#between shutting down/completely ignoring him and basically saying to his face

[jessicas-pi]

So This Was A Little More Angsty Than I Recalled...

We’re probably both going to be bruised black and blue by the time this is over, Ezra thinks, blocking a hard swing and throwing it right back. The sun was setting when they started, and it’s nearly dark now.

Sabine’s eyes glow too gold for comfort in the dusky night. Just like he has every day for the last month, he bites his tongue and holds back his questions.

Hera and Zeb won’t tell him about whatever happened to Sabine on Malachor, Kanan and Okadiah are as lost as Ezra is, and if Ahsoka knows anything, she’s not telling. When Ezra brought it up to Mom and Dad, they just told him to be there for Sabine.

He’s been trying.

Sabine has not been cooperating.

So after a month of being there with no success, Ezra gave up and decided that it was time for some non-optional friendship bonding time, but even his best efforts at finding a so-bad-it’s-good holofilm like they used to watch together, even after making some really good movie snacks, all for her, she sulked and complained the whole time, being so—so—infuriating that before he knew it, they were yelling in each others’ faces about tropes.

Ezra stopped yelling, stopped the film, took her by the arm, dragged her outside into the Atollon landscape, and said that they were going to beat the crap out of each other.

(For Mandalorians, sparring is training, recreation, and even courtship. He figured… maybe it would work as therapy, too?)

He doesn’t feel bad about throwing the first punch, because she hit back twice as hard. Ezra thinks his lip is split from a hard hit to the front of his helmet, and Sabine’s knuckles are scraped raw and bloody. They circle each other, slower now than when they started. Her hair has blown out of her braid and sticks to her face in the heat.

It’s a little bit pretty, but now definitely isn’t the right time to think about that.

Sabine rolls one shoulder—he thinks it’s where he landed a decent punch.

“Had enough, tin can?” she demands, but the tension has started to drain from her body and she sounds a little closer to playful than he thought she could ever be again.

“Not if you’ve still got that attitude, wizard girl.”

“You’re gonna regret that,” Sabine warns. She settles into a stance, rocking a little, coiled like a spring.

“Probably,” Ezra agrees.

She draws a breath, and Ezra must have blinked or something, because in the space of an instant, she’s flown at him. He can barely see her in the dark and even the night vision in his helmet doesn’t help.

But he has a split second of advantage. In pure chance, she overextends, and he slams into her, sending them both tumbling through the Atollon dust.

She’s up on her feet again right away—or at least she would be, but Ezra snags her wrist, and drags her back down, flipping over so she’s neatly pinned beneath him.

All he needs is a knife to hold to her throat and it would be a near-perfect replica of the scene in the holofilm that started their stupid fight in the first place.

Sabine doesn’t say anything. She just lies on her back in the dust, looking up at him with the eyes that always seemed to see through his mask, but now they don’t look like they’re seeing anything. He hopes she’s processing her emotions and not disassociating.

Ezra is about to move off of her when something catches his eye, and he brushes some of her hair away from her face. It clings—not with sweat, but with blood. There’s a cut on her cheek.

“Did I hurt you?” he breathes, not sure what he’s even saying, and he draws away.

Flying up, her hand seizes his wrist, gripping painfully tight, even as her sharpening gaze fixes right where his eyes would be.

Ezra swallows dryly. The look she gives him is making him feel a thousand things that he doesn’t really want to sort out, now or ever.

“Sabine?” he asks. “What…”

He trails off. Her thumb slides to the little space between his glove and his sleeve, pulling the cloth back. Never looking away from his face, she pulls his arm up and softly kisses the pulse of his wrist.

“You’re dangerous, Ezra,” she smiles, breath on his skin.

Then, like the Spectre she is, Sabine is gone.

[evie-sturns]

brat - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after a day of shooting chris bratty, and rude comments, he finally puts you in your place.

contains: brat tamer!chris, smut, overstimulation, choking, fluff, aftercare, dumbification.

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

i grip chris's hand tight as we walk around target, "i want to go home chris." i state with a small pout,

"baby i told you we need to get stuff for the wednesday video." chris sighs, squeezing my hand.

"it's not like its my channel! i got dragged here by you." i bite back at him, chris's eyebrows furrow with a shocked laugh.

"don't fucking act like you weren't clinging to me an hour ago, you wouldn't let me leave the house." chris shuts me up pretty quick, i roll my eyes with a frustrated sigh.

he stops walking at looks down at me, "don't roll your eyes at me."

i scoff, chris raises his eyebrows at me as a warning before pulling me towards the checkout by my hand.

i wrap my arms around chris as he pays,

he hooks the several bags over his fingers before following close behind me as we walk out of the main exit.

chris and i walk towards matt's car which is parked in the parking lot, chris swings open the back door before jumping in,

"did you get the shit?" matt asks before turning the car on,

"yeah, most of it." chris replies before scooting closer to me in the backseat.

“chris!! you’re basically crushing me.” i whine, chris shoots me a warning glare as matt pulls out of the parking lot.

chris places a gentle hand on my thigh, i look out the window with my arms crossed over my chest.

“are you tired?” chris asks softly, i don’t reply, keeping my eyes trained on the passing cars out the foggy window.

i hear chris let out a small frustrated sigh, him and matt start up a conversation which continues for the rest of the trip.

-

i swing open the door to chris and i’s room, instantly flopping down on the bed. chris follows close behind me into the room and stands by the bed, just looking down at me.

i stare at my phone as i make myself comfy in his pile of pillows.

“y/n.” chris stares blankly, his voice low.

i ignore him, staring at my phone.

“i’m not gonna ask you again.” chris says under his breath before i feel 2 of his cold hands grip my ankles.

he tugs me by my ankles to the edge of the bed in one harsh tug.

“chris!” i whine,

“don’t fucking whine at me.” he mutters,

his hand finds its way onto my waist, in one movement he flips me over onto all fours.

i feel his hands tugs on the waistband of my sweatpants before he pulls them completely off of me

i look back over my shoulder at chris, adjusting my position on all fours.

he tugs my panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely,

“chris-“ i start, but i’m cut off by a harsh smack to my ass, hard enough to leave a mark.

i wince slightly, somewhat in shock from how chris managed to get me from my comfortable position on his bed, to on all fours wearing absolutely nothing from the waist down.

i hear the clink of chris’s belt hitting the wooden floor, followed by his jeans.

“gonna act like a brat, gonna be fucked like one.” chris says from behind me before tugging his boxers off.

“i’m not being a brat!” i protest.

just then i feel chris’s pink tip line up with my slit, wet with arousal.

chris slams into me full force, his tip bruising my cervix.

a mix between a moan, a scream, and a gasp exits my mouth at once, overwhelming pain but pleasure coasting through me.

his thrusts instantly start, giving me no time to stretch around him.

each thrust i feel him hit deeper.. and deeper.

“arch your back.” chris demands, placing a palm on my back and pushing it down.

i bury my face in the pillow, not wanting matt to hear my desperate screams.

i hear chris let out a low laugh from behind me as if his dick isn’t brutally abusing my insides right now.

“chris- chris slow down-“ i manage to babble out incoherently,

“you think you deserve it? for me to slow down?” chris spits back,

his hand collides with the plush skin of my ass again.

“do you?” he asks again, i shake my head frantically into the pillow.

“that’s what i thought, so don’t go asking me to slow down.” he mumbles with a small groan.

he continues to hit impossibly deep spots,

i let out a loud gasp as i feel chris’s cold hand shaking round to my neck,

his large hand takes a grip on my throat,

his other hand pulls my hair into a makeshift ponytail before he tugs on it, forcing my head out of the pile of pillows.

he grips my throat as he tugs on my hair, my back contorted into a deep arch.

tears well in my eyes from the intensity, not to say i’m not enjoying every second of this.

the only sounds in our room are skin slapping together harshly paired with my muffled moans.

my legs shake dramatically as i attempt to kick them, my hands grip the bedsheets for dear life as i feel chris’s cock against my walls.

with a pathetic scream of his name i clench around him, releasing all over his length. his grip on my throat tightens as i assume he gets close.

“i didn’t tell you to cum.” chris huffs,

“say you’re sorry.” he follows up.

“i’m- i’m so s-sorr…” i babble out,

tears are now flowing down my cheeks from overstimulation.

my eyes roll back as chris’s thrusts somehow quicken.

with a slick pop chris pulls out quickly, he paints my back with warm white streaks.

“oh- oh fuck- fuck…” chris groans as he strokes himself a few more times.

i face plant forwards into the sheets, chris collapses next to me.

chris lays on the bed for a few seconds before springing up, he tugs me onto his lap and wraps his large arms around me.

“no- no don’t cry love.” chris says with a nervous laugh.

“did i hurt you? are you hurt princess?” chris fires rapid questions at me, i shake my head no and i can physically see the relief wash over chris.

“no more tears,” chris breathes out, wiping my eyes gently.

“that was- so intense..” i breathe out with a small smile.

“i’m sorry baby, i’m sorry.” chris pecks kisses over my damp face.

he wipes my back with his hand, his face grimacing.

“i’m sorry.” chris whispers again, “chris.. it’s okay, i really.. really liked it.” i say with a shy grin.

“are you sure? i’m sorry, i think i just got worked up” chris apologies for the hundredth time.

“i’m sure chris, stop apologising.” i laugh, fixing his messed up hair.

he runs his hands through my locks, “did it hurt when i pulled your hair?” chris asks, visible nerves on his innocent flushed face.

“no chris.” i laugh, chris nods “okay thank god.”

chris picks me up as he stands up, holding me in a bridal position.

“what do you feel like wearing?” he asks, “maybe- just something of yours” i reply

“okay!” chris says, pulling out one of his sweatshirts and some of his sweat-shorts.

chris places me down on my feet, my legs wobble as i stumble over.

“oh-“ he picks me back up,

“my legs are like jelly.” i smile.

“sorr-“ chris starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth,

“no more sorrys!” i laugh.

chris shakes his head with a giggle.

he plops me down on the bed and tugs the shorts up my legs.

“arms up sweetheart.” chris says before pulling his shirt onto me.

chris stands up and walks over to his closet and pulls on some sweatpants.

“there we are.” chris smiles.

“you look good!” chris

“you look like a moron.” i state with my arms crossed.

i slam a hand over my mouth, realising i’ve just gave chris attitude.

“what was that?” chris laughs,

“nothing.” i purse my lips together.

“am i going to have to fuck that attitude out of you again?” chris asks

i shake my head, my cheeks now a deep red.

———

@gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @mattybsgf @stupid4sturniolo @lydi2718 @chrisstopherfilmed2 @flosslikeabosss @zturndq @skysturniolo @jetaimevous @sturniolo04 @luxy-nyx @aliceloveschris @livvy4realll @chrissturnsss @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae@sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @mattlvrr @downbad4reid @austejasz @faygo-frog @certifiedstarrr @flosslikeabosss @mattybismyman @skysturniolo @jetaimevous

[rbfclassy]

THE SESSION! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...you open up to your best friend about how difficult it is for you to have an orgasm, but he takes it as an opportunity to help and make the night only about you after your horrible past experiences

INFO...best friend!choso x fem!reader, reader finds it embarrassing to talk about not being able to cum, pussy eating, spit, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, handholding, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You and Choso sat on his couch, watching the movie that played on the tv screen, digging into the bowl of popcorn that sat comfortable between the two of you. It was a basically tradition for you guys to have a movie night together at least twice a month, gives you opportunity to catch up with each other and hang out without having your schedules clash. A scene in particular made you cringe, an unnecessary sex scene which most of these movies always have—adding nothing to the plot. With the roll of your eyes, you hear chuckle from Choso and quickly look over at him to see he was laughing you. “What?” Your furrow your brows in confusion.

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he responds, immediately going back to watching the movie with his arms folded across his chest, head leaned back against the couch. With narrow eyes, you stare at him for a seconds before looking back at the screen, the sex scene still ongoing. The woman always looked like she was having the time of her life, eyes fluttering shut, scratching at the guys back and what not.

