonna completely bail on me?" "Oh, make no mistake, I don't go back on my word. If I say I'm gonna do something, then you can bet your sweet ass I'm gonna do it, yeah?" A toothy grin, "And that's the Scatorccio guarantee."

You snort, "Yeah, you say that like your last name holds a lot of value when it comes to trust—" 

The words are meant to be teasing, they come out in a teasing tone, but you still feel like a piece of shit the second they leave your mouth.

"I… I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"Nah, no," Nat shakes her head and waves her hands, "no. Don't worry about it. I'm not mad at you or anything." A grin, likely to ease your nerves, "You're not exactly wrong either. But I'm giving you my word anyway. Which… you should take." 

"Hm." You take some mock consideration to that, "I will take it for now. But I make no promises for whether I keep it or not."

"Won't regret it." Her grin becomes slightly more genuine, "Promise."

You spend the next… ten, fifteen minutes? talking to Nat on the steps of the library, actually getting to know each other, rather than those single-minded adventures that the two of you have been on the past little while.

You trade off on the typical "first date" questions: Favourite food (Hers is apparently pizza, which you said was boring, then she rolled her eyes and dropped "Ribollita" and refused to actually tell you what that means.), fast food (Said "Taco Bell" immediately.) music (Matches her. Veruca Salt, Blondie, Nirvana, The Pixies… you get the idea. You asked her if she played the music on tape decks. She said yes. You don't know if she's joking or not.), books (She called you a nerd. Then proceeded to say, "The Anarchist Cookbook".), least favourite teacher (Mr. Miller, who teaches Auto Shop and keeps telling her repair work is sloppy.), and most importantly: the meaning of life ("ask me after I've had a tab or two"??).

After spending the past three minutes trying to convince her you don't get straight A's in every class, you decide just to show her your most recent in Physics and you… realise you left your binder in your locker.

"Crap." You sigh as you peer into your backpack, "I think I left my Science binder in my locker."

Nat snorts, "Didn't you open your bag earlier to put away your textbook? How didn't you notice it then?" "Because I wasn't thinking about it then." You sigh and close your bag, "I need to grab it from my locker. I don't—" "I'll come with you. Need to head to the locker room and change into practice gear." She cuts you off, pushes herself off the stairs, and, much to your surprise, actually waits for you before she starts walking. You try not to act surprised by this as you grab your backpack and throw it over your shoulders. When she does catch you acting surprised, because of course she does, she grins and rolls her eyes. "I said I was coming with you. Which means I am following you, and you aren't following me. Therefore, I have to wait for you. I still don't wait for people to follow me, Princess."

You can't fight the way your eyes roll and lips purse at that comment, "Right." Once you're standing, the pair of you head off in the direction of your locker.

"Dude, your locker is all the way in the old science hall? Who the fuck goes here anymore? There are zero classes near this place anymore. It must take five minutes to walk from class-to-fucking-class." She mutters, more to herself than you, and shakes her head as you two reach your destination. "Yeah, if I could have chosen my locker, it would be in the English hall. Right in the center of all my classes. I'm also pretty sure I'm the only person who has their locker in this hall." You sigh as you start to fiddle with the lock, "I've basically only seen the janitor up here. I don't know what I did to piss off whoever assigned lockers, but here I am." A sigh leaves your lips as the lock clicks open, "Admin won't even let me move lockers." Nat snorts and leans on the locker adjacent yours, "Yeah, sounds about right. They don't actually give a shit about the students here. I mean, for all the money going into athletics, you'd think they'd give us uniforms that don't chafe." An exasperated roll of her eyes, "So stupid."

"Sounds about right. Didn't the money go to the boy's baseball team or something?" She seems slightly surprised you know that but gives a nod of her head. "Uh, yeah. That's right. Which makes no sense considering we won states last year, and this year we actually have a good chance of—"

Her eyes zero in on the binder you're grabbing. "Holy shit. Is that colour-coded?" Her jaw drops in awe (or shock?), and she takes it from your hands, flipping it open. "H-o-l-y s-h-i-t. It is."

"I like having things organized by unit, whether it's a worksheet or notes!" You defend yourself, grabbing the binder back from her with a huff, "Sue me, okay!"

"Shit, I should." She lets out a low whistle, "Damn. All this for a…" She peers at the test you were going to show her, "B? Damn, Princess. That's unfortunate."

"You're making fun of me." You murmur petulantly, slamming the binder shut and shoving it into your backpack, "What's your GPA then, huh?"

Nat hums as she considers that answer, "Three point three."

"Wait." You turn to look at her, "Seriously?"

She laughs, "Yeah, seriously. I can't play soccer if I'm failing all my classes. Just because I don't show up to class doesn't mean I don't do the work for them." A roll of her eyes, like it was an obvious answer. 

"Mm. And do you do the work for them, or do you pay some unsuspecting nerd—"

"What makes you think I have the money to pay anyone to do anything?" The girl cuts you off with a snort and crosses her arms, "Trust me, I do all my work myself."

"Hey, who said anything about money?" You grin at her, "You have… dubious tendencies. For all I know, you're paying them some other way." You offer a teasing shrug, "Like stolen BuzzBalls or…" A faux gasp, "Oh my God. Am I the unsuspecting nerd?" Nat scoffs once and looks away, "Yeah, right." Another scoff. Then another.

…wait. Is she blushing? Did you just fluster Natalie Scatorccio? On accident? 

Between the way she won't meet your eyes, fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her usually pale cheeks now with the faintest hint of colour in them, and she swallows nervously? Wow. You think you did. How the tables…

You don't get too long to reflect on that before she's seemingly recovered and trying to act unaffected. "What if I am, nerd?" She leans into your personal space, "Maybe I'm looking for an unsuspecting nerd to do more than just my homework."

Now you're the flustered one. Again. "Uh—"

"I mean, think about it." She licks her lips, "The unsuspecting nerd and the resident burnout. Talk about opposites attracting. I could show you so much shit." A feral grin crosses her features, and your entire body heats up without your consent, "I could make you feel real—"

You take a step back, putting up both a metaphorical and physical space between you two. "Natalie. I don't—"

"Don't what? Oh, come on, Princess. Don't act like you haven't been thinking about it. I'm not dumb. I've seen the way you've been looking at me. Don't act like—"

You look visibly uncomfortable. Flustered, yes, but also uncomfortable. You're wringing your hands together in a subconscious act of anxiety, and whether that's because of her proximity or the situation, you aren't quite sure. Either way, Nat notices this.

You swear you see something like guilt flash behind her eyes once she realises she made you uncomfortable, but no outward attempt at an apology is made.

Natalie clears her throat and takes a small step back, the bravado dropping in an instant. "Whatever." She crosses her arms again, "Whatever. Let's just…" Her jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "Nevermind." 

There's some very tense air that passes between the both of you as you awkwardly close and lock your locker, neither of you bothering to glance at the other, letting the awkwardness fester.

It probably would have kept festering, too, had the sound of Natalie's phone vibrating not broken the silence.

"Goddammit, I swear to God if Jackie is—" Her mouth snaps shut as she looks down at her phone, and a slow grin finds its way onto her mouth. "Ooooh, fuck yes." She looks up at you, "Say, Princess, you doing anything tonight?"

"Uhhhh…" You shake your head, "No? I was just planning on staying at home and…" You shrug, "I dunno. Relaxing, or whatever."

"Mm. I have a better idea. You should come to a party tonight."

"Oh." 

"Oh? That's it?" Nat rolls her eyes, "Come on. What was it I said about needing to get out of your comfort zone? A party is the perfect time and place to do it!" She shakes her head (and hands), "Look, it's a bonfire. If things go poorly, you can just… sit and stare at the fire and ignore everyone."

An unsure breath leaves your lips as you consider all the possibilities in your head. Of course, your mind heads to the worst-case scenario first, like a completely normal person would.

"Dude, seriously." She says, softer this time. "No pressure. It's just… a bonfire party… no, get-together, with some friends. That's it, yeah? Not like the entire town is gonna be there." She reiterates, throwing some emphasis on the fact it's "just a bonfire get-together," as if that will soothe all your nerves.

More hesitation on your part, but you can't deny the curiosity that seeds its way into your mind at the idea of seeing Nat in her element for once. "I… I don't know, Nat. It really isn't my scene—"

"It doesn't have to be your scene. It's just gonna be the place you spend a single Friday night. That's it. Don't ever gotta come to one again if you decide you hate it. Won't even bring it up again. Promise."

Even more hesitation. Even more curiosity you can't shove down and hide, for better or worse.

You don’t belong in the scene she frequents. Not really. But the way she grinned—like you were some project she couldn’t wait to take on—made you want to, even if it was just for one night.

"Come on. Drinks are free. Maybe they'll have more coolers you can try. Really dip your toes into the world of alcoholic beverages." She snickers.

Man, peer pressure does work, doesn't it?

You’re not a party person. But then again, Natalie Scatorccio isn’t just a person—she’s the reason you’re even considering it.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this…" You shake your head and sigh, "But… fine. Fine. I'll… I'll go to this stupid party."

A wide grin crosses her face. Wide and very pleased with herself. "Perfect. Good choice. Best choice, really. Won't regret it, promise." She pushes herself off the locker beside yours, "I gotta get to practice. But I will… see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." You sigh reluctantly, "I will… see you tonight, Nat."

