#as if Ethan didn't call them himself.

[highschoolstoryliveson]

Hollywood's Newest Power Couple

Breakout Director Isabella Smith spotted out with her Agent, Ethan Blake.

[zyafics]

STAY THE NIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x FWB!Female Reader

Summary — When Rafe sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that truly means.

Word Count — 5.5K

Content — 18+, Smut, Jealousy (From Rafe), Dominance Play, Oral Receiving (F + M), Fingering, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Praise Kink, Fluff At The End

Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.

You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.

However, you've been exclusive.

It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.

You thought it could mean something more.

You thought wrong.

The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.

"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."

"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."

He scoffed. "Not my problem."

"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."

You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.

"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.

The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.

And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.

The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.

Kooks can't play for shit.

This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.

But you didn't care.

(Maybe just a little).

After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.

He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.

But you didn't.

You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.

All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.

And Rafe Cameron is fuming.

He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.

But it also made him attracted to you.

Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.

But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.

You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.

Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.

But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.

It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.

You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."

His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"

You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."

He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."

Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.

He does.

By slamming his lips against yours.

One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."

Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"

He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."

His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.

"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.

You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.

Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"

You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"

You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.

Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.

"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"

You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.

Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."

Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."

"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."

His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"

You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.

You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."

You do.

Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."

You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."

When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."

His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"

"If I have to be naked, so do you."

"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.

Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."

The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient. 

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.

"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."

You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.

On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.

And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.

A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face. 

“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.” 

With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.

"What the fuck?"

"Say please."

He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.

Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.

With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."

You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds. 

In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."

His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.

Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.

He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."

A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place. 

When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.” 

Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release. 

Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.

"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.

"I said you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."

Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”

He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds. 

“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face. 

You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry. 

Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode. 

“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row. 

You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. 

His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?” 

Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you. 

Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward. 

He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits. 

This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars. 

Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"

You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his. 

“Ethan.” 

Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.

His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"

His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"

He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.

Especially not now.

Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.

But he needs to hear you say it.

"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."

"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"

You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.

He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.

With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."

He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.

His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.

"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."

You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile. 

"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."

"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.

You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."

He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.

You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision. 

"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."

Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."

When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.

He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end. 

Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers. 

“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his. 

"What?"

"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."

You hesitate. "Rafe..."

"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.

"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."

He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."

You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain. 

He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power. 

With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."

He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight. 

When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.” 

You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion. 

"What?"

"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."

He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."

"What?"

"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had. 

When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.” 

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[jillgirlfriends]

Is my girl upset with me?

you are offended by them, and they are trying to make amends to you

pairing: billy loomis, jill roberts, charlie walker, ethan landry x fem!reader

warnin: offended!reader there may be something obscene, murder, some naughty

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ BILLY LOOMIS

you are so tired of your fights with him. billy was a wonderful boyfriend, you loved him very much.. with all your heart, but you are very annoyed that lately he just leaves you in the middle of your date with him. this is already the fifth time in a week, you finally could not stand it, splashed out all your emotions on your boyfriend and you both quarreled, because of which you became even more offended at him and decided to ignore

If only you knew that your boyfriend is actually a murderer and leaves your dates because of the stupidity of his idiot partner. but billy won't be able to admit it to you.

when he is completely calm, he will follow you around all the time trying to get your attention.

billy will always pay attention to you and show you his rare tender side that only you know about. he wants to spend all his time with you, but he can't because of his.. affairs.

billy will pull you to himself, hugging your waist and saying tender and sincere compliments kissing your neck. and in the end, you will forgive him.. because you can't be offended by your beloved boyfriend for so long. especially being offended by such a hot guy is a crime

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ JILL ROBERTS

it's all that damn trevor's fault. he deliberately want broke you up with your girlfriend by telling you all sorts of nonsense right in front of jill. he said that she was a very possessive and toxic person and that you should break up with her. you were already very tired after school that day and you just didn't understand what was going on and... you believed that idiot and ran away without saying anything, unable to handle it all. your brain just didn't work because of all the fatigue. fucking trevor wanted to ruin jill's relationship with you in this way because jill broke up with him

jill was so furious, she just froze and glared at trevor with the darkest, most gloomy gaze, thinking about how she would finish him. her hands clenched into fists and her eyes seemed to turn black.

oh.. trevor doesn't realize how much danger he's in when he calls jill

first, jill will come to her senses and calm down properly and will think over her plan in her room, and walk back and forth like an embittered paranoid. now on her mind:

1 ruin trevor's life and kill him for good

2 get her lovely girlfriend back

jill single-handedly sent information about trevor throughout the school and even made everyone think that he was the real ghostface.

she invited trevor to her house when her mother was away, jill made trevor think that she wanted to get their relationship back.. but it was not so. she killed him, and then wounded herself on purpose so that everyone would think that he broke into her house and tried to kill her, but she was able to fight him off and as a result, jill achieved two main goals at once. killing trevor. check. becoming famous. check. she was that fake final girl.

you yourself immediately rushed to the hospital to your girlfriend, completely forgetting about the quarrel, and pounced on jill with strong hugs. you were so worried about her.

thus, jill was able to make peace with you and achieve her goals, because she doesn't trust anyone alone

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CHARLIE WALKER

kirby. that name alone makes you so mad. kirby started flirting with your boyfriend right in front of you, and charlie.. he was so slow and didn't know what to do, he didn't reject her at all. of course he didn't let her do physical things to him.. but, he responded to her compliments and then you just exploded. 4 years. 4 fucking years, she ignored him and when he started dating you, she immediately started paying attention to him? what the hell. you got so mad and then yelled at charlie, giving him a choice.

«me or kirby, the choice is yours» - the last thing you said to your boyfriend and walked past him, brushing against his shoulder. before that, charlie felt your anger..

charlie was confused and he was... honestly, even scared. he didn't want to lose you. that day when you poured out all your anger on him, he was in a strong panic and even cried at night, not knowing what to do.

the guy himself doesn't know why he let kirby flirt with him, maybe because he liked all this attention? or he still hasn't fallen out of love with her? no.. no, he has you.

as a result, charlie, out of despair and not knowing what to do... took a knife and put on that same robe and suit and went to the kirby house. he realized that you are more important to him and he loves only you.

the next day, the guy apologized to you. he was ready to kneel in front of you or even kiss your feet, just so that you would forgive him. you forgave him and apologized for your anger at him, and after that you both shared a tender kiss with each other

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ETHAN LANDRY

ethan honestly.. was such a slowpoke in the relationship, you understand that he is just shy and all that.. but, damn. when you want to hug him or kiss him, he always gets embarrassed and "pushes" you away, the most you always do.. is hold hands, yes, you understand that he needs time.. but, damn. it's been 3 months since your relationship! you just started to get irritated by all this, ethan was such a sissy that you just didn't want to see him or talk to him.

you ignored him and when ethan wanted to take your hand as always, you walked past him and didn't even look at him, completely ignoring him

ethan felt hurt that you ignored him, but... he couldn't find the courage to talk to you about it, so he followed you around like a kitten.

he tried for a long time to understand why you were offended by him, he asked his child for help and even asked him for advice, to which he received the answer: "I don't know, dude" and ethan was in despair and walked sadly around you for days

as a result, with the chad's help, ethan plucked up courage and apologized to you. you in turn, naturally forgave him because you missed him and it was painful for you to look at his sad face and without his asking pulled him to you for a kiss, to which he was surprised but timidly reciprocated the kiss

[nastyaromatherapy]

ok but what about ethan landry stalking the reader as ghost face for a while and him finally sneaking in to her house one night cause he can’t hold back. y/n she knew that ghost face was stalking her and she also knew that it was ethan so she puts a pretty lacy nightgown on and waits for him. he finds out that she knows because when he walks into her room she gets up from her bed and he pins her to a wall and she says something like ‘i want you so bad ethan’ so he fucks her till she can’t think or speak.

(maybe some praises like good girl and pretty girl but you definitely don’t need to write those in if those aren’t your thing)

ALSO i just love your writing so much like omg i even read some of your other fanfics for different characters even though i don’t want them cause i just love the way you write 😭

Ghostface's Good Girl (18+)

Your stalker, Ethan, couldn't hold back one night and went inside your house to take what was his.

pairing - stalker!ethan landry x reader

one shot length, 3.0k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, dom ethan, creampie, praising, minor slapping and choking, finger sucking, BJ, slight corruption, teensy size kink, ghostface ethan, whore reader, name calling, orgasm control

Ethan Landry loved you. However, it was all parasocial. You barely knew him. The only thing you knew was that he was Chad's roommate. You saw him occasionally when you were over at Chad's place.

“Hey, y/n,” he would wave to you at a weak attempt at getting closer to you. It was awkward, especially since at the time, he didn't know you and Chad were fuck buddies. He had always liked you and thought you were really hot.

You on the other hand, had never even thought about it. He looked so innocent, so sweet, and Chad was like his older brother. It'd be weird to screw with your fuck buddy's younger brother.

For Ethan, hearing the two of you fuck at night was both a blessing and a curse. He reveled in hearing your moans and begs, biting his lip to keep quiet as he touched himself to your sounds. He hated how it was Chad fucking you, hated more how you were whoring around, knowing Chad wasn't the only guy you were messing with at the time.

He knew that if you were his, he'd put you in your place. You wouldn't be caught with other guys because he'd be the only guy you'd ever need. And once you and Chad broke things off, that's when he started to stalk you.

I mean, before then, he would keep some of your belongings you left at his place as keepsakes and souvenirs, but only now would he begin what he'd label as stalking.

He started visiting the coffee shop you worked at more, too afraid to order anything or say hi; he'd just sit in a corner on his phone, scrolling through your instagram. When your shift would finish, at seven pm, he'd rush over to your place, arriving way before you did.

Straight after work you'd get into the shower, which pissed him off. As sick as he was, he knew he couldn't enter your house. There were no windows in your shower, obviously, and you'd keep your curtains closed.

Oh, when you finished, though, he'd watch through your bedroom window in ghostface attire as you dried and lotioned your legs, so badly wanting to feel your soft skin against his.

Everything about you was so delicate. You were so softspoken, even your whines which he heard through thin walls were pretty and angelic. He needed to know how it'd feel to corrupt you, and keep you as his pretty doll.

And he'd do this for nights, the same routine. Every night he'd watch you get out of the shower and get ready for bed, and it took everything in him to not just break in and take what was his.

Ethan Landry's secret was no secret though, which you found adorable. Did he really think you wouldn't notice him sneaking looks at the cafe? Did he really think you wouldn't notice his car parked in a confused neighbors driveway, every night you came home? Both you and him expected you to be scared, concerned, and disturbed. But in reality, you loved the idea of Ethan obsessing over you, and following you around like a puppy. You found it cute how he couldn't muster up the courage to just talk to you, and ended up resorting to stalking.

You tried amping him up, often discarding worn panties in the bin at night. Was the shuffling and tipped over trash raccoons? No, it was Ethan. At first. you just found it cute, like when a little boy likes an older girl that's way out of his league. It was only after a month that you started to question what being with Ethan would actually entail.

Would he by kind, sweet, and gentle, massaging your feet? Or would he be jealous, and violent? The thoughts kept you up at night. Oh, and the day you almost “caught” him, and he dashed so quickly he left his dainty Nancy Loomis mask, you'd say you were in love too. Your stalker, Ethan Landry, was ghostface. That only made things more exciting.

Day after day, it got harder and harder for him to not just go inside. After time, you decided to leave your door unlocked. He noticed, and it confused him. You'd never changed your routine before. Then he started to ponder, did you know?

One night, you changed your routine drastically. You oiled your legs, discarding the lotion you used to use. You dressed into a lacy lingerie slip, unusual since you usually wore a victoria pajama set.

He was already growing hard in his pants, his mask concealing his needy eyes. He was desperate to feel you, and needed to take a step inside. The stairs creaked as he walked up them onto your porch, and he hesitated before laying a hand on your doorknob. He sharply inhaled before twisting it, making his way inside.

You noticed his steps on the ground, due to his huge boots, and waited anxiously for him to enter your room. He slowly scurried his way through your house, finally opening up the door to your room.

He entered with the iconic ghostface head tilt, and your breath hitched. You slowly stood up, trying to hold back your blush for the masked killer who stood inches higher above you. Like lightning he pinned you against your poster covered wall by your throat, his hand easily wrapping around it. You left your mouth agape and choked a little, staring deeply into the dark puddles where the mask covered his eyes.

He noticed how you easily and willingly complied and softened his grip, letting you quickly let out short breaths. “I know it's you, Ethan,” you whispered breathily, and his face contorted- although you couldn't see, into a writhe of concern. “I want you so bad,” you whined, and your hands made way to under his mask, lifting it up to expose his face, curls frizzy since the mask wasn't lined with satin.

He suspected you knew, but he never actually thought his suspicions would be correct. He digressed, however, and continued his concentrated activities. “And you can have me,” he spoke, his voice low and seductive. “But know that your compliance labels you as mine. Do I make myself clear?” You swallowed and nodded, leading him to lean into your ear, his steady breaths making the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Do I make, myself clear?” He repeated through gritted teeth, squeezing your neck tighter as he spoke, before slowly diluting while awaiting a response. “Yes, sir,” you choked out almost inaudibly, but he caught it.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he got even closer and toyed with the straps of your dress. When he towered above you, your head was tilted upwards to meet his eyes; his lanky yet broad figure was just as frightening as alluring.

“You're usually so talkative in class,” he whispered cunningly, dragging his gloved finger along your jawline. “Why so silent now?” He asked, alluding to your sudden meek behavior.

You didn't answer, but when you saw him continue to stare like a deer in headlights, you whispered, “I just want to be good for you.” He clicked his tongue and journeyed his hand up, from your jaw to your cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. With your mouth slightly agape, his thumb slowly shifted closer and closer to your lips, before finally making contact. You inhaled through your mouth slightly, mimicking a silent gasp.

His finger grazed your soft lips, lightly tapping it for you to open even wider, requesting entry. “Open,” he ordered when you didn't get the message. Once you furtherly gaped your mouth, he gave a nod of approval before sliding his thumb inside. Not needing to be told twice, you didn't hesitate to clamp around his finger, sucking it lightly.

“That's it,” he whispered as you hollowed your cheeks around his thumb. “Just like that.” You moaned slightly around his finger, leading him to groan in response. The interaction made you so desperate and painfully wet, and you squirmed uncomfortably, your thighs awkwardly trying to gain friction on their own.

He noticed this and smirked, finding it cute how impatient you were being. With his hand still on your cheek, he stroked it gently, the skin so silky and the peach fuzz so soft. He was about to ask a question, so he removed his thumb from your mouth since he expected an answer. “Are you gonna be my good girl tonight?” He asked huskily, making sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, once more.

You nodded, which wasn't enough for Ethan, who wasn't reluctant to strike your cheek when you didn't answer, leaving a bright red mark. You cried in the form of a moan as his rough hand made contact with your dainty skin, finally realizing which Ethan you'd been fantasizing about you'd get tonight. A masked, violent, short-tempered killer. “Yes, sir,” you spoke.

He didn't feel you were ready for praise, yet, and he tossed you onto your bed, face forward. Your legs dangled off the edge, showcasing your tulle-trimmed socks. When you attempted to turn onto your back he laid his hand on it, keeping you in place. “Stay still,” he huffed, making you quickly do as told. He kneeled below your lowish platformed bed, flipping your dress up to expose you ass.

He leaned in, and you whined as you felt his hot breath against your almost exposed cunt. Your pretty white panties were still covering your pussy, although they were almost see through since they were so sopping. “God you're a slut, so fucking wet,” we muttered to himself as he hooked the gusset in his fingers, revealing your dripping sex.

He removed his gloves before sliding his fingers up and down your slippery folds, making you whine. “Ethan,” you whimpered, wretchedly grinding against his hand. He spit on your cunt, before licking a stripe down it, latching onto your clit. He groaned as he was living his dream of tasting you, hands spreading your cheeks apart for easier access.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as his tongue fucked your hole, kicking your legs a bit so you didn't get too overwhelmed. He chuckled when he noticed, making your lips flutter, slightly humiliated. Soft “ah's” left your lips, and they gradually grew louder and louder the closer you got.

You felt the warmth build up in your stomach as you grew more sensitive to each movement of his tongue as you neared the edge. “Ethan,” you sobbed. “’Gonna, cum,” you whimpered, and he responded by abruptly pulling away, edging you. You whined in disapproval at his absent tongue that was taken away without warning, wanting to cum so badly.

He laughed softly and stood, quick to pull you up with him by your hips. “I control when you cum,” he taught, making you nod before quickly remembering he disliked that. “Yes sir,” you whispered sweetly, your eyes large and doe. He smugly smirked at your response, “Good girl.” You loved the affection you seemed to gain from him.

“Now get on your knees,” he ordered as he removed his cloak, discarding it in a corner of your room. You kneeled below him, and he started to undo the buttons on his black slacks, pulling them down and kicking them off his ankles. He was left in his boxers, and your eyes couldn't pull away from his erection.

You started to venture your hands closer to his waistband, but for safe measure, you watched his eyes to see if he was okay with that. His eyes said nothing. That was extremely unhelpful. What you’d learned so far was that Ethan was often vague and not very talkative about what he wanted.

Noticing how he didn’t say anything and how he didn’t seem angry, you gripped his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles in a swift motion, revealing his erect cock. He gave a soft sigh as his dick was released and no longer confined.

He chuckled when he saw you contemplating whether or not to touch it, afraid of upsetting him. “This is the hardest you’ve ever gotten me,” he whispered perversely, smiling a little as he enjoyed this a lot. “Better than staring through windows, huh?” You asked, fighting your urge to just grab it and stroke him. He nodded and reached for his cock, stroking it gently.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke to you as he tapped the tip against your lips. You opened your mouth nice and wide to accommodate his girth, and he spoke words of approval, “That’s my pretty girl,” before sliding himself in.

Your mouth flooded with the smell and taste of him, making your eyes water a bit as it hit you so intensely. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed up and down the head, using your hand to stroke the base. He groaned, pushing into you a little further. “Fuckk.”

His curls covered his eyes as he looked down, watching you suck on his length, still wearing the cute nightie. When strands of hair covered your face, which made it harder for you to see him, you’d push them behind your ear, being loyal and giving your undivided attention to him. He loved when you moaned around his length, showing how much you enjoyed it.

Your mouth was warm and hot, and his cock relished in the higher temperatures that you engulfed him in. He threw his head back, absentmindedly thrusting forward ever so slightly, making you gag from time to time.

Your eyes were red as they burned with unshed tears, his scrotum feeling fuller and heavier the deeper in your mouth you took him. “God,” he moaned in a strained voice, feeling himself grow close. He didn’t want to cum yet, though, so he pulled out of your mouth.