“I don’t get why they portray sex like this in the movies, I mean, one minute in and the girl is already creaming her damn pants. So unrealistic,” you scoff. Choso side eyed you, watching as you complained, but he picked up the remote and paused the movie. “What are you doing? Press play.”

He completely ignored you, turning his body halfway towards you so that he was able to see you better. “What do you mean unrealistic?” He questioned, placing down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table along with the remote.

“I don’t know, it just looks so forced? It’s a movie, so what do you expect? Anyway, press play.” You adjust in your seat, bringing your knees up to your chest. Though, he didn’t move a muscle and continued to stare at you. Slowly, you turned your head towards him. “May I help you?”

“You think that looks forced and fake?” Choso asks with a laugh, pointing at the screen.

“Yeah, the guy never does foreplay, never focuses on the girl, they just get their nut and go. Plus, it never even feels good enough to have an orgasm.” You shrug.

Choso looks at you in surprise, mouth nearly dropping open. “Sounds like to me you’ve been with sleeping with some shitty dudes.”

“Okay, well, yeah!” You huff. “You know what? I’m gonna stop talking because I’m not trying to embarrass myself, so please press play!” You smiled at him.

“Come on, tell me! I’m your best friend! You know everything about me!” He argued.

“No, it’s embarrassing.” You shook your head at him, avoiding eye contact.

“Please! You know everything about my sex life! I wanna hear about these shitty guys you’ve been sleeping with, sounds entertaining,” he laughed.

“You tell me about your sex life regardless of what I say, so I don’t wanna hear it,” you chuckle. “Plus, these stories are not entertaining at all.”

Choso crawled up closer to you on the couch. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll buy you your favorite snacks for a whole month! I’ll put gas in your car for the month! I’ll cook your favorite food! Anything!” He was begging, your words having caught his interest.

“Cho, leave it alone! I said it was embarrassing, okay? It’s not even about the guys, it’s mostly about me,” you trail off, voice getting quiet.

“Oh.” He blinked. “It’s serious.” He sat close to you.

Finally, you look over at him, bored expression on your face. “It’s not serious, it’s something I have difficulty with and the guys I slept with really didn’t seem to even care or try. They just wanted to fuck just to say they fucked,” you explained, looking at him.

“If you’re afraid I’m gonna make fun of you, I promise I won’t.” He gave you a half smile.

“Pinky promise?” You asked, holding out your pinky.

“Pinky promise.” He interlocked his pinky with yours, tugging on it gently before letting go. “Now, tell me.”

You cleared your throat, getting comfortable in the position you were before you began to speak, “so, the truth is that I have a hard time having orgasms. That’s literally it. And the guys I slept with weren’t so big on the whole foreplay and putting a woman’s pleasure first, and I’m starting to realize that I just have horrible luck when it comes to sleeping with men because that’s not normal,” you awkwardly laugh, looking at your best friend. “Basically, a guy has never made me cum. There, I said it.”

Choso stared at you like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to even say. He never thought that would be the thing to come out of your mouth. He actually thought it was something embarrassing, but it wasn’t. “Wait, so…have you ever made yourself cum?” He asked with a timid voice.

“Like twice, but most of the time I can’t. It’s super frustrating and it takes the pleasure out of it. It sucks knowing that other girls can cum so quick and easy and have guys that worship the ground they walk on, you know?” You slightly frowned. “This is so stupid! I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” The embarrassment kicked in, feeling Choso burn a hole in your face with his stare. You didn’t dare look at him, afraid that he might actually laugh. But when you went to reach for the remote, his hand grabbed at your wrist and stopped you.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice soft and gentle. He pulled you closer to him and as he did so, your brain felt like it completely stopped working. You had zero clue on what he was doing, but that look in his eyes…he’s never looked at you like that before. Would it be wrong of you to say that you felt nervous and little hot and bothered? “Maybe you just need someone who makes you feel comfortable, relaxed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “like a boyfriend?” You asked, pulling your wrist away from his grip.

“No…a best friend,” he spoke. Your eyes fluttered up to his before quickly averting your gaze. “Don’t get all shy now, you just told me one of your biggest secrets. Thats what best friends are for, right? Help each other out, tell each other all of our secrets. Or maybe I’ve just been dying to know how you taste all these years. Would you be okay with that? Would you be okay with me making you feel good, hm?”

“Cho…I don’t wanna disappoint you—”

“Disappoint me? Why because you’re afraid you won’t cum? That’s okay, just let yourself feel good, I wanna be the one to make you feel good whether you cum or not. Okay?” You nodded your head at him, biting on the inside of your cheek as you watched him get off of the couch and sink down to his knees in front of you. You thickly swallowed as he stared up at you, his fingers finding the band of your shorts before gently pulling at them. “Don’t be nervous, tonight is about you.” He tossed your shorts on the other side of the couch, leaving you only in your panties.

His hands caressed your thighs, squeezing them, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your inner thighs. “Have I ever told you how much I love your thighs?” He looked up at you with a smirk, placing another kiss on your skin. You shook your head no. “Mmm, well now you know.” He dipped his head further towards your clothed cunt, licking at it just to tease you. Your breath shuddered at the sensation. "Relax, okay?" He gave you a soft smile.

Your heart began beating faster the closer his hands got to the elastic band of your underwear. Slightly lifting your hips, you allowed him to slip the fabric over your legs, moving down your ankles before he tossed them to the floor. You grew nervous and self conscious, clenching your legs shut. Choso has been your best friend for years, but neither of you have never been this intimate with each other before. The most you two ever did was hug. Sure, you shared secrets with each other and basically knew everything going on in your lives, nothing was too much to share between you two. Though, this was an entirely different thing.

He could sense your nervousness and hesitation, sucking in a deep breath as he stared at you with low eyes. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he reassured.

"No, no, I do...it's just we've never talked about this or done anything like this before." You blinked.

He let out a breathy chuckle, smirking up at you. "I never took you to be the shy type."

"Shush!" You brought your hands up to cover your face.

"I'm messing with you," he laughed. "Now, spread your legs and let me see how pretty she is. Pretty please." He reached his hand up to yours, removing them from your face so he could take a look at you. Slowly, you began to spread your legs for him and Choso's eyes seemed to light up in awe, staring down at your cunt like he was a kid in a candy store. "Oh my god," he said under his breath. He reached his thumb up to your clit, slowly rubbing it with light pressure as he watched your hole clench around nothing. "Look at me," he ordered. "I don't want you to think about cumming, I just want you to think about how good it feels, you understand?" You nodded in silence, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

A gasp left your lips when you felt the flat of his tongue rest against your clit. His arms wrapped around your legs, pulling your hips closer to his face as he nestled between your legs. His tongue circled around your clit in a slow motion that made your hips jolt. You tried to conceal your little whimpers, but it was getting hard to with the way he was suckling on your clit.

He let out an audible moan, looking up at you through thick lashes as messily spit onto your cunt, letting it dribble down to your hole. The tip of his tongue licking at your folds. He lapped up your juices, breathing heavily before he came up for air, the lower half of his face glistening with you. "Fuck, you taste so good." He flashed a smile at you, diving right back in between your legs.

Your hips bucked against his face, the feeling of warm tongue moving up and down your cunt, teasing your hole, it felt so good. The tip of his tongue began moving in figure eight motions across your clit, sending chills up your spine. You held back your moans, covering your hand with your mouth as you indulged in the pleasure, letting it take over your mind and body. Your eyes fluttered shut, head falling back against the couch.

Choso took notice of your shyness, reaching up to, once again, remove your hand from your face, taking your hand and his and intertwining your fingers. "I wanna hear all the pretty noises you make." He placed a gentle kiss on your swollen clit, squeezing your hand. "How you feeling, hm?"

"Good...it feels good," you breathed out, nodding your head.

"That's what I like to hear. Don't worry about anything else." He rubbed the pad of thumb over your knuckles. He gave you one last look before his eyes averted to your cunt, sucking in a breath before he began sucking on your clit again. He took it upon himself remove his arm from around your leg, his ring and middle finger prodding at your entrance, easily slipping them in.

"Cho," you moaned, jaw slack. He let out a throaty groan, pleased to hear how good he was making you feel. His eyes landed on you again, watching your face contort with pleasure, brown furrowed and eyes dark with lust. His fingers began moving in and out of your sopping hole, slightly curled as he aimed for your g-spot. He wasn't trying to make you cum, he was just trying to make you feel good, let you have an enjoyable experience for once after hearing about all the shitty guys you've been with.

They didn't deserve you, to see you like this, feel you. Choso couldn't be more flattered that you'd let him do this for you. If he had known about this sooner, he would've taken initiative right then and there. All you deserve is the best, to be worshipped like you want and he was here to do that whenever you needed. He pumped his fingers faster, the thought of how those other men treated you were starting to get under his skin.

"Ah! Fuck!" You were panting heavily, chest moving up and down rapidly. Your pussy was making lewd sounds, juices coating his fingers. You squeezed his hand tightly, a whimper leaving your throat as his tongue swirled over the sensitive bud.

"You're doing such a good job for me," he muttered against your skin, kissing your inner thighs. You grew needy as his slowly dragged his fingers against your gummy walls. "Oh," he chuckled, "your pussy is clenching around my fingers. So needy."

"Please, just wanna feel your tongue again," you begged. "You make me feel so good, Cho." Your eyes were filled with desperation, moving your hips against his hand for more friction. Impatient, your hand gripped onto his hair, pushing his head back down to where you needed him most. He let out a deep chuckle, tongue diving between your folds, slurping your juices and spitting them back onto your cunt. Choso grew hungry, feral, wanting to see your eyes roll back.

Your body was coated in a light sheen of sweat, goosebumps littered your skin, and it felt like you couldn't think straight. "Yes! Yes!" You moaned, biting down on your lip so hard you were sure it was going to bleed. "Cho," you called out, whimpering.

"What is it, pretty?" His fingers kept working at you, watching the way your body writhed above him. "Tell me." His voice was soft.

"I think you're gonna make me cum," you choked out, legs slightly shaking with pointed toes.

"Remember what I said, don't think about it, just let it happen." He kept his fingers at the same pace, tongue going back to lap at your clit again. Your little gasps and whimpers told Choso all he needed to know. You were so close. And as much as he'd love to see you cum, he wasn't going to force it upon you, so he kept doing the same thing he was doing just minutes ago. The grip on his hair grew tighter as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

The feeling and experience was such a rare thing that each time, you came super hard. Your thighs clenched around his head. "Shit! Im cumming! I'm cum-oh my god!" Your entire body began shaking as your orgasm took over, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Choso let out a satisfied moan, tasting you on his tongue, licking up your juices, not daring to waste a drop.

He lifted his head to take a good look at you, seeing the fucked out look on your face brought him joy. "Hey, relax, it's okay," he reassured, rubbing your thighs to soothe you. He could see your body was still slightly quivering. "You're okay." He got up from his knees, sitting back down on the couch as he held you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

"Jesus, Cho," you giggled, out of breath. "Thank you."

"You don't gotta thank me for nothing." He grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him. "Next time you feel like this, you come to me, not anyone else. Promise?" He stared at you, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

"Promise.

[pretzel-box]

Sebastian trolling on intercoms, he has this one line where he says he’s stuffing urbanshade’s operatives in the drawers. My req is walking in on Seb stuffing them in the drawers and going, “dude wtff” and then proceeds to help out just because. Then it’s his turn to go “dude. wtf”

u can ignore this if u like, take care, toodles :3

Tags: Mention of dead bodies, gn!reader, can be read as established relationship, bonding over weird activities

Words: 1k

Being constantly on your own meant learning the art of multitasking, managing both the mundane and the ridiculous without complaint or backup. That's one of the first things Sebastian had perfected. No matter how brutal the mission or how complicated the intel, it always came down to doing the dirty work solo. He had a particular distaste for asking for help, especially from the expendables sent by Urbanshade. Not that they could be much help anyway—Sebastian had long suspected that most of them lacked the basic smarts to handle even the simplest tasks.

He once likened them to dogs: you throw them a bone, and instead of catching it, they'd get hit in the face. That mental image gave him an odd sort of satisfaction as he worked.

But today was testing even his limits.