"Hell yeah, you will. Maybe I'll even convince you to crack a beer or two. Smoke a cigarette. Real delinquent shit." She laughs at that as she begins walking off toward the gym, "See you tonight, Princess!" Nat calls from over her shoulder, "I'll text you the address!"

You watch her leave, blinking a few times in shock that she was able to convince you to go to a high school party so quickly.

"Well." You mumble to yourself, "Guess senior year isn't the worst time to go to your first party." You rub your forehead, mildly frustrated with yourself and your ability to say no, "Goddammit."

Well. Guess you have a party to prepare for, huh?

a/n: can i be so real with yall for a sec

every time i type in "natalie scatorccio" on pinterest i start feeling weird after the first few minutes cus I'm like "damn I'm fr just staring at photos of sophie thatcher rn" but I suppose it could be worse. could be staring at photos of (insert ugly celebrity name here)

[st4rymoon]

⋆｡˚ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 彡

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎' 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

- 18+, unprotected sex, cream pie, nude! Videos being sent from both reader and Miguel, spanking, switch Miguel, language, teasing, riding!, bratty reader, nerdy Miguel <3, angry mig, fingering!, blowjob!, face fucking!, pet names

Part 3 of part 1 | part 2

Miguel was nothing like you imagined once you really got to know him and it came as a surprise to say the least.

It was obvious that you and Miguel were developing an unspoken relationship after he spent the night at your apartment. Although neither of you communicated about where you were headed with it, there was a change in Miguel's usual routine, even without exchanging any words.

He used to sit across the classroom, but now he was sitting right beside you. He used to eat alone most nights, but suddenly you were there by his side, eating your comfort foods together.

Neither of you thought much had changed, but the second time you sat together, your professor even brought up that the study session did both of you good.

Now you guys don’t look like you want to fight each other when when talking!

She said it with a smile on her face, suspecting that the coziness between you was more than just friends. But when it came to the presentation, she was even more amazed.

Never in her years of teaching had she stood up and clapped for a presentation but the work you and Miguel did on your topic was almost double of what she had asked for.

“What a presentation, I knew both of you would do great together and I was right!” She praised once more as both of you stayed behind to talk to her a bit.

“He isn’t so bad” you joke. Miguel on the other hand was smiling like a fool as he watched you talk on about how both of you managed to get the quality of work out in such short time. “Turns out you didn’t drop us two points” Miguel teased.

Your eyes narrowed at his words, he will never let that slide will he? “What do you mean?” The professor smiled “Nothing! He just always brings up beating me by two points on an exam” you sigh.

“Mmhm” she nodded. “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you any longer! Go on and have fun” she shooed you off just like before.

Miguel put his arm around your shoulder as you both left class. "I'm sorry for teasing you in front of her. I just like seeing you get mad," he said with a kiss on your cheek.

“Keep it up and you’ll be locked out of my apartment” you threatened. “Oh sure I will, you’ll be beggin’ me through the phone to fuck that pretty little face out the second you walk in” Miguel purred.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness “like you won’t be sending me videos of you fucking yourself with your hand pft. Fuckkk jus’ like that “ you mocked.

Even if you were making fun of him you always loved the videos he sent you but it was always fun to tease him about it. You catch yourself thinking of his hand wrapped around his cock, fucking into his fist as he whimpered your name.

You can still see the image of his pretty thick cock coated in his cum as he overstimulated himself, his voice rumbling through the phone as he panted in lust.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t honey, I’ll say it with my chest that I like fucking myself to the thought of you. And I know you loveee it when I send you videos” Miguel cooed.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, cocky as always. “I’m going home” you scoff. Miguel pouted ay mami ya sabes que nomas te quiero fregar. I’m jus’ teasing baby.

“I have one class left but I’ll meet you at your apartment yeah?” Miguel sighed in annoyance as he looked at his watch “mhm, see you there” you nodded as he pulled you into a kiss “be good” he winked as he gave a final goodbye.

The second you turned around you smiled to yourself. An idea was coming to mind.

Miguel always got bored in his English class, as it was his least favorite subject being a science nerd. You thought of repaying him for all the videos he had sent you. To do so, you decided to send him a video for the first time today.

Once you made it home, you shuffled out of your shoes and almost ran into your room. Which matching set? The red lace? Black lace? Oh! You forget about the white one you had just ordered online. They’d be perfect.

Slipping your casual panties and bra off, you semi hurriedly change into the new brand new white lace set. You glared into the mirror as the white thin lace cupped your tits perfect, the pretty pink bows on each side of the straps sitting perfect.

The panties on the other hand were a thicker material with an outer lace detailing, it covered you up but still hugged the curves of your body beautifully.

Miguel would definitely be pissed. You can see it now, his fist clenched under the desk as he tries to stop the growing bulge in his pants from growing. And oh how he hoped no one else saw what you’d sent, he’d throw a side eye back to the person behind him just to make sure they weren’t looking at his screen.

You sat yourself down onto the bed, phone in hand. You opened the camera app and were faced with the reflection of yourself on the screen. You shuffled around to get the perfect angle of your tits almost spilling out as you laid back before pressing record.

You squeezed and kneaded each breast, moaning softly and only allowing your mouth to be visible on screen. You arched and squirmed as your hand ran down your body with your phone following.

The lighting in the room enhanced the visual of your pretty cunt being hugged by the white panties. Cupping and softly rubbing your cunt before ending the video.

You watched it over and decided it was good enough to send. Within a few clicks you were on Miguel’s messages, and just like that, sent.

You smiled as the small lettering on the bottom said read within a few seconds. While he watched you’d record another, now moving your panties to the side and giving the camera a full view of your glimmering cunt.

You rubbed soft circles onto your clit, letting out a soft moan as you rolled your hips onto your fingers. You didn’t even bother watching this one as you got back into the messaging app.

You could see the bubbles typing as you sent the other video, the cover being of your fingers moving your thin panties to the side. And just like that, the bubbles disappeared.

There was no reply for a few minutes, just the read letting you know he saw it. You watched your phone, waiting for a text but to no avail. Wow.

Was he just ignoring you now? Well, you’ll make sure it bothers him even more. You went on to send him another video but now your two fingers were pumping in and out of you at a messy slow angle.

The lewd sounds of your pussy making it pornographers dream. Once you sent that one, you knew he was staring at his massages because within a second the message said read.

You thought Miguel was ignoring you but in reality he was watching the videos over and over again. Even in class he managed the hide his phone between his thighs and give himself just enough room to watch his phone. He put on one AirPod and put up the volume.

He looked around making sure no one was watching him before he pressed play. He let out an almost audible moan as he saw your tits on full display, he squirmed in his seat as you lowered the phone.

He was going to say how pretty you looked until he saw your pussy as the cover to the next video. His eyes widened as he pressed play, you sounded like a fucking dream. Miggg I miss you so much, miss you inside me

He was only 30 mintues into class and he was paying no mind to whatever the professor was talking about. Then it just got worse.

He could feel himself growing hard at the visual of your short fingers trying their best to fuck your self the way he did, your pretty little whines and whimpers only turning him on more.

Miguel shut his laptop, messily packing up his things and got the hell out of the fucking class room. He could just read up on whatever bullshit the professor was going in about.

He had a tense look on his face, his body tense and now the once tucked hoodie now hanging lower down his legs.

You sat in your bed without a worry in the world, you laughed as you imagined how painful it was to for him to sit in his class and watch you play with yourself through the screen.

You had your headphones on as you laid on your tummy, listening to your favorite song with a confident smile on your face.

The sound of the your door opening didn’t make it through the sound cancelled headphones as Miguel threw his stuff onto the ground and stomped toward your bedroom.

A loud yell echoed through your apartment as you yelled from the harsh smack on your ass. You jumped out of your headphones and sat up in a matter of seconds.

But before you could even process what had happened you were dragged onto the edge of the bed, perched up infront of Miguel as he angrily stared down at you with his arms crossed“you think that was funny huh?” Was all he said.

You tried to hold the slight giggle slipping past your lips “just a little.”

He scoffed and pulled you onto your feet “you sure do look pretty don’t you? Turn around for me” he coldly seethed “I don’t want to” you mocked with a little smirk on your face.

“You don’t want to?” He repeated before yanking you into his arms and sitting on the bed. You were giggling as he manhandled you onto his lap “why not” Miguel huffed with his hand holding your face to his “because I like how you get when I don’t do what you want.”

You know you were being a bit bratty, something Miguel had never seen to this extent but oh how he sure was loving it. “You like it when I get mad huh? Why? Because you want me to wear out that bratty little attitude? Tell me.”

Miguel was angry beyond belief. He didn’t like knowing someone could’ve seen you on his screen yet he loved knowing if they did, they’d know you were his. “I do mig, I love it when you're all big and mean” you pouted as you grind your hips onto his.

He let out a deep groan as you did so. “Then I guess I’ll be just that” he hissed while flipping you onto your stomach. You were pressed against his legs, your ass in perfect view as your head dangled besides his hip “I don’t wanna wear a peep out of you” Miguel seethed as he squeezed the fatty flesh of your ass.

He groaned as he caught a glimpse of your plump cunt “look at that” he hummed as two of his fingers pressed onto your folds, the faint wet spot on your panties making him smile.

You giggled as he cuffed your panties and dragged them down your thighs. You could feel his cock pressing onto your waist as you laid over his knee.