You gasped for air as saliva dripped down your chin, feeling empty without his cock in your mouth. He smirked as he looked down at you and ordered, “Get on the bed.” You quickly hopped off your knees and crawled onto your mattress, and he was right behind you with a hand on your waist to help position you.

He clawed at your nightie before taking it off, pulling it up over your head. You were flipped onto your back, and he pulled your legs up so your feet were leveled with his shoulders. He pulled your panties off, leaving you completely bare underneath him.

“Please, Ethan,” you whined as he rubbed his cock up and down your wet slit, your cunt gaping, awaiting entry. He tilted his head at you, “Please what?” You swallowed and looked away, not answering him.

“Answer, bitch,” he fumed, placing his hand on your neck, squeezing your pipe ever so slightly. You lightly choked before attempting to speak, “P-please fuck me, Ethan.” He removed his hand from your neck and cockily smirked.

“Yeah? Does my slutty little princess need to be fucked by my cock?” He taunted, and you vigorously nodded in response.

Your breath hitched as he lined himself up with your entrance, and he threw his head back and inhaled before sliding in. “Fuck!” You yelped as he stretched you out so beautifully. Your legs trembled under him as he slowly started to thrust into you, his movements rhythmic.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he groaned, his hands moving to grip your soft hips. As he started to speed up, you couldn’t help but get louder. You turned your head around to try and hide your face, but he caught on.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice stern and demanding. You slowly turned your head back around, trying your best to suppress the faces he was fucking into you. He chuckled at the way your features contorted, especially when he went deeper.

Once he saw that your cunt was perfectly stretched around him, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder to get a new angle. You were lifted off the mattress ever so slightly, as your leg didn’t reach that high naturally.

He started to fuck you roughly, his cock pistoning in and out of your starving cunt. “Ethan!” You screamed, which only made him needier. You could no longer suppress your moans now, as your heart was racing and your breathing was erratic. His hands clawed into your hips painfully, but you could only focus on the pleasure he was giving you.

“Do I do it better than Chad? I don’t even know why you wasted time on his lame ass; he didn't deserve someone as gorgeous as you. My pretty girl,” he groaned, each word getting whinier and whinier. “Yes, Ethan,” you cried, your toes curling. “You fuck me so much better than Chad; don’t stop, please.”

He gripped your hips so harshly that your ass was completely lifted off the bed. Seeing this, he picked you up entirely, slamming into you as you tried to hold on tight to him. “Fuck! Ethan!” You moaned as he took every inch of you.

“You’re mine,” he huskily whispered into your ear as he fucked the lights out of you. You nodded. “Yes, Ethan. I’m yours,” you moaned as you shut your eyes tightly, completely overwhelmed from the stimulation. “Can I cum?” You asked, and Ethan didn’t answer. His hands that were gripping your ass gave it a light smack, making you jump a little.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, going deeper, getting closer. “Please Ethan!” You repeated. “Please let me cum!” You whimpered as he tore your pussy apart. He couldn’t hold back anymore; your whines turned him on so much, and he buried himself in your cunt as he shot his load inside you. “Cum,” he whispered into your ear, and you wasted no time to release.

You screamed, and your legs vibrated as you came all over his cock, just as his warm cum filled your pussy. “Take all my cum, good girl.” After he calmed down, he put you back on the bed and joined you.

He laid on the bed and placed you on top of him, his hand reaching down to rub your sensitive clit. You moaned as he touched you, and then you moaned into his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips pressed against your pillowy ones, and from the way you whimpered into the kiss, he felt himself getting hard again.

“I want you to ride me, okay?” He asked, although it was meant as an order, not a question. “Yes, sir,” you obeyed. He ran his hand through your soft, untangled hair, giving you a peck. What you didn’t know right now was that you were now Ethan’s. You didn’t know before, but all this time he’d been training you to be his, to be his perfect fuckdoll. “Good girl.”

[ghostgirl-22]

I fear I need more art calling patrick daddy

my lovely Mel you requested this at the beginning of the year so sorry for the delay 😅 I combined it with a similar anon request <33 original fic is here. My apologies for this being so long! I was so tired and also on my period when writing this so I’m really sorry if it comes across tired and horny 😭

CW: 18+ NSFW daddy kink, mild voyeurism/exhibitionism

——

It’s barely been ten minutes since Patrick had a very drunk Art all over him, hands down Art’s boxers, jerking him off while Art whispered daddy in his ear over and over. So ridiculous in his voice. With his cadence. It’s fucking insane. Patrick feels insane because now Arts sitting on his bed width wise. He’s showered and cleaned up in fresh clothes, resting his back against the wall. Fidgety, he’s swinging his socked feet back and forth and biting his thumb like nothing ever happened. Like Patrick didn't just tell him he wanted to fuck him. Like he didn't just basically say yes. 

Art’s roommate Ethan (who doesn’t know much about Patrick except that his silent dislike is mutual) wants to tell Art all about his night out. Talking and bragging about this gay bar he went to in San Francisco. Patrick is annoyed and hard but whatever. he’s not a total asshole so he lets them talk while he scrolls through his iPod. He’s already tried to go use the bathroom but it was pointless, he’s too hard to piss without making a mess everywhere.  

“One day I’m gonna make you come out with me. I’ll even pretend to be your boyfriend…you know…just so you don’t get hit on.” Ethan says to Art he’s in the same position on his own bed, Patrick rolls his eyes. 

“Why? Are they gonna wanna kiss me or something?” Art says playfully. He’s so giggly, eyes like little half moons, chest full of hiccups. Incurably flirtatious when he’s had too much to drink. Exactly how he and Patrick ended up doing what they just did. And so many other things before that. 

“Are you kidding, blondie? Fuck. They’d be all over you.” Ethan says, hungry eyes looking over Arts body.

Patrick thinks Arts drunk little roomie should shut the fuck up and go to bed so Patrick can finally cross the line. He’s resting on Art’s pillow, knees drawn up, he scrolls past the song Blame It on the Alcohol by Jaime Foxx. Just the perfect song for Art right now. He taps Art’s thigh with his barefoot and shows him the iPod. 

Art squints at him and then crawls closer to see the iPod screen. he should be wearing glasses but he never puts them on, crawls on his hands and knees, between Patrick’s thighs so he can see the title properly and then he grins. “Send it to me.” 

“When I get on my computer,” Patrick says. 

“Please just don’t fucking forget,” Art gazes at him— wet lips, eyes fully dilated. He smiles. So flirty. Fucking slut. Patrick needs to be inside him.

“So how was your night, Art?” Ethan goes on, like he’s determined to be oblivious. Art does a dramatic flop onto the bed next to Patrick, head on the same pillow. 

“It was so… tired,” Art groans into the pillow.

”Yeah me too,” Ethan says. “If you want… I don’t mind sharing with you if your friend wants this bed to himself. You know, like what we did when my sister was here.”

“No he jerked off in my bed and made a mess, he should have to sleep in it.” Art mumbles without looking up. 

Ethan presses his lips together, eyes narrowing in Patrick’s direction, subtly irritated. Patrick smirks at him. Ethan rolls his eyes and finally starts getting ready for bed. He leaves the TV on. they both leave it on every night.  Patrick thinks he hears the Ethan snoring after a bit but he’s worried that Art’s actually fallen asleep too. He’s lying on his tummy, hugging the pillow. Patrick puts the iPod down and rolls over. “You still gonna let daddy fuck you?” He whispers.

“Mm,” Art hums and rolls over. “You’re such a freak.”   

“You started it.” Patrick smiles, rubbing his bottom. Art sits up. Leans in too close. He’s still so drunk. Patrick tangles his fingers into golden curls “if you’re daddy… what am I? Baby?” Art asks. 

“Mmhm,” Patrick nods. Convinced every time Art says it, an angel gets a halo or whatever the phrase is.  

“So fucked up,” Art whispers and Patrick kisses him. Art slips his tongue in right away, wet and warm, exploring Patrick’s mouth. Before long he’s moaning a little bit. Stuff he does when he’s drunk. He’s got Patricks leg between his thighs, pressed along his erection. He starts grinding. Patrick pulls back, dizzy already.

“Mm no you’re not coming like that,” Patrick whispers. 

“Cause you wanna fuck me?” Art hiccups, trying to sneak another kiss, Patrick stops him. 

“No. I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Mmkay daddy. But you have to be really quiet,” He whispers, grinning.

Patrick comes apart, but only a little bit, he touches himself idly before balling his fingers to make himself stop. He brackets Art’s waist instead. “Has your roommate ever fucked you?”

Art gets the giggles. “No.” 

“You kiss him?” 

“Uh once but we were—“

”You were drunk,” Patrick finishes for him. 

“Yeah, like now,” Art says, this time he manages to steal a kiss before Patrick presses him back down on the bed and he’s grinning. 

“You’re so naughty,” Patrick whispers. 

“What? Are you gonna spank me?” Art grins, “like make me call you daddy when you do it?” 

God. His stupidly soft, sing-song voice and that fucking word. Makes Patrick’s skin tingle at every spot where their bodies are touching. “I don’t know. Should we try it?” Patrick whispers softly. “You let me spank you till you’re red all over, till you’re squirming and crying, and your hole is twitching for me. Till your dick is so hard and your balls are so full. And you’re begging me to just please, please fuck you? And I promise you I will if you just ask daddy so nicely?”  

Art’s gone silent, he’s settled on his back, knees pulled up and falling open, the slightest glimpse of his tongue flitting across his lips, as he gazes up at Patrick. So goddamn magic.   

“You have lube?” Patrick asks. 

“I um— I think my roommate does.” 

“Go get it.” 

Art obeys. crawls off the single and sneaks over to his roommates side. There’s still the sound of his roommates' soft snoring. Not that Patrick actually gives a fuck if they wake him, outside of how Art will react. 

He stumbles over and pulls a small bottle of lube out of his roomie's nightstand and brings it back to the bed. Patrick stops him mid straddle as he’s moving to climb over him. “Sit, I want you to put it on.” 

Art’s a little breathless. He settles on Patrick’s thighs and Patrick watches him. He slowly tugs at the waist band of Patrick’s boxers and his long neglected dick rises at attention.

”Oh,” Art’s breathing goes shallow, his eyes widen like he’s seeing it in a new light now that he’s thinking of it going inside him. 

“You see what you do to me?” Patrick asks gently.

“Fuck… Patrick… I don’t think I can…” 

“Yes you can, of course you can. You’re so talented.” Patrick says.

”But…” he takes a breath. One that tells Patrick he’s actually kinda nervous. “It’s too much… daddy.” he teases, dancing his fingers over the length. Patrick scoots closer. God. This could ruin him.  “ I’ve never had anything inside me before.” 

“I know, baby. God, you make my fucking teeth ache.” Patrick breathes, coming to the distant realisation that he’s shivering. 

Art is squirming on Patrick’s lap, touching it like he doesn’t want to get caught touching but he can’t stop himself.  “Daddy I wanna…” and then he does something that breaks Patrick a little bit more, he takes hold of the base more firmly and presses it to his lips. 

“Oh, oh shit,” Patrick hisses as Art fills his mouth. Just puts as much in as he can. Inexperienced, teeth scraping and everything, making it fucking hot and painful at the same time. 

Patrick can’t help himself, jerking his hips up. ”Art nngh… shit… oh fuck…you gotta stop or ‘m gonna fucking come in your mouth baby… fuck,” Patrick groans as his blonde head bobs up and down. 

Art pulls back and looks up at him, eyes all sparkly and oh… Patrick realizes he’s gone. He’s so far gone. “Mm sorry.” He hiccups. “I think I’m just dizzy.” He’s still touching Patrick idly, can’t stop touching. 

Patrick takes a deep breath and steadies Arts hand. Such a smart kid, all higher thoughts hijacked by just the sight of Patrick’s swollen dick, Patrick hasn’t even fucked him yet. He grins in spite of himself.  “You like it?” 

“Mmhm,” Art nods. Jesus. he’s practically drooling.   

Patrick snatches the lube from Arts useless hands. He’s barely got any self control left. He starts coating his dick with it. Using too much, for Art’s sake. Art is fixated on his movements. Lips parted, eyes glassy. Head empty.

“Lay down,” Patrick says, softly. Art is so silly. He lays down facing Patrick, and Patrick makes him turn over to face his roommates bed, grabs his hips to pull him back. “Take these down,” Patrick says. 

Art eases his shorts down over his ass and Patrick presses up against his entrance. Art’s breath hitches, he’s suddenly tense. The heat of him is already making Patrick’s mouth water. He’s so tight. stupid little virgin. Patrick’s impatient, but decides to prep him just a little. Slips his finger in, and listens to Art whine before he tries again with the head of his dick. 

Art is holding his breath and Patrick rubs his side, “breathe, i know it’s a lot. I know. I know. You’re doing so good, baby. Taking such a big one right out of the gate. Such a good boy.” Patrick whispers, he’s short circuiting just a bit. Going crazy just a little bit. 

Art takes deep breaths. “Really?” 

“Yes, so good for me baby. Oh so fucking tight. I can feel you stretching for me. Fuck. I feel you opening up for every inch of me. Your body just taking me in.” 

“Mm,” Art squirms, clenching, clenching so tightly and fuck Patrick thinks for the first time tonight he’s probably not gonna fucking last. 

“Mm, it feels so…” Art whines, breathlessly. “It’s so big, it’s so… full. I feel really full. I feel so…weird.” 

“It’s okay… it’s okay. Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Breathe. Fuck. Just breathe through it. You feel that… how much your body needs it. Squeezing me. So fucking tight.” 

Art’s whining, panting like their full on fucking and Patrick’s not much better, he kisses Art’s shoulder, he’s nearly all in when Art wants a break. He’s settled with Patrick inside him, cockwarming him while Patrick runs his finger tips idly over Arts pelvis. 

“Patrick. Can I—” 

“Mm that’s not how we’re talking right now, is it?” Patrick says, his voice tight. Art’s squirming all over him.  

“Daddy,” Art whispers. 

It takes everything not to pound into him when he says it. Pitched high and desperate. “MmHm.” Patrick breathes.

“Daddy please can I—- I wanna suck— I want something in my mouth,” Art whines. 

Fuck. It’s on brand. This is the same kid that was still sucking his thumb when Patrick met him after all.  

“Is that what you need?”

“Yes please, need it so much,” 

He teases his fingers inside Arts wet mouth, doesn’t do it gentle. Shoves so much inside Art is immediately drooling on him. Wiggling on Patrick’s dick, the little bit of stretch and movement has him moaning. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, tries to let him get used to it but too much more of this and he’s gonna black out. Probably wake up with Art beneath him, load after load of come dripping out of him.    

“I think… I think… can you fuck me now? ” 

“Is that how you ask?” 

“Please daddy,” Art whines. “Please fuck me.”

Patrick’s hips are rocking right away, not bothering to be soft or gentle with it. “daddy was going so fucking crazy letting you play around with my big long dick inside you. I might have to fill you with a couple loads before I can stop baby. Is that okay baby? Hm? Is it okay?”

Art moans. “Yes daddy” He gasps. And that’s it. That’s the end. That’s all it takes.

Patrick is losing control, Art’s first time and he’s losing control.  Pumping furiously in and out and in and out of him.  gripping his waist, so tight, too tight. It’s so much fucking better than anything he could ever imagine. This insanely tight, silky wet heat. Art moaning, swearing, begging for more. He’s so loud. It’s filthy actually, his pretty voice saying things like, “more daddy, more, please daddy, fuck me more… I’ll be so good…”  

“Shh… my god,” Patrick whispers, “fuck sweetheart… I know it feels good but Jesus christ,” he’s covering Art’s mouth to try and muffle him. 

His poor roommate isn’t snoring anymore, in the pale light of the television Patrick can practically make out the frantic way his sheets are moving. He’s definitely awake, watching, touching himself.  

Patrick loses everything when Art starts meeting his thrusts. The bed squeaking. Heavy breathing. The television low, white noise in the background. 

Patrick takes his hand off Art’s mouth to bring him to completion, gripping him, jerking him. Can’t muffle Art’s sounds any more. He can’t help a breathless laugh for how feral Art’s gone by the time he comes. He’s practically full volume, no thoughts in his head except for how much he needs to cum…hips stuttering, spurting all over his sheets. Patrick grips his waist and buries his load deep inside, groaning into his curls. 

“Mm, fuck,” he moans. 

“Yeah,” Art agrees breathless. 

And suddenly Patrick needs to pee like a race horse. He’s pulling out and Art groans reluctantly as Patrick gets out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” He whines. 

“Right back in a minute,” Patrick says, rushing into the bathroom, he barely makes it. 

Art can’t wait a minute. He’s pushing in the door. His boxers all twisted, hair all sexed up. Skin flushed. And immediately Patrick thinks he might need a second round.

“Miss me?” He smirks.

“No.” Art says, but he’s smiling.

“It’s okay, I have that effect on people.” 

Art’s eyes follow the movement of Patrick tucking himself back into his boxers and he pads closer to meet him near the sink. “My roommate just said he really wants to fuck me next.” His voice is a little worn out. Of course he sounds hot. 

“Surprise of the century.” Patrick mutters.. Art yawns, hugging himself, his t-shirt lifts slightly and Patrick can see little pink bruises on his hips in the shape of Patrick’s fingers. Yeah he needs another round. Patrick reaches for him. He steps closer and lets Patrick grab him with wet hands and kiss his cheek. “What’d you tell him? Not that it matters. Cause he doesn’t get to.”

Art smirks at him in the mirror, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Seriously?”

”Yeah seriously.” 

“What do you care? You have a girlfriend.”

”I know.”

”So maybe I can do whatever I want.” Art turns to face him, challenging him. 

“Mm that was true… yesterday…but then you made a mistake and called me daddy, and that means every boy that wants you needs my permission first.”

“That’s marriage.” 

“It’s everything.” 

Art bounces from one foot to the other, his eyes getting shiny again and that’s when Patrick knows he’s won. “You’re a freak.” Art says, but he doesn’t disagree and Patrick smiles and follows him back into the bedroom. 

[ldr13beaches]

Harry Lewis x Y/N -

Casual?

Harry Lewis let out a deep sigh as he slumped down into his chair at the table, surrounded by the rest of the Sidemen—JJ, Simon, Ethan, Tobi, Josh, and Vik. The music thumped in the background, but his focus was elsewhere.

Then, the door opened, and you walked in. Faith was on one arm, Freya on the other, both of them laughing and chatting with you. Harry’s gaze snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you. He watched you for a second, taking you in from head to toe.

You smiled as you approached, your eyes catching his, and you waved a greeting to the guys.

"Hey," you called out with a grin, your steps smooth and easy as you made your way toward the table.

Harry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and without breaking his gaze, he patted the empty seat beside him. “Sit here,” he said, grinning. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Hiya," you greeted, settling into the chair.

His eyes flicked over you once more, a smirk curling up at the corners of his mouth. 

“What?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips.