He was crouched over a body, struggling to cram a fully massacred Urbanshade operative into a drawer not designed to hold anything larger than some spare parts and tools. The operative was limp and heavy, their arms and legs flopping uselessly as Sebastian tried, for the third time, to fold them in enough to close the drawer.

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he shoved a leg into place. “Another day, another operative stuffed in the drawers,” he muttered sarcastically to himself. “I swear, Urbanshade should just invest in bigger cabinets if they want to keep sending these guys.”

He gave the drawer another forceful push, but it stubbornly resisted.

Suddenly, a voice echoed down the corridor. “Sebastian, what the actual—” You appeared in the doorway, your expression a mix of shock and disbelief as you took in the bizarre scene. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sebastian didn’t even look up, his voice steady and dry. “They ran out of closets. And I ran out of patience.” He gave the drawer a final shove, managing to stuff half the operative’s body inside, though one arm still dangled precariously from the side. “You’d think Urbanshade would plan for this, but here we are.”

For a moment, you just stood there, trying to process the absurdity of what you were witnessing. The operative, the drawer, Sebastian’s complete lack of concern—it was all too ridiculous.

“Well…” you sighed after a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I guess I’ll help.”

Sebastian finally looked up, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. “You’re seriously going to help me?”

“Clearly, you need it,” you replied, stepping forward and rolling up your sleeves. “There’s no way this guy’s fitting without some… creativity.”

Without another word, the two of you got to work. The silence between you was punctuated only by the occasional grunt as you both maneuvered the operative’s limbs into the most unnatural positions possible, trying to make him fit into the narrow space. You had to bend the legs awkwardly, twist the arms into near-impossible angles—it felt like playing a weird game of human Tetris, but the stakes were somehow more absurd.

At one point, the operative’s foot got stuck between the drawer and the frame, and you had to push down hard on his leg while Sebastian yanked at the drawer to create enough space.

“This is not what I signed up for,” you muttered under your breath, gritting your teeth as you pushed with all your strength.

Sebastian grunted in agreement, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. “Welcome to my world.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of bending, twisting, and shoving, the drawer slide shut with a satisfying click. Both of you stood back, breathing heavily from the effort, staring at the now-closed drawer that held the awkwardly folded operative.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and turned to Sebastian, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Dude, what the actual hell.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning against the drawer with his arms crossed, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. “I could say the same to you. You just helped me shove a guy into a drawer.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to leave you struggling,” you shot back with a shrug. “Besides, if we’re going to survive in this hellhole, we’ve gotta get a little creative, right?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Fair enough. But I didn’t expect you to jump in so willingly.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms. “Well, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t going to pass up on something this ridiculous. I mean, it’s not every day you get to help someone stuff an Urbanshade goon into a drawer.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at the now-closed drawer. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

The two of you stood in companionable silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. It wasn’t the first bizarre thing you’d encountered down here, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but at least you had someone to share the insanity with.

“Well,” you said eventually, pushing off the wall, “since we’ve finished this little project, what’s next? Filing cabinets? Maybe the supply closet?”

Sebastian snorted, straightening up as he stretched his arms. “I think we’ll save that for tomorrow’s entertainment. But hey, if you’re free, I might call you in for backup.”

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your face remained. “Sure, because I definitely have nothing better to do than help you play hide-the-body with Urbanshade’s finest.”

He shrugged, smirking as he headed toward the door. “It’s either that or sit around waiting for the next crystal hunt. Your choice.”

You followed him out, the tension easing with every step. In a place like this, where the line between sanity and chaos blurred more with each passing day, it was a relief to know that, at the very least, you weren’t facing the madness alone.

“Who knew stuffing people in drawers would be a bonding experience,” you quipped, shooting him a playful look as you walked down the corridor.

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised what counts as bonding in this place.”

And with that, the two of you disappeared into the shadows of the facility, ready to fill some more furniture with unnatural stuff.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

can you write about afab beomgyu who’s a squirter? thank u!

Eating out Beomgyu~

summary: eating beomgyu's pussy basically

word count: too lazy to check, i'll fill in later

warnings: dom reader, sub gyu, pussy-eating, squirting, fingering, maybe more

a/n: it's the middle of the night, so ignore spelling mistakes or anything that sounds a bit funny. it didn't mean for this to be this long but are you complaining?

just thinking abt afab gyu in general

who sits still with legs open like a good girl. with his hand covering his mouth, trying not to be loud as his pretty thighs quake around your head.

all pretty in his thigh-highs and skirt, pulled up around his hips to present himself to you.

he's shaking like a leaf, unable to contain himself...and you haven't even touched him yet.

all you've done is kiss over his inner thighs, his skin covered in marks that you're sure to make last for awhile, already turning to a pretty pinkish purple hue.

but the way your breath ghosts over him, making him clench desperately around nothing-he wants you inside of him so bad, he needs it.

and you know it.

and you continue to only tease him, purposely blowing over his clit, tongue reaching out and just brushing over him.

"please-!" he gasps, his free hand clenching in your hair. "please, stop teasing!"

"hmm," he's shaking. so cute~ "dunno gyu..." he's so wet it's dripping onto the sheets, drooling down his folds, enticing you to lean in and just give him what he wants. "do you think you deserve it?"

but he still has to act tough even when he writhes against you, body moving subconsciously, spreading his feet apart to make more room for you. “just shut up, shut up, just-”

not the response you want. he knows this.

your lips press right beside where he needs you. so close, so fucking close he thinks he could lose his mind. "please! i'll be good-i'll be so fucking good, just touch me-lick me! i don't care, i just wan' you!"

fuck, he looks so pretty begging.

you've never been able to resist him for long...

"language," you warn, gathering the saliva on your tongue before slowly letting it drip from your mouth, coating his pussy. "be a good girl and you'll get what you want~"

he can never help the way the praise goes to his head. the way he whines, hole fluttering. "ah! wai-" his voice breaks as you stick your tongue out. such a perfect way to shut off his brain.

"so sensitive," you tsk, his legs twitching lightly as his eyes roll back. licking a long stripe up his cunt, moaning at his taste, at his slick covering your tongue. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already. haven't even gone inside you yet, gonna ruin all the fun gyu..." you pout.

but he is. he's so close already. from your teasing and your biting and just watching you sit between his legs so perfectly composed while he falls apart.

"'m not gonna-" famous last words. you drag your tongue up to his clit, making sure he feels every second of what you're doing with a swirl of your tongue around it. actions that render him speechless and dumb.

"huh? what'd you say pretty?" your name rings out loud and clear in a pathetic, strained tone when your lips enclose around the little bud, sucking on it softly until his legs clamp down around your head.

you press them open just as quick, hands pushing them down against the sheets on either side. "you gonna cum on my tongue, make a mess all over my face and the sheets?"

you ask it like it's really his decision. like he really has a choice. like he isn't nodding furiously, wanting nothing more than to be dumbed down to a babbling slut with your tongue and fingers. you've spent too many hours like this for him to believe anything otherwise.

hours spent between his legs, tongue buried deep inside his wet heat, ripping orgasm after orgasm from his spent body until his voice is hoarse and his poor clit is swollen and throbbing.

hours spent completely at your mercy, just the way he likes it. with his hand in your hair, trying to pull you away as you overstimulate him over and over again, eyes pricking with tears as he begs for you to stop.

but he doesn't want you to stop. he never really wants for you to stop. and you know him well enough to know that.

you hum, "greedy slut." he really can't help how his back arches up off the bed when you press inside of him. it's just so fucking good, it's so much, so overwhelming.

"yes! p-please, yes!" he sobs, walls clamping so hard around you it's hard to even move.

he can't handle this.

"fuck!" forgetting all his manners, his leg hooking over your shoulder in an attempt to pull you in closer.

he needs this.

"more~" greedy and selfish and too cute, grinding down against your face, mouth open, tongue sticking out as he tries to fuck himself on your tongue.

"i'm close-'m so close!" with his nails dragging over your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. your moans are muffled in his pussy, the vibrations sending waves of heat, licking every part of his body, so very close to the edge.

"lemme cum on your face!"

who are you to deny your pretty little slut? looking so properly fucked up nodding hastily, blush spreading across his cheeks, hips unable to stay in place. whines and moans filling the room, free hand groping for a pillow to cover his face to find none-hidden by your's truly

how could you let such pretty noises be put to waste.

"i'll be good, i'll be so good! i promise, just lemme cum, lemme-"

all it really takes is the look in your eye: mean and dark, a warning that he has to choose whether to heed or ignore. well, and your fingers, replacing your tongue so deep inside him he sees stars swimming in his vision. licking at his clit in lazy little circles, looking him right in the eye.

before he can't hold it in anymore, desperately humping your fingers as he searches for release. with every breath he takes, letting out whiny "please"'s and 'need it!'.

he's gonna regret it but it doesn't matter. not now. maybe tomorrow when he feels so raw and sore he'll have to call in sick but not now with your fingers pressing against that one spot inside of him and your mouth enveloping his clit in it's warmth, sucking and sucking until he feels he's going mad.

he's your good girl~

thighs clench around your head as his muscles tense up, his cunt clamping down on your fingers like he wants to keep you inside of him forever. he's always been loud when he cums and now is no exception as he throws his head back with a scream, cumming on your fingers and tongue.

and to no surprise, you feel a gush of liquid spill down your hand, arousal coating your fingers and the sheets in a sticky mess. his whole body shudders with the final release, spasming and tightening around you one last time before relaxing.

you leave a soft, almost sweet kiss on his sensitive clit. so out of character for your next words.

"did i tell you that you could cum gyu?"

--

a/n: i'll add my taglist tmrw, so if you're on my taglist and have read this, you're prolly gonna get tagged still

[nameless-jamie]

TARTT'S CORNER - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 9: Is This What They Call ‘Feelings’?

Y/N hadn’t left her apartment in over a week. The air was stale with the scent of unwashed laundry, forgotten takeout containers, and the faintest trace of the lavender candle she’d lit days ago, now burned out completely. The blinds remained shut, keeping out the world beyond the four walls of her self-imposed exile. She lay curled beneath a mountain of blankets, her laptop perched on the edge of the couch playing Pride and Prejudice for the third time that day.

Her phone lay facedown on the coffee table, ignored. The podcast had remained untouched. No new episodes. No planning. No recording. Her listeners had started to ask questions on social media, but she had no answers for them. She could barely think about it without feeling that crushing weight of guilt in her chest.

Jamie hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t so much as left a cryptic Instagram story for her to overanalyze. She told herself it was good. It was better this way. But it didn’t stop her from checking her phone when she thought she heard it buzz.

Meanwhile, at AFC Richmond, Jamie was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t been at training. Hadn’t shown up for meetings. Hadn’t even been seen at his favorite barber. Roy Kent and Coach Beard exchanged confused glances before deciding to get to the bottom of it.

“Where the fuck is he?” Roy grumbled, arms crossed as he paced the locker room.

“He’s called in sick for a week,” Beard said, tapping his finger against his clipboard. “Which, considering we both know Jamie Tartt isn’t the type to take a break, is… suspicious.”

Roy exhaled sharply through his nose and pulled out his phone. He had a hunch. After the Man City match, back when Ted was still around, he had exchanged numbers with Georgie, Jamie’s mum. He scrolled through his contacts, found her name, and shot off a quick text.

Roy: Hello Georgie, is Jamie with you by any chance?

The response came almost immediately. Not at all weird that Roy and Georgie are on first name basis, the Mancunian is basically his son by now...

Georgie (Jamie's Mum): Yes Roy. He’s locked himself in his room for days. I’m worried about him, he said something about a girl...

Roy sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Roy Kent may be dull sometimes, but he isn't dumb. He knew exactly which girl caused that much trouble in Jamie's life recently. And he knew who to talk to about this.

He and Keeley sat down later that day to discuss what to do next about the two enstranged love-birds.

Keeley pursed her lips as she stirred her tea. “I think I know what happened between them. Not in detail, but I know...”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I think something happened between him and Y/N in Manchester two weeks ago.”

Roy grunted. “You mean sex?”

Keeley gave him a knowing look. “Probably. And now they’re both hiding from each other. You heard their last podcast episode, right? Tense as fuck.”