Miguel’s thick hand smacked down onto your ass, the harsh hit making you flinch but were quickly met with his warm hands kneading the spot right after. “How many do you think you deserve” he questioned.

“As many as you think I deserve” you cooed with your hips wiggling up in the air. You were met with a satisfied moan from above as another harsh smack hit onto your ass.

After many harsh hits, you began to regret the effort to be snarky. You underestimated how heavy his hand was as he continuously spanked you and he was fully aware of it too.

The once giggly Bratty whines from you now growing shaky and tired. “It’s too much now? You said you could take it” he chuckled. You nodded as he kneaded your ass and giving you one last smack before dipping his two fingers into your cunt.

“She’s all nice and wet for me isn’t she?” Miguel dipped his fingers slowly into your gushy cunt. His fingers were now coated in your sticky cum with each pump of his digits.

Soft whines escape your lips as he let out a needy moan. Miguel was growing impatient as his painfully hard cock strained against his jeans so he made a quick decision to flip you onto the bed.

You whined at the loss of his fingers but were met with a sight that made your thighs clench. Miguel looked completely ruined, his hair was disheveled and his glasses were on the bridge of his nose.

He looked primal with his eyes boring into yours “you really walked out of class for me” you smiled as he pulled his shirt off and moved up the bed.

He ignored your words as he ripped your legs apart and settled himself between you. His jeans were still on as he buried himself into your neck, his hands squeezing your thighs as he pressed himself onto your cunt.

“You think it was funny to send me those in class? What if someone saw them, then what would we have done?” Miguel heavily panted. “I wasn’t trying to be funny, I just wanted to show you how much I missed you” you pouted.

You could feel how hard he was trying to hold back from just fucking you into the sheets. You didn’t know why he was holding back but you could guess it was to teach you a lesson.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm”

“Then show me” Miguel smiled as he began to unbuckle his belt. He kicked his jeans off and swapped positions. His hands held onto your thighs as you sat perked onto his lap.

“Go on” he nodded. You smiled as your fingers cuffed his boxers and dragged them down his thick thighs. You licked your lips at the sight of his grithy cock, you shuffled down to your knees and glared up at him with an innocent smile.

Miguel’s hips julted up the second you held him in your hand and took him into your mouth. A gruntled moan spills from his lips as you bobbed your head up and down, tounge twirling around his base just like he loves it.

His hand flew down to your head, his right hand guiding you as his deep moans filled the room “jus’ like that bunny, o- oh fuck! Fuck jus- like that yeah” he was muttering praises as you worked your mouth around him.

You hummed as his hips began to thrust into your mouth, both of his hands now holding your head in place as he fucked your face out “oohhh fuckkkk feels so fuckin’ good love, a- ah! Oh god” he seethed.

You began to breath through your nose as you gagged with each heavy thrust “that’s it, take it” he seethed with a deadly glare in his eyes. Your hands held onto his thighs as he brutally fucked your face, but before he could cum you fully pulled yourself out of his grasp.

He groaned angrily as you moved up his hips with saliva dripping down your chin. Miguel’s eyes squeezed shut at the loss of pleasure snd before he could scold you for stopping you he was met with your pussy sleeving his cock.

“Fucking f- ah!” He seethed as you held him down by his shoulders, using his cock like your favorite toy as your hips slammed down onto his cock. You watched as Miguel’s eyes rolled back, his glasses now laying besides him as he loudly moaned.

Miguel was always amazed at the way you rode him, your hips circling and slamming onto his lap. He could hear the lewd sounds of your pussy with each thrust.

He didn’t bother moving his hips as you rode him like a a personal stallion “feels so good mig, always feel sooo good” you cried as he hit the perfect spot over and over again.

He dumbly nodded as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, even catching the way your thighs began to clench. Your nails scratched down his chest as his fat cock stretched your cunt out perfectly, fulfilling every need and desire as you began to clench around him.

“Mig mig! Miguel oh fu-“ you cried out as his angry tip hit deep into your guts. Your moans filled his ears as you gushed around his cock, Miguel finally let himself cum as you fell onto his chest. His hands held your hips tightly as he softly runts into your cunt.

The lewd sticky sounds of both of your cum sounding like heaven. His heavy breaths and moans coming to a halt as you both came down from your highs.

“Guess you did miss me” he weakly smiled, his eyes almost closed as he pated your head softly, helping you relax in his arms.



[meldoujin]

More Baby Effect WIPs

(and some nerd babble)

Hehe

Honestly when the day this chapt is out comes I'm seriously considering popping a champagne cuz it's taking so long it feels like a damn holiday

Snarky jokes appart, I'm really anxious to finish this! Plus, I'm already itching for the chapt after this one, so I went to check the comic's script and WOW. It changed a lot! Also it's bigger, has so many interactions that aren't even written down anywhere and a lot of deleted chapters.

There are some things that don't need to be written to be told and it's so fun to see them unraveling in the details.

Yes, I'm a total comic nerd

Anyway, backgrounds

No matter how wobbly they might look for me sometimes, I just love drawing random forms or anything that's just a lot of scribbles on top of the other if you look closely (I just googled it and found out you call it hatch drawing).

If I could, I'd draw everything this way. Still practicing though, and it's easier to do it as rocks/trees and other stuff. The best one I managed until now is that cave ceiling up there and the first WIP I posted. Honestly I don't even know how did I pull that out, it's just- I didn't even do any lineart or shading for it, but the scribbles made the cave's form, depth and angle so clear. It's so cool and I want to master it someday 🫡

I did try it before in BBE (very few of them looked nice) and I did it a lot in a previous one 'Haloween scare run!' . That comic is A TOTAL MESS. But eh, I like it

Like this one oh dear God the angle is so wrong ldjdrjsk but it really felt nice to scribble the trees like that

This one actually looks cool,

This panel is complicated, the trees are cool in the background but there's a lot of info and it's a bit confusing. Wait

THE HELL KDFHJREK I DIDN'T REMEMBER THIS

Get'em girlll being rotten ain't keeping you from twerking... kind of

Anyway, I'm putting a lot of myself in this chapter as you can see, and drawing it slowly is just as fun as it is unsettling XD (I want to finish ittt raaah)

I really hope you see it once it's done!

[wrongbodies]

Watch out for Keepers

Everyone told me to stay away from Swapping. I thought it was just overblown concern, exaggerated I was certain. I was so turned on by the idea though. I wanted to try swapping all throughout high school. God, it seemed so kinky. I mean I had always been a horny kid, now a horny college student. And I had the body to guarantee any guy would fuck me.

I was a swimmer, so my muscles were more toned than bulging. Hairless, I was so smooth. I loved when my fucks would run their hands over my legs and arms, surprised by how smooth a man could be.

But I wanted more than just sex. I should say, I wanted more than just sex as myself. Something about the idea of fucking in another body was just irresistible to me. I had discussed the idea with mutual friends, some family. Not how deep my kink went, just something along the line of, "I wonder what it's like to be someone else."

And that is when almost unanimously the people in my life said, "Are you kidding? It's so risky. What if they do something crazy in your body? What if they keep your body?"

I nodded and agreed usually. Swapping was pretty controversial anyways. A lot of people found it repugnant because of the little oversight Swapping had. Users of Swapping tech weren't bound by any laws. Sure, laws had been tried but the trouble was tied up in court about how to hold people accountable when they are in different bodies. And then there are the times people can't confirm someone stole their body.

I was a little afraid of it... but fuck, I wanted to do it so bad. And well, there is not much to be done when my dick overrides my mind.

So I found a guy who had the tech. He was a kinda nerdy guy on campus. He was scrawny, his clothes not always fitting right on his slim frame. He had glasses, and fairly greasy hair. We talked a lot about it before I came around and agreed to swap with him. He was gay too, I found out. And he was curious about trying his luck with the guys in a body that was eminently fuckable.

Me? I was curious about being in another body for a dry run. I didn't care that he was someone I would absolutely never fuck, let alone touch. But I suppose there was an allure in that if I am honest. Like, what would it actually be like to try and get some as a nerd? What would it feel like to orgasm in this tiny body?

So we swapped. It was insane, right away we were both clawing at our bodies. I was surprised at how his arms felt so scrawny, and pulling up his shirt his belly had a bit of a bulge. Not from fat, really. Just organs pushing out from his skinny frame.

He similarly was checking out my body. He was peeking into my jeans, smiling and chuckling to himself. We agreed to part ways and enjoy the experience for the weekend. It was only supposed to be until Sunday night, then we'd swap back. Plenty of time for the both of us to have some fun.

Until he never showed up. I started to panic when I realized he wasn't coming. I started searching around campus and finally saw him heading into my dorm. He tried to ignore me, but I got in his face. He easily shoved me, putting me on my ass.

"I don't think so, dude. I'm going to enjoy this for a little longer." He said, smirking.

I felt my eyes start to well up. What was this feeling? I don't cry! But this body was too weak, to puny to fight back. And I felt powerless... something I never had before. I stayed on the ground as he walked away. I could not utter a word, as I realized he was walking away with my body.

I wondered if he'd ever agree to swap back. The only thing I clung to for hope was he had left the Swapping machine in his room, now mine. I suppose if I got truly desperate, I could try and trick someone else into taking this body. Could I be that cruel? As cruel as this geek who just absconded with my body?

I'd just have to see how desperate I get, I suppose.