"Just… taking in the view," he said, his smirk growing wider.

You rolled your eyes. "Ha-ha,” you replied sarcastically.

He laughed, the sound light but genuine. 

The rest of the Sidemen exchanged knowing glances, grins tugging at their lips. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you two, despite being friends liked to flirt. You both shared a back-and-forth that everyone was used to by now.  

Harry leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, still watching you as if you were the only person in the room. The rest of the guys made their usual jokes about how long it was taking for you two to finally get together, but neither of you really paid attention. You’d heard it all before.

The night carried on, the usual banter and chaos of the Sidemen setting the tone. But despite the distractions your focus kept drifting back to Harry. It was like he had a magnetic pull, always there, always in your orbit, even in a room full of people.

Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you with that half-smile, like he knew something you didn’t. But it wasn't just the looks. It was the way he'd sit closer to you than others, the subtle touches, a hand on your back, or a brush of his fingers against yours. 

The music continued to play, the bar filled with laughter and chatter. Harry, however, remained focused on you. He was trying to act nonchalant, but the way he kept glancing at you gave him away.

As you laughed at something JJ said, Harry couldn't help but watch. Your smile, your laugh, they were addictive, like some kind of drug. But he forced himself to look away, you were just his close friend, nothing more. Right? He leaned back in his chair, trying to appear casual, though he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to you.

Simon, sitting next to Harry, noticed his friend's distracted gaze. He smirked and nudged Harry's shoulder.

“You’re staring,” he said, his tone teasing.

Harry immediately snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Simon, his expression betraying his embarrassment for being caught looking.

"I'm not," he said defensively.

Simon snickered, not buying it for a second. "Yeah, right," he replied. "You were straight up gawking at her."

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly, Simon knew him too well. He knew there was no point in denying it.

"Alright, maybe I was," he admitted, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Happy now?"

Simon grinned, clearly enjoying his friend's moment of weakness. He knew Harry was usually so good at covering his emotions, so seeing him crack a little was rare.

"Very," he replied, still grinning. "It's about time you stop denying it, mate. Everyone knows you're head over heels for her."

Harry's glare intensified as he nudged Simon's arm, signalling for him to lower his voice. He didn't need you heating the conversation. 

"Say it louder why don’t you.” He grumbled. Their conversation is interrupted by one of the waiters doing the rounds asking your table what they want to drink. 

The waiter was quite tall, with messy brown hair that had a natural tousled look to it. Freya smirks and raises her eyebrows at you playfully. The waiter smiled at you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary as he filled your order. Despite his attractive appearance, there was something about him that seemed a bit smug. 

Harry noticed the subtle smirk on the waiter's face. It only fuelled his jealousy further. He knew the waiter was flirting with you, and he didn't like it at all.

He took another sip of his drink, still watching you and the waiter's interaction. He felt a pang of irritation seeing the waiter's gaze linger on you, the knowledge that he was interested in you was killing him. 

It got late and the group started to leave the bar. Harry's mood was sour. He could feel his frustration bubbling up inside him, and he couldn't quite pinpoint why he was so irritated. 

He was silent for most of the walk to the car park, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he followed the group. Occasionally, he'd cast a quick, slightly frustrated glance in your direction, his jaw clenched tight.

As you cast a quick look over your shoulder at Harry, he met your gaze. For a brief moment, his irritation softened as he met your eyes. The look on your face was confused, and he knew you were probably wondering why he was acting so strangely.

Harry's mood didn't improve much as you both walked back towards the car park. He was still in a foul mood, and he wasn't hiding it well. It was obvious something was bothering him.

As you walked through the car park to say farewell to the rest of the group, Harry walked alongside you in silence. His face was expressionless, and he seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts. He gave the other boys a half-hearted wave as they got into their cars, but his focus was entirely on you.

As everyone leaves you look at him and frown. “Alright Harry what the fuck is up with you?”

Harry's demeanour didn't change as you questioned him, his expression still cold and tense. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Nothing's up," he responded, his tone gruff. "I'm fine."

He was lying, of course. But he didn't want to admit what was eating at him. He was too prideful to show weakness.

As you both walked down the street, towards your respective flats, which were conveniently located on the same street near the bar, Harry continued to keep his distance, his steps heavy and unenthusiastic. He still hadn't dropped his cold, expressionless demeanour, and it was clear he was still troubled by something but too stubborn to talk about it.

Rain started to fall heavily, the soft pitter-patter on the pavement suddenly creating a somber atmosphere. You groaned at the sudden downpour, while Harry simply let out a gruff sigh.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his face slightly shielded by the rain-soaked fabric of his sweatshirt. He glanced over at you, noticing your annoyed expression.

"Great timing," he muttered sarcastically.

“Oh my! I just realised… the weather is matching your mood!” You say sarcastically. 

Harry let out a sharp scoff at your comment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Very funny," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just full of useful comments tonight, aren't you?"

“Jesus what is your problem?? You were fine earlier, who shoved a stick up your ass?” You glare, raising your voice. 

Harry's expression darkened further at your words. Your raised voice surprised him, and he turned to face you fully, his gaze intense and almost angry. You’d never seen him this way. In fact the pair of you have never argued before, despite knowing one another for 10+ years.

"Fucking hell, you just don’t get it do you?” He yells. 

“No Harry, I don’t. But please do tell me, cause if it’s something I’ve done I’d really like to fucking know.”  

He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustrated and annoyed with himself.

"It's not... you..." he started, his voice quieter than before. "It's just... fuck I don't know. Can we just get to my flat first?"

“Harry just fucking say it!!!” You groan in frustration. 

Your plea for clarification seemed to hit a nerve, and Harry's frustration boiled over. He took a deep breath, his hands clenched into tight fists in his pockets.

"It’s not what you've done, it's what you haven't done," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "You haven't done anything, and that's the problem. You're so damn oblivious, it's infuriating."

Harry's mind was racing, his emotions warring inside of him. The rain continued to fall around them, adding to the heavy atmosphere.*

"You drive me crazy, you know that? You just have no idea frustrating you are!"

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his gaze locked relentlessly on you. His chest heaved as he spoke, a mixture of anger and something else, something deeper, filling his expression as you look up at him confused and upset. 

Harry stood there, rain dripping off his face, staring at you with an intensity that was almost too much to handle. For a second, everything around you seemed to fade—just the two of you, in the middle of a downpour, standing face to face with all this unspoken tension hanging in the air.

His voice broke the silence, quieter this time, almost hesitant.

“You… you really don’t get it, do you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in his tone. There was something softer in his voice now, the anger and frustration from earlier melting into something else—something deeper. Something you hadn’t expected.

“What don’t I get?” You frowned, trying to process what he was saying.

Harry exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair again, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped closer, his shoes squelching in the rain-soaked pavement, and for a second, the space between you seemed impossibly small.

“You and me… It’s always been there. All the stupid back-and-forth, all the flirting… it’s not just for fun, is it?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, the world felt a little too small. He was so close now, and the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed, not sure if you even wanted to hear the answer, though a part of you did.

Harry sighed, his face unreadable, but his eyes intense. He seemed to be struggling with himself, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets as if the words were stuck somewhere deep down.

“I mean…” His voice trailed off for a second, and then he just said it, almost too fast, like he needed to get it out. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you, and I can’t keep watching you flirt with anyone except me.”

Your chest tightened, and you weren’t sure if it was the rain or the vulnerability in his voice, but something about the way he said it made you feel like the ground underneath you had shifted.

“Harry…” You started, your voice barely above a whisper. "You… you can’t just—"

“I can,” he cut you off, his gaze unwavering now. “And I will. I’ve been a bloody idiot about this. I’ve danced around it for so long, and I’m just… I’m done.”

His words hung in the air, the space between you two now filled with a tension so thick, it felt almost suffocating. You stared at him for a moment, struggling to find the right response, you were both shit with your feelings. 

“Why now?” You finally said, your voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. "Why after all this time, Harry?”

He didn’t hesitate, his eyes softening as he took a step closer, and then another, until the distance between you was almost non-existent.

“Because I’ve spent so many years pretending it didn’t matter… pretending I didn’t care that much, but I do care.” He exhaled sharply, almost laughing at himself, the sound dark but bitter. “And it does matter. You matter, to me.”

You could feel the electricity in the air, a tension that had been building up for years, thick and heavy between you both. The rain poured harder now, the water splashing against the ground as if the world itself was holding its breath. Your heart thudded in your chest, erratic and wild.

Harry reached up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering along your jaw. His touch was tentative at first, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Slowly, you reached for him, your hands finding the sides of his wet jacket. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, maybe just a sign, or the courage to do what you both had wanted for so long. 

And then, as if everything had been leading to this moment, you leaned in. His lips met yours softly, tentatively at first, as though asking for permission. You melted into him, the kiss deepening, the world around you fading into nothing but the feeling of his mouth on yours, the rain drenching you both, turning everything into a blur of sensation. 

There was no more distance between you now. No more unspoken words. Just the pounding of the rain, the beat of your hearts, and the warmth of each other’s presence, as if the storm outside wasn’t the only one in your lives anymore.

When you finally broke the kiss, both of you gasping for air, the world still spun. Harry rested his forehead against yours, your thumb tracing the outline of his damp jaw.

The rain fell harder now, the droplets pounding against the earth, with a rhythmic urgency that seemed to mirror the pounding of your heart. He closed the space between you again. You could feel the slight tremble in his hand as it reached up to your face, his fingers brushing your hair back from your forehead, his touch so gentle it almost felt reverent.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more than that. Slowly, you leaned in, kissing him back, giving him the permission he needed. This time, it was different. There was no holding back. His lips deepened against yours, a tender pressure at first, as though he was still afraid, still unsure, but as the seconds passed, something inside him seemed to release. 

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, drawing you in as though he never wanted to let go. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes, but it didn’t matter. His kiss was all that existed. You could taste the rain on his lips, feel the soft pulse of his heart through his chest as it pressed against yours. His mouth moved with growing intensity, tracing the contours of your lips, then slipping deeper, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of everything he’d kept hidden into that kiss.

You slid your hands up his soaked jacket, fingers gripping the fabric like you needed him to stay, needed him to be here in this moment. His tongue brushed against yours, slow at first, as though savouring every touch. It was soft, then hungry, then desperate, as if both of you were trying to make up for lost time.

You pressed yourself against him, letting the kiss grow deeper, more urgent, as the tension that had been building for so long between you both seemed to spill out. 

[rafeysbafey]

✮ visit from ghostface — ethan landry MDNI

summary. ghostface visits the reader on halloween

warnings. smut (obvi), degradation, rough sex, slight cnc, brief breeding kink, (TELL ME IF I FORGOR ANYTHING, i def did)

word count. 1k

🎃Happy Halloween🎃

you waited patiently for your boyfriend, texting him to come over whenever he was done with school work.

sitting on the couch scrolling through movies to watch, you mindlessly munched on the bowl of popcorn sitting on your lap.

it was a tradition for you and ethan to watch as many scary movies as possible on halloween, just enjoying each others company and pigging out on popcorn and store bought candy.

suddenly, you heard a noise come from the hallway, a "thump" sound echoing off the walls.

"eth?" you called out, huffing when you didn't get a response.

pushing yourself off the couch, you tossed the remote on the couch before making your way down the hall.

hearing another noise, you rolled your eyes at ethan's poor attempt to scare you.

you enjoyed scary movies, sure, but you weren't one to get scared easily.

your bedroom door suddenly creaked open, catching your attention as you let out an annoyed sigh, not wanting to deal with whatever ethan was up to.

"i know you're in here," you mumbled, entering the room to quickly meet a looming figure standing by your window.

he was wearing a ghostface mask and black robe.

classic.

"Is this what you were doing?" you asked, crossing your arms and tilting your head to the side.

he stood there silently. mocking you as he tilted his head as well.

"oh you think you're so funny, you want me to play along?"

ethan then nodded slowly, a small laugh falling from your lips as you shrugged your shoulders.

"please don't kill me mr.ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel."

your voice was teasing and mocked fear, followed by a giggle as you then stalked closer to ethan.

"but seriously, let's go watch the movie."

you went to take off his mask, stopping in your tracks as he quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to him, a yelp falling from your lips.

"ethan, cut it out."

he tauntingly shook his head, pulling you in so you were pressed against his chest as he bent over to whisper in your ear.

"i'm not ethan," a grainy voice spoke, sending chills down your spine as your eyes went wide.

before you could respond, you were turned around and shoved onto the bed, a yelp leaving your lips as he straddled you from behind.

"be a good girl and lay still," he spoke from above you, rutting his hips against your ass as you tried pushing him off, failing as he took your wrists and pinned them against the bed.

"my boyfriend will be here any second," you spat, not helping but bite down on your lip at the feeling of his cock pressing down on you.

"and then what?" he laughed, taking both your wrists in one hand before using the other to pull down your shorts, your underwear following.

"should we let him watch?"

"you're sick," you groaned, his fingers prodding at your entrance causing you to jolt against the feeling.

"you're pussy seems to think different," he chuckled, grainy voice deep as you shivered at the sound.

you felt him lean back over your body, his weight practically crushing you as you whimpered under him.

you saw the mask come into view, straining your neck to view him better as he leaned in close.

"try fighting when i let your wrists go, and i'll slit your throat."

your eyes widened in response, ghostface letting out an eerie laugh before letting go of your wrists, your fingers immediately running over the red skin.

before you could process what was happening next, you heard him shuffling above you, moving the robe out of the way to pull his boxers down.

you felt his cock slap against your ass, his length hard and heavy, pre cum rubbing against your skin before he moved the tip down to your entrace.

"wait-" you were cut off as he thrusted himself into you, an overwhelming feeling of pain running through you as you cried out loud.

"take it like a good girl," he groaned above you, loving the feeling of your warm walls squeezing the life out of him--he wasn't going to last long.

he started to thrust himself into you, pulling all the way out before sinking back into your tight walls, a moan dropping from both your lips at the feeling.

you felt impossibly full, tears streaking your face as the pain morphed into pleasure.

his tight balls slapped against you, his cock penetrating your insides and practically rearranging your guts as he set a brutal pace.

"fuck," you squealed, his hand coming down to wrap around your throat and yank you up, your back arching as you whimpered at the action.

"taking my cock like a slut," he cackled above you, his hips pistoning against your ass, his other hand coming down to strike it, hard.

you felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to form, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as he felt you squeeze him tight.

"cumming already?" he mocked, although he was close as well, "cum on this cock, milk my fat cock like the slut you are."

his dirty words went straight to your core, a small cry falling from your lips as you sunk into the mattress, his hand leaving your throat to grip your hips.

you felt your legs shake intensely, your walls clamping down around his cock as you released all over him, a loud moan leaving your lips.

"fuck, gonna fill you with my cum, have it drip out of you," he grunted, stilling his hips before releasing inside you, warm spurts of cum painting your walls and filling you up.

you don't know how long you laid there, taking his cum, but he was quite literally dumping himself into you.

you then felt him lean back over your body, holding himself up this time in order to not crush you.

taking his mask off, you turned to view your beautiful, fucked out boyfriend, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead as he flashed you a smile.

"how was that?" he asked, panting slightly as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss, his cock softening inside you as you hummed against him.

"perfect."

[bellysoupset]

Professor Monacelli

Reminder this is NSFW and KINKY.

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

"Are you sure you're alright?" Vince asked for the second time, as he hugged Sophia goodbye, outside of her hotel. Boston was freezing and he couldn't stop shaking.

"Yesss," Soph rolled her eyes, hugging him back and shoving his arm, "my head is not even hurting anymore, go away."

Vince let out a huff, "well, alright, but I'm a call away if you need me. It's only two hours to Welton, I can be here in a heartbea-"

"Go away, Vince!"

He chuckled at her shriek, waving at her as he walked back to the car, "I texted you Angie's number, don't forget!" Vince let her know, before finally driving away.

He was really giddy. There was a nice school near Welton's center, that taught from ages 0 to 18 years old, which had contacted him after he had let Fernanda, his current principal, know he'd be leaving after prom. In all honesty, not once in his life Vince had been invited to a job interview, he had always applied to them and that made him feel incredibly smug.

He really wanted this job, not only the school's location was perfect, but it was a quite fancy building, so he assumed the salary didn't suck either. Besides, he had heard great things about them... And this would mean moving to Welton exactly in the timeline he had anticipated.

It was well past lunch when Vince arrived to Welton, for his 4 PM appointment. He parked inside the building, whistling under his breath and making sure his button up was right, as well as putting on the blazer that had been in the backseat until then and removing his dumbass beanie.

Vince checked his phone, making sure he was on time as he grabbed his suitcase and locked the car.

HoneyBee: Are you in town yet??

HoneyBee: I'm missing you like crazy rn

HoneyBee: Good luck at the interview, you're gonna crush it 💕

He sent Wendy a bunch of strong-arm emojis back, stomach filling up with butterflies as she had said she missed him. Hell, Vince missed her too, much more than he was willing to admit to himself. Now that moving back was such a close reality, he couldn't help but feel the yearn as a physical pain.

"Professor Monacelli?" The front desk employee was a guy, in his late 40s, balding and with thick glasses, "hi, I'm Ethan."

"Hi, Ethan, I'm Vince," Vin opened his best smile, breathing in and bringing out his best attitude.

It was really weird to go through a teacher job interview. Not only he had to teach a class on the fly, had a long conversation with the principal, Ophelia Dashwood, but she didn't actually tell him he had gotten job, simply launched herself into explaining the benefits they offered and the salary.

It took Vin a flat minute of sitting there with a smile on his face and watching as she circled what was going to be his schedule, for him to get it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dashwood," Vince interrupted, planting a hand over the schedule, "I'm taking this as me being hired?"

"Yes, of course! If you'll take the job...." She looked flabbergasted at his question, "Mrs. Castillo spoke so well about you... I want you to think on it-" she handed him the schedule, as well as other papers and what he assumed was a contract, "and get back to me Monday."

"Absolutely," Vince nodded, getting up to shake her hand and thank her for the interview, trying not to show just how giddy he was and how he would've signed it on the spot if she asked him to.

As soon as he was inside his car, though, Vince allowed himself to pump the air in a triumphant gesture and fished out his phone to text Wendy.

Vince: I just left the interview. ILY

He decided not to let her know via text, instead driving to the grocery store that was near her place and drafting up the dinner he wanted to make for them.

Wendy wasn't home, but Vince was there enough by now that it didn't cull him in any way. He removed his shoes at the door, put the groceries away in the kitchen and left his bag in her room, taking a quick scorching hot shower before heading back to the kitchen, stopping only long enough to start Wen's fireplace.

Then, he got to cooking. Limoncello liquor put in the fridge to chill, onions and leeks chopped, cheese grated... Vince had just killed the heat after the rice absorbed all the white wine when he heard Wendy opening the front door.