Roy leaned back, arms crossed. “They’re fucking children. Don’t know how to deal with their feelings.”

Keeley tilted her head. “Well, they’re not completely hopeless. We just need to give them a proper talk.”

“Right. You go to Jamie. I’ll deal with Y/N.”

Keeley blinked. “Are you sure? I figured Jamie needed the famous Roy Kent kick-in-the-arse more than Y/N. You sure you don't want to speak with him, he's basically your son by now...”

Roy shook his head. “No he's fuckin’ not! If I know Y/N, well enough, which I do, she needs it more. She’s the one locking herself away like a fucking gremlin. Hasn't even been to brunch with me once in the last two weeks.”

So, it was a done deal, they went their separate ways, Keeley on her way to Jamie’s childhood and Roy taking on the adventure to the cave that is Y/N’s apartment. Both trying to talk dome sense into the "children" in question.

After Keeley’s long drive to Manchester, Georgie let her in with a concerned look, barely saying a word before gesturing toward the stairs. Simon, Jamie’s stepdad, intercepted her on the way up, pressing a plate with two scrumptious-looking muffins into her hands.

“Thought he might eat somethin’ if you bring it,” Simon said kindly. “Or you can have ‘em, love. You look knackered.”

Keeley smiled in thanks but didn’t linger. She climbed the stairs, balancing the plate in one hand, and stopped in front of Jamie’s childhood bedroom door. She knocked. No answer. She knocked again.

Nothing.

“Jamie, babe, I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

Sighing, she tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked. She pushed it open and immediately regretted breathing through her nose—stale air, unwashed clothes, and misery filled the room. The curtains were drawn tight, a stark contrast to the bright afternoon sun outside. Jamie lay sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes, looking like he hadn’t moved in days.

“Jamie,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “This is just sad.”

“Piss off.”

“Nope.” She strode to the bed and sat down on the edge, balancing the plate on her knee. When he didn’t react, she nudged his knee with her elbow. “Oi.”

Keeley rolled her eyes. “You do realize your entire team is wondering where the fuck you are? Roy’s worried. Beard’s worried. Hell, even Will was like, ‘Oi, where’s Jamie?’ And, babe, when the kit man is noticing your absence, that’s a problem.”

Jamie didn’t respond.

She huffed. “Alright, I see how it is. You’re doing the whole sulky, ‘woe is me’ thing. I’m just gonna sit here and eat this muffin then.”

She unwrapped one of the muffins dramatically and took a big bite, exaggerating her ‘Mmm.’ “God, Simon makes a mean muffin. Proper moist.” She peered at Jamie. “You want a bite?”

Nothing.

Keeley poked his ribs. “Jamie.”

Still no reaction.

She leaned down, her voice gentler now. “You know, I can’t actually help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Jamie let out a heavy sigh but didn’t move his arm from his face. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Keeley snorted. “Oh, there’s definitely something to talk about. You’ve been holed up in your childhood bedroom for days, Jamie. And considering how your mum looked when I walked in, I’m guessing you haven’t exactly been social.”

Jamie tensed.

Keeley lowered her voice. “Is it about Y/N?”

A pause.

Then, finally, he muttered, “She doesn’t love me.”

Keeley softened. “Jamie…”

He turned his head, eyes tired and vulnerable. “I told her. I told her I love her. And she just… walked away.”

Keeley exhaled, leaning back. “Look, babe. Maybe you need to just… accept that she might not be ready to let love into her life. And if you really care about her, you should be okay with just being friends for now.”

Jamie frowned. “Friends.”

“Yeah.” Keeley gave him a small smile. “And if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. But don’t force it.”

Jamie thought about that for a long time.

Keeley watched him, gauging his reaction before adding, “And look, Jamie… you disappearing like this? That’s not fair to everyone who cares about you. Roy, Beard, the whole team—they need you. You’re not the type to run away when things get tough. You’re better than that.”

Jamie swallowed hard but said nothing.

She reached out, squeezing his hand. “Come back home, Jamie. Play football. Live your life. Even if Y/N isn’t ready now, that doesn’t mean you just… stop being you. Tell her your fine with just being in her life for now. It might hurt, but it'll be worth it and you won't lose her that way.”

Jamie closed his eyes for a beat, then exhaled. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of something—determination, maybe. A small step forward.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered. “Alright.”

Roy, meanwhile, was standing in front of Y/N’s apartment door, knocking loudly.

“Go away,” her muffled voice came through.

“Not a fucking chance,” Roy called back. “I brought food.”

There was a long silence. Then, the door cracked open just enough for Y/N to peek through, eyes red and puffy.

Roy shoved the takeout bag into her hands and pushed his way inside. The place was a mess. Takeout containers. Crumpled tissues. A dimly lit room that reeked of someone who hadn’t been outside in far too long.

“This is disgusting,” Roy muttered.

“I know,” Y/N grumbled, flopping back onto her couch.

Roy plopped down beside her. “Alright. Tell me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough shit. It's because of you that my best striker is missing.”

"Jamie's missing?" Y/N eyes widened, her guilt only growing stronger. "Fuck, I'm so sorry Roy. It's all my fault. Oh my god..."

"What exactly is your fault?" Roy raised his bushy eyebrow at her.

She groaned, rubbing her hands over her face before finally giving in. She told him everything. The confession. The fight. The awful podcast episode. And finally, her biggest fear.

“I can’t be with him, Roy. He’s Jamie Tartt. He’s this famous, handsome, eligible footballer. And I’m just… me. I don’t deserve him.”

Roy stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. Usually, Jamie’s the idiot. But right now? It’s you.”

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

Roy pointed a finger at her. “You deserve the fucking world, Y/N. And Jamie’s the one who wants to give it to you. But you’re too much of a fucking coward to take it.”

She swallowed hard, looking down. “I don’t know how.”

Roy softened, just a bit. “You let yourself have him. You let yourself be happy. You tell him you want to be with him and that you love him.”

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. “What if I mess it up?”

Roy shrugged. “Then you fucking deal with it. But you don’t run from it. You just lost the biggest chunk of respect I had for you, because you don't even love yourself half as much as he loves you.”

She sat with that realization for a long time.

Life moved on, a week passed, or at least, that was the illusion Y/N and Jamie forced themselves to believe. Y/N poured herself into her podcasting, planning new episodes on her own, with her usual sharp wit and insight, though the spark of excitement felt just a little dimmer. She forced enthusiasm into her voice, as she recorded voice-overs, meticulously editing out any moment where exhaustion or hesitation threatened to break through. She couldn’t let her audience hear the cracks. She had to be fine. She had to push forward. She had to start to heal and let love into her life.

Jamie, on the other hand, went about training as if nothing had happened. Or so it seems to Roy and the team. He was back to cracking jokes in the locker room, smirking in interviews, and pushing himself harder than ever on the pitch. To the world, he was still the same confident, carefree Jamie Tartt. But Roy and Keeley knew better. Roy saw it in the way he avoided lingering in the hallway after games, too scared to maybe run into Y/N. His smiles never quite reached his eyes. Almost felt like he was letting her go...

Determined to make a change and tell Jamie that she feels the same, Y/N took extra time getting ready that morning. Roy invited her to come watch training. He acted like it was nothing, just a casual suggestion, but she wasn’t stupid. He had a motive. He wanted her to finally tell Jamie. She picked out an outfit she knew she looked good in, spent a little longer on her makeup, and styled her hair in a way she knew Jamie liked. It was ridiculous, she told herself, but if she was going to see him, she wanted to look her best. Maybe it was her way of proving to herself that she was good enough.

When she arrived at the training grounds, she kept things normal. She greeted everyone like usual, exchanging a short hug with Keeley, as the gorgeous PR-manager made her way to Rebecca's office. On her way to the pitch Y/N also started bantering with Isaac and Colin as they stretched near the sidelines. Even Roy grunted his approval when she tossed a jab his way. Sam complimented her outfit, grinning as he said, "Someone’s looking extra nice today. Got a date after this?" Y/N laughed, brushing it off, but she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Dani chimed in, "No, no, she is here to bless us with her presence and bring us good luck!" She played along, teasing them right back, but the moment Jamie jogged onto the pitch, everything else faded into the background. It was like a cheesy rom-com slow-motion moment. Like the rom-com's Jamie and her used to watch together.

For the first time in a week, their eyes met.

Y/N’s stomach flipped, but she forced herself to stay steady. Jamie didn’t look away, but he didn’t hold the gaze either. He acknowledged her like she was any other acquaintance, offering a polite nod before turning his focus back to training. So that was how they were doing this now. Y/N scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. That certainly wasn't a look of love.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Y/N kept up appearances, chatting with the coaches as the team ran drills. But she was keenly aware of Jamie the entire time—the way he laughed at something Dani said, how he effortlessly weaved through the defenders, how his gaze flickered toward her every so often when he thought she wasn’t looking.

After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore.

When training ended and the players started trickling toward the locker room, Y/N took a deep breath and called out, “Jamie, can we maybe talk somewhere more private, about you know...?”

He stopped, rolling his shoulders back as if bracing himself. For a second, she thought he might actually agree, but then he exhaled through his nose and shook his head with a small, tight smile. “No need. Really. I get it now.” Jamie waved her off faster than she could respond.

Y/N frowned, her heart skipping a beat. “What?”

Jamie shrugged, his expression unreadable. “You weren’t ready for anything. I understand that now. No hard feelings, yeah? We're good now. I just—” He hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, then forced another smile. “I’m glad we’re just friends. I still want you in my life, yeah?”

Her breath caught in her throat. This was it. This was the moment to tell him—to finally say the words she had swallowed down for too long. But the way he was looking at her, like he had already moved past it, like he had made peace with just being friends, it threw her completely off balance.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, still in shock. “Yeah. Friends.”

To make matters worse, Jamie clapped her shoulder in a friendly pat, the same way he did with the lads. The casualness of it nearly knocked the air out of her. She stiffened under his touch, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roy watching with something between amusement and exasperation.

Jamie smiled again, this time softer, and turned back toward the locker room. Y/N stood there, feeling like she had just missed a train she hadn’t even realized she needed to catch.

When she finally left, she lingered outside the gates, half-expecting Jamie to offer her a ride like he always did. But he didn’t. Instead, he strolled past her and Roy, all smiles, completely unbothered, waving while walking to his car. “See ya later. Have a good one.”

Y/N watched him go, her heart sinking.

Beside her, Roy huffed. “Guess you didn’t tell him how you feel, huh?”

She let out a dry laugh, trying to mask the ache in her chest. “The moment wasn’t right. He totally threw me off. And anyway, we’ve still got a few episodes left in the podcast series. It’s fine. It's better that we’re friends for now. Telling him has time.”

Roy gave her a long, assessing look, then grunted. He wasn’t convinced. If Y/N waited too long, one of them was going to move on. And the other? The other was going to be left behind.

Roy had seen this kind of thing before. Two people too stubborn, too scared to just say what they wanted. He’d meddled enough, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on the situation. They had to figure it out on their own. All he could do was be there to catch whoever fell first.

[rampagingfanfictioner14]

relativity falls, but... (Part 2)

Right. So Mabel runs away from home, and Dipper, feeling betrayed and angry, doesn't go after her. At least for a bit. He cares too much to just let Mabel wander around the streets by herself. Still, it's long enough for Mabel to tire and run into her old "friends" and ask them if she could crash at their place. She can't find it in herself to blame them for the argument between her and her brother when it was technically "her fault" --- toxic relationships at their finest.

The teens agree. They're riding in a car. Mabel climbs in and they tell her that they're taking her to their house. Exhausted from her argument, Mabel foolishly trusts them, and falls asleep in the back. The teens find this the perfect opportunity to mess with her, driving far away from Piedmont and stranding her in the middle of practically nowhere.

Back in their hometown, Dipper searches for Mabel when it becomes clear that she doesn't intend to return. It's morning now and he's getting worried. Their parents, though initially showing some semblance of concern, shrug off his fears and tell him that the girl would show up eventually. Having spent most of their lives arguing with each other and basically absorbed in their own selves (or proving the other wrong), the parents don't actually know their own children very well. They assume that Mabel is throwing a tantrum and will eventually crawl back home.