[jeleynai]

Hii hope you're doing good! Wanted to ask some things if you don't mind, if you do issok!! Just avoid this and sorry 😅

But does your art style have a name and do you have any tips on learning this type of art style? Been trying but it's been really hard and idk where or what to start on. Thank you! Love your art btw it's so breathtaking <3

I got this question ages ago and totally forgot about it until now, I'm so sorry >.> I never mind questions though!! I love nerding out about art c:

I don't think my style has a specific name? Maybe like a semi-realism type thing? (If anyone has a better way to describe it please let me know haha)

As for learning I'd recommend learning from life for this type of thing! I did a ton of photo studies (and still do).

What helped me a lot when I was starting out was doing timed environment studies. Weird I know with how many characters I draw but hear me out: When you're on a time limit (I usually set 30 minutes) you have to be a lot more intentional with the marks you're putting down so you end up waffling around a lot less over time. This also helps really hammer home how to use all your tools properly and forces you to think about your brush economy.

Here are some 30-minute environments from 2020 (I should.. do some more again, I haven't timed my plein air in a while oops)

(showing old ass art always feels a bit scary haha I'm getting old)

They're really rough but they helped me try to nail down colours and learn how to best use my brushes! I actually made a brush specifically for that image on the right before I got started on it because I knew I was going to be drawing layered stone and I wanted to prepare myself for the half-hour mad dash these things always end up being. (I named him Francis)

For more character specific things - I actually did the 100 heads challenge a few years ago and it helped TONS with getting more confident in my lines and putting down features. I'm still not a line artist or a great sketcher by an means but it helped me feel a lot more loose and relaxed when I start things!

PAINTING wise I also learned from photos and I drew from life! A good reference is honestly 90% of the battle, just make sure when you're studying or working off a reference that you're identifying what makes the image appealing and capture that as best as you can. For me that's usually the light or the mood of a reference since I'm personally drawn to those things the most. Film studies can help you LOADS with this too! Cinematographers are the composition goats.

And the main thing is try to keep having fun! Motivation and drive are SO important and something I definitely still struggle with. I started drawing originally because I wanted to draw my D&D characters and then I wanted to get better so I could draw them better. Having small goals and passions does wonders for progress! Try not to aim TOO high either, I know from experience that 'waiting until I'm good enough' for an idea can end up with just.. nothing being drawn because I don't ever feel good enough for my own ideas, if that makes sense? Just remember you can always draw it again down the line!

Art takes a loooong time to learn so be patient with yourself!

ANYWAYS super long answer I'm so sorry if anyone is still reading: hiiiiii <3

[lunabug2004]

I'mma expose myself as even more of a (basic) nerd for a sec and say I miss the Dream SMP as it was when it was at its peak. I joined at the tail end and I still miss it. As someone who has barely ever used Twitter/X, I never really saw much toxicity and just enjoyed watching my (new) favorite streamers and all their interactions. I was very much more of a Tubbo/Tommy/Jack/sometimes Ranboo watcher than anything else so when I say I miss the massive amounts of vlogs coming out I means I miss it!

Obviously, now we know that a few of the biggest people involved in the SMP are not great people, and I love how the younger members have matured and found their own paths now. I love how happy they are with where they are/what they're doing now. But that time was just so fun. And it's so interesting to go back and watch the streams and wish we could just have fun watching our favorite streamers have fun doing lore with each other again. At least I hope they were having fun...

I am also gonna be one of those people: I miss BeeDuo so so so much. They are what got me into the DSMP. And ClingyDuo is a close second now that they don't do as much content together. Again, I don't blame anybody for what I just mentioned because life happens and also again, I love how happy they all seem to be atm, so pls don't take this the wrong way. They were just my favorite duos to watch and the content with them together always cheered me up. (still does tbh.)

Anyways, I just had to rant for a little bit bc the drama going down rn (which btw f*** you dream) made me remember why I loved Tubbo so much (not that I ever really forgot, I just stopped watching him as much cuz I fell out of the phase, but still), and made me really notalgic for "the old DSMP days".

I'll stop being a weeb now. Thanks for reading. (If you did.)

Technoblade Never Dies <3

[skylarkspinner]

fiber art adventures in egypt

I recently got back from a trip to Egypt & finally got around to organizing some pictures to share. One of the things I was most excited about was seeing what I could find on fiber arts and textiles.

Dropping everything under a read more, 'cause this will be a long post haha

first visit: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC)

At the time of visiting, they had a special textiles exhibit. It covered Pharonic Egypt all the way up to modern times, although I only had time to check out the dynastic & a bit of the Coptic portion of the exhibit (which was what I was really hoping to see anyways)

Was super excited to see this diorama in person. I knew about it but had never seen good pictures of it. From the little I've seen of ancient Egyptian spinning, spinning with two spindles seems to be the norm rather than a master technique? It also shows up in tomb art, which the exhibit also shared:

They also used a different fiber preparation (splicing to create a rove of fiber, no traditional drafting to my understanding) so that probably made a difference? Regardless I really want to see if I can replicate the technique, especially because their spindles look so similar to modern spindles??

I took so many pictures of spindles, guys, and I fully intend to either have a few replicas made or to learn to make some myself. Also, although they were unlabeled... I'm pretty sure those are beaters for weaving? That was a bit of a trend with this trip, so much stuff was unlabeled :( I would've killed to at least get some date estimates for some of the stuff they had on display. I was nerding out in here though, and my family took a few pictures of how excited I was getting. A bit embarrassing, but eh haha

The exhibit also had a section on natural dyes used with a fun visual;

There was several diagrams specifically describing each dye source, but in the interest of not overloading on pictures I'll just list them out. For blues; woad, Yellows; turmeric, safflower, saffron, or yellow ochre; reds; madder, henna, pomegranate, and kermes. I originally thought kermes was another way to say cochineal, but it only seems to be distantly related.

next visit: Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center

A small art center dedicated to hand-weaving wool and cotton tapestries. All of their work was museum quality & awe inspiring!!

Was even invited to their back rooms to watch a few of their weavers working; no I don't have room to put a room-sized loom anywhere but heck do I want one now

Our guide that took us through talked a bit about the natural dyes they use (all of their dyes are dyed in house with what they grow in their dye garden!!!) and got excited to hear I was also interested in natural dyes! He seemed a bit disappointed I'd never worked with indigo and. while indigo scares me, I'll take it as a sign that maybe I should try some time this year haha.

final visit; the Egyptian Museum

we really had to rush through this one which was a huge shame because it's packed full of artifacts. Also, the lighting in there is atrocious, so apologies for the not great pictures ahead.

They had a fascinating display of textile tools, more than what the NMEC had;

(Hand for size reference) I want all of these spindles! So badly! But a few of them look so much like a few of the spindles I own already?? A few of them had a spiraling notch, that's so cool? But also, what's going on with the one with two whorls? I have no idea. I'm fascinated.

Look at these whorls!! Although again, I'm a bit confused; the lack of labeling strikes again. Unsure why some of these "whorls" have two holes, or what the metal object with the wooden handle is. The display implies sewing needles, and some of them do look like it, but others.... really don't look like sewing needles. I'm absolutely enchanted by this little whorl though. I think it has birds on it?

More objects that I'm baffled by- the signage doesn't really indicate what some of this stuff is, if it's even known. Also confused by the object wrapped in white string in the right pic; it looks like a distaff but to the best of my knowledge the (ancient at least) Egyptians didn't use distaffs. It probably popped up in later times and was put in this display since it was still relevant, but I'm still not sure.

I have so many more pictures & thoughts but I'll save those for more specific future projects. I've been doing research outside this trip on ancient Egyptian spinning techniques and desperately want to go deeper into that, this trip just solidified how excited it makes me. If you made it all the way through this, many thanks for reading!

Bonus; look at this ancient linen 🥺

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"THAT'S IT BABY"

I wrote another story with Dave 😉

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

You didn't know exactly how you had ended up in the library with the class nerd, listening to him as he talked about fish.

You read that right, yes.

Despite everything you had heard about him and his obsession with superheroes, you didn't know that his other big interest was the ocean.

You listened to him for a couple of minutes, which later turned into hours and you… just watched him without understanding half of the things he was saying, but he was so handsome that it was impossible for you to look away.

He of course wasn't aware of his attractiveness, which you didn't understand because, if you had his looks you would certainly wake up with some self-esteem in the mornings. You focused on him as he continued to explain:

-Puffer fish don't look like that when they are in their habitat - he pointed to the drawing in the book resting on the table in front of them - this is a lie. Biologists believe that the puffer fish developed its famous ability to inflate itself because its swimming style is slow and clumsy. That makes them vulnerable to predators. Instead of escaping, the puffer fish uses its elastic stomach and its ability to quickly ingest large amounts of water (and even air if necessary) to turn itself into an almost incredible ball that doubles its normal size several times. Some species also have spines on their skin to avoid being eaten –he pointed at the image– this one doesn’t have spines, therefore the information in this book is not correct

-You should file a complaint to the authors then –you smiled amused, seeing how he nodded his head-

-Maybe I will –he murmured shyly– sorry, I’m getting off track…

-It’s okay –you assured– you’re very cute when you talk about what you like –you added, making him blush slightly–

-I didn’t expect that –he whispered– especially when I’ve been talking about sea creatures for the last half hour. W-what do you m-mean by cute? –he questioned, his voice shaking as he spoke due to nerves-

-You concentrate a lot –you shrugged- I don't know, I find it adorable

-I guess I do –he mused out loud- I can't help it, the ocean is just really cool –he smiled shyly- Well, it's a lot more than just the ocean, but that's my new hyper fixation for now –he said- Do you want to know a strange fact? I was just watching a documentary…

-Don't lie to me –you murmured, he shook his head negatively-

-I never do –he assured you while frowning- Are you trying to make fun of me, or something?