Her voice travelled as she smelled the dinner, "this-" she walked in, leaning against the kitchen's doorway, "smells like a celebration."

Vince smiled at her, unable to keep it to himself for a second longer, "I got the job!"

Wendy's dimples appeared as she opened a huge smile and crossed the room in one leap, throwing herself on him. Vince chuckled, pulling her off her feet and kissing her, lips haphazardly clashing as they smiled into the kiss.

"I'm not surprised at all," Wendy said, bumping her nose with his, "I'm so proud, honey."

Vince's face burned at the compliment and he kissed her once again, planting Wendy down.

Since she preferred to wear scrubs for work, Wendy could get away with her "work outfit" being more colorful and out there than most people would expect from a doctor. Today she was wearing a colorful floral midi skirt, caramel boots and a yolk-yellow cardigan that she had already undone the top buttons off, all of it covered by a fuzzy long coat. Her hair was a mess, frizzy from the ugly weather outside, waves pointing everywhere, the tip of her nose all red...

Vince let out a happy sigh, leaning in and planting a kiss on her forehead, "I love you," he pulled her into a tight hug, causing Wendy to giggle as she was smushed to his chest.

"I love you too..." Her voice came out muffled and Vince tilted his body back just so he could look at her, without undoing the hug.

"I thought we could celebrate with something different," he told her and Wendy nodded, none the wiser, looking around the kitchen.

"Smells amazing..."

Vince let out a chuckle, causing her to frown as she realized she wasn't in the joke, "Vin?"

"That's not the different part," he rolled his eyes, pulling back from her, "risotto has parmesan," he gestured at it with his head, "and this is a lot of food."

He could, of course, just straight up tell her he wanted to indulge in her latent tummy ache kink, but it was more fun this way. To watch her frown, confused, and then her whole face turning a strawberry shade, eyes widening as it dawned on her.

"You mean you wanna make yourself sick...?" Wendy whispered and Vince shrugged, releasing her from the hug.

"If my girlfriend will take care of me?" He teased her and she nodded eagerly, eyeing him up and down.

"I will," her words came out breathy, lips pressing into a thin line as Wendy struggled to collect herself, "yeah, of course- Aren't we supposed to be celebrating you? Why am I getting the gift?"

"You think I don't enjoy myself?" Vince rolled his eyes, circling her so he could wrap his arms around her from behind and press a kiss on her cheek, "watching you nearly lose your mind with how much you want me? That's the best feeling."

Wendy's face was burning, but she tilted her head to smile at him, "so your kink is me, eh?" her nose wrinkled in the most adorable way, causing Vince's heart to skip a beat.

"It sure is," he agreed with a smug smile, pressing his lips to her temple, "so let's eat?"

Wendy was completely obsessed with table setting, although she couldn't cook more than the basics. Even though it was only the two of them, she insisted on breaking out her good tablecloth and weirdly shaped plates with gold dinnerware. Vince couldn't smile more if he tried, his cheeks were hurting.

They sat down together and for about an hour the whole kinkiness of it all slipped his mind. His girlfriend wanted all the details on the job interview, squealing as he told her about the principal's comment on his recommendation and how he had been offered the job.

"Can I read the contract?" Wendy asked, as Vince polished off his third serving of dinner and about his fourth glass of white wine. He was far from drunk, but in that pleasant tipsy state where everything felt soft and he felt warm.

"Yep, I left it on top of your bed-"

"Our," Wendy interrupted him, draping herself on his back, "we haven't really discussed it, but you are moving here, right?" her chin dug into his shoulder, "you're not moving to Welton to go hole up in some tiny house because you're too proud to move in with me, right Vin?"

He leaned his head back with a chuckle, "I wouldn't dream of it," Vince promised, closing his eyes as Wendy let out a relieved sigh and pressed her lips to his temple, "get the dessert out of the fridge, please?"

She came back not a minute later, with a frown on, "what is this?" Wendy asked, holding the tub of gourmet ice cream, the glass bottle and the contract in her opposite hand.

"Vanilla gelato, obviously," Vince shrugged, pulling her to sit on his leg and opening the bottle "and this is limoncello, it's a lemon liquor..." he grabbed the dessert spoon he had put on the table earlier and drizzled some of the limoncello on top of the ice cream, "open up," he said, holding up a spoonful for Wendy.

Her eyes went wide, eyebrows jumping up and a hand rushing to cover her mouth as she mumbled with her mouth still full, "this issso good!"

"I know, right?" Vince grinned, jerking his leg and causing Wendy to bounce on his lap, moving closer, "it's amazing."

"It's super creamy... Is this lactose free?" Wendy frowned, picking up the gelato tub and letting out a noise as she confirmed it, "okay, good."

"You're really counterproductive to your goal, girly," Vince smiled, feeding himself a huge spoonful. The flavor was amazing, sweet and creamy thanks to the ice cream, but zesty and burning the back of his throat due to the liquor.

"I don't want you to be super sick," Wendy pouted, holding up a spoon to his mouth, "just a little bit..." she smiled cheekily, wrapping herself around Vince and continuing to share the dessert between them.

The thing was, Vince wasn't stuffed. The last time they had done this, he had been stuffed up to the gills and felt overwhelmingly sick, now he was just pleasantly sloshed and full. The parmesan was, obviously, starting to cause his belly to whine, but nothing as brutal as milk did...

And he wanted the night to go as he had planned in his mind.

"Hey," Wendy pouted, stealing a kiss and cupping his face, "where did you go?"

"Nowhere," Vince forced a wince, deciding that if he couldn't have it his way, he was going to make it his way, "my stomach's just hurting..."

It was a big fat lie, at most he had the start of a tummy ache, but Wendy's cheeks turned pink nonetheless and yeah, that was what he wanted.

He grabbed her hand, guiding it to his stomach, and pressing it there, "can you feel it gurgling?"

It helped that his belly was churning, although it was just mildly upset. Wendy's head bobbed up and down as she agreed, eyes locked on his stomach, "do you want to keep eating?"

"Yeah," Vince agreed, squirming in his seat in fake discomfort, "but I ran out of wine. I'm going to go get more-"

"I can do it!" His girlfriend piped up, but Vince shook his head, patting her ass so she'd get off his lap and he could stand up.

"No," he kissed the top of her head, "stay here, try some more of the ice cream, you barely touched it. I'll be right back."

Perhaps it was insane of his part to instead head for the fridge and grab the milk carton Wendy had sitting there, taking two large gulps before fishing out a fresh bottle of white wine and returning to the dining room. Whatever, fuck it, it was his celebration and if he wanted to see his girlfriend looking at him with mind numbing lust, than who gave a crap?

Wendy was reading the contract while he was gone, with a pleased smile on, "I'm envious of your hours," she sighed dreamily and Vince let out a snort, leaning over her and kissing her upside down.

"Should've dropped med school and joined us teachers," he teased her, "not as fancy but at least my hours don't suck royally."

"I'd be a horrible teacher," Wendy immediately moved so she was back on his lap and eagerly grabbed on the spoon, while Vince served them both with wine, "third time a student asked me if they could do a pair of three people, I'd be out of patience."

He let out a hearty chuckle at that, then turned his head quickly to muffle a burp. Wendy's pleased smile could not be hidden as she grabbed yet another spoonful, "here, honey," she grabbed at his chin, fingers almost digging in, "have some more."

Vince took it without a complain, grabbing the bottle of limoncello and drizzling more of the liqueur over the dessert, grinning as Wen wiped at his lips and licked the vanilla off her thumb.

in ten minutes, they reached the bottom of the gelato tub and the dull ache in his stomach spread, although Vince doubted it was due to his milk intolerance just yet. He let out a groan, squirming on the seat and loosening up the cords of the sweatpants he had put on after the shower.

Wendy cupped his belly with both hands, "how... How's it feeling?" she asked, breathlessly, and Vince made a pained grimace that now was only partially fake.

"Really gross," he brought up his hand, muffling a burp against his fist and shuddering, truly, when a splash of milk hit the back of his throat, "ugh..."

Wendy pressed her hands in, rubbing circles on the sides of his belly, until her hands met in the middle of his navel, "queasy?"

Not really, no. Indigestion was starting to kick in and he felt fuller than before drinking the milk, even if only fifteen minutes had passed, but he still felt incredibly fine...

"Can we lie down?" His voice was whiny and Wendy immediately nodded, jumping up.

"Yes, of course..." Her cheeks were flushed, hands fluttering over his arm as she ushered him up, as if Wen could truly help Vince stand up.

He sat down with a groan and Wendy moved closer, tugging on his pants, then climbing him, sitting atop his lap and pressing Vin against the headboard as she kissed him, "I'm going to take care of you..." she mumbled, dreamily, lips dragging from his mouth to his cheek and down his neck.

Vince tugged up his shirt, throwing it across the room and squirmed as Wendy kissed down his body, over his stomach. It was bloating up now and he muffled another burp in his hand, "hey, gentle-"

"Uhummm," Wendy hummed, all but ignoring him, tracing her nails up his belly, biting his belly and moving her mouth further down, "oh wow," she perked up suddenly, as Vince's stomach let out a growl loud enough to spook both of them.

Yeah, that hadn't felt good. Suddenly the thought of their dinner wasn't appetizing anymore and his belly became incredibly vocal. Vince took a deep breath, as an invisible hand seemed to squeeze his insides.

"Oh honey..." Wendy's voice was soft, but she couldn't keep a smile from it, pressing her hand in and rubbing in circles around his belly button, "your belly's so upset..."

He moved a hand up her back, sliding under her yellow cardigan and pulling it up as he moved his hand to stroke the hairs on her nape. Wendy raised her arms just enough to shrug it off and Vin opened a pleased smile as he saw her floral bra.

"C'mere," his fingers curled on the root of her hair and he guided Wendy up. She tried to climb him, but her knee was trapping her skirt and Wen half fell on top of him, causing Vince to groan and muffle a burp against her mouth.

"Oh-wow..." Her face was a delicious shade of pink and Vin scoffed, rolling them on the bed so he could be on top of her, using his arms so he wouldn't crush her. He sat back on his heels, chuckling as Wendy squirmed up against the pillows and raised her leg so he could unzip her boot.

He rested her leg on his shoulder, unzipping the boot and throwing it across the room, turning his head to plant a kiss on her calf, up her leg all the way to her exposed thigh- Vince's belly let out a nasty gurgle and he felt the cold prickles of nausea clinging to him.

He ceased moving all together, pressing his face to Wendy's crotch, over the colorful skirt, and taking steadying breaths as a cramp gripped at him once more. It was much harsher this time and Vin muffled a sickly belch against the fabric, feeling her erection pulse under his chin since he was pressed so close.

"You're turning green, honey," Wendy's voice was gleeful, hips tilting up in search of any friction and Vin let out a slow breath, before removing her second boot, then patting her ass so he could slide the skirt from under her, letting it fall in a crumpled puddle on the ground. Her panties matched her bra, all transparent tule and little embroideries of vines, sunflowers and roses.

Vince lurched in, nausea and stomachache be damned, pressing his mouth over her panties, kissing her, letting his lips drag up her belly, between her boobs- A gag rocked him before he could control it and Vin froze, gulping down the sudden lurch of milky vomit in his mouth.

He squeezed the sheets, eyes squeezed shut as he fought a heave, the taste of milk causing his spine to curl... Vince sat back, off of Wendy, and pressed a fist to his mouth, gulping convulsively.

"Hey," Wen's fingers were on his hair, lips pressing to his naked shoulder, "deep breathes, hon..."

Vince didn't want to cause a mess. Clean up was never fun, what he wanted was Wen's giddy voice and her hands all over him and the weird sensation cross between being so horny he could die and so nauseous he felt dizzy.

He shuddered, clearing his throat, "bath- bathroom..." Vince grumbled, getting up and Wen came with him as if they were tied at the hip. She grabbed a towel to plant in front of the toilet so his knees wouldn't hurt, then filled up a glass of water, but didn't pass it to him, sitting by his side as Vin knelt on the ground and leaned over the toilet.

He wasn't quite there yet, but staring at the water and the folded position worked up a burp and with it a mouthful of cloudy saliva. Cold sweat ran down his back and Wendy rubbed his arm, "Vin?"

Without thinking, he reached for her hand, pressing it to his bloated stomach, "I'm gonna be sick..." he closed his eyes at the pressure of her hand there, pushing on the upset organ. Everything was turning into a sludge inside him and yet another cramp caused Vince to curl up, letting out a whine.

"It's okay, honey," Wen's voice was brimming with excitement, closer than he expected as she draped on his back, "I got you, I got you-" she pressed on the top of his stomach and before he could even think, vomit rushed up and into the bowl.

It was a long stream, he wasn't packed full but his belly felt awful by now and Vince's thoughts flew out of the window as he choked on it, coughing and burping the bits of rice stuck in his throat. He reached in, blindly, for the flush, only for Wen's hand to find it first.

Vin let out a groan, curling up and turning towards her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder and nearly sending Wen flat on her back, "fuck-"

"Are you okay?" Wendy asked quietly, kissing his temple, hugging him closer, "Vin?"

He nodded, gulping down and squirming as another cramp twisted his insides, "did you- Are you-" he mumbled, head swimming a little and reaching between them so he could feel Wendy up. She slapped his hand away, forcing him to open his eyes.

"You're not feeling well," she was glaring at him, "truly."

"I don't care," Vince grumbled, pulling back and grabbing the hand that had just slapped his wrist, pressing a kiss to each fingertip of hers before bringing it down to his unsettled stomach. He had bloated up, but when he forced Wen's hand to press in, there was a sloshy sound, "I want you."

"No," Wendy shook her head, biting her lip and looking conflicted, "no, you're actually sick, Vin, I can tell-"

"I don't care," he shrugged, gulping down air and working up a sickly wet burp, spitting some of the sweet gross saliva in the toilet, "you said you'd take care of me-" Vince whined as his jaw felt heavy, "Wen..."

It was like a lock went off in her brain and Wendy scooted closer, pressing herself to his side, her mouth to his bicep as Vince draped himself over the toilet, "I am taking care of you-" she said softly, only for Vin to shake his head.

"I need it- I need to throw up..." He forced a burp, but it wasn't enough. He could taste the milk, slimy feeling in the back of his throat, "Wen..."

It was more like a whimper and his girlfriend got the memo, nails dragging over his belly, then fingers massaging in the top of it, gentle at first, then deeper, deeper- Vince retched, but it wasn't enough and Wen let out a little groan in the back of her throat, a noise he knew well.

Her hand that wasn't pressing on his belly, in rhythm with the retches, slid inside his pants and suddenly Vin went all but blind as the sensations mixed in. He tried to turn his head to look at her, but it was too close, as just then a wet burp brought up a watery stream of puke, the pathetic wave followed by a much larger one, Vince's gags echoing in the bathroom as his body got completely overwhelmed by all the sensations.

He coughed for air, squeezing the porcelain, whole back arching- Wendy pressed her lips to his neck, little bites on his earlobe, down to his shoulder...

He came undone with a groan, head swimming from the lack of oxygen, stomach sore from all the heaving and a wet spot in his sweatpants as Wen retrieved her hand with a smug smile, panting too.

"Feel better?" Her voice was hoarse and she used her clean hand to grab on the sink's granite and pull herself up, stumbling as if she was the one who had been puking for a ridiculous amount of time.

Vince nodded, unable to speak, ducking his head and letting up a string of little burps as his girlfriend washed her hands, splashing cold water on her face and reaching to flush the toilet.

"Drink the water, honey," she instructed, crouching down next to him and grabbing some toilet paper, wiping his lips, "c'mon, Vin, just a sip."

"Don't- don't think it'll stay down..." He admitted, head feeling heavy and emotions all mixed up. It felt like coming down from a high, only to crash down straight into his still queasy stomach, still grumbly belly.

"Well, that's what you get for chugging milk," Wen wrinkled her nose, sitting by his side, folding a leg over his lap so they could be as close as possible. He rested his hand on her knee, frowning.

"You... You knew?"

"Vince," Wendy rolled her eyes, "you're a terrible liar, honey."

He let out a groan, all but collapsing against her, curling up on the bathroom floor and hiding his face on Wendy's tummy, "just the food wasn't gonna work," he pouted, looking up at her and doing his best puppy eyes, grinning as he saw a blush go up her chest, devouring her cheeks, "but you still found it hot, didn't you?"

"I find everything about you hot," Wendy scoffed, smiling down at him, only for Vince to let out a frustrated huff, squirming on her lap so he was on his side and in a better position for her to rub his stomach. It wasn't done with him, Vin could tell. Vengeance against him for being greedy, lustful, gluttonous and maybe all the other four sins too.

"But like- Kinky hot?"

Wendy's whole body shook with a chuckle and she folded in half so she could kiss him, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on his tummy, "yeah, kinky hot too, Professor Monacelli."

[dollysdarlings]

──── IN BETWEEN

ETHAN LANDRY x reader

#SYNOPSIS: based off of in between by gracie abrams; he wants it more than everything in between #CONTAINS: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff!!! #AUTHORSNOTE: my first fic ever so pls be nice, any constructive criticism welcomed! 1.8k word count.

There was something going on between you two, the entire group could feel it- see it. Nobody could come between you, it was almost electric, the chemistry. You've got your own thing; they wish that you two could see it.

It started at a frat party to kick off the upcoming Blackmore school year. It was huge, far too many people were crammed into one space, and inevitably, you bumped into him.

"Oh!" you gasped as you practically slammed into him, spilling the contents of the red solo cup in your hands, making you curse under your breath. "I'm- I'm so, so sorry!" your words slur a bit, you've already had a little too much to drink, and your hands immediately moved to grab his arm to stabilize yourself.

"Let me fix it!" You don't even give him a chance to respond, you're already tugging him through the crowd and into the crowded kitchen, grabbing napkins and pressing them into the wet stain on his shirt.

"It's- It's okay." He tries to say over the music, but it falls on deaf ears, as you speak over him. "What's your name?"

The question catches him off guard for a second, and he can't help but glance around for his much more outgoing and social roommate as he speaks over the music. "Ethan."

"What?" You respond dumbly, leaning closer to him to hear him better.

"Ethan!" He tries again, speaking a little louder this time, his cheeks burning from the alcohol in his system and the proximity.

"Evan?" You say, brows stitching in confusion. Ethan shakes his head and leans in a little closer, a small smile forming on his face as he stops your hands movements with his own to get your full attention.

"It's Ethan." He corrects loudly this time, taking the napkins from your hands to dab at his shirt himself. You absentmindedly nod your head, mouth opening in a soft 'ohh' that tells Ethan you definitely didn't hear him still, and he can't help the way he grins and throws his head back in a laugh.

And you can't help the way you smile at the sound, laughing alongside him, even though you didn't find it all that funny, his joy was infectious to you, almost magnetic.