Dipper knows otherwise. If Mabel was going to return, she'd have done it by now.

He runs out into the streets and ditches school entirely, looking around and calling Mabel's name until his throat is raw and he can't even walk. He searches high and low, through all their favourite spots on the fields and even hitches a ride to the beach, but it's like she's vanished off the face of the planet. He returns home dejected and hurting, thinking that she's abandoned him forever. Why else would she not answer his calls? Maybe she's more selfish than he'd imagined. (Remember, she'd admitted to breaking his project and said several things that stuck with Dipper even now. She offered no good explanation as to why she'd done this, not wanting to "snitch" on the teenagers, placing all the blame on herself even though she never intended for them to do something that drastic).

He slams the door shut in their shared room and is forced to deal with the realization that Mabel had ditched him. Somewhere, somehow, during their years in high school, she'd... just stopped caring for him. After all, she clearly hated him enough to trash their only chance at escaping from Piedmont.

His head hurts. He doesn't know what to do. He'd always thought of Dipper and Mabel as a pair, together forever, through thick and thin. Not as individuals. Now that he's been separated from his other half, he flounders, feeling alone, betrayed, and hopelessly lost.

On the other side of the coin, Mabel wakes up next to a highway and realizes she has no idea where she is. She's cold and shivering, the weather dreary and raining. She stands and realizes that she's completely alone. She's scared. She calls out for her "friends", saying that this wasn't funny, and that they could come out now. Nothing happens. Several cars thunder by and not once does anyone stop to ask if this soaked, stranded seventeen-year-old kid is okay.

Mabel initially doesn't want to believe that the teens would do something like this to her, though she eventually realizes that deep down, she's always known that they weren't good people. She'd just been too trusting; blindly ignored all their obvious red flags, and now she's stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on her back. And even those are now gross and soggy from the rain.

She wants to cry and sob, but she needs to get somewhere dry first. She walks and walks for miles, shivering and on the verge of breaking down completely, while simultaneously trying to absorb her new reality.

Eventually she comes across a city. There's a motel there with a guy that looks friendly enough, so she trusts him when he says that she could stay there for the night --- free of charge.

Mistake.

Let's just say, the streets are the absolute worst place to be a naïve, optimistic girl. Mabel quickly learns that night that nothing is free of charge, and runs away just in time, stumbling into a dark, secluded alleyway. This is probably when she breaks down, crying and sobbing and feeling generally hopeless.

More importantly, she feels so immensely guilty. Mabel as a character prides herself on "being a good person", and without a summer in Gravity Falls, a Grunkle Stan or the unicorns to teach her that morality is relative, she cracks under the strain of her spiralling thoughts.

She knows that everything is her fault, that she's an idiot who placed her trust in the wrong people, but she vows to never make that mistake again. She vows to make it up to Dipper, feeling some twisted sense of moral obligation not to show her face to him until she's proven herself to be a good person. A worthy person.

How does she do this when she's stuck on the streets? Who knows. Maybe she tries knitting sweaters for other homeless people or stray animals with what spare yarn she has stuffed into her pockets. Maybe she entertains people on the street by like, juggling or something.

Whatever she decides to do, she quickly realizes that it isn't enough. People don't take sweaters as currency. Juggling doesn't buy food or pay for clothes. No, Mabel needs money. Money that she doesn't have.

At first she tries the honest means. Trying to get a job, volunteering, even begging at some point --- remember, no summer with Grunkle Stan means that she still harbours that naïve notion that "lying is bad." So it's not an instant Mabel the Scam Artist moment.

But eventually she has to learn that it's every man for themselves out on the streets. She has no documentation, no records, nothing. As far as anyone knows, she's doesn't exist. So, the honest means are a no-go. Nobodies don't get employed. How can they, when they don't legally exist? The same goes for volunteering.

Begging may work a bit better, but the meagre profits she receives are not worth the degradation.

That's when she realizes that has to lie and cheat, because that's the only way she's going to survive. She starts off small. Learning to pickpocket, scrounge up money from the floor, maybe trying a few sleight-of-the-hand tricks to distract potential victims. Of course, this comes with it's challenges: Mabel may be naturally loud and distracting, but she's not a natural-born thief. As with any skill, she has to fail first to succeed. And it just so happens that she may have stolen from the wrong people.

So she moves. She hitches a ride on the bus and runs off before she needed to pay, sneaking into trains, hiding before the ticket master catches her. She gets off at the next city and starts all over again --- knitting sweaters, entertaining people with her large range of skills, and pickpocketing to keep herself alive. She realizes that "Mabel Pines" is far too conspicuous, that all her enemies know her by that name, and does the logical thing and starts using another one. And then another. And another.

May Evergreen.

Mary Birch.

Meryl "Kit" Pinefield.

She sheds names like a snake sheds its skin. The switches become a part of her regular routine: go to a city, lie, cheat, make enemies, run, change names. And repeat.

She keeps adding to her list of skills, keeps practicing her lying and her cheating, keeps track of her enemies --- although she's had her fair share of close calls.

She loses hope that she'll ever be a good person on the way, unfortunately, and instead starts thinking that maybe she could buy her way back into Dipper's life.

Money seemed to be the answer to everything in her world, after all.

Why wouldn't it be the answer to her broken relationship with her twin brother?

But it's a far flung hope. She doesn't truly believe it. The street life's hardened this naïve girl to the harsh realities of the world.

---She's still Mabel, though, and she makes just as many friends as she makes enemies. Some people appreciate her skills and others like her sweaters. Though she may not think that she's a good person anymore, she definitely is. She's kind and caring to those she encounters (though never trusting, never letting her guard down completely --- not anymore) and likes to give anything she has on her to help them out. Maybe some spare change, food, even the occasional packets of glitter to keep them happy. She doesn't like to call them friends, per se, she's not naïve enough to fall in that trap again. But maybe they're... acquaintances. Helpers to each other. Fellow broken teacups.

At some point she accidentally falls back into her old habits of trusting strangers far too much, perhaps out of a sense of cockiness or ego, thinking that she must've gotten over that by now; no one could trick her anymore.

Mistake.

To be fair, she isn't a Stan, so it's not right to compare their experiences and say that they're the same. But she's definitely gotten on the wrong end of a dangerous person/thing several times. Maybe she gets attacked with a knife while trying to get some sleep in some alleyway. Maybe she ends up on the business end of a gun whilst trying to escape some of the dangerous people she'd once made the mistake of stealing from. Maybe she gets out of the country for a while (to Mexico? Columbia? Idk) through some "folks" she knew, and realizes that the huge language barrier between her and the locals is very bad, because now she's in jail for a crime she had no clue she committed. (The "folks" ditch her after their bidding is done, leaving Mabel to stew in her losses as she hacks and claws her way out of the prison).

Heck, maybe it's just something else entirely.

After that particular instance (whichever one it was), she decides that it's too dangerous for her to look or act like a woman while on the run like this. It's just not safe. People try to take advantage of her far more when she appears and acts like a female. They try to overpower her, hurt her, because they know they have the upper hand, strength-wise.

(The 1970s weren't the best time to be a homeless woman, either).

So she dresses in big hoodies, jeans, covers her face up with scarves or beanies, and cuts off her long hair to look as threatening as possible, trying to scare off potential attackers by looking like a man. Her name changes start becoming more vague in gender, or sometimes even downright masculine:

Mika Oak.

Alex "8-Ball" Carter.

Mason Penny.

She only uses the name Mason on a particularly depressing day, simply out of instinct. She only realizes her mistake when people start referring to her with her brother's name, and quickly hauls away to another city and drops the act entirely.

It's far too painful to remember.

Mabel doesn't lead an easy life. Her convoluted sense of right and wrong throws her under the bus, making her think that she doesn't deserve to return home until she's a "good person", or has somehow earned her way back into Dipper's life (be that through money or otherwise).

More importantly--- Mabel, once an optimistic, trusting person, has to learn the hard way that trust is a valuable thing to give.

Trust no one. It only led to pain.

On her darkest days, she comforts herself with the fact that everything she's doing, it's for Dipper. She knows that she's a bad person, that she's probably never going to be worthy of going back, that she's probably going to die alone and nameless, but hey, at least Dipper's gonna be okay. She tells herself that he was fine, that he's probably flourishing without her, because he'd always been smart and that was all that mattered, in the end. (Kinda similar to the justifications that Ford made when he thought about Stan on the streets, just the other way around).

---

Meanwhile Dipper... Well, he's definitely not okay. His emotional wounds from being betrayed so personally slowly fester into a deep, lingering resentment. He doesn't know why Mabel did what she did, but it's stranded him in Piedmont and straight between his arguing parents: who've gotten even more intense with each other, now that Dipper's told them that their only daughter ran away from home.

But he can't just wallow in loneliness and betrayal forever. He has to move on at some point, so Dipper picks himself up and reluctantly goes to Backupsmore University. Where else could he go? His chances at West Coast Tech were ruined --- and hey, sure, maybe the whole deal with the machine was an accident, but why wouldn't Mabel tell him? Why did she drop the bombshell that it was all her fault, then refuse to explain?

After anguishing over the questions for a month or so, Dipper knows why now: she must've not cared. She must've wanted to hurt him.

He ignores the small part of his heart that protested against this notion --- protested against the rejection of his twin, because she's Mabel and she wouldn't do something like that.

Dipper... drops the nickname. It's too painful for him to refer to himself with it, when the person who used it most is now gone.

Mason throws himself into his studies at university, and of course, he's brilliant academically. He shoves any and all thoughts of his family deep into the back of his mind, focusing entirely on his goal: studying weirdness. Or anomalous phenomena, as his growingly scientific mind liked to say. With or without Mabel, as hard as it is for him to think of himself as a lone individual.

He meets his roommate, Soos Ramirez, and encounters a particularly bright girl from his engineering class named Candy Chiu. They regale Mason with tales from their hometown, Gravity Falls, and the sheer amount of strangeness in their stories is enough to convince Mason that after graduating, he needed go there and find out what exactly is going on. He's initially very hesitant to open up and trust them, still stinging from the pain of Mabel's "betrayal", but they do become good friends eventually.

(Sometimes during late night dorm talks or drunk confessions, Mason admits that he has a twin sister. He doesn't elaborate much, but it's enough for Soos and Candy to know not to prod).

(Other times, during holidays, Mason goes back to Piedmont. He tells himself he's only visiting his parents, but in reality he spends far more of his time outside the house, walking around their old childhood haunts, scouring the fields and the beach for anomalies Mabel. Not many show up, however).

(For some reason his brain just doesn't seem to accept the explanation he'd managed to come up with. It didn't want to believe Mabel was gone. Mason wanders his hometown for years during his breaks, trying to find his twin sister through some misguided sense of hope, but his efforts are fruitless).

Mason graduates with four PhDs and gets rewarded with a hefty grant to pursue his own research. He toys with the idea of indulging his childhood fantasy to find Atlantis, but as Soos and Candy prepare to leave for Oregon once more, he eventually just decides to follow them.

And it pays off.

Gravity Falls most certainly does not disappoint.

Mason's immediately enraptured by its charm and its anomalies, beginning his investigations at once. He's so caught up in the excitement that, for once, he doesn't get upset at the thought of studying them all by himself. For over four years, he catalogues each and every one of his findings in a series of journals, engraving his birthmark into the dark blue covers: it only seemed right for an anomaly like that to be present in a book about anomalies, after all. He feels a deep sense of sadness when he realizes that it's been a long time since he'd seen the one who'd made him feel so special about having a constellation etched on his forehead.

Where was Mabel, anyway? Mason wonders in his darkest moments. Why did she leave? How is she doing? Is she well? And more morbidly: Is she... dead? Is she happy without him?

Sometimes he feels deeply depressed and alone. He's felt that way ever since Mabel left, but his research eventually pulls him out of that state and keeps him going. At some point he starts wondering where all these anomalies even came from. Clearly not from Earth --- science itself seemed to contradict the mere existence of the creatures he'd seen so far.

He hits a roadblock in that particular case. How could he puzzle out this answer?