-No –you said innocently, seeing the blush on his cheeks-

-If you're doing it –Dave retorted- you tell me that I'm adorable and that you like my smile, and you're looking at me with those huge eyes a-a-a-a-a-you do all that w-when you're trying to make fun of me –he said making you smile- all that while you slowly get closer to my face Your face was close to his, not enough for you to breathe the same air, but enough for him to be aware of your sudden closeness.

-Y-yes like that –he stammered- You're just proving what I said before! –he exclaimed nervously-

-You're red –you observed, and when you said it you swore that his face lit up even more-

-Of course I am! What other color would I be if not? Blue? -he questioned trying not to make eye contact- I-I c-can't h-help it, y-you, I-I Ugh! -he said tired of his own babbling- anyway it doesn't matter -he murmured- you're so…

-You're very adorable, Dave -you repeated-

-Stop saying that! -he exclaimed looking at you- you don't even know what you're doing, you're just playing with me. You don't understand! -he murmured- I-I would explain it to you i-if I could, but you know I'm not good at expressing myself -he said, you nodded with understanding- although I'll try to do it in a way that we both can understand -he whispered- wait, what am I doing? No, I won't -he suddenly changed his mind- You're doing this to have fun at my expense!

-You said you would explain it -you remembered- now you have to do it

-God! You're so stubborn… -he muttered, tilting his head for a moment- okay wait, give me a second to think

-I got it! -he exclaimed- you know the anglerfish, right? Well, most of the photos we see are of the female anglerfish -he said- in this situation it would be you

You couldn't help it, you laughed. The fact that he was comparing you to a fish was hilarious to say the least.

-Don't laugh! -he complained- I'm trying, besides this is what you wanted

-You're also adorable when you get frustrated -you teased him, making him shake his head-

-It's not -he murmured- let him continue -he asked, you nodded, willing to listen to what he had to say- the male anglerfish is smaller than the female -he stopped- let's say that's me. M-maybe, m-maybe. The female has all these good qualities, sharp teeth, big eyes, you know, all the good stuff and the male is just… there, it's like he's just an accessory to the female, so much so that when the male anglerfish is… he takes his mate, prevents the female from performing any functions other than reproductive, he's just t-there to b-breed

He watched you for a moment before letting out a nervous laugh

-You're probably lost, this isn't the best way to explain it, the truth -he said, as if he were apologizing- is that you're so cool, and funny, a-and every time you tease me I feel small and embarrassed and it makes me feel clumsy when I just want to…

-Say it -you whispered, watching him closely-

-Do I have to? –he questioned, you nodded- okay –he rubbed his eyes with his index finger under his glasses before confessing- I want to fuck you –he murmured, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran through you, he continued talking- every time you tell me I'm adorable, I just want to kneel down and let you take me –he whispered- it makes me so horny when you mess with me, which makes me want you to use me, drain me and let me fill you, and…

You interrupted him by placing your lips on his. A murmur escaped his lips as you kissed him. You felt the bridge of his glasses press against your nose, but you didn't care, you just wanted to keep kissing him, and for him to do it too.

-Don't play with me like that - he complained with a trembling voice - don't kiss me unless you really want to, please…

This time the kiss was more intense, you moved your lips more intensely against his, making him gasp into your mouth.

-You have to be quiet - you reminded him given the place where you were-

-I will - he assured - but please, keep kissing me

And that's what you did. With each kiss his breathing was becoming more and more erratic.

His lips moved against yours with inexperience, but thanks to your instructions he was getting better at it, so soon you were also sighing against his lips.

-Touch me - he gasped looking at you in desperation - put your hands on my chest, please, do something - he murmured nervously - God, you're going to drive me crazy

You let out an amused giggle, to which he responded by blushing again.

-Don't laugh! I'm sensitive! -He whispered- I've wanted this for so long that I can't help it- he added, looking at you intensely- the way you were kissing me makes it so I can't think clearly- he confessed, making you smile before kissing him again-

A murmur escaped from between his lips when you did it again. You lightly tugged at his lower lip between your teeth, making him moan against your mouth.

-T-this is t-too much - he whispered, separating himself for a moment- I-I need to be inside you, fuck - he growled, making you shudder at the rawness of his words, since you would have never expected something like this from him- I want to keep touching you like this while I pump my fucking seed inside you, but at the same time I want to taste you - he confessed - I'm dying to do it, you have no idea how much… - He kissed you - I just want to adore you - kiss - I want you to use me - kiss - I can't concentrate on kissing you and talking at the same time - he kissed you again - I just need you to know - kiss - how much I need you - he whispered - please let me taste you - he begged, his big blue eyes boring into yours, as if he were a lost puppy - please…

You nodded shakily and he got on his knees in front of you. You almost moaned when he did it, because who would have expected that the class nerd was actually so needy?

His fingers reached the bottom of your skirt, making you shiver at the touch of his fingers.

“Can I lift it?” he asked kindly, you nodded again.

You leaned against the table behind you when his fingers tangled in the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down your legs until they were on the floor at your feet.

“You're already very wet,” he observed, looking at you intently. “Maybe you want this as much as I do, after all,” he murmured, not quite believing it. “Do you need me, is that it?” he questioned. “Do you need my mouth?”

“Yes, I need it,” you affirmed desperately. “Please, Dave, please…”

A squeal came from between your mouth when he kissed your sensitive lips.

His tongue moved expertly over them, leading you to think that he had watched a lot of porn and youtube tutorials to know how to do it that way.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, leaving a kiss dangerously close to your knot of nerves, “you are so hot against my mouth…” he murmured. You brought your hands to his hair and tugged at the curly locks when he pulled your clit between his teeth, while kissing it. A gasp left his lips, as he did not expect the sudden tug.

He looked up at you, while a half-smile spread across his lips.

“It’s okay, calm down,” he whispered. “I-I like it,” he confessed. “Can you keep doing it, please?” he added, you nodded. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, making you gasp.

You moved your hips against his face, earning an affirmation from him.

-That's it, move against my tongue - he ordered softly - that's what I'm here to do, darling.

"I feel good," he murmured, kissing the inside of your thighs.

His kisses were increasing in intensity at the same time as his touches, so it didn't take you long to feel that pressure in your lower abdomen, which indicated that the limit of your pleasure was quickly approaching.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked, looking at you carefully.

"You're doing very well, Dave," you moaned. "You're a good boy."

"I'm your good boy," he repeated as if it were a mantra. "Tease me, laugh, I don't care," he murmured. "Tell me what you want," he kissed you. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Please keep kissing me, don't…" you gasped. "Don't stop, Dave."

"You're shaking," he observed. "Are you getting close?"

"Yes," you nodded, just as he had said, your legs were shaking due to the pleasure you were enduring.

"Am I going to make you cum?" Really? –he asked timidly, you nodded again-

-Do it on my tongue –he asked making you moan- please, show me how good I make you feel

You pushed against his face, he took everything you offered him, kissing and licking you up and down until there was not a piece of you left untouched.

-That's it baby, fuck my face, smother me between your thighs –he moaned when you pushed your hips against him again- take all of me, use me –you gasped holding onto his hair again- please, cum on my tongue, please… -he whimpered-

Without warning, you unloaded against him. You tried to regain control of your body and your breathing, at the same time that he separated from you and watched you closely.

-You came so hard- he said haltingly-

-Are you excited?

-Of course I am- he murmured- I've never been so hard in my entire life- he laughed nervously-

-Is it because of me?- you asked, he looked at you as if you were an entity from a parallel reality-

-Of course it's because of you- he said as if it were obvious- of course it is- he added in case there was any doubt-

You took his hand firmly, he stared at you.

-Where are we going?- he asked as you led him through the library- You didn't answer, you concentrated on remembering the way and when you reached the room you were looking for, you closed the door with the latch that was on the inside.

-This room has been abandoned for a long time - you explained - my friend Cassie lets me use it sometimes

-I see - he observed -

You looked at each other for a moment, before you nodded to the chair in the center of the room.

-Sit down - you ordered firmly, he did so without saying anything -

-I can't believe this is finally happening - he whispered - I've been wanting you for a long time, and now that you're in front of me is a shock to the senses - he laughed nervously -

You slowly took off the rest of your clothes under his watchful gaze. Dave’s blue eyes slid down your body before coming back up to your eyes

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured so gently that you wanted to cry. “The way you look at me makes me feel like butter,” he laughed. “I know it’s a bad comparison, b-but I c-can’t think straight when you’re naked in front of me,” he murmured, “when I can see every curve, stretch mark, and scar, all at my disposal.”

“Dave?”

“Mhm?”

“Take off your clothes,” you asked politely. He looked at himself for a moment as if he didn’t remember he was wearing them and nodded slowly. “Sure m-my c-clothes,” he stammered, kicking off his shoes and pants, making you laugh. “When he was just like you, you did the same thing he had done to you, look at him. He was… perfect, was all you could think to say. His silver glasses were a little crooked and his blue eyes were shining as he looked at you again.