The rest of the friend group knew you two had something special, from the way Ethan dropped everything when you called, stopping mid-conversation if the phone rang with your caller ID like he couldn't stand the idea of letting you wait, or god forbid, missing your call.

"What if it's important?" He'd say when someone questioned him, they wished he'd stop pretending he wouldn't let his phone ring for more than a couple of seconds, maybe two.

Just two hearts falling in and out of love for something new.

The rest of the group wished that you could see it, the way you both light up the room with your smiles alone when you're together. They wished that you could see it, the spark in his eyes when he talks about you, or the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking.

Not that you were any better, of course.

There was one day when the group was hanging out in the Carpenter sisters' apartment, it was supposed to be a quiet movie night, you were all wearing matching pajama pants, there were snacks surrounding the coffee table, and they were all piled onto the furniture, and you and Ethan had squeezed into an armchair together.

It was the best seat in the house, you'd both said. Nobody argued or complained, allowing you both to cram into the armchair together despite the ample space on the couch, sharing knowing looks as you and Ethan fought over the blanket you were sharing.

About halfway through the film, Ethan had maneuvered himself to be leaned across your lap, laying his head on the armrest as he made himself comfortable. You tore your attention away from the movie, glancing down at him, expression softening as your hand moved to his head, absentmindedly playing with his hair, gently moving it out of his eyes so he could still see the television.

"Look at them," Tara whispers to Mindy from her spot on the couch, gesturing towards the unassuming pair. "They're so... domestic."

"they're so obvious-" Mindy says, but she's cut off by Chad's snickering. "The other day, Eth asked me if I wanted a peanut butter and y/n-ly sandwich."

"Who do you think will make the first move?" Tara asks quietly, turning her attention towards the two, who were, by now, curled up around each other, fast asleep as the rest of their friends placed their bets.

Ethan never was the party type, but for you, he'd go.

He'd go just to see that tipsy, lopsided smile on your face as you mingled in the crowd, he'd endure the loud music just to hear your voice, just barely over the music, calling out to him as you stumbled over to him.

He'd always imagined that it'd be one of these parties that he'd confess to you since this is how you two had met. There was something… romantic about seeing you in low, neon lights. He can't help the way his eyes soften as you stumble into his awaiting arms, he'd always be there for you.

"Ethan!" You say over the music, hands on his arms to stabilize yourself. "Dance with me!"

"What!" He responds, a grin plastered on his face. "No way!"

"Come on!" You plead with him.

He shakes his head again, still grinning at you, he's too busy admiring your eyes under the lights to bother indulging you. "Fine," you huff. "I'll dance with someone else."

His heart drops at your words, but he's left letting out a sigh of relief when it's Tara that you go to, who, bless her heart, is just as drunk as you are. Ethan can't help but laugh at the sight of you two dancing in each other's arms, carefree and drunk well off your asses.

He does that often, he realizes. He laughs so often with you, it's like everything about him is so much brighter in your presence, you light a fire within him, and he doesn't know how to put it out, but he doesn't think he wants to.

Ethan feels two hands gripping his shoulders, jolting him out of his daydreams as he turns to face who it is, coming face to face with Chad, who gives him a slight shake, before leaning in to talk into his ear.

"Just talk to her man!" He says, jostling him further as he grinned at him.

"Who?" Ethan replies, but he knows who, he hasn't been able to take his eyes off said 'who' all night.

"Don't play dumb with me." Chad scoffs, and Ethan finally peels his attention away from you to roll his eyes at him and respond, except he's interrupted by yelling cutting through the loud music,

He turns immediately, eyes searching for you in the crowd, and he spots you just in time to watch you get a drink thrown in your face, instantly wiping away the apologetic look you had on your face, leaving you standing there, sopping wet.

Shame and embarrassment flood your system, sobering you up in an instant as people whisper amongst themselves about your misfortune. Your eyes search for Ethan amongst the crowd, making eye contact with him before you bolt out of the party with tears in your eyes.

Ethan doesn't hesitate to call after you, following you out before you can spend another second alone.

He catches up to you about half a street down from the frat house, calling out to you, which, for the first time, you ignored. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold night air chilling you through your soaked top.

"Just- slow down!" He says finally, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

You're spun around to face him, and he almost falters at the sight of your tears, your makeup staining your tear-stricken face. You shake your head at him before a sob rips through you.

He hates it when you cry, the way your sobs rip through his heart. He hates it when you frown, and your features contort so painfully. It makes him ache, it breaks his heart into pieces.

He pulls you into his arms, not caring about the way your makeup smudged onto the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. He rubs your back in soothing circles.

"This party was lame anyway." He whispers. "Let's get you home."

It's late, you two are curled up on your couch, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear to try and cheer you up, his fingers are messing with your hair.

"You're... you're beautiful, and funny, and smart like nothing I've ever seen." He murmurs, loose-lipped from the alcohol he'd consumed not even an hour prior.

You loved how he talked late at night when it was just the two of you, like you were the center of his universe, saying things nobody had ever said to you before.

"You think so?" You asked, voice soft and still disheartened.

"Yeah." He says, not skipping a beat. "Yeah, I know so."

You sit up, leaning into him to press your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips as you cheekily respond.

"You're not too bad yourself" You murmured.

"Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah." The sight of his grin made your eyes soften, a soft grin on your lips.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand to cup your face. There's a slight tremble to his hand, like he's nervous. This was it, he tells himself. This was it.

"You... you know you're my best friend, right?" He asks you quietly. "I mean-- I know you know, but like, do you? Do you know how important to me you are? Because you're super important to me."

"I mean, there's... there isn't anyone who even comes close to you in my eyes, you're like-" He's cut off by lips crashing onto his, stopping his rambling with a gentle kiss.

It feels like there's holy ground beneath them, and Ethan swears there are sparks flying as he kisses you back. The kiss is clumsy, but it's sweet, slow, and full of unspoken adoration.

Ethan pulls back with a fond expression, you're both red-faced and grinning like fools, and you lean in to kiss him again, but you're interrupted by the door to your apartment opening.

"I owe Tara so much money now." Chad groans, the rest of their group behind him, while their friends whooped and hollered.

"Get out!" You grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and threw it in their direction, Ethan just laughed, his hand finding yours.

He loves you more than everything in between.

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Eric and Ethan had always been inseparable, their bond forged through years of shared adventures, challenges, and when they got older a mutual passion for motorcycles. As identical twins, they shared striking features: piercing blue eyes, sharp jawlines, and an infectious smile. Yet, over the years, subtle differences had emerged between them.

Eric, the more athletic of the two, had spent countless hours at the gym, honing his physique to perfection. His muscles bulged beneath the sleek, black leather motorcycle racing gear he wore, a testament to his dedication and hard work. Ethan, on the other hand, had a softer frame, his body cushioned by a layer of pudge that he carried with a certain ease. He preferred the comfort of textile gear, appreciating its practicality over the aesthetic appeal of leather.

One sunny Saturday, the twins decided to take their motorcycles out for a long ride through the winding roads of the countryside. The day was perfect, the sky a brilliant blue, the air filled with the scent of blooming wildflowers. They rode side by side, the roar of their engines harmonizing like a symphony, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to their faces.

After hours of exhilarating speed and sharp turns, they pulled into a small roadside café for a break. They parked their bikes and stretched, the fatigue of the ride beginning to set in. As they sat down at a wooden picnic table, a young woman approached, her eyes drawn to Eric's impressive physique and the way his leather gear hugged his form.

"Hey," she said, smiling brightly at Eric. "You look like you ride a lot. Can I get your number?"

Eric, always friendly and outgoing, smiled and obliged, exchanging pleasantries and his phone number. Ethan watched from the sidelines, his heart sinking as the scene unfolded.

A few minutes later, a man came over, similarly captivated by Eric. "Nice bike," he said, his gaze lingering on Eric's muscular frame. "Do you come here often? Can I get your number?"

Eric chuckled and exchanged numbers again, his charm and easy demeanor drawing the attention effortlessly. Ethan felt a pang of jealousy, but he kept his feelings hidden behind a forced smile.

Throughout their break, different people continued to approach Eric, each one seemingly oblivious to Ethan's presence. The constant attention Eric received only deepened Ethan's sense of invisibility. He tried to join the conversations, but his attempts were met with polite indifference. Each interaction chipped away at his self-esteem, leaving him feeling smaller and more insignificant.

After a while, they got back on their bikes and rode home in silence. Eric was in high spirits, the attention he received adding to his exuberance. Ethan, however, felt a storm brewing inside him. The jealousy and hurt festered, but he didn't want to burden his brother with his feelings. He acted completely normal, laughing at Eric's jokes and discussing their plans for the next ride as if nothing was amiss.

That night, as they parked their bikes in the garage, Ethan knew he needed space to sort out his emotions. He made an excuse about needing some time alone and left before Eric could ask any questions.

In the days that followed, Ethan ignored Eric's calls and messages. He needed distance to deal with the pain of feeling perpetually overshadowed. Eric's concern grew, but Ethan remained resolute in his silence, determined not to let his jealousy damage their bond further. Weeks turned into months, and then years, with Ethan maintaining his distance, his silence becoming a wall between them.

Eric continued to reach out, his calls and messages filled with worry and confusion.

Yet, Ethan couldn't bring himself to respond. The pain of that day had left a lasting scar, one that time alone couldn't heal.

Two years later, Eric still hoped for reconciliation, while Ethan struggled with his feelings, the memory of that fateful ride haunting him. Their bond, once unbreakable, now lay fractured, a casualty of unspoken hurt and unaddressed emotions. Eric had been riding his motorcycle alone through the countryside all day, the wind whipping past him, the roar of the engine drowning out his thoughts. The endless road stretched before him, a temporary escape from the loneliness and confusion that had plagued him ever since Ethan had disappeared from his life. The sky gradually darkened as evening approached, the day's heat lingering in the air.

By the time he returned home, his body was soaked in sweat, trapped within the confines of his one-piece leather motorcycle racing suit and boots. He parked his bike in the garage and staggered inside, exhaustion etched into every muscle. His throat was parched, and he headed straight to the fridge, grabbing the milk and drinking straight from the carton, gulping down the cold liquid hastily.

With the milk nearly finished, he put the carton back and slumped onto a chair, beginning the laborious process of taking off his racing boots. He could feel the heat and moisture trapped inside, his feet aching from the long ride. As he worked on the second boot, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, and he collapsed to the floor. Panic surged through him as he found himself conscious but completely immobile, every muscle unresponsive.

As he lay there, helpless, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His heart pounded in his chest as he strained to see who it was. A shadow fell over him, and he saw a pair of gloved hands reach down and grab his boots. The figure then moved to his ankles and began dragging him towards the bedroom. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to struggle futile against the paralysis.

He was pulled into the bedroom and unceremoniously lifted onto the bed. His eyes widened as he saw the figure looming over him, a muscular man whose face was hidden behind a black balaclava. The man's presence was imposing, his movements precise and controlled as he began to strip Eric out of his tight, warm, and sweaty gear.

The man started by removing Eric's gloves, sliding them off his hands with deliberate slowness. Next, he unzipped the one-piece leather suit, the zipper's sound a harsh rasp in the tense silence. The man had to peel the suit away from Eric's body, the leather clinging stubbornly to his sweat-drenched skin. The process was slow and meticulous, the suit coming off inch by inch, revealing Eric's glistening torso and legs. The cool air hit Eric's exposed skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

Once the suit was off, the man moved on to Eric's socks, pulling them off and exposing his damp feet. Then came the undershirt, which was stuck to Eric's torso from the day's perspiration. The man tugged it over Eric's head, leaving him in just his underpants, now visibly soaked with sweat.

Finally, the man reached for the underpants, pulling them down and off with a single motion, leaving Eric completely exposed and vulnerable. The man stepped back, surveying Eric's prone form. Then, without a word, he began to strip himself, removing his clothing piece by piece until he stood in nothing but the balaclava. His muscular body gleamed in the dim light, each muscle defined and powerful.

The man inspected his own body, flexing slightly, before turning his attention back to Eric. As Eric lay there, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he noticed the familiarity of the man's physique. It was as if he had seen this body somewhere before. The man moved closer, his eyes scanning Eric with an almost clinical detachment.

He began to feel Eric's body, running his hands over his chest, arms, and legs. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to speak futile. Then, it struck him —the man's body was identical to his own. The same muscle definition, the same contours and lines. It was like looking into a mirror.

Eric's heart pounded as the realization settled in. Who was this man, and why did he have the exact same body? The man continued his inspection, his touch lingering on Eric's muscles, comparing them to his own. The surreal and terrifying experience left Eric's mind spinning, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

The man picked up Eric's wet underpants and slowly pulled them up his own thighs, positioning everything into place with meticulous care. He then took the damp socks and pulled them over his calves. Next, the sweaty undershirt followed onto the man's torso, sticking slightly to his skin. He grabbed the leather racing suit and forced his body into it, the material fitting perfectly, just like it did on Eric.

Finally, he stepped into Eric's motorcycle racing boots, the warmth and moisture enveloping his feet. He zipped them up and stood there, reveling in the feeling of wearing Eric's sweaty gear.

The man, now dressed in Eric's leather motorcycle gear and boots, laid down next to Eric, feeling Eric's naked muscular body through the gloves. He began to thrust against Eric's body through the leather gear, his movements methodical and intense.

After what felt like an eternity, the man finally stood up, breathing heavily. He reached up and removed the balaclava, revealing his face. Eric's eyes widened in shock as he saw Ethan standing there, wearing Eric's gear. Now it all made sense— the body that looked so much like his own. Ethan had been gone for two years, and in that time, he had transformed himself to look exactly like Eric.

Ethan smirked, his eyes cold and calculating. "Surprised to see me?" he asked, his voice eerily calm. "I worked out every day for two years to become you. To take over your life."

Ethan then grabbed some rope and began tying up Eric's naked body, securing his wrists and ankles tightly. He stuffed a gag into Eric's mouth, muffling any attempts to speak or scream. Helpless and bound, Eric could only watch as Ethan felt himself up, savoring the sensation of wearing his brother's sweaty leathers.

Ethan picked up Eric's phone and held it up to his own face. The phone unlocked instantly through Face ID, confirming how identical they now were. Ethan grinned down at Eric, relishing his victory. "You see, brother," he said, his tone dripping with malice, "I've become you in every way that matters. Now, it's my turn to live your life."

The doorbell rang, and Ethan paused, looking towards the door. He left the room to answer it. Eric could hear the sound of Ethan's motorcycle boots echoing through the apartment, a familiar yet chilling sound. Moments later, Ethan returned, followed by two men. They looked at Eric's naked, tied-up body and grinned.

"This is him," Ethan said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The pinnacle I promised your boss."

The men nodded approvingly. "He's perfect," one of them said. They moved swiftly, grabbing Eric and carrying him out of the house. He struggled weakly against his bonds, but it was no use. They shoved him into the back of a van and slammed the doors shut. The last thing Eric saw was Ethan standing in the doorway, a cold, triumphant smile on his face.

That was the last time Ethan saw Eric. From that day forward, Ethan lived his life as Eric. He wore Eric's clothes and motorcycle gear, slept in Eric's bed, and rode Eric's motorcycle. Ethan had become Eric in every way that mattered, and that is all he cared about.

[epichunterka]

I watched the newest mi:8 trailer definitely too many times and now I'm fucking scared. Remember when Tom Cruise said that he didn't want to pass the role of Ethan Hunt to anyone else? After watching this trailer I am afraid that Ethan will somehow die at the end of the series.

That would actually make sense for me. I mean that Ilsa is dead and Julia is married - the only women he ever loved are gone. To be completely honest, I hate the idea that Grace will replace Ilsa and I just don't like her (imo her character is kind of exaggerated - she got seriously involved just after Isla died ~ I know it was Rebecca's choice to leave the series and I respect her decision ~ but in that situation Grace seems to me as a replacement.) don't get me wrong, she could have made a great character but she got involved in the wrong time and I can't see her as another possible love interest for Ethan. Just no. The storyline between them lacks the chemistry Ethan had with Ilsa and Grace alone lacks the charisma. So the idea of "and they lived happily ever after" just doesn't fit.

Benthan. As much as I love this ship, it's not canon. I can only indulge myself by reading ao3 fics. But speaking of Benji, the idea of him losing his best friend will make me cry (feels like a repeat of House and Wilson, Maverick and Iceman, Will and Hannibal, Kuba and Nowy (yes, I fucking love Na Sygnale). In conclusion, Benji may lose his best friend and I will cry for him. Because I fucking wished him to be happy. I love Benji.

But going back to my main point - possible death - it is in my humble opinion probably one of the best endings. Because who is Ethan? MIF agent, spy and probably the saviour. I heard the other day that someone on TikTok called him "a sad man who loves his friends and wants them to be safe" and it's surprisingly accurate. What do you think he is capable of sacrificing to save them all? Himself. His life. Yes, that would be a little pathetic, yet beautiful. His whole world was his friends and mission. It seems obvious that when Ethan asks to trust him one last time, he means it. It's the end of era, one of the best movie series I've ever seen, magnificent and joyful to watch. Ethan's death would be a perfect ending and summary for the whole franchise. Man who sacrificed all to save the world.

(that ending came out more pathetic than I expected lmao)

[bun-z-bakery]

can we get some relationship head canons between dogday and angel? Who fell and confessed first? Going by your fic how would Angels friends react? Also maybe some spicy head canons if that's ok? Would dogday be a sub or Dom? How flirty is he? You can also add your own head canons too, I was just curious about what you think for those.

Absolutely! Also plz don't be shy about sending requests I love answering them! I'm very slow so I apologize! Also I have the worst memory so if I already mentioned something in this hc post I did in the previous ones. I'm just super forgetful, sorry!

Plz remember these are just my personal silly headcanons for fun :3

More dogday headcanons woo!

CW: MDNI a few mentions of some spicy stuff ahead, nothing super explicit but you've been warned!

-Dogday most definitely fell first. He probably started falling for his angel once they gave him his legs back and from there it just snowballed.

-dogday is 100% confessing first. In subtle ways like staying by your side to protect you and helping around the house, lotssss of compliments, and probably being a bit more touchy with angel.

-If Angel doesn't get the hint, he'd just plan out a confession and an at home date with whatever you have.

-so going based on my fic, angel's friends/family would probably either be supportive or try to have some kind of intervention. There is no in between. That's either

“Wow, I'm happy for you!” (is happy you found someone who makes you happy but also slightly concerned)

Or

“Wow, you should really find someone else anyone else, plz we're begging!”

(Is actually VERY concerned / calling the nearest hospital and government officials. )

-Soft Dom dogday anyone?

(Ngl I could probably see Ethan being like “I'm happy pookie but what the actual f*@k is wrong with you?” but just smiling through his state of panic💀)

-If vanilla isn't the type of fragrance you're a fan of or want to wear that day, he will have a collection of fragrances that he likes (and totally didn't buy with our card while you were sleeping) and will douse you in before you step out.