(Remember, Mason isn't driven by a need to prove his greatness to the world (like Ford, cough cough); he's pretty content with his research so far. And besides, he's learnt the hard way that reaching for greatness only led to tragedy and loss. Sure, he still pushes himself far too hard, but in short, Mason isn't a Ford. He doesn't have the inflated ego, the desperate urge to be something great, or the all-consuming (and somewhat selfish) urge to be seen as a world-renowned hero, or a pioneer, and earn great power).

(Sure, he has his moments. He's not perfect. Sometimes he rants about the "greater good" or acts all self-righteous with stuff like "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". Other times he tries to play hero and despite everyone escaping mostly unscathed, he still places people in danger).

(But Mason's not an Icarus. If Ford has an ego, this guy has the exact opposite. Mabel's loss hit him very hard. The man's an anxiety-ridden, self-doubting mess of a person without his sister to calm/reassure him).

Back to the whole "finding the source of weirdness". Mason's not driven by ego or desire for deep respect and power in the scientific community. Well... maybe a little, but it's more like he's genuinely interested in the source of the world's weirdness, and his burning curiosity wouldn't let him rest until he figured out the answer.

He wanders into a set of unfamiliar caves and discovers paintings from the Native peoples etched on the walls.

He reads about a demon --- a strange triangle-shaped creature able to solve any problem. He finds it cool. Interesting, even, that this legend differed so greatly to the other First Nations stories he'd read. Maybe it had an inkling of truth to it, like most legends did.

Wouldn't hurt to try, right?

(Famous last words, lol).

Like the curious, impulsive idiot he is, Mason ignores the warnings and reads the inscription aloud (cough, like in Scary-oke, cough). He waits in tense silence, gripping his lantern tightly, his eyes flicking back and forth in anticipation and a small tinge of excitement.

Nothing happens.

A huff, and a brief head shake. Of course it didn't work; why would it? He's seen some strange things during his time in Gravity Falls, but something such as an omniscient, all-powerful triangle was a bit much to believe, even for a cryptozoologist like himself. Disappointed, Mason leaves the caves and takes a nap...

...And the weirdest thing shows up.

(...Now, this is where I'm a little unsure. Some iterations of Relativity Falls have Bill Cipher replaced with one or both of his parents (Scalene and Euclid), and others just swap the human characters around and leave the triangle dude as is).

(Now, I'll be honest with you. I don't want to keep Bill as is in my version of this. I've had a vague idea of him in my head, and it goes kinda like this: Imagine a Bill Cipher who, while destroying his dimension, destroyed a little more with it. Imagine a Bill Cipher with a poisonous, toxic green skin instead of a bright yellow, and a black eye with a glowing green slitted pupil. Imagine a Bill Cipher that took a little more from his father than just his hat. Basically, imagine a Euclid, but he's not Euclid, he's his son, but he can't seem to accept his identity and what he did as "Bill", so he steals his dead father's name as a defence mechanism to try and shield himself from his crushing shame).

(Idk. Not fully convinced yet. This one's kinda inching into "headcanon/alternate AU" territory and I do want to keep the general gist of relativity falls in this).

(But that's all for today, though, peeps :) I'm really happy that people are liking this! I'll probably post a final Part 3 tomorrow to cover the events of post-college Mason and post-Columbia Mabel, as well as flesh out my ideas for Euclid/Bill a little more).

Again, I repeat, this is just what I think of Relativity Falls. I don't own the idea, nor do I own the characters. Just a rambling human being with far too much free time to theorize over the lives of fictional characters.

Part 1 (prev)

Part 2.5(next)

[phantom1111]

Not from around here

Chapter 1

My eyes gravitate to his figure, taking in all his glory as he strides over to us with an unreadable expression on his face. "we are cooked.." i hear Izan say behind me, but ignore him, keeping my eyes on Homelander.

Homelander turns to the crowd, his back towards us "It's all right everyone, i got this under control you can go ahead and continue with your day" he raises his hands to calm the jittery crowd down, and they all begin to leave. He turns back to us and gives a charming smile that doesn't exactly seem to reach his eyes "Who might you all be? Are one of you a supe?" he sets his hands on his hips and patiently watches as my friends scramble to get up off the floor. "Uhh.. well we aren't.. from here?" I look back at the group and shrug.

They all look at me, expecting me to explain what just happened and I look back and forth between them and Homelander. "Right.. and whats that supposed to mean?" I laugh awkwardly and brace myself to explain in a way that won't make us look like crazy people "Well I know this is strange... but i think we just accidentaly traveled to your universe?" He makes a strange face and looks around, expecting this to be a prank. Izan steps up "Ok basically we come from a universe where your world is like a tv show and comic book series, so this is super trippy seeing YOU in real life" I nod and Homelander laughs "You really expect me to think you guys are from a different univers-" Izan cuts in "We know you were raised in a lab" i gasp and jab him in the stomach "Shut up!" Homelander looks at us in part bewilderment and part anger. "You- How the hell did you- No that's NOT true I am Homelander." he points his finger at us accusingly.

Behind him follows Madelyn stillwell, Ashley, and a few other employees of vought. "What's all this? You missed your 2 o'clock photoshoot" She demands him and crosses her arms, looking between us and him. "Apparently these folks are from another universe" He shoots us a fake smile and looks over at her. Madelyn furrows her brows and shakes her head in confusion "What..?" Francis steps in "Uhh we were at the mall hanging out, then i bent down to tie my shoe and BAM i fell through the floor and looked up and we were here" we all nod and agree with him "we are being completely serious, wait here i can prove we arent from here!" I pull my phone out of my bag and open up tiktok, immediately the first thing that shows up on my for you page is an edit of homelander, I face my screen towards them and unpause it for them to see.

(Credits to the person who made this amazing edit @/pindaklein.)

Ian groans from behind me, already recognizing the audio and what video im showing and i shush him, after its done playing i turn off my phone and put it back in the bag. "So you guys believe us now? Some of those scenes are from the future" Madelyn's face drops and Homelander looks at us like we are aliens "Call the pr and management teams and you guys follow us" Madelyn speed walks back into the building, her assistants following close behind her taking down notes and calling. I look back to the group and smile, excited for whatever is about to happen and Sandra and Carla run up to me squealing "Holy shit we are actually in the boys universe!!" I giggle at how excited Sandra is and we follow Madelyn, with Homelander not too far behind us as well.

We follow her into a meeting room on some random floor i didn't quite catch and offers us to sit down. We all look at each other and slowly pull out a chair, with the exception of Izan who quickly takes a seat and pulls out his phone. I ignore him and look around, taking note of how dull everything looks, noticing homelander is staring at me. I tilt my head and he looks away, as if we weren't worth his time or attention.

I try to ignore the awkward silence until a group of people file in, rushing into their seats with papers and and writing utensils in their hands. Most of them are staring at us, the group of out of place looking young people, claiming to be from another universe. They all begin to discuss what they should do with us and whether or not to believe me, after around 20 minutes madelyn stands up and props her hand up onto her hip "Alright everyone i've decided they're staying here in vought tower. We should have enough penthouses up on the top floor, we'll figure that out though. In the meantime you guys can look around the city if you'd like" She points to us and we all get excited "Oh my god we are staying at VOUGHT tower" I hear sandra beam besides me and carla chimes in "In NEW YORK" they both squeal and the boys cheer, high fiving each other.

One of her assistants escort us out the building and hand us a card "This contains 500 dollars for you guys to spend today, you should be expecting more pay soon though since you guys will be working for vought once youre settled in!" I take the card and smile at her "yeah thanks, do you guys want our phone numbers in case we get lost?" she looks up in thought then nods, holding out her tablet for us to type in all our numbers. "You all have fun, i'd reccomend vought-a-burger if youre hungry!" she waves us a goodbye and scurries back to do her job.

"Alright someone whip out google and find something to do in the area" Jack and J-boss take out their phones and jack finds something "alright so apparently-" a woosh cuts him off and startles us all, we turn to see homelander, he gives us another of his signature fake smiles and walks up besides me. "I figured since you're all new to this universe and are going to be living in vought tower with me and the seven I should get to know you all!" he laughs unsettlingly and we all look at each other nervously "Thank you, Homelander" i reply. An awkward silence ensues and he begins to walk, then looks back at us as if saying to follow him.

————————————————

Im so sorry this took forever, i had this in my drafts for like 2 weeks i thought i already posted it, im new to posting stuff on tumblr 😭🙏🏾

[frenziedslashers]

hey! I know your hyper fixated on TWD, but would you (if you feel up to it ofc) write a lil something for Stu macher?

Specifically, please uh- Stu macher with a Fem!S/o who just reaaaallly loves his voice, and his dirty comments? Like, his dirty talk? She loves it-

I really like your content, and imo, there’s just not enough stuff for my favorite boi, Stu :(

Ofc. I understand if you don’t feel like writing it, so, I hope you have a great day/night!

Dirty Phone Calls;;

A/N: I am literally in love with Stu. You came to the right place, anon 🫶 Sorry if this isn't the best either. I am fighting sleep and my anxiety is high due to a thunder storm going on rn. I also did not proofread this, so good luck lmao

Warnings: Dirty talk, Stu is a flirt, phone sex, masturbation, Stu is a whoreTM

Stu had no idea that you would be this dirty. When he first met you he saw someone who he could corrupt. A white lamb that he could cover in blood and dye the fur for good. Yet truly, you were only a little white lamb in disguise. Shy when he first met you. Yet, open and absolutely devious when he actually had you for himself.

He wouldn't have it any other way, either.

"What are you wearing tonight, baby?" He asked, causing you to smile and roll your eyes. "Stu!" You squealed, making the man laugh into the phone. "Oh come on, I know you like it when I ask you that." He wasn't completely wrong. You loved it when he asked you anything remotely dirty. "You like it when I talk to you all nasty, don't you?" He teased, but you ignored it. A little too embarrassed to do so.

"I'm wearing a shirt, some pants..." "Boo-ring" He howled into the phone. Flopping onto his back on his bed. "What if we played a game? Guess a number between one and ten and if you guess wrong you have to take that shirt off and tell me what you're wearing then?" He cooed, a sly smile resting on his face. You knew from the start that he wasn't going to play fair.

"What if I just told you what was underneath my clothes?" He hummed at your offer. Tapping his chin with a soft sigh. "That's not as fun, now guess a number." It was your turn to hum. Lying on your stomach on your bed. Tapping the side of your head while you pondered. "Three?" you questioned, and he made the sound of a buzzer. "Wrong! It was five. Now, strip and tell!"

You kept your end of the deal. Placing the phone beside you while you pulled your shirt over your head. Lying back down while pulling your phone to your ear. "I'm wearing your favorite bra, how's that?" You asked him, "The red one?" You hummed in agreement at his question. "Fuck, you know I love it when you wear that. My pretty thing, all laid out for me." He sighed, and you shifted your thighs together. Biting your lips at his words.

"You like it when I talk about you like that? What if I told you what I'm thinking? About how I wanna have you underneath me. Pressing your face into the bed while I fuck you good and hard," He rambled, basically telling you everything that came to his scattered mind. If it was said from anyone else you would have cringed and hung up, but something about Stu saying it only turned you on more.

"You want me to keep going?" He asked, rolling onto his back so he could begin palming himself through his jeans. A groan leaving his throat which caused your 'yes' to come out a little more breathy than you intended.

"God, you're so hot. Especially when you sound like that, baby," he sighed. "If you were here with me I'd show you how big of a slut you are. I know you are, you act like you aren't, but you are. Only for me, and I love it. You're always so loud, God, neither of us can ever shut up when I fuck you," he mewled. Reaching down his pants while you snaked your hand down your own.

"Tell me, you like it when I fuck you hard?" He asked, beginning to stroke himself with a soft moan. "Answer me," His voice was a little more stern than before. "Yes, I do, I love it, Stu," you stammered, and he laughed into the phone. "God, you're so perfect," he purred.

"I'd tie you up if you were here. Put your hands behind your back like I did last time. Use you like the doll you are," he teased. You knew he wouldn't actually use you, and so did he. He loved you too much, even if he hadn't told you that quite yet.