“I’m yours,” he said softly. “Please do whatever you want with me, use me,” he murmured nervously. “Oh my god, this is serious,” he realized then. “It’s so much better than my dreams,” he blurted out, making you laugh.

Within a few seconds, you had taken him in your mouth, and he was the one grabbing your hair. His gasps and moans filled the room, which you felt like music to your ears.

“Your mouth…” he growled. “It’s so… warm,” he murmured. “All those nights in my bed pleasuring myself with your hand while I imagined it was your mouth,” he confessed, making you gasp against him. “Shit,” he whimpered as you pushed him a little deeper into your mouth.

“Please…” he panted. “Oh my god, fuck!” “He cried out as he panted, his lips parted in a silent moan. “Please don’t stop… please…” He opened his eyes wide as he felt you slowly slowing down, just what he didn’t want you to do.

“Why are you stopping?” he asked, trying not to sound desperate (it didn’t work) “I need your mouth on me again, please…” he whimpered, you loved watching him beg.

That was what he wanted, so that’s what you did. He gasped as you took him back into your mouth. His hands returned to your hair as a new moan escaped his lips. He whimpered, and you felt him swelling against the back of your throat.

“Can you feel me?” he asked between gasps. -I need I-I'm going to… -you slapped his thigh- y-yes I'm a good boy, just for you- he groaned- Oh my god, I'm so close… I think I'm going to…

He didn't have time to say anything else. He came without warning, filling you just the way you both wanted. He gasped when you pulled out. His gaze focused on you and you did the same with him.

-You're so… you're… -he started, unable to put together a coherent sentence- I… you…

-I know, Dave –you smiled- me too

[cucumbermelona]

keegan x gn!reader

fluff || wc: 934 summary: you settle in for a long night of homework, but a familiar knock keeps you occupied instead.  a/n: my first story ! i am so used to writing on wattpad and creating multi-chapter stories, this was definitely different than the usual :3

A familiar knock on your window disturbs you from your routine studying. With a sigh, you push your chair back, leaving your desk behind. You approach your window and unlock it. As you push it open, Keegan quickly enters your room. 

“You do know we have phones, right?” you ask, crossing your arms. You watch as he dusts himself off, standing up.

He turns to you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, but it’s more fun to do it like this… just like in high school.” He chuckles.

“And in high school, we also had phones.” You retort, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Then you should know how I am.” He shrugs, walking over to your bed. He flops down, as if it was his own. You roll your eyes at his antics and make your way back to your desk. You still had some homework to complete, and you weren’t going to let him lose your focus.

Keegan watches you sit back down at your desk. “Whatcha doin’ anyways?” He asks you.

“Homework… Don’t bother me…” You mumble, trying to focus. It wasn’t uncommon for Keegan to pester you when you were trying to get work done. He loved having your attention, even if it meant annoying the hell out of you.

“Yeah, yeah… you’re always so serious when you do your work,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Can’t I slightly disturb you while you work?”

There’s a moment of silence before you grumble and roll your eyes, “Whatever..” 

He grins, amused by your response, he loves to get on your nerves. He gets up from your bed, walking over behind you and peering over your shoulder to look at your homework. 

He chuckles, “Gosh, you’re such a nerd. Always doing your homework and studying…” He teases, ruffling your hair.

You scoff at his action. “And you’re such a pain…” You mutter, lightly swatting his hand away from your head, refusing to look away from your work.

He laughs, “I take pride in being annoying.” He rests his chin on top of your head, still looking at your work. “I’m still surprised you’re so book-smart.”

You roll your eyes at his ‘compliment.’ “I’m trying to get a degree, I kinda need to be smart in this work.”

“Good point,” he smirks, “You could also just marry a rich person so you don’t have to work, y’know.”

“No thanks, I want to work.” 

His smirk widens at your response. He found your dedication to working and being independent admirable. He also couldn’t help but find it adorable, as well. “Oh, yeah? You like the idea of working yourself to death?” 

“Says the one who signed up for the military.” You mumble.

He chuckles, tilting his head to the side, before leaning his cheek against the top of your head now. “You think so little of me… They’re going to pay me well.”

“You’ll only get paid well if you lose a limb or something.” 

He shrugs, his cheek still pressed against your head, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, especially if it means I can provide a good life for myself.” 

Keegan lifts his face off your head and gently ruffles your hair again with his hand. “Besides,” he starts, grinning, “if I want someone to worry about my life, I know where to find a certain person to do that.” 

“Yeah? Surely not me..” You say bluntly. Your words were far from the truth. You knew you’d be anxiously waiting for a call or text at the end of every night.  

“Oh, c’mon, you’d miss me, whether you want to admit it or not,” He teases. 

You stay silent, not wanting to prove him right. You were well aware that if you said what he wanted to hear, you would never hear the end of it. 

He notices your silence but decides to keep teasing you. He leans in closer, his head now beside yours. “C’mon, admit it. You’d miss me.” He presses his cheek against yours. “You’ll be counting the days until I come back, worried every second that something might happen to me. And when I come back, you’ll be running up to hug me and never let go.” He chuckles, bringing his arms to wrap around you, squeezing you playfully. 

“Keep dreaming..” You huff, the heat in your cheeks betraying your words. 

“Oh come on, you know you can’t resist my charms. You’ll be missing me so much you won’t know what to do with yourself.” He knows exactly how he makes you feel. He just enjoys hearing your failed attempts of denial.

“I’ll finally get some peace and quiet. No one sneaking through my window at odd hours.” You mumble. However, you’ve grown quite fond of his playful and rebellious behavior. You were sure to miss nights like these, Keegan at your side. 

He laughs at your comment, still holding you. “Admit it, you’ll miss me teasing you all the time.”

“Just a little…” You say, your words softer now. Although you don’t reveal the whole truth, you suddenly feel vulnerable after your verbal confession. 

His playful grin melts into a soft, genuine smile. He knows you weren’t one to display your feelings towards him so easily. 

“Y’know… I’m gonna miss this too.” He replies with the same softness as your own words. He loosens his hold on you, his playful behavior completely replaced with the rare tenderness you rarely see in him.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Neither of you needed to say anything. The simple confessions the two of you shared were enough.

[busket]

gravity falls rant, cw sexual assault and harassment

seeing the gf fandom do a full 180 on billford is so odd to see and kind of infuriating because I had so many nasty rumors and lies spread about me in 2015-2018 because I liked them as bitter exes. a callout google doc was made and I never read it, but I know it framed me as a creep and an abuser. all because I thought a cartoon nerd and a triangle had a fascinating dynamic that was dark and compelling

in 2017 or 2018 someone sent like 70 messages to my curiouscat just repeating RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST over and over again. I'd never even had sex at that point, and I had just cut my dad out of my life for actually being a pedophile and a rapist. so that was traumatizing! that really hurt me!

I also know it was because I had a NSFW account where i drew porn (i was an adult, i was clear i only wanted adults following me. and I still do draw nsfw, I'm not ashamed of that now but these folks made me ashamed of it for years) that included some porn of trans men, like Stanley or Stanford as trans men (NEVER together bc I've always been staunchly against incest or pedophilia ships) and these people framed me as a transphobe and a transmasc fetishist

well obviously I'm a trans man now and I didn't know it at the time but those drawings were a way to explore my own relationship with gender. I even look like Stan and Ford now, obviously i latched on to them as trans men because I wanted to BE them. but I believed it when people called me a piece of shit, I assumed all trans people would despise me too and I'd committed a horrible sin and it forced me back in the closet for another 5 years.

the people doing this were teenagers at the time, a few I thought were my friends/mutuals, and they made that part of my life kinda miserable. I was already miserable with other shit going on in my life. I ignored most of the harassment to make myself uninteresting and to avoid the possibility of becoming a lolcow but it involved anonymous messages both on tumblr and curiouscat, I even got a few emails just mocking me. even in 2019 when some people were like "oh yeah she's moved on to moomin, this is what her art looks like now, I can't look at it without thinking about how much she loves rape :/" which was NEVER true!!! I liked Ford and Bill as bitter exes but it was always consensual in my mind.

Anyway I don't ever expect or even want an apology. I'm sure they don't realize what an effect that harassment had on me during literally the darkest years of my life. to them they were just teasing a weird girl on the internet for fun, or very seriously warning their friends against whom they'd been lied to about being an abuser, but I was a closeted trans man trying to finish college, my home life was abysmal and abusive, I hated myself, i hated my body, my only friends were online, and when I'd log on for some escapism I was met with another message like "hey, you should block this person. they're saying some really cruel things about you on their account. I know it's not true but it looks like some people are believing it."

gravity falls was so important to me as a show since oregon is my home and it felt so authentic to my own childhood being interested in cryptids and going camping and visiting shit like the Oregon vortex as a child. but the fandom was the worst I've ever been in. it ruined my enjoyment of media online for years. so idk. I guess I feel somewhat vindicated but it would also be nice to get those years back and not be harassed and bullied online about something so stupid and unimportant

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Stan dressing as Princess Unattainabelle for Ford on their anniversary is stuck in my head

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS TOOK SO LONG I PUT THEM IN THE CORNER THEY'RE THE WORST I NEED A NAP TW GRUNKLE FUNKLING TW FEMINIZATION TW FANGIRLING DURING SEX TW CUM MARKING

A corset is basically a girdle if Stan doesn't think about it too hard, and yeah, maybe his rugged long pirate hair looks kinda nice with some conditioner for once and with a few little braids that had taken way too long because it was slightly harder than braiding a squirmy 12 year old's full mop. Stan still thinks he looks ridiculous. At least at that bar in 77' being ridiculous was part of the fun, now Stan was flipping through Ford's game manual looking at pictures of a very disproportionate basement dweller's idea of what a woman looks like and realizing this is one of his worse ideas. Not as bad as the llama incident but up there.