-he's touchy, he just loved the feeling of having his angel in his hands.

-If you have to go out, he'll try to rub his scent all over you and will say it's "just a hug".

-he would want you to wear something with a sun on it, whether it be a necklace, choker, ring, hair clip, orange scrunchie, tattoo, whatever it is, it doesn't matter as long as it's orange or has a sun on it. He can't be there wherever you go so why not take something that reminds you of him? Totally not his way of marking you of course!

-depending on what his angel is into, he'd probably be super hesitant to be rough or say anything degrading, I'd say he leans more into vanilla because of fear but if you're into it and are vocal about it then don't expect him to stop anytime soon if you're enjoying yourselves.

-praises you for how good you're doing. You're really his angel in more ways than one, especially when you're so obedient for him. How could he not praise you? You most definitely deserve all the praise and another round gift.

-on a scale from 1-10 he'd be like a 5 on the flirtyness scale, but would go into a 7, once he starts he won't stop and would most definitely become putty in your hands if you flirted back.

-he would crack dark jokes at the worst times, and he'd probably make some pretty bad normal ones too. A silly guy once he's comfortable around angel and would do anything to make you laugh, even if he had to embarrass himself.

-You're sad? Haha nope not anymore. Look! He's singing while doing cartwheels and failing miserably!

-Was a good cook as a human. He would try to help out in the kitchen and knock some stuff over in the process. To avoid making a mess he'd just hand you the ingredients or utensils.

-He would also try to remember how his favorite meals tasted so he could make and share them with angel.

-not sure if I mentioned this in the past hc posts BUT I could see him wanting to have some sort of wedding to make things “as official as possible”. He'd also want to pick out rings and would wear his ring on a necklace chain, never to be taken off. He doesn't have a need to anyways.

-At some point he has thought of what living as his former self would be like and what your lives together would have looked like. He would bring it up eventually in hopes of taking that weight off of his heart. Of course he's happy with you and what you have now. Doing things together no matter how small or insignificant they may seem they mean the entire world to him. Sometimes he can't shake the thought of how different life could've been though. (We still love him either way <3)

-he would pull the "your husband" card 100%. Need help reaching a high shelf?

"Your husband's got it!"

-he'd be so happy about it too.

-silly, but if someone's looking for you, and you're not home (probably a delivery man or person who stumbled upon your house) he'd most definitely answer from behind the door.

“He's a nice fellow! Take care!”

*delivery man knocks on the door and you answer*

“I came by earlier, but your husband said you weren't home to sign, here you go!”

*you blink in confusion and start to panic*

“Y-you met him!?”

*dogday creeps up behind you and laughs*

“I heard you have a husband. I wonder who he could be…”

A/N: that's all for now! Im glad you guys enjoy my silly stories and headcanons! I do appreciate you all! thanks for reading! 🐇

[honeymvnt]

I want it all [18+]

Ethan Hunt x !fem!reader

Words count: 3.4k

A/N: After hearing about the death of every member of his team, Ethan realizes that he’s the only one left alive, or at least this is what he thought before you found him again.

Warnings: Ethan in Mission Impossible 1 is a warning…. Jk, again this is a smut so you know what you’re doing.

This is for my Mav, girl I love you @mqverick 🎀

It was early in the morning when you came back to the apartment where you and the rest of the team settled down to organize the whole mission.

A lot have happened since the beginning of the operation and you couldn't come to think that everyone was dead.

The sequence of events went so fast that you found yourself roaming through the cold streets in the hope that no one was following you, with your thoughts glued on how everything went terribly wrong. The annoying taste of them was leading your mind to think about the only person you knew could've saved himself, Ethan.

It was around four in the morning when you quietly climbed the stairs of the building and the suspense was devouring you and you didn't even want to think about what you had to tell to Kittridge, how to deal with him and what have happened and why you were the only one left alive.

You were so focused on your own reflections, on your fears and preoccupations that you didn't even notice that there were two light bulbs missing from the lamp walls hanging at the end of the hallway.

You approached the room, making sure to be quiet enough not to make any noise but broken glasses echoed through the whole building when you stepped in front of the door.

The glass kept cracking under your feet and you hurried yourself inside to lock the door behind you as fast as you could.

The big room was still, weirdly still like never before. You looked on your left as you caught your reflection on the tall windows that were showing the beautiful Prague in front of them.

Your eyes scanned the area until when you noticed that somebody have been there before you.

"Ethan?" You called him, walking towards the table where his computer was open on some website you've never seen before. You tried to recall where you've seen the logo before but once again your eyes made their way down the book next to it. When you tried to reach for it a hand grabbed your wrist and within a second your back was pressed against the wall and your breath stopped in your throat before your eyes shot open to meet his.

He was alive. You knew it. With a gun pointed right in front of your face and his arm locking you againts the wall as if you were the enemy. He was different from when you've seen him a couple of hours earlier: his eyes were a bit red with such rage that you didn't even recognize yourself. Your heart started to pound against your chest when you noticed that he wasn't letting go of you as you thought he would've.

"Ethan... what are you doing?" Your voice was shaky, your eyes fixated into his while you tried to get rid of his grip but the muscles of his arms tensed even more, his eyes darkened and the gun followed you.

"Turn around" your lips parted, ready to protest but you couldn't believe at what was happening right there. As complicated as the situation was already, you didn't want to upset him even more and so, you did as he ordered you to.

Ethan quickly grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back while the gun was slolwy moved down your back and remained there.

"Who sent you?" His whole body was now against yours, pressing against your back, trying to get an answer out of you, an aswer you didn't even have since that all you did was coming back like the rules say.

"No one..." you replied, trying to understand his position in all of this.

"Bullshit" Ethan said and spun you around to face you again.

"Who the fuck sent you?" You shook your head almost with desperation as you heard the sound of the bullet loading the gun, ready to shoot if needed and you knew you had to make him reason and break whatever defense he was trying to build against you.

"No one, no one sent me" His eyebrows were frowned and his hands were putting even more pressure around your wrists as he dragged you into the bedroom.

"Ethan? I don't understand..." you confessed as he put the gun into his pants and started to move his hands all over you.

"Where have you been?" His voice was against your neck and his hands were having no mercy on your body as they moved from your legs, up to your stomach and under your breasts, looking for something.

"Ethan stop this..." you tried to move away but he didn't let you.

He did not care how far this was going and besides how scared you were and how in disbelief you were about the way he was acting with you, you found it almost arousing.

"Where have you been mm?" He asked you again, turning your body around so you were facing him once again. He held you in place, letting his intense gaze devour you whole, and waited for the answer as if everything in the world depended on it.

"I... I was- looking for you" you said trying to make him reason but he didn't seem open to that and held you with both of his big hands and pinned you down on the bed.

You were almost in tears but the excitement that you were still trying to deny from yourself was even worse. How could you even find something like this attractive? Yet, there you were, almost begging for more but hiding it with tears of fake terror.

"You were looking for me" he said quickly, while his hands moved down your waist and squeezed your hips.

You unconsciously let out a whimper when he did that and his eyes immedialtly looked up towards yours. He tilted his head and a smirk made the corner of his lips curl like you've never seen before. All of this was new to you and you were still trying to process the previous hours you've spent roaming through the streets, hoping to find him alive, safe.

"You were looking for me?" Ethan asked while his hands forcefully spread your legs in front of him and his body was once again pressed against yours.

He was staring down at you, studying every single emotion you were letting out, the slightest noises you were making because of him and you haven't even noticed how hot you felt when he hovered above you in such way.

You swallowed hard and your lips parted to speak, to at least try to ptotest but as humiliating as it was right now, you wanted it, you wanted it real badly and he knew it.

Maybe he knew it all along, before all of this mess, before the whole mission. Maybe he wanted you for so long that the shock of losing you made him so scared and mad that he needed to be like this to have you.

Or maybe he knew something that you didn't and it was hard for him to trust you.

"Not speaking again?" Ethan grabbed your cheeks with a hand and forced you to stare at him "who sent you?" He asked once again but you gave him no answer.

He let go of your face and moved his hands roughly down on you again until when he found the end of your sweater and took it off of your body.

He looked at you and devoured you with those eyes of his as you noticed how his breathing fastened and his hands were desperately trying to touch all of you.

"You like this..." he said frowning when his attention focused on the way your body was responding.

He wasn't happy about it, obviously because he knew there was something wrong going on but you were not talking, you were simply not giving him what he wanted from you.

Ethan held your chin and spoke again with that tone that was making you dripping wet "you like being treated like this" his jaw clenched and your lips parted looking at his.

His hand slowly moved up your cheek and your eyes were not leaving his, not even for a second before he crashed his lips on yours. Never in your life you had such a kiss and only god knows for how long you've been waiting to be kissed by him like that.

He was so fast that without even realizing his hands were holding your thighs around his waist and his lips were roughly kissing all of your body.

You weren't able to form a single sentence nor a single thought besides embracing what he was doing to you.

When his hands reached for your trousers he quickly pulled them down your legs, until your ankles before tossing them away.

His mouth was consuming you in the most lustful way a human can even imagine and you couldn't help yourself but moan his name, bite your lips and wrap your legs around him even tighter.

You both didn't know how desperate you were for each other until now. You didn't know what the hell was going on in this room and how many people were looking for the both of you by now and you didn't care about it, just like you didn't care about how wrong this was, considering the circumstances.

He kissed your lips over and over again, forcing his tongue into your mouth and you weren't hesitanting to let him have you.

"I saw you dying" he said panting, between a kiss and another while your hands moved down his, still clothed, chest.

"It doesn't matter" you kissed him back and took off his shirt before he held your waist and pulled you even closer to his body.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and with a swift move you were now on top of him with one of his arms was holding you in place.

"It does matter..." he said after you, looking up at you waiting for an answer but instead, you moved on his lap and spread your legs while your hands undid the buckle of his belt.

"It does..." he continued but a moan escaped from his lips when you kissed his lips again.

"Does it?" You asked confidently now, but when his hands run up your back and his mouth moved down your neck, until your chest, you lost it.

He felt the tension in your muscles and smirked against your skin.

"Yeah...it does" he whispered and his fingers moved along your sides, making their way down your thighs as you shivered and arched you back towards him. You bit your lips at the feeling and your eyes fell shut when he reached the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulled them down your thighs.

The anticipation was killing you, making your lungs suffer from the heavy breathing and your mouth wet at the thought of kissing him again. You didn't even want to confess how sensitive you already were just because of all that happened, how quickly it was happening and how insanely attractive he was.

When his cold fingers touched you right where you were needing him the most, without even a warning, your hands suddenly tightened on his shoulders and the moan that you let out made him bite his lips to kill his own.

He spread your wetness all over your folds and you tried your best not to let out a sound , just to prove him that you could've resisted if you really wanted to.

Ethan was watching you, your every expression of pleasure he was causing you, your every movement and sound and you knew he wanted you more, he needed more.

"Let me hear you" he demanded, pinning you down on the bed again, making a moan escape from your lips while his his fingers started to stretch you out and his eyes were locked into yours.

"Fuck-" you said before taking a deep and quick breath

"Yes just like that" he smirked down at you and started to kiss your lips, going lower and lower.

You were struggling beneath him but it was the kind of struggle that turned him on, the kind of effort he liked from you and he was just as good as you imagined at making you sweat for it. Yes you've been imagining this all along and you were craving for it. You were dying to feel all of this, to feel him and the more you thought about how many fantasies you had with him the more you felt turned on by them.

His hands were caressing your skin, gripping on it to make sure to leave a mark afterwards so you had no other choice than stick with him.

"Ethan-" you gasped when he started to slide his fingers in and out of you, curling them to hit the right spot and make your eyes roll back. Your hips started to move along with his pace until when you didn't even realize that he had stopped moving and you were just riding them yourself.

He watched you with amusement and excitement, feeling his cock throb just at the thought of how tightly you were gripping his fingers inside of you and how wet you were getting after each pump of them.

His hand moved down to remove his boxers and free himself from the struggle.

You kept rolling your hips forward before he wrapped his huge arm around your waist and quickly switched position so you were on top of him again.

He looked up at you with eyes full of thrist for you and all you did was wrapping your arms around his neck and kiss him, bringing your body even closer to his so your chest was pressed against his.

Your hands slowly moved down his torso before you glanced down at him and he captured your lips in his again.

You adjusted yourself on his lap, biting your lips even harder than before, feeling his hard cock right against your stomach.

"Ride it" he said looking up at you and only then you noticed how bright they were, how much desperation he was holding back since the first moment he met you. He would've begged you if needed but as excited and ready as you were, you preferred to save it for another occasion.

You slowly stood up from him and placed both of your hands on his shoulders while his moved up your back, to bring you closer. He gently helped you down on his cock as you bit your lips to kill another desperate moan, trying to let your mind ignore how big he was and just take it as deeper as you could.

"fuck-" he groaned holding your hips in place, breathing heavily against your skin as you whined at how well he was stretching you out, feeling it throb in anticipation when your wet walls started to grip onto him for dear life.

The pleasure was taking over you as your mind was taken away by his images scrolling right in front of your closed eyes before you suddenly felt his hand moving up your stomach to cup one of your breasts and squeeze it lightly.

"Ethan-" you moaned feeling how hot his skin was against yours and how his lips parted when you looked back at him. Your movements became sloppier when he kissed your mouth and moved down to nibble on the skin of your chest while his hand slowly made its way up to the back of your neck.

"C'mon babe" Ethan said breathless as he noticed how much you were struggling to take it but you were so close to the edge, so close to let it go but holding back to make it last longer.

"I can't-" you cried out as your head fell backwards and  your nails dug into his skin before he held you down on the bed once again.

He was still inside of you but he was staring at you, at how beautiful you looked right beneath him, with your cheeks changing shades of pink and your long dark lashes touching the top of your eyes.

"You're so... beautiful" he whispered, bending down to kiss your cheek but moving down your neck to kiss you as if he knew this would've been the first and last time you were doing this.

Your eyes fell shut and all you felt was your body melting within his, the hotness of his skin and the tension in his muscles as he held himself right above you.

"Please Ethan..." you whispered as your hands moved down his arms and his eyes returned to yours and sparkled at your words.

You were trying to read him, to understand what was going on through his mind while he was looking at you like this, if he was even aware of what was going on but his lips were too tempting and you found yourself putting your thoughts aside and kissing him before he started to move back and forth.

"Please?" Ethan asked against your lips as he felt how your grip tightened around his arms and you nodded in response, keeping your eyes closed to savor the moment.

His thrusts were slow and torturous, making yourself wetter and his movements smoother inside you.

“Faster” you moaned and he didn’t hesitate to give you what you asked for.

Ethan sped up his pace, holding you down and hitting the same spot repeatedly to make you arch your back for and more, making your eyes wet with tears and your body burn beneath his.

One of his hands was holding your thigh around him and the other was still holding you in pace as yours were tightening even more around the skin of his arms.

Your chest was rising and falling quickly and the noises he was making were only driving you insane and dangerously close to your break point.

“I wanted you for so long” Ethan said closer to your ear before kissing your jaw and moving down your neck.

His words filled your heart, wrapped around it and squeezed it between your lungs as you felt his love embracing you. You gave in even more.

Your walls clenching over and over again around him, making Ethan’s eyes fall shut and his grasp on you even tighter.

“Me too…” you confessed and watched him move above you as if it was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen in your life and it really was.

You felt the knot in your stomach growing uncontrollably as he keep sliding in and out of you, kissing your lips, trying to be as quiet as possible but it was impossible.

“I’m- going to…” you managed to say between a gasp and another but Ethan kissed you and spoke up again before you could.

“Let go for me” the way he made you shiver just with those words was all you needed to reach the peak.

Your lips parted again and tears steamed down your cheeks before he buried his face in the crook of neck and moaned your name.

“Oh god-“ Your walls clenched painfully as you came all over him and he emptied himself inside of you, groaning against your skin and breathing heavily as pleasure washed over the two of you.

He didn’t move away yet and his eyes slowly met yours once again and you really couldn’t help yourself anymore but smile at how they sparkled at you.

Ethan smiled back at you and hugged you as tight as he could.

All the tension that the night had built, all the losses that you both went through, the fear you experienced when you knew everyone didn’t survive and the joy that hit you when you saw that he was still alive, waiting for you with terror in his eyes as if you were a ghost coming back to take him with you or even an enemy… it was all gone.

You held him with all the strength left in your body and his hand stroked your hair, his lips trailed kissed down your neck as he spoke to you.

“I thought I’d lost you” you smiled at his words and tears fell down your cheeks once again.

“You will never lose me” you met his eyes as you cleft your heart talk to him “never”.

He smiled back at you and kissed your whole face, making sure not to leave any spot unkissed before he laid down with you and held you close to him, to make sure nothing could’ve separated the two of you.

“Never”

[gayghostgrimoire]

Scouser

Ethan wandered aimlessly through the misty streets of Liverpool, the thick fog clinging to his clothes like a cold, damp shroud. It was a far cry from the sunny California beaches he'd left behind, but the allure of the town had drawn him across the pond. The GPS on his phone had failed him, leaving him to navigate the maze of unfamiliar streets with only the faded glow of the occasional streetlight to guide his way.

As he turned into a narrow alley, the fog grew denser, wrapping around him like a living thing with malicious intent. The distant sounds of the city grew muffled, replaced by a foreboding silence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. That's when he heard it—a faint, yet distinctly mocking scouse accent echoing through the murk. "Lost, are ya?" it taunted. "Fancy a bit of company, then?"

Ethan's heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the alley, but the fog was too thick to make out any figures lurking in the shadows. His mind raced with the possibilities of who, or what, could be speaking to him. The accent was unmistakably local, yet the tone was eerily playful, almost flirtatious. He took a tentative step back, trying to blend with the brick wall behind him, hoping it would offer some protection.

"Oi, don't be shy," the voice called out again, closer this time. "We don't bite... unless you're into that sort of thing." The taunts grew louder, and he could now discern the laughter of two young men, their footsteps echoing off the wet cobblestones as they approached. Ethan's palms grew slick with sweat despite the cold, and his grip tightened around the strap of his backpack, ready to flee at any moment.

As if on cue, the fog behind him parted slightly to reveal the silhouettes of two figures. Suddenly, he felt a firm grip on his butt, and he spun around with a start. Two Scouse lads, no older than twenty-two, were grinning at him, their teeth flashing in the dim light. They were dressed in matching shiny tracksuits and Nike TN's that looked like they'd been stolen straight from a sports shop. One had spiky blond hair and piercing blue eyes, the other, a mop of curly chestnut hair and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light.

"Caught ya off guard, didn't we?" the blond one quipped, his voice thick with a Liverpool accent that was as smooth as it was menacing. "I'm Jamie, and this 'ere's me mate, Ollie. What's your name, handsome?"