"Fuck you 'til the only thing you could do is cry," this time you moaned into the phone. Your fingers brushing over your clit while he continued his rant.

"What are you doing now?" He asked, stroking himself a little faster than before. His breath coming out ragged through the phone. "Are you touching yourself, too?" He asked again, and you nodded. Realizing after a moment that he couldn't see you. "Fuck- Yes, yeah. Are you?" You asked, and he chuckled. "Of course I am," it was a bit of a silly question. Stu had to be the horniest guy you had ever met. Any chance he had to get off he'd take it. Especially if it involved you.

"What if you hurt me?" you asked, rubbing yourself a little faster at the thought. "With the rope?" He asked, and you chuckled. "No, I mean like... Hurt me. On purpose?" Your voice grew softer as you asked the question. "Like hitting you? Are you into that, baby?" He asked, and you let out a small "mhm" of agreement. "Shit, this might be how I crack open all your kinks from now on, kitten," you rolled your eyes at the nickname he gave you. His words were quick to distract you again. Pulling you back into your fantasy realm.

"God, the things I could do to you," Stu shut his eyes while he thought. "I could fuck you rougher than I already do. Leave your thighs black and blue," He purred. "Bring a knife into it, cut that pretty skin of yours," he tittered. The thought of him marking you with a knife oddly enough did it for you. A moan bleeding through the phone that had his hips jerking.

"Shit, I need you so bad," he whimpered, "I need you too, Stu," you cried back. Both of your hands moving quicker than before. "Cum for me," he breathed, and that was it for you. Your body convulsing while you curled in on yourself. The spring snapping within you while you moaned and cried into the phone. Stu doing the same shortly after. Calling your name out while he did so.

The both of you laid in your separate beds. Phones still up to your ears while you came down from your highs. Finally able to focus on each others breathing again. "Holy shit," you breathed out, and he chuckled. "I'm coming over and rocking your boat tonight, baby," he growled, and you snickered. "Better hurry before I fall asleep," you responded, hearing him move around on the other end. "I'm on my way now, did you really wanna try the knife thing?" He asked, waiting as you thought over the question. "Well, sure, maybe..." You stammered, a little worried about the idea. "I won't cut ya tonight, baby. Gotta save that for later down the line," He teased. "Keep your door unlocked, I'll see you soon." "No promises," you sighed. Listening as he laughed on the other end before the call itself ended.

Goddamn Stu Macher and his voice.

[hamsterclaw]

Vanilla Guys

Your ex-husband Namjoon tries to help you find a date.

Part of the Love AU, ft Love and Talk it out.

Pairing: Namjoon x F! reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, asshole Namjoon

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: 18+

Namjoon says, ‘Sure, that’s the perfect picture, if basic, vanilla guys are your jam.’

He sounds like he doesn’t care one way or the other.

You frown critically at the photo, then sigh and put your phone away.

‘This is dumb, you’re right.’

You’re more hurt than you want to let on. Namjoon’s your ex-husband, once he thought you were hot enough to marry.

And now he can’t even be bothered to say anything nice about the photo you’ve chosen as your profile pic for this stupid dating app.

You’re staring at the TV, trying to curb your emotions, when Namjoon says, very quietly, ‘Hey, I didn’t mean that you don’t look pretty in that photo.’

Shit. The last place you’d look for emotional support is your asshole ex husband, and here he is, trying to provide it.

This can only end badly for both of you.

‘Shut up, Namjoon.’

There’s a warning in your voice, a tremble in the way you say his name.

Like always, Namjoon ignores the barrier you’ve thrown up. 

Vaults right over it because he’s never cared to mind your boundaries.

He reaches out, tips your chin, turns your face to his.

His eyes on your face make you feel exposed.

‘What did you mean?’ you ask.

The words come out thin, your insecurities close to the surface.

Namjoon watches, fascinated, as your eyes brim over, as a tear streaks down your face.

It’s rare that you cry in front of him.

Instead of comforting you, Namjoon says, ‘there. Now you look hot.’

Your eyes flick up to his.

‘Take your top off.’

‘What?’

Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘Take. Your. Top. Off.’

He’s quicker than you are, deftly unbuttoning your blouse.

He licks his lips when he sees the bra you have on underneath.

‘Fuck,’ he says. ‘Is that meant to hide anything? I can see your nipples.’

He’s not waiting for an answer. With one hand, he tucks a long finger under your bra, between your breasts, tightening the band, pushing your breasts up. 

‘These fucking tits,’ he mutters.

With his other hand, he pulls out his phone.

‘Hey,’ he says, tucking his tongue into his cheek.

When you look at him again, he takes a picture.

‘See this?’ he asks. ‘Put this picture up and you’ll get guys like me.’

You stare at the picture he’s just taken. It’s less raunchy than you expected, you can only see the tops of your breasts. You look pretty hot, you have to admit Namjoon’s taken a good picture.

‘Guys like you?’

‘Yeah. Assholes. You have a type,’ Namjoon mutters.

He tilts his chin at you. ‘So now I’ve helped you, you can help me back.’

He grabs your hand, pulls it into his lap. 

‘Let’s take another picture with my cum on your tits.’

Instead of answering, you open your mouth, and Namjoon says, with what sounds like complete sincerity, ‘Sometimes, I fucking love you.’

He makes up for his lapse by tapping your chin with his cock. ‘Wider, baby, you’re not gonna fit me in like that.’

He feeds his cock between your parted lips, inch by inch, until he’s almost all the way in, his crown nudging the back of your mouth, making it difficult to swallow.

‘Fuck,’ he groans, hand on your shoulder. ‘You look so fucking hot when you’re crying on my cock.’

He curls a hand over your breast, squeezing your flesh, thumb rubbing over your nipple. His hips move against you, and you gasp in a frantic breath before he moves again.

You reach up, tug at his balls, and he groans, loud and long.

‘You ready?’ he asks, but he’s already pulling out, pumping his fist over his cock. The first spurt of cum catches you across your bottom lip.

Quickly, you lift your tits up, and Namjoon groans again as he aims another stream of cum in between your tits. He rubs his tip against your nipples, streaking white all over your skin.

‘Stay still,’ Namjoon grunts, and you stay perfectly still as he takes a picture of you covered in his cum. 

He reaches for you, pulling you into his arms, unmindful of the mess. 

Namjoon’s never been finicky about sex. He’s also always given as good as he got.

‘Your turn,’ he tells you. He slides off the couch, grasps your ass to drag you down to the edge, and puts his mouth on your cunt.

Namjoon puts his hands on your thighs, thumbs spreading you apart, so he can lap at your clit with his tongue.

He nudges his phone at you. 

‘Go on, film me.’

He looks straight at the camera you’ve got pointed at him with shaky hands.

‘You like this?’ he asks, voice husky, dimple flashing in his cheek. 

He dips his head between your legs, tongue delving deep. When he comes up, your arousal’s glistening on his lips, smeared across his cheeks.

He smirks at you. 

‘You gonna watch this back, baby?’

You can’t lie to him. 

‘Yeah.’

‘I want you to. I want you to watch this and get so fucking wet you have to get yourself off.’

You moan. ‘Fuck, Namjoon.’

He’s back to licking your clit. He seals his lips over your clit, sucks, and you cry out so loudly you’re worried your neighbours will hear.

Namjoon wraps a forearm around your thigh. 

‘Stay still,’ he grunts. ‘I’ll take care of you, love.’

It’s too much. Namjoon reaches up to pinch your nipple as his tongue flicks back and forth over your clit, and then you’re coming, crying his name, writhing under his mouth.

‘One more,’ Namjoon says. 

He’s hard again, you can see when he gets up. 

‘I can’t —-‘

‘You can, baby,’ he croons, hand stroking over your hair. ‘You can do it for me.’

He lifts both your legs up, plunges his cock into you, and you’re so sensitive you cry out as he fills you.

He’s relentless, driving into you in hard, deep strokes, building you up after he took you apart.

He wraps a hand around your neck, squeezes just hard enough to make the air burn its way into your lungs when you can next take a breath.

With his entire weight on top of you like this, the pressure on your sensitive clit feels so good you’re already halfway to coming even before he slants his lips over yours.

He plunges his tongue into your mouth like it isn’t enough to fill you up with his cock, and you’re gone, crying his name as you come again. 

He grinds deep, drives his hips against yours, filling you up so good it’s overwhelming. 

He twitches against you, letting you take his weight for a moment before rolling over, pulling out of you with a groan. 

You sit up, suppressing a moan at how well-used you feel. 

‘Wait,’ Namjoon says, voice hoarse. ‘Let me take another picture. Wave that ass at me again.’

‘No,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

You get up, and he takes a picture of your bare ass anyway, the asshole.

***

You’ve had so many DMs since you posted that picture Namjoon took of you that you’re considering deleting the app entirely.

He’d been right about you attracting assholes.

You sigh as your phone lights up again. Your thumb hovers over the screen as the profile loads.

It’s a dick pic, of course, but this one at least is a familiar dick.

As is the message under it.

Joon: You called for an asshole?

You don’t want to smile but you can’t help yourself.

A moment later your phone rings.

‘Hey,’ your ex-husband asks. ‘I’m in your area. Can I come over and watch our sex tape?’

He laughs like he already knows the answer. 

You get up to take the latch off the door so he can let himself in. 

[amelia-sturniolo3]

"What happened to us?"

7:33pm

"Chris" i say

Ignored

"Chris, we have to talk.." I spoke, but my voice seemed so small, so little.

But again no response

It always seems as if im speaking to a wall.

The past couple weeks chris has been slipping away, more than i would like to say. Chris and I have been arguing more and more each time we meet.

I know its usual for couples to have their ups and downs, but not this much. Not every single time we meet up. Or everytime we try to speak to one another.

"I think we should take a break.." It might seem impossible but my voice seems to get smaller and smaller each time i speak.

"What? Why would you say something like that?" He spoke as if he had been completely brain washed from the fact he acts like he hates me, or barely even looks at me.

"I feel like you don't love me anymore," i mumbled so quietly i thought he might not even hear me.

"What do you mean? Of course i still love you" he said, but i could hear it in his voice, the minute he said it. The hesitation.

"Then why does it feel like you always try to dodge me every single time im in your sight." And it was all true, he was fading away.

"Why do you always have to do this?" Chris slightly raised his voice.

"Do what?" I said completely confused on why he was dodging my questions now.

"Your trying to start stuff! Why?!" He was basically shouting at this point.

I knew i would most likely get frustrated during this conversation, but why is he?

"Im not starting anything, im trying to have a conversation with you, why are you getting so worked up?"

"Because I'm not trying to have this conversation right now, I don't want to talk to you right now." He spoke in a weird tone, as if he was trying to be nice but obviously failing miserably.

"That's my point! You never want to talk to me anymore, You never want to hug me, kiss me, or even look at me!" I shouted but it didn't help this situation. I could see his body tense, like i struck a nerve.

"I'm going for a drive, I'll be back later." He stated, grabbing his keys of the kitchen counter, then walking away. He did it again, brushed me off his shoulder like I wasn't important in his life anymore.

I opened my mouth to say something back, but he was already gone. The door had slammed, but it was so much more than just a door shutting, it seemed like it was mocking me, mocking the fact that i don't have the same chris I used to, the chris that would spend every second of everyday with me that wouldn't get annoyed of me, the chris that would come to my house in the middle of the night if i had a bad dream, the chris that would actually love me and show it.

After chris left i managed to make my way to my bedroom, shower, put on pajamas, then lay down to try and sleep.

But I already knew that wasn't going to work. I could feel the tears running down my face, i didnt even vother to try and stop it, it was no use.

Now I've been tossing and turning for hours, I grab my phone off my night stand to look at the time.

10:54pm

I sighed placing my phone back on the night stand but then i heard it. Heard him.

I was frozen in place as i heard him walk through the house, up the stairs, and through the hallway to my room.

There was silence for a moment before he knocked.

"Baby, are you awake?" He said so gently.

I sat up and walked to the door. I unlocked it, and opened it the tiniest crack.

"What do you want?" My voice cracked. I knew he saw my red, puffy eyes. And i could see his too.