Firstly, he was fat. No getting around it, the corset was almost worse than the girdle, at least the girdle didn't have spaces in the sides where hips should be and love handles are instead. Secondly, the part of the dress supposed to be filled out were indeed filled out except with saggy old man tits instead of, you know, anything that could hold a shape that wasn't sad and droopy like two rotten pears stuffed in his bodice. Thirdly, his hair was thin, started thinning in his twenties and never came back fully, and it looked even worse trying to look anything like the picture, weighing itself down with the braids and making his hair look greasy and his forehead too prominent and it was just a terrible look for him. He didn't do regency, even in 77' his appeal was new money gold-digger, not fucking princess.

But Stan had already bought the shit, and it was Ford's returnaversary, and Stan would be dammed if he didn't at least get a laugh from Ford after spending so long on the stupid hair and the stupid makeup and the stupid dress he had actually liked until he saw himself in the mirror.

Stan knocked on their bedroom door to get Ford over from their tiny kitchenette. "Hey, Sixer!"

Ford's steps were almost silent as he went over and tried the locked handle. "Yes?" He asked.

"Where were you in your nerd game again?"

"DDnmD? I had to stop right before I got to Princess Unattainabelle and the final boss fight with Probabilator - why do you ask?"

"This princess - she, like, on the boss's side?" He asked, knowing the answer.

"Certainly not, she's been kidnapped and tied up behind a puzzle door. Why? Do you want to play?" Perfect, Stanley just needed some rope and Ford's desk chair. He grabbed the emergency rope - there probably wouldn't be an emergency in the next few hours.

"Remember what I said about Never?" He asked, setting up the chair to face the door without letting it drag on the floor.

Ford sighed. "Really, you indulge in the kids' interests, why not mine?"

"I'd say I indulge you more than enough already, Poindexter." He said, tying his torso around the chair back - not much, just enough he couldn't lean forward or slump back.

"But you won't try just a single game with me? You know how hard it is to play by myself? I know all my plot twists."

Stan tightened the rope around his hands, behind his back and doing something good to his posture. "You know what? Fine, but I'm not getting up, so we're playing in here."

"That suits me perfectly, my manuals are in there anyway." Ford tried the handle. "Stanley? It's locked."

Stanley nearly giggled evilly, but kept it down. "The hell? No it's not." He said, knowing full well it was. Take that for a puzzle door.

Ford tried the handle again. "Stanley, its definitely locked."

Stanley didn't care to keep the smile off his face. He put the slightest fringe of panic into his voice. "Sixer?" He said, and he could hear Ford's posture shift. "The door's stuck - there's, like, weird runes on the door? Did you put those there?" He lied.

Ford jiggled the handle harder. "Stanley? What do you mean 'runes'?"

"Six if it wasn't you who the fuck put these symbols here and why the fuck can't I open the door?" He asked. "Is there someone in here..?" He put the slightest tremble in his voice with an evil, evil smile.

Then Ford was stomping around, probably looking for Stan's lockpicking set.

Then there was a second of silence followed by a loud bang as the doorknob blew off the door with one of Ford's scifi guns. Well. That works.

Ford kicked in the door, gun still raised, but the second his eyes landed on Stan he froze.

Stan faked a little struggling that was mostly arching his back. "It was Probabilator! He said he wouldn't let me go unless I agreed to marry him!" He whined like a prissy princess, waiting for the laugh, the 'What the hell are you wearing Stanley?', the threatening to get pictures.

But when he peeked at Ford from where he'd dramatically closed his eyes and thrown his head back, Ford was still just staring at him. Shame curled under his confined ribs. Maybe it wasn't even funny, maybe Ford could tell how much time Stan spent on his stupid outfit and just thought he looked pathetic. Maybe he was trying to think of how to politely leave to throw up. Maybe this was the last straw for Stanley "Try Hard" Pines and Ford would avoid looking at him directly until he could throw him into the nearest land mass where he could be a gross old man in a dress away from Ford's precious retinas.

Ford took slow steps forward and Stan waited for the laughter or the questions or the slap in the face, eyes closed and head turned as far away as he could while he tried his best to pick at his own damn knots around his wrists.

Then a wide palm was on his cheek. "Princess." Ford crooned, a thumb running along his cheekbone while Stanley very carefully opened his eyes to face him. "You're safe now, I've come to rescue you, my lady." He said, voice soft and gentle like the 'I love you's he'd mutter on the bad nights.

Stanley blinked at Ford, down on one knee, and struggled for a second to find any good reaction to that. He swallowed heavily and got back into character. He tilted his head down like a blushing virgin, pushing his chest out further. "Thank the gods, I was beginning to think all hope was lost before you found me, hero." He said, not bothering to pitch his voice up to keep it from cracking. Ford didn't seem to mind at all, eyes still flicking around to different details of his appearance.

"Of course, my lady, I could never allow for your virtue to be stolen by the likes of Probabilator." He said, and if Stan hadn't gotten into his period dramas he would not have known what 'virtue' meant.

Stan hadn't been a virgin since he was thirteen, he certainly couldn't stay one with some of his past careers. But, the thought send a shiver down his spine. The idea of Ford being his first, instead of Coach's daughter that in hindsight was way too old to be sniffing around the middleschool. The idea of Ford being his only, and not the clients he couldn't count because when you're high enough you lose track. Just Ford.

He turned his head away, putting a hesitant look on his face because Princess Unattainabelle didn't say 'Fuck Yeah'. "Thank you, you're right. My virtue is to be earned by someone deserving."

Ford licked his lips. "Of course."

"Someone heroic, and strong, and kind - willing to brave that villain's lair just to save me." He said, eyes away and trying very hard not to smile.

Ford practically had stars in his eyes, fifteen again and looking at the telescope Stan stole for his birthday, a red flush up his forehead and burning his ears. "I agree. You deserve only the best, my lady."

Stanley sighed. "But I will never receive it." He said, face dramatically tilted away, straining the ropes to keep his back arched and his chest out brazenly. "That villain will never cease while my virtue remains, how can I hope to marry when I cannot even hope to stay safe from him? When he will hunt me until he has me for only himself? " He batted away nonexistent tears.

"He cannot hunt a virtue you do not have." Ford said faintly, and if it were anyone but Stan it would have sounded like an accusation instead of a proposal. Luckily, Stan knows Ford and his inability to not sound like an asshole.

Stan gave his brother a shocked look. "Do you mean-- here? Now?" He asked, sounding agast at the idea he'd been hinting at.

Ford stood, and with Stan tied to the chair he loomed. "My dear, once my claim is staked you will never worry for your safety again. I will protect you with my last breath if you allow me." He purred.

Stanley looked up at him, wide-eyed like a wounded deer. "Please." He said, voice low. "Be gentle with me."

Ford broke. "God, Stan." He huffed while he dropped back to his annoyingly good knees, pushing up Stan's skirts and kissing up his thighs until he was mouthing at Stanley's boxers, half-hidden under the fabric while Stan hummed and rolled his hips against Ford's mouth.

Ford yanked his boxers down and immediately snatched him and swallowed his tip, rolling it with his tongue, shallow sucks and kitten licks that made all the layers feel a thousand times hotter. He huffed, knowing a Princess wouldn't knee Ford in the shoulder and tell him to stop fucking around, but with the rope he couldn't push forward at all. Ford pulled back a little and kissed right against his slit and Stan realized Ford was treating his cock like a clit. He would not admit the noise he made at that realization but it had Ford petting his thigh and shushing him, drawing back and making Stan wonder what he did wrong.

Then Ford's head finally got out from under his skirts, and Stan's hands jerked in his annoyingly good knot trying to reach for him. His whole face looked sunburnt, glasses sitting crooked on his nose, hair a static mess, and a little giddy smile when he took Stan in again. Stan wanted nothing more than to drag him forward and kiss that stupid look off his face. But instead, Ford slid his hand up his thigh and to the rope keeping him to the chair.

Ford's hands were quick on the knots, not a second to slip or hesitate, no wasted movement, the ropes fell to the floor quicker than they'd been tied and then those hands were on his corset, running over details with his fingers. Stan shifted, tried to sit straighter, legs together and politely to the side even if his bare dick was itching at his soft cotton slip and visibly tenting his skirts.

Ford stood straight and moved, Stan tried to figure out how to show him his bound wrists when suddenly there was an arm behind his shoulders and under his knees and the next second he was out of his seat. He looked up at Ford, who looked like Stan's weight didn't matter at all, like Stan was that waify little princess in his book. He felt himself curl the longer he spent off the ground, shake and awkward while Ford carried him, but it was only for a few seconds before Ford laid him out on their bed like a fragile little thing he'd never been before.

Fingers were in his hair, fiddling with the little braids while the other hand started running up his thigh. "So perfect." He muttered, and it stabbed Stan the same way it always did, right under the lungs, making his breath stutter. "My lady, your beauty is beyond measure."

Stan's whole face was hot. "Is it?" He asked, goading Ford with a bashful look.