Ethan, trying to play it cool, managed a shaky laugh. "I'm Ethan, just a tourist trying to find my way."

Jamie and Ollie exchanged glances, their mischievous eyes gleaming with something that was more than just playfulness. The grip on his butt grew firmer, and Ethan felt a knot of fear coil in his stomach. Despite their seemingly harmless banter, there was an underlying current of danger that he couldn't ignore. They were smaller in build than he'd anticipated, but there was something feral and unpredictable about them that made his instincts scream caution.

"Ah, a Yank!" Ollie exclaimed, his grin widening. "You're just what we need tonight, love." He stepped closer, his breath a mix of ciggies and cheap cider, and placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "How about we show you the sights, eh? Give you a proper tour of our lovely city."

Ethan's instincts told him to decline, but he found himself nodding, the fear momentarily overridden by his curiosity. The two lads began to walk alongside him, their arms brushing against his as they weaved through the foggy alley. The flirtatiousness grew more pronounced with each step, their touches lingering a little longer than necessary. The smell of their cheap aftershave made Ethan's nose wrinkle, but he kept his cool, playing along as if he was enjoying their company.

"So, you into footie, then?" Ethan nodded, his voice a tad shakier than he would have liked. "Good taste. Who's your team?"

"I'm more of a Man U fan," Ethan admitted, expecting a hostile reaction. Instead, the two lads just chuckled. "Ah, a bit of rivalry," Ollie said, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't worry, we won't hold it against you."

They strolled onward, the fog thinning as they ventured deeper into the city's underbelly. The buildings grew shabbier, graffiti more prevalent, and the smell of greasy food and stale beer filled the air. The conversation remained light, with Jamie and Ollie peppering him with questions about his favorite players and football matches he'd been to. They spoke with a passion that was contagious, and Ethan found himself relaxing slightly, his initial fear giving way to a morbid fascination with the pair.

Ollie fished a pack of ciggies from his pocket and offered one to Ethan. "Want a fag?"

Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking between the cigarette and the smirk on Ollie's face. "No, thanks. I don't smoke."

Ollie's grin grew more playful, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, such a good boy," he said, his voice a seductive purr. "But don't you think a bit of naughtiness could make you look even more appealing?" He held the cigarette up to Ethan's lips, the tip glowing a fiery red.

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dry taste that coated his mouth, and took a tentative drag. The smoke burned his throat and lungs, and he couldn't help but cough, doubling over in a fit of hacking. The two lads erupted into laughter, slapping him on the back with rough, calloused hands.

"Bloody hell, you're a right lightweight," Jamie said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Here, let me help you with that." He took a step closer, placing a hand on Ethan's back to steady him, while Ollie held the cigarette back to his mouth.

Ethan took another drag, this one less tentative than the first, trying to keep up with their bravado. The smoke curled around his tongue, leaving a bitter taste, but he forced himself to hold it in longer before letting it out in a puff that was more impressive than he'd expected. "Better?" Ollie asked, his voice still coated with that flirty lilt.

"Much," Ethan said, his voice a bit raspy.

Jamie chuckled, a hint of something more than mirth in his tone. "Looks like you're getting the hang of it," he said, leaning in so close that Ethan could feel the warmth of his breath. "But you know, you're basically kissing Ollie every time you do that."

Ollie's smile grew wider, revealing a chipped tooth. "Yeah, that's right," he said, his hand lingering on Ethan's shoulder. "Swapping spit and all that."

Ethan felt his cheeks warm despite the cold, but the fear was slowly dissipating. He took another drag of the cigarette, feeling a strange kinship with the two young men. They weren't like anyone he'd met before—flirtatious and forward in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating. As they strolled through the alleyways, the fog began to lift, and the neon glow of a pub sign flickered into view. The sound of shattered glass and raucous laughter spilled into the street, accompanied by the distant cheer of a football match.

"Looks like the party's already started," Jamie said, nodding toward the pub. The sign above the door read "The Red Lion" in faded letters. The smell of stale beer and greasy food grew stronger as they approached, mingling with the sweet scent of tobacco smoke. The door was propped open, and a warm glow spilled onto the cobblestones.

"Come on, let's get you a pint," Ollie suggested, giving Ethan a playful shove. "You'll need it to keep up with us."

Ethan allowed himself to be guided through the open door, the warmth of the pub enveloping him like a bearhug. The place was crowded, with locals shouting over the din of a live band playing a rowdy cover of "You'll Never Walk Alone." The scent of spilled ale and fried fish washed over him as they found a table in the corner.

Jamie and Ollie propped their feet up on the table, wagging them back and forth with teasing eyes. Ethan couldn't help but stare at the intricate ankle tattoos peeking out from their rolled-up tracksuit pants. One had a dagger with the word "Love" etched on the blade, the other a pair of cherries that looked suspiciously like a pair of testicles. Their flirtatiousness was palpable, and he felt his heart flutter in his chest.

"You know, Ollie," Jamie said, nudging his friend with an elbow, "you really need to sort out your pongy feet."

Ollie shot him a glare, but Ethan noticed the glint of a smile. "Why don't you keep your nose out of it, Jamie? Besides, Ethan here might like it." He winked at Ethan, who felt his cheeks flush.

Jamie chuckled, "Yeah, right. Like anyone would want a whiff of those stinkers." He nudged Ollie's leg with his own, the leather of his shoe squeaking against the plastic chair. "But you know what, let's not bother our guest with our stench. Get us a round of pints, will ya?"

Ollie rolled his eyes, but the mischief remained on his face. He hopped off the chair with a grace that belied his rough exterior. "Alright, alright, keep your knickers on," he said, swaggering toward the bar. As he moved away, the smell of his feet did seem to linger, a pungent aroma that was indeed quite potent.

Jamie leaned in closer to Ethan, his eyes dancing with a playful glint. "Ollie's right, though," he whispered conspiratorially. "My feet are the real horror show." He wiggled his toes, and Ethan caught a faint whiff of something that could only be described as a mix of sweat and stale cheese.

Ollie returned with three pints of lager, sloshing slightly as he set them down on the sticky table. "Here you go, lads," he said, his eyes never leaving Ethan's. He took a seat and leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. "So, you're a dead ringer for our mate Tommy," Jamie said, taking a long pull from his pint. "It's uncanny, really."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. "Who's Tommy?"

Jamie leaned back, his eyes misting with nostalgia. "Ah, Tommy. He was one of us. The life of the party, that one. Could charm the birds out of the trees," he said, taking a swig of his pint. "And he had this knack for making the lads swoon. Just a wink, and they'd be putty in his hands."

Ollie nodded, his smile wistful. "Remember when he convinced that posh bloke from the university that he was a secret prince?" He snickered, the memory bringing a sparkle to his eyes. "We had him running around town, doing all sorts for us. Thought he'd hit the jackpot with a real-life fairy tale."

Jamie's laughter was deep and infectious, and even Ethan couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the story. "Yeah, poor sod was half in love by the time we told him it was all a joke," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "But that was Tommy. He had this way about him."

Ollie took a sip of his beer, his gaze lingering on Ethan. "He was a bit of a looker too, our Tommy. Could turn heads with just a smile." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And when he put his mind to it, could get a guy to do anything he wanted."

Ethan swallowed hard, his curiosity piqued. "What happened to him?"

Jamie took another swig of his lager, his eyes never leaving Ethan's. "Tommy? Oh, he kicked the bucket a few weeks ago," he said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "Went out on his uncle's fishing boat and never came back. They found him floating in the Mersey, stiff as a board." He chuckled, a dark note in his laugh.

Ethan's smile faltered, the laughter in his throat dying. "That's terrible," he murmured, unsure of how to respond to their casualness.

Jamie shrugged. "It's life, isn't it?" He took another swig of his pint, the foam clinging to his upper lip. "But don't you worry about it, love. Tommy's spirit's still with us, in a way." He winked, and Ollie nodded in agreement.

Ollie leaned closer, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You see, we've got a little ritual we do for our mates when they pass on," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "It's like we keep 'em close, ya know?"

Ethan nodded, his curiosity now tinged with unease. He took a sip of the lager, the cool liquid washing over his tongue. It was a strange flavor, almost metallic, but with an undertone of something sweet, like candy. The more he drank, the heavier his eyelids grew, his thoughts swirling like the fog outside. The room grew hazy, the sounds of the pub melding into a cacophony of laughter and shouts that echoed in his head.

Ollie slid into the booth next to him, his arm snaking around Ethan's shoulders with the ease of an old friend. The warmth of his body was surprisingly comforting, and Ethan found himself leaning into the embrace despite the stranger's musky scent. "You're just like him," Ollie murmured into his ear, his breath hot and wet. "You've got that same spark, that same... vibe."

Jamie took the opposite side, his leg brushing against Ethan's under the table. His sneaker was grimy, the white leather stained with a pattern of dirt and who-knows-what, but there was something undeniably alluring about the way he nudged Ethan's foot with his own, a silent invitation to play along with their game. Ethan's inhibitions began to unravel like a cheap sweater, the tension in his body giving way to a strange, thrilling sense of abandon.

The three of them knocked back their pints, the alcohol hitting Ethan's system like a freight train. He felt lightheaded, his thoughts swirling with the laughter and music of the pub. "C'mon," Jamie slurred, slapping the table with the palm of his hand. "Let's go back to our place. Show ya a proper scouser time."

Ollie nodded, his eyes half-lidded with drink. "Yeah, you'll love it," he said, his voice dropping into that seductive purr again. "You're one of us now, aren't ya?"

Ethan found himself grinning, the idea of fitting in with these two rough-around-the-edges lads surprisingly appealing. He'd always been the clean-cut tourist, following the beaten path and playing it safe. But there was something about the wildness of Jamie and Ollie that called to him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He nodded, the room spinning slightly as he stood up, Ollie's arm still draped over his shoulders.

They stumbled out of the pub, the night air hitting him like a cold slap in the face. The fog had lifted, leaving the cobblestone streets slick with rain and the scent of the river hanging heavy in the air. They wove their way through the city, the neon lights of the clubs and pubs reflecting off the wet pavement. The laughter and music grew fainter as they left the center of town, heading into a more residential area where the buildings leaned together as if whispering secrets to one another.

Jamie and Ollie had an easy camaraderie, finishing each other's sentences and slapping each other's backs with a familiarity that spoke of a long history together. Ethan felt like the third wheel, but also like the most important person in the world as they both vied for his attention. They pointed out landmarks and told stories of their childhood, each one more outrageous than the last. The lager had loosened their tongues and their inhibitions, and Ethan found himself caught in their infectious energy.

"Here we are," Jamie announced, nudging Ethan as they reached a row of terraced houses, their red brick façades stained with time and pollution. "Home sweet home." The door to number 23 stood ajar, and the smell of stale incense and weed wafted out into the night.

Ethan followed them up a narrow staircase, the walls plastered with faded football posters and stickers from long-forgotten bands. The apartment was a chaotic mess—clothes and empty beer cans scattered across the floor, dirty dishes piled high in the kitchen sink, and a faint scent of something musky in the air. It was the kind of place that looked like a tornado had swept through it, but somehow, it felt oddly cozy.

The living room was dominated by an ancient sofa that looked like it had seen better days. The fabric was stained, the cushions lumpy, and the smell of male musk was as potent as the stale cigarette smoke that hung in the air. But it was the perfect perch for the trio, and they sank into it with a collective sigh, Ethan sandwiched between them.

Jamie tossed a pack of ciggies on the coffee table, the plastic sticking to the film of beer that had been spilled and forgotten. "Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the pack with a grin. Ethan picked one out, the paper feeling gritty between his fingers, and Ollie lit it with a zippo that had seen more action than a porn star. The first drag was harsh, but he managed to keep his cough to a minimum, earning an approving nod from his new companions.

Ollie leaned in closer, his arm draped over the back of the sofa, his fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of Ethan's neck. "You're a right catch, you are," he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and something else—desire. Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine, his body responding to the unspoken promise in the Scally's gaze.

"Yeah, you fit right in, like you were born for this," Jamie said, his hand resting casually on Ethan's knee. The touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing patterns through the fabric of Ethan's jeans that made him squirm with excitement. "You've got the looks, the swagger," he said, his eyes raking over Ethan's body. "We could use someone like you."

Ethan took another drag of his cigarette, feeling the warmth spread through him as he exhaled. The haze in his mind was thickening, the edges of his reality blurring. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't want it to stop. "You guys are something else," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

Ollie leaned in even closer, his hand sliding down to rest on Ethan's thigh. "You like that, do ya?" he asked, his voice a silky whisper that seemed to resonate deep within Ethan's core.

Jamie grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the living room. "Yeah, you do, don't ya?" He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in a ring that floated lazily up to the ceiling. "You know, love, you'd fit in so much better if you wore something a bit more... us."

Ethan's eyes widened slightly, the haze in his mind clearing just enough to process the suggestion. He'd never been one to dress like a local, but the idea of blending in with Jamie and Ollie was suddenly incredibly appealing. "What do you mean?"

Ollie's grin grew, his eyes glinting with excitement. "We've got Tommy's old gear," he said, nodding towards a pile of clothes in the corner. "You'd look right proper in them, like a real scouser." He leaned closer, his hand sliding up to Ethan's chest. "Right Jamie? All the lads in the pub, fighting over him like a pack of dogs."

Jamie chuckled, his hand sliding from Ethan's knee to his hip. "Oh, you'd have 'em eating out of the palm of your hand," he agreed. "And they'd be begging for more."

Ethan felt his cheeks redden, his heart racing at the thought. "Okay," he said, his voice a little unsteady. "Sure!"

Ollie clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. "Perfect!" He hopped off the sofa and scurried over to the pile of clothes. "Here you go, love," he said, tossing a red Liverpool FC jersey at Ethan. It smelled faintly of sweat and something else, something that made Ethan's nose wrinkle.

Jamie took the lead, his eyes never leaving Ethan's as he began to unbutton the American's shirt. His hands were surprisingly gentle, his touch sending a thrill through Ethan's body. With each button undone, the jersey slid away, revealing the tourist's taut abs and the faint outline of a six-pack. "Nice," Jamie murmured, his voice low and full of appreciation. "You've been taking care of yourself."

Ollie whooped, his hand slapping Ethan's bare chest in a gesture that was half-celebratory, half-playful. "Look at the goods on him!"

Jamie's eyes never left Ethan's as he pulled the jersey over his head, his hands lingering on the American's skin longer than necessary. The fabric was rough against Ethan's skin, the scent of old sweat and cheap cologne mingling with the musk of the lads around him. It was a smell that would normally make him gag, but now, it just made him feel more alive. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with it, and felt his cock stir in his jeans.

Ollie was next, unbuttoning Ethan's pants with a flourish. "Let's see what you're hiding under these fancy trousers," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. Ethan's hands trembled slightly as he slid his pants down, revealing his boxers. They were designer, clean and pristine, a stark contrast to the stained white track pants Ollie held out to him.

The track pants were snug, hugging Ethan's thighs like a second skin. As he pulled them up, he couldn't help but notice the way the fabric clung to his growing erection, highlighting it like a beacon of desire. The smell of sweat and something else—something that was uniquely Ollie and Jamie—enveloped him, making him feel part of their world.

"Lookin' good, love," Jamie said, his eyes raking over Ethan's now scally-fied attire. The jersey was a size too small, the fabric stretching taut over his chest, and the track pants hung low on his hips, showcasing the waistband of his designer boxers.

Ollie whistled low, his eyes dark with lust. "You're a natural," he murmured, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of Ethan's cock, making him gasp. "Just like Tommy used to."

The words snapped something in Ethan, and suddenly, it was as if he could hear the echoes of his dead doppelgänger's laughter in his own voice. "Cheeky bugger," he said, the Scouse accent slipping into his words unbidden. It was a sound that was at once foreign and eerily familiar, as if he'd been speaking it all his life.

Jamie and Ollie erupted into laughter, slapping their knees and exchanging a look that spoke volumes. "Bloody hell," Jamie said, his eyes wide. "You've got the mouth on ya."

Ethan felt a thrill at their reaction, a newfound boldness surging through him. He leaned back on the sofa, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, and took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow, seductive stream. "Maybe I've got more in common with Tommy than you think," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The accent came more naturally now, rolling off his tongue like honey.

Jamie's eyes grew dark, his gaze lingering on Ethan's mouth. "Oh, you're a right cheeky one," he murmured, leaning in closer. "Just like him." His hand slid from Ethan's hip up to his waist, his thumb stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of the borrowed track pants. "Could be his twin, you know?"

Ollie nodded, his own hand joining the fray. "Yeah," he breathed, his eyes locked on Ethan's. "You're a musky fucker just like him. The way you're filling out those pants, you could pass for his ghost." His hand dipped lower, cupping the growing bulge in Ethan's crotch, making him moan.

Ethan's eyes sparkled with mischief as he took another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. "Maybe I've got his moves too," he said, his voice a smoky purr that was pure Tommy. He leaned back into the embrace of the sofa, the fabric of the jersey sticking to his sweaty skin. "You two ever wondered what it'd be like to have him back?"

Ollie's eyes grew dark, his pupils dilating. "You know what, love?" He said, his hand sliding down to cup Ethan's package. "I think we already do." And with that, he dropped to his knees, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He peered up at Ethan through a fringe of hair, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

Ethan felt a jolt of excitement at the look on Ollie's face, his cock swelling even more. Ollie reached out and gripped the waistband of the track pants, pulling them down just enough to expose Ethan's cock. It was already thick and hard, the scent of sweat and arousal mixing with the stale smoke from the pub. Ollie leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste Ethan's skin. "Mm," he murmured, his eyes closing in pleasure. "You're just like him."

The first touch of Ollie's mouth was electric, the heat and wetness of it sending shivers down Ethan's spine. His hips bucked slightly, pushing himself deeper into the warm cavern of the Scally's mouth. He watched, entranced, as Ollie took him in, his cheeks hollowing out with each suck. It was as if he'd done this a hundred times before, as if he knew exactly what Ethan needed, what Tommy had liked.

Jamie's eyes never left the show, his hand moving to his own crotch, stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. "Looks like you're enjoying that," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He leaned over the back of the sofa, his mouth grazing Ethan's ear. "You're just like him, aren't ya?"

Ethan threw his head back, the pleasure of Ollie's mouth on him overwhelming. He felt something change within him, a wildness that he hadn't felt before, a sense of abandon that was as intoxicating as the whiskey and lager swirling in his belly. He reached down, his hand tangling in Ollie's hair as he pushed him further down, his hips bucking in time with the Scally's eager sucks. He could feel himself losing control, the boundaries between him and Tommy blurring like the fog outside.