"Can i come in?" I stepped to the side as he walked past me and we sat on the bed, with about a foot and a half of space between us

"Baby im so sorry for pushing you away, i know I've been distant. Nick, Matt and I have been in an argument for a while. I haven't seen them in over a month. I know that's no excuse for being disrespectful to you, and im sorry. Im sorry for being mean, sorry for causing issues, I'm sorry for being such a douche. I love you so so much and I cant imagine loosing you."

"You know you could have talked to me, right?" I said. "instead of pushing me off, i could have helped."

"I know and im sorry but I didn't even realize what i was doing until you said something earlier."

i sighed. I opened my arms for a big because i could tell he was about to cry.

He came closer and accepted my hug.

"Its ok chris, just please talk to me next time."

"I will. I promise. I love you so much."

I guess we all go through stuff, and we all go through things differently and i really do love chris. So one mistake cant be that bad.

Guys this is actually really bad but idk tell me if you liked it byeeee

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

I am Never Not Thinking about Comic Ambrosius y'all

This mf was clearly so obsessed with Ballister, constantly showing up to "thwart" his plans without ever seeming to take it seriously, seemingly just as an excuse to be around him. He acts like a bratty thirteen-year-old with a crush who never got taught to express it properly.

He seems to live in his own little world, where he and Ballister have this silly little Nemesis relationship that's just a part of a game instead of the deeply fractured and tragic thing that it was. Presumably because it's easier to deal with than the guilt.

In the prison scene, he seems to completely ignore when Ballister basically tells him to shut the fuck up, continuing to reminisce fondly as though they're still friends. I really feel like he lives in his own little reality half the time. Living in a little world where they're playing a game of cops and robbers and they're still close deep down, even if he isn't doing it consciously, is a lot easier than acknowledging his guilt and the pain he caused someone he loved.

I think this is the reason he didn't apologize for so long, and also the reason his memory is so shit even before the head injuries. He legitimately cannot remember exactly what happened at the joust. He wanted so hard to believe it was an accident, to live in a world where it was an accident, that his brain created a false reality and erased the parts of his own memories that contradicted that. He didn't even realize that he hadn't apologized. He is horrified to receive that information. His brain constructed a reality where they had already made up, even though he knew they hadn't. His memories got so jumbled between his imagined and true experiences that he just assumed he must have already apologized, because he was sorry, why wouldn't he have?

I'm not trying to say that he was struggling with psychosis, he knew what was and wasn't real. But his brain dealt with guilt and trauma in very disorienting ways, choosing to ignore or erase truths that hurt him.

I can't imagine what their healing journey must have been like. Imagine trying to un-fuck the thing you fucked up the most in your entire life while also learning how to exist without the ability to walk unassisted, and possibly also recovering from brain damage, dysmorphia from your face getting shredded, and a myriad of other injuries. I cannot imagine the self-worth of someone who is being cared for by the person they love the most, who they irreparably hurt, while also feeling like a burden because they are newly disabled and can't yet take care of themselves.

Also it makes me sad when people talk like Blackheart would hate/be cruel to him post-comic like he wasn't willing to die/kill his friend to save him. He'd give him a ton of shit all the time probably but he'd also protect him like a wolfhound change my mind okay I'm done thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[choslut]

PRIMADONNA GIRL ft. yuuji itadori

synopsis : after having everything basically handed to you on a silver platter for the majority of your life, it’s a great shock when something doesn’t go your way. instead of handling your problems like a mature young woman, you decide to do the complete opposite — you take the rebound.

content warnings : nsfw, angst, sub!itadori, mentions of cheating, blowjobs, swearing, slight dubcon, sexting, manipulation, semi-gaslighting, making out, lingerie

a/n : this is for @510hz’s how to be a heartbreaker collab !! i personally absolutely adore marina and i love the electra heart album even more, so i’m really grateful that i had the chance to participate :) also ty @haithamuse for helping me out on my “to continue or not to continue” dilemma </3 minors, please do not interact.

“i just don’t love you anymore. you’re too much to handle.”

you sit on the couch in silence as your boyfriend — now, ex — shouts at you whilst packing clothes messily into a suitcase. “i didn’t do anything wrong.”

his poisonous laugh pierces your heart. “no, because you never do! this is why i’m leaving you, because it’s always someone else’s fault but yours.” hot red waves of anger pulsate from him, and you can only watch as he struggles to shut his case. “i’m leaving. take your drama someplace else.”

you don’t even blink when he slams the door harshly, the brash sound echoing throughout the apartment. a single tear rolls down your cheek, and you struggle to convince yourself that it was his fault and that he was being difficult, not you. you didn’t do anything to hurt him, he’s just too soft and can’t understand anything. yes, that’s it. it’s all him.

except, in reality, it isn’t.

you know full well why he left you; you see everything through rose coloured glasses. you think the world revolves around you, and anything that goes wrong is a way of the universe telling you that you need to cut people off. in your eyes, everyone wants to be your friend, everyone wants to be invited to your parties and any boy would kill to call himself your boyfriend.

that’s why this is such a shock to you. nobody drops you. nobody.

so why do you feel so alone?

the truth is, you’re self destructive. you don’t realise it, but everything you do slowly chips away at people’s perceptions of you, carefully building a glass wall between yourself and everyone else. you hold yourself above everyone else and deem yourself just too good, consequences be damned.

well, not really. now you’re sitting alone in your dark student apartment, with no boyfriend, and no friends to turn to. so, you make a dumb decision.

itadori stares at his phone incredulously. are you seriously still talking to him after your absolute shit show of a relationship? he really shouldn’t pay attention to your message at all, but if you’re sending him a photo, something has to be wrong, right?

so, out of pure concern for your wellbeing, itadori opens the photo. and really, he doesn’t expect anything less from a person like you.

it’s a mirror selfie, but different. your back is to the mirror and he sees that you’re wearing a skimpy red thong beneath your hoodie, which is pulled up just past your chests to give him a sneak peek of your lower cleavage. your phone is cast over your shoulder and he can’t see your face, but he can almost tell you’re making some kind of lewd face behind the lens.

when you were dating, itadori was very used to receiving pictures like this, accompanied with a caption of a similar nature. he has two choices: give in to your seduction and go over to your apartment to see what you want from him, or completely ignore you and go on with his evening.

he seriously wants to take the latter option, but the tent in between his legs says otherwise. “fuck,” he whispers, running a hand through his already messy hair. this is going to be one hell of an evening.

you stare at your phone. it says itadori read the message 20 minutes ago, but he still hasn’t replied yet. you roll onto your stomach on your bed and bury your head into the pillow, withdrawing when you’re met with the familiar scent of your ex. “i need to wash these sheets,” you grumble, picking up the pillow and throwing it across the room where it hits a picture of you and him in front of a nightclub. just as the frame clatters to the floor, the bell rings.

“coming!” on your way to the door, you silently pray that it’s itadori. the lord must’ve heard you because there he is, one hand in his pocket and another in his hair.

“don’t get me twisted, okay? you haven’t talked to me in months and i’m just here to-” itadori is cut off by you pulling him into an impromptu kiss. “what the fuck?”

your smile is saccharine sweet. “i’m single again, which means we can get back together.”

itadori frowns. “what makes you think i want to date you again?” he lets you pull him inside, closing the door behind him.

“because you loved me.” the way you say it is so confident, it sways him. he did love you, but you cheated and tried to tell him that he wasn’t ‘giving you what you need’ and that you had no choice but to ‘expand your horizons’. all of his morals seem to disappear when you pull him down onto the couch and sit right on his crotch.

“and you still want me, yuuji, so don’t try to hide it.” the way you say his name makes him weak in the knees. itadori has always known that you’ll be his undoing, but he didn’t expect it to happen like this. you’re obviously acting impulsively, and getting back with an ex is not the way to solve your problems.

“we can’t do this,” he whispers, but his body disagrees, his hands sliding under your thighs subconsciously. “you need time to relieve your pent up emotions.”

“i am relieving my pent up emotions,” you protest, placing your hands on his chest and seating yourself directly above his growing erection. “see?”

you’re irresistible and you know it, and itadori is falling for your seduction. hard. keeping eye contact with him, you dip your head into the crook of his neck and drag your lips along the skin. he groans deeply, his grip on your hips tightening and pulling you back and forth on his crotch.

“you’re so pretty, yuuji,” you say into his neck before sinking your teeth into the flesh. “i know you missed me, baby. let it all out just for me, okay?” itadori nods as if in a daze; that’s just the effect you have on him.

when your lips reach the neck of his shirt, he slides it off, allowing you full access to his uncovered chest. you remove your hoodie in turn, happily displaying to him the lace bra clasped around your chest. despite seeing you naked multiple times, he can never quite believe how beautiful you are; it’s almost like you were sculpted by aphrodite herself.

itadori notices he’s staring when he hears you laugh breathily. “you remember this set, don’t you?” you leisurely trace the patterns splayed across your chest. “you bought it for me on valentines day.”

itadori does remember. he remembers how happy he was when he saw the delight on your face as you lifted the lid of the box, your grin stretching from ear to ear. he remembers the way you wasted no time in undressing right in front of him to try it on, the lacy red material a strong contrast against your flawless skin. he remembers the night that followed, whispered threads of ‘i love you’ weaved in between the sounds of passionate love-making.

he can remember it all, but he can also remember the accompanying bitterness. all of that seems to wash away when you slide off of his lap and sink to your knees in front of him and slide your hands up his thighs. itadori lets you pull his zipper down, and then his boxers, and it’s almost like it was back when you first met: a pretty but stupid student sucking off her classmate in return for him doing her homework.

he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your honeyed voice and your warm hand slowly stroking the base of his cock. “are you ready?”

itadori nods. it’s been so long since the two of you had been intimate like this and, if anything, he was more than eager for you to start. you smile up at him before gliding your tongue along his slit, collecting the slither of precum before taking his tip into your mouth.

once he slips under that thin veil of pleasure, he knows there’s no going back. you have itadori memorised to a t, so you know exactly what makes him shudder. you drag the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock and take his silky balls into your palm, massaging them just enough to make him sigh contentedly.

“d-do that again.” you do, this time circling your thumb slowly along his smooth skin. he makes a noise akin to a whine and you smile around his length, snaking your other hand along the fat of his thigh before squeezing hard.

he tries his hardest to hold out but the pleasure pumping through his veins says otherwise, and itadori spills into your mouth, his face turning a bright shade of red. you, on the other hand, swallow faithfully, looking right up at him as you lick any residue off of his swollen cock.

just as itadori opens his mouth to apologise, you press a finger to your lips and shake your head. “don’t say sorry,” you muse, rising to your feet and pulling down your shorts. “you liked it, didn’t you? don’t apologise for that.”

he’s speechless; partly because you’re suddenly being so sweet to him, and partly because you’re now standing in front of him, the full set of lingerie complete with the tiny red lace thong concealing your cunt. there’s a tiny wet patch on the seat of the underwear, and he realises that you enjoyed seeing him crumble just as much as he did.

and when you smile cunningly at his reaction, itadori also realises that underneath that sweet, good girl persona, you’re still the self proclaimed primadonna you’ve always been.

© hiraizens 2023 — all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Day 13: Menophilia | Mid

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.8k

Pairing: (Incel?)Jin x fem!Reader

A/N: Shit I wish I was getting paid or somethin but legally can't cause it's fanfic....so....enjoy you kinky ass bleeding mfs.

🎃 I decide for you bitches 🎃

⇤Prev | Next ⇥

___________________

The entire night he’d been calling you “subpar,” or “basic.” He told all his friends you weren’t up to his impossibly high standards and that you were “mid” because you had made out with one of his friends last weekend. You knew the rule however you defiantly ignored it because you didn’t give a shit.

“Man, fuck bitches who don’t give a shit about other girls. She is not a girl’s girl.” Jin said, while crumpling his beer can and crushing it with his foot.

“Hey Jin?” You walked up to him. “Can we talk?”

“Oooooo, you’re in trouble.” Jin’s friend, Cameron said with a snarky smile.

“Shut up, Cam,” Jin walked over to you, and stumbled up the small path between the fence and the house to reach you. “Yeah, what’s up Y/