"Of course." Ford kissed his cheek. "Wars have been started over your beauty, and they would never end if they saw you now, with your silver hair and freckles and broad shoulders and..." His eyes trailed downward. "And the way you spill out of your dress..." He crooned, lips pressed against the hairy cleavage Stan couldn't properly fit in the bodice. "Having you after all the years I spent loving you, it's incredible."

Stan's throat was tight. "Could you untie my wrists?" He pleaded. "So I can show you how much I love you back?"

Ford's lips curled in a smile against his chest, and he pulled away enough to help Stan flip onto his stomach to get at the rope.

A thumb ran along his wrist just under the rope, before Ford covered Stan like a blanket, hands on his sides and lips on his ear with that smile still on his face. "No, my love, not tonight." He said simply, grabbing him by the hips and dragging him up onto his knees, pressed onto Ford's cock through the skirts.

"why nh-not?" Stan asked, rolling back slightly into the frotting.

Ford didn't answer, instead one of his hands was up Stan's skirt again, dragging the heavy fabric up until cold air hit his ass. Stan wasn't usually looked at too closely, he didn't know how to make the angle look pretty, but he tried anyway, arching his back and dragging his legs a little apart. A thumb ran down to his hole and Ford paused.

Stan had been... Optimistic. Before he properly saw himself all together. "Are you wet for me, my love?" He practically cooed, and Stan pressed his face into the mattress. Ford pinched his thigh and he nodded. "Perfect."

Ford stuck two of his own fingers into Stan, scissoring them just to check before pulling away.

Stan shifted onto his cheek to glance behind him, but he couldn't see a thing under the poof of his bunched-up dress. Ford leaned forward, one hand pressing his bound wrists deeper into his back, the other lining him up, and pressing forward.

Stan would bottle and sell the feeling if he could, would make a killing. He pressed back into Ford while Ford leaned over him again to kiss his cheek, his neck, his ear. He felt spoiled, and he would never fight being spoiled.

Ford set the pace slow, strong, angling at Stan's prostate without giving him a chance to breathe unless it was on Ford's time. He started pushing back as much as he could, he was probably staining his slip but he didn't care, he'd been hard since he put the dress on.

His brother's hand on his wrists left to pet his flank. "You take it so well, it's like you were made for me, princess."

Princess.

"Please--" Stan groaned. "Please, Stanford--"

Ford started moving faster, too fast, Stan felt like he was on fire. "I know, princess, I know." He didn't, Stan was clutching his hands together like a prayer, drooling through his sheets, if Ford knew what he was doing he'd be a lot more smug right now. Stan couldn't keep up anymore, Ford's hands on his hips were the only thing holding him up at all.

Stan made one attempt at Ford's name that sounded more like a wounded dog and Ford moved one of his hands down to his drooling cock. "Do you wanna come, princess?" He asked, and Stan couldn't even last until Ford started moving his hand, yelling into the mattress and coming all over his pretty fingers.

Ford helped him ride it out, kissing his neck and muttering about how beautiful that was until Stan went lax. Then he immediately yanked himself out, grabbed Stan by the shoulder and flipped him to his back, wrenching his wrists and spooking the hell out of him.

But Ford, dick in cum-covered hand, was looking down at him like a kid looked at a puppy in a shop window, squirming where he sat. "Your dress? Can I?"

Stan arched himself in an attempt to get more comfortable laying on his hands, and Ford followed the movement. "Of course, you won." He said, expecting the dress to finally come off.

Nope. Ford straddled him and started jerking himself, tight and fast, dick pointed at the dress' low neckline. Stan's breath hitched, and he pushed his chest out, looking Ford in the eye and waiting. He put on his phoniest meek look. "Will this make me yours?"

Ford whined, painting the front of the dress and Stan's cleavage white, staring at his work while he rode himself down. His shoulders drooping was the only warning before Ford all but fell on top of him, immediately kissing all over his face, his already gross hand smearing his mess around and trying to hide it as a grope. Ford was gonna pay to get that cleaned.

"Thank you Stanley, you're so perfect - so wonderful - my Stanley." He panted. "It's not even our birthday, what did I do to deserve this?"

"It's your returnaversary." Stan said. "Now would you get these ropes off me?"

Ford pulled them both to their sides to fumble at the ropes without looking. "I'd hardly consider that a date to spoil me, you were the one that did all the work getting me home."

"Yeah, well, mom did all the work for our birthday but we're still celebrating that."

"Touche. I suppose I'll have to figure out a way to pay this back." He said, finally getting the rope undone.

Stan hummed, throwing an arm over Ford the second he was able. "Hm."

Ford snuck one hand down to pull the blanket over them. "I'll think of something in the morning, old men need to sleep."

"Hm."

[joaniscruzing]

stars between us ch.2 : h.c

Hey you guys!! here's chapter two! I'll do everything I can to have chapter three tomorrow. I'm looking to have 8-9 chapters total of this series. COMMENT on this post if you'd like to be added to this taglist.

Summary: You and Hazel spend the first night of the camping trip together

Contains: fluff, hand-holding, one-bed trope, teasing friends, slight angst, hazel talking about the pep rally, hazel talking abt toxic friends, awkward!hazel, nerd!reader

“So, that leaves you and Hazel,” Isabel had pointed out. 

You and Hazel look at each other and smile. Of course you two were fine with sharing a bed. You two got along well anyway. The two of you leave your things on the bed and then go outside to a nearby picnic table. It wasn’t too late in the day, as there was still light outside. The sky was only now just getting darker. The two of you begin to continue your conversation from the bus, picking up exactly where you left off.

“Okay,” you say, “enough about me. Where in the actual universe are you getting bombs?”

“Where else? You really think I’m going to like some deep, dark alleyway to find supplies? I usually just go to Home Depot and grab my supplies.”

“Really?” you ask surprisedly, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not joking. I’ll take you one day if you’d like.”

“Wow Hazel, stringing your new friend into your bomb-making endeavors.” To this comment, Hazel giggles and plays with the rings on her fingers. She looked absolutely adorable doing this.

“I’d never let you get in trouble for it though,” Hazel adds quickly, “I don’t like throwing people under the bus.”

“Sure you don’t,” you quip teasingly, “If you don’t, then what was that with PJ during the last pep rally?”

“Now that’s a different story. PJ, umm, made me feel, unloved? The fight club has been a safe space for me during my mom’s midlife crisis. I guess when PJ kind of summed up for me that I had no friends, and, um, had a skank as a mom, I wanted to defend myself. Also, they said I was fighting PJ.”

“Well, you have me, so you have friends. And uh, I don’t know about the mom stuff, but she definitely didn’t raise a skank, so that must say something.” Hazel smiles, glad that you at least understood her. She holds your hands, which had been resting on the table.

“I’m really glad we’ve started getting to know each other. It’s nice to talk with someone who’s like me in some ways.”

“Yeah. Even though I’m friends with like Isabel and Brittany and those people, I feel like they don’t understand. Like half of those people don’t even read. Like, the school took away the books and they just don’t care.” Hazel looks at you as you continue rambling, a concentrated, attentive look in her eyes. She seems dazed almost.

“Hazel?”

“Yeah?” she says, shaking out of her daze.

“You good? It seemed like you phased out for a moment.”

“No, I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well yesterday.” You look up at the sky, which has gone basically dark. 

“Should we go sleep?”

“Oh, we don’t have to. We can keep talking if you want.”

“No no, I’m tired too. Plus, we have a long day tomorrow doing the trash and stuff.”

“Okay! As long as you’re okay with it. I don’t want to force you to do something just because I am.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry about it, Haze.” You hold out your arm, and she links it in yours. The two of you laugh and talk your whole way back to the cabin. She sees PJ and Josie looking at her with teasing looks, lips puckered up. She quickly turns her head away to see you curled up on the corner of the bed, book in hand. It’s an astronomy book about constellations and the stories behind them.

Hazel looks at you as she climbs into bed.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Oh, just a book about the stories between different constellations.”

“OH! We didn’t get to look at the stars like we said.”

“Whatever. We’re both tired, and I’m sure we’ll have even more fun tomorrow doing so. I bet since we’ll spend the whole day together, we’re going to have a great time.”

“Don’t let me forget tomorrow. I’ll feel horrible if you don’t get to look at the stars at least once before the trip is over.”

“Don’t worry Haze, I won’t.” Hazel’s cheeks turn pink at the nickname, but she brushes it off and lies down. PJ and Josie ask everyone if it’s okay to turn off the lights, making you close your book and lie down as well. You assume that Brittany and Isabel are off with the other cheerleaders and that they’ll come back soon. You feel Hazel shudder when the lights turn off in the cabin.

“Hey, Haze, what’s wrong?” you whisper, turning to her under the covers.

“Nothing. Um, it’s just that I, um, kind of, always use a night light? I don’t like the pitch black.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know.” Hazel turns around to face you. Just then, your hands bump under the covers. You don’t know what overcomes you, but you decide to hold Hazel’s hand.

“Is that okay?” you ask. You hear Hazel’s breathing slow down to its relaxed pace.

“Yeah. Much better. Are YOU okay with that though?” she asks, concerned that maybe you would feel weird holding her hand.

“No, of course not. I want you to sleep well.” You two are facing each other in the bed, only barely able to see the traces of each other’s face.

“As long as you’re okay with it, I am too.”

“Goodnight Haze.” The two of you fall asleep facing each other, and holding hands, and wake up like that the next morning.

taglist: @at1nyzen