The room grew hazier, the smoke thickening around them as Jamie stood up, his eyes never leaving the erotic dance between Ethan and Ollie. He sauntered over to the pile of clothes, his eyes alighting on a pair of grimy, worn-out TNs. They were a stark contrast to the clean, polished loafers Ethan had been wearing, the kind of shoes that screamed 'tourist'. He picked them up, holding them to his nose with a grin, inhaling deep the musky scent of sweat and the Mersey mud that clung to them. "These were Tommy's pride and joy," Jamie said, strutting over to Ethan's feet propped up on the coffee table. "They're yours now."

With surprising dexterity, Jamie snatched Ethan's loafers and slipped them off, the sound of fabric sliding against skin sending a thrill through the American. He took a moment to appreciate the clean, fresh scent of Ethan's socks before peeling them away, revealing the pale, unblemished soles of his feet. "Perfect," he murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Just like Tommy's used to be."

The worn-out TNs looked almost black in the dim light of the room, the laces frayed and the toes caked with the grime of a hundred adventures. Ethan watched as Jamie took the left one and held it to his nose, inhaling deep. The scent was overpowering, a mix of sweat, the river, and something else—a scent that was as much a part of the fabric of the city as the bricks that made up the buildings around them. It was a smell that was at once repulsive and incredibly arousing, and Ethan felt his cock throb at the sight.

Jamie slid the sneaker onto Ethan's right foot, the fabric sticking slightly to the bare skin. It was tight, the grimy insole had molded to the shape of Tommy's foot, but it fit like a glove. The left one followed, and as Jamie laced them up, Ethan felt a strange sensation—like a jolt of electricity that shot through his entire body, making his toes curl and his cock pulse. He gasped, his eyes snapping open to meet Jamie's intense gaze.

The room grew dimmer, the edges of his vision blurring as if he were looking through a foggy window. The air grew thick with the scent of stale sweat and something else, something that seemed to fill his lungs and make him feel more alive than he had in years. Ethan's chest felt tight, his heart racing as if it were trying to break free of the confines of his body. He looked down at Ollie, whose eyes had glazed over, his mouth moving on Ethan's cock with a mind of its own. It was as if he could feel Tommy's spirit, squeezing into him, taking over.

A voice, rough and mischievous, echoed through his mind, and he realized it was Tommy's. "Cheers, mate," the spirit said, a chuckle that was part memory, part possession. "It's been a while since I've had a bit of fun like this." The words were accompanied by a feeling of pure, unbridled lust that flooded through Ethan's veins, making him feel like he could conquer the world.

Ollie looked up, his eyes wide with shock and excitement. "Bloody hell, you're him, aren't ya?" he whispered, his cheeks flushed as Ethan's hand grabbed his hair, pushing him down onto the thick shaft that was now fully under Tommy's control.

Tommy's voice, gruff and cheeky, filled the room as he spoke through Ethan's lips. "Miss me, lads?" he asked, his tone playful as he watched the two Scallys exchange glances that were a mix of shock and lust.

Jamie's hand paused on the laces of the second TN, his eyes wide with awe. "Bloody hell, Tommy," he murmured, a hint of fear and excitement in his voice. "Is that really you?"

The room grew even denser with anticipation as Ethan's hand—now Tommy's—reached out and knuckle-bumped Jamie's, the gesture playful and full of life. "Course it's me," the spirit said, a cheeky grin playing on Ethan's lips. "Couldn't stay away from you two, could I?"

Ollie, still kneeling, looked up with a mix of awe and hunger. "Welcome back, ya cheeky bastard," he murmured before taking Ethan's cock back into his mouth, eager to serve.

Tommy, now in full control, leaned back against the sofa, his body tensing as Ollie's mouth worked him over. The pleasure was intense, a mix of the physical and the metaphysical. He could feel the energy of the room shift, the very air seeming to thicken with the potent scent of desire and nostalgia. His hand found its way to Ollie's neck, his grip firm but gentle, guiding the rhythm as he neared climax.

"That's it, Ollie," he groaned, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that was unmistakably Tommy's. "Take it all, lad." And with that, he exploded, filling Ollie's mouth with a hot, thick load of his cum. Ollie's eyes watered, but he took it eagerly, swallowing it down with a gulp that sent a shiver through Tommy's entire being.

As the last of his climax subsided, Ethan's body went slack, his eyes fluttering closed. But the spirit of Tommy was far from finished. He sat up with a grin that was both cocky and predatory, his hand still tangled in Ollie's hair. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "But that's just the warm-up."

Ollie looked up, his lips glistening with cum, and nodded eagerly. "Whatever you want, Tommy," he said, his voice full of deviant longing.

Jamie, his eyes hooded with desire, took the cue. He stepped closer, his hand working his own cock through the fabric of his jeans. "You've got the taste for it now, don't ya?" he murmured, his voice a dark whisper. Ethan—no, Tommy—grinned, his hand sliding up Jamie's leg, gripping his cock firmly through the denim. "Oh, I've got the taste for it, alright," he said, his voice a perfect mimicry of the dead lad's.

Jamie groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as Tommy's hand worked him. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. "So fucking good."

Tommy's grin grew wider, a hint of the mischief that had made him infamous in life. "Aye, but I've got a bit of a thirst on," he said, his hand never leaving Jamie's cock. "How about we grab a pint before we really get down to it?"

Ollie and Jamie shared a look, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Whatever you say, Tommy," Ollie murmured, his own erection tenting his track pants. "But don't keep us waiting too long."

With a wink, Tommy stood, the worn sneakers feeling surprisingly right on his feet. The three of them strutted out of the apartment, their laughter echoing through the hallway and down the stairs. The cool night air hit them like a slap in the face, sobering them up just enough to realize that the world outside had gone on without them. The streets of Liverpool were alive with the sounds of the night—cars honking, drunken laughter, and distant sirens. But to them, it was as if they were the only ones who mattered. They walked in a tight pack, Ethan's body moving with a newfound swagger, his eyes glinting with the mischief that had been Tommy's trademark.

[jerzwriter]

A Valentine's Day Experiment

Thank you to @weetlebeetle, the creator of this adorable commission of Ethan and Kaycee. In my HC, Kaycee is NOT much of a cook, but when she decides to cook a special dinner for Ethan on Valentine's Day, how do things turn out?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan) Rating: Teen Words: 1,121 A/N: Participating in @choicesficwriterscreations Valentine's Day Event and @februarychoiceschallenge2025 - Prompt: Lust.

Ethan Ramsey had never been a fan of Valentine's Day, and he found it imperative that everyone knew it.

"It's capitalist nonsense!" He declared, pouring over the morning paper. "A scheme to convince feeble-minded fools that they're unloved if their partner doesn't send them grotesquely overpriced roses on February 14th, no other day, just that day will do. And, preferably, at work so that everyone can see."

Kaycee was seated at his side, calmly sipping her tea. She was used to this annual proclamation; she honestly found it amusing by now, and she knew it by heart. She playfully mouthed the words as he continued, believing she'd go undetected.

"If I bring sunflowers home on September 18th, does that mean I love you less? No, it doesn't!" He lowered his glasses on the bridge of his nose the moment he caught his beloved mocking him, but his incredulous glare left her giggling with delight.

"Babe, can I just record this? Please. Not only could we hit replay every year, but I'm sure I could turn this into a viral TikTok!"

That earned his further consternation. "Another ridiculous tradition! The social media posts declaring undying love to the 'perfect' partner we all heard them call a son-of-a-bitch at the coffee station not twenty minutes before."

"Did you get it all out of your system now, love?" she teased so adorably that even the crabby doctor found himself grinning. "I know your position by now, and frankly, it's a little hypocritical if you ask me."

That got his attention. "Hypocritical! How?"

"Because you've gone out of your way to make every one of our Valentine's Days special."

"Ah!" he replied, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "That's because you don't expect the nonsense or overpriced flowers. You simply enjoy spending the day together."

"Damn right!" She insisted. "I'd be pissed if you dropped $100 on a dozen roses when you know what I really want costs a whole lot less."

Ethan chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips as his hand landed on her thigh beneath the table. "Costs less? It's free, and I try to provide that to you on a daily basis."

"I wasn't talking about... that," she laughed. "I meant my traditional Valentine's Day cupcakes!"  

He had to smile. This was just one reason he loved her so much. She didn't need fancy things – fancy things he'd honestly be happy to provide for her. But she preferred the simple things - cupcakes, snuggles, perhaps a rom-com – and then those "free" activities they both adored.

"How could I ever forget?" He said, placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

"Well, I've got the day off, so I'm preparing a Valentine's surprise for you tonight," she beamed. "Just make sure you're home from work at a decent hour."

With a promise like that, he made sure he complied. Leaving Edenbrook Hospital the moment his shift ended, he stepped into his condo just after the clock struck six. He was intrigued as he entered the door. A distinct aroma greeted him; it wasn't bad... but something was off. Garlic, rosemary, and... was that cinnamon? His brow, then he saw her.

Kaycee stood in the kitchen, her golden hair cascading over her apron, stopping just above the words Kiss the Cook spelled out in garish, bright pink letters.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" she squealed, rushing over to kiss him. "I made dinner!"

Ethan glanced at the food on the stove, not quite sure what it was. The presentation wasn't bad. It even looked edible. But he was a man of science, and he knew Kaycee's track record in the kitchen. It was unlikely today would be any different from her disasters – uhm – attempts in the past.

"You… cooked?" he asked cautiously, shrugging off his coat.

"Don't sound so surprised!" She said, placing her hands on her hips. "I wanted to do something special for you."

He opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. If the love of his life had spent the day cooking for him, well, then he was going to suffer through whatever culinary chaos awaited him.

Kaycee was already pinching a bite-sized morsel from her creation, all but bouncing as she brought it to his lips. "Here!" She smiled. "Taste this!"

He did his best to hide his trepidation, hesitating only a second before accepting his fate. But, the second the morsel hit his tongue, his highly trained palate was assaulted by a combination of flavors that should never exist together.

He chewed slowly. Trying to think of something that would make this redeemable, but he was coming up blank.

His expression betrayed him because Kaycee's face twisted. "Ethan?"

He swallowed. Painfully. "Hmm?"

"All right," she said, crossing her arms. "Be honest with me."

He sighed, pulling her into his arms. "Kaycee, you are the most remarkable woman I've ever met. Brilliant, compassionate, you brighten every room you walk into..."

"But?" she winced.

"But if you were also an incredible chef, it would simply be unfair. No one can be perfect, dear."

"You hate it," she smirked.

"I..." He paused. "Hate is a strong word."

"Mm-hmm." She turned around and reached into the fridge, producing a pizza box from O'Cheese, their favorite pizza place. "Luckily, I had a backup plan. I can have this heated up in ten minutes."

Ethan exhaled, relieved she wasn't upset with him. "You knew it was going to be a disaster, didn't you?"

She shrugged innocently. "I had my suspicions. But hey, I tried!"

He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You did. And I appreciate the effort. Even if my taste buds will take a week to recover."

"Rude!" she said, smacking his chest.

Ethan smiled, brushing his lips against hers once more. "Besides… I hear you have other skills."

"Oh? Who told you that?"

"A very credible source," he declared, scooping her up in his arms.  

"Well, I'm not demonstrating any of those skills unless..." her eyes met his playfully.

"Don't worry," he laughed. "I stopped by Bova's on the way home. Your cupcakes are on the table in the foyer."

"Ah! I love you!" she beamed. "So, what do you want first, pizza and cupcakes... or me?"

Ethan chuckled as he nipped playfully at her bottom lip. "As tempting as you are, I'm going to need my energy for what I have in mind. So let's have dinner first."

Kaycee giggled, pressing a hand to his chest. "Oh? Planning something special, Dr. Ramsey?"

He smirked. "Let's just say… you're going to need your energy, too. Happy Valentine's Day, Kaycee," he murmured against her lips.

She smiled as she kissed him once more. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ethan."

@openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

[peachhcs]

because will surprised sam i think sam should tell will that her parents said she couldn’t go to Sweden but she actually is going with like ruts girlfriend and surprises him

a surprise in sweden

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy surprises will in sweden for the world juniors!

1.4k words

warnings: like the smallest tiniest illusion to sex, two kisses, mostly fluff though

this was so cutie to write. woo i'm posting again to make up for my lack of posts. i know kayleigh didn't actually go to world juniors, but let's pretend she did for this haha. pls keep requesting i enjoy writing these :)

au masterlist

“did you hear? did you hear?” will's excitement made samy smile from her end of the phone. the girl giggled while nodding her head even though her boyfriend couldn’t see. 

“i did hear. i’m so excited for you. sweden sounds awesome,” the u.s. team picks for world juniors came out only minutes ago and in two seconds, the blonde eagerly called his girlfriend to tell her the happy news. 

“god, i can’t believe i get to play for my country for what might be the last time. leno, perreault, fort, minnetian, and cut are all coming along to,” will was most definitely rambling, but samy didn’t care. she loved hearing him so excited about something to the point where he couldn’t stop talking about it. 

“you guys are gonna dominate. rut, sean, gav, and nazar got picked too. i'm excited for you guys to play on the same team together,” the brunette chuckled a little. It was almost ironic how her two worlds of hockey were colliding on the same team in a few weeks. 

“oh god, mcgroarty’s gonna pick me apart isn’t he?” will groaned, but samy giggled again.

“he won’t, trust me. i’ll make sure they lay off you and won’t ask embarrassing questions.” 

the umich guys knew all about will and were definitely eager to meet the guy that stole their little sister’s heart. they only had ethan and mark’s words to go off and you could guess the things they said only playfully poked fun at the blonde, so will was determined to prove himself so the other guys could properly get to know him. 

“i’m sorry i won’t be in the states for break. i know how excited we were to finally see each other for more than two days,” will changed the subject, his tone laced with a hint of disappointment. 

samy smiled, “it’s okay. this is a big deal for you and i’m so proud of you. i’ll just watch you from the comfort of my living room.” 

her words had a grin spreading across the boy’s lips along with a small chuckle. “you’re sure you can’t convince your parents to let you come with me?” it was worth a shot to ask even though will knew how much samy loved spending the holidays with her family. he didn’t even wanna ask if she could come along knowing how much the holidays meant to her. 

“i doubt it. i know they trust me, but an entire like three weeks in a different country with my boyfriend..i don’t know if they’d be so keen on that idea,” the girl laughed, a slight blush coating her cheeks. 

a similar pink color spread across will’s face as well, “okay, just thought i’d ask. i’ll miss you. i’ll send your gift in the mail so you’ll hopefully have it.” 

“i’ll see if i can get yours to boston before you leave. i’m still waiting on something in the mail.” 

“i hope you didn’t go overboard. we said not to,” will said despite the smile on his lips. 

“even if i did, it’s the first christmas that we’re together and not getting each other gag gifts,” samy stated. 

“when have i ever gotten you a gag gift? i think my gifts have been very thoughtful no matter what our relationship is,” the boy quickly defended himself. 

“well whatever. i think you’ll really like my gift,” samy chuckled. 

“i think you’ll like mine too,” will eyed the unwrapped gifts sitting on his desk and he couldn’t help but smile thinking about samy opening them in a few weeks. 

the two stayed on the phone for the rest of the night just mindlessly talking and getting to hear one another’s voices. there was one thing will didn’t know though and that was samy texting with kayleigh as they bought plane tickets for sweden—their trip already thoroughly planned out because the two predicted very early on that their boyfriends would make the US team, they just needed the confirmation before they bought their tickets. they couldn’t be more excited to fly out and surprise everyone with the hope that ryan and gabe knew how to keep their mouths shut. 

—

will sat in his hotel room making an attempt to get some of his school work done, but the tv playing as background noise was taking more of his attention than he thought it would. his eyes were glued to the show, computer open because if it was open, then at least it seemed like he was being productive. 

samy followed gabe and ryan to the 5th floor, unbeknownst to will. her and kayleigh landed about an hour ago and the girl was trying to shush the boys before the surprise was ruined. Her and ryan shoved themselves against the wall while gabe knocked on his friend’s room—their surprise plan setting into action. 

will lifted his head when he heard the knock. he walked towards the door, eyes still flicking back to the tv as he pulled the wooden frame open. “what?” the boy asked gabe on the other side. 

“can you come to my room real quick? I think i broke something,” the dark-haired boy muttered. 

will raised his eyebrow, “what do you mean you think you broke something?”

“like, i was trying to open up the cabinet under the tv and the handle like snapped off in my hand.” 

ryan and samy struggled keeping their laughter from slipping out as they stood a few feet away from will’s door. the blonde crinkled his nose, “dude, i’m not getting involved if you broke something. you’re gonna have to pay for that shit.” 

“can you just please come look? i don’t know if it’s actually broken,” gabe tried. 

“how do you not know if something is broken? it’s either broken or not broken,” will argued a bit, not knowing gabe was only trying to get him into the hallway where he’d see samy. 

“please just come look? for like two seconds.” 

a sigh escaped the blonde’s lips along with a shake of his head thinking how stupid his friend was. he shuffled into the hallway ready to head down to gabe’s room when samy suddenly popped out from behind ryan, “surprise!!” 

will jumped back, a small screech falling from his mouth. it took him all of ten seconds to take in his girlfriend standing two feet away from him, ryan with his camera out, and gabe snickering to himself to realize what was happening. when it did finally click samy was swept into the boy’s arms. 

“what are you doing here? i-i thought you weren’t coming?” will could hardly form any coherent thoughts. it felt like he was dreaming or something. 

“i was coming all along. i said i wasn’t because i wanted to surprise you,” samy explained, giggling into the blonde’s shoulder. 

“what about your parents? Your brothers..” 

“they were cool with it. kayleigh and i have been planning this for like weeks,” the brunette pulled back so she could properly see his face. she brushed his little curls away, a blush spreading across his cheeks at her gentleness. 

his eyes slid towards gabe and ryan who nodded. “we knew all along,” gabe snickered. 

"i’m surprised you two could keep a secret as big as this,” will teased them knowing how bad they both were at keeping things from other people. 

“oh shut up. we got your girl here so now you can stop moping around,” ryan rolled his eyes which earned the middle finger from will. 

another giggle escaped samy’s lips as she squeezed her boyfriend’s waist, putting his attention back on her. “It’s good to see you,” she hummed. 

“you too. I’m glad we get to spend a few weeks together,” not caring that ryan and gabe were still watching, the hockey player connected their lips into a sweet kiss. 

“yooo, save that for the room. Iim out of here. don’t be too loud,” gabe mumbled before retreating back into his own room. 

samy and will shared a laugh. ryan quickly escaped as well, promising he’d send the surprise video. that left the couple standing in the hallway together, loving smiles on each of their lips. 

“you’re sure you’re okay with not spending the holidays with your family?” will wondered because he didn’t want to be pulling her away. 

the girl cupped his face, “i’m sure. mom and dad were cool with it and my brothers are hardly home anymore anyways. plus, how could i miss something like this?” 

her words convinced the boy for now. he planted one last kiss on her lips before pulling her inside his hotel room—a very long night ahead of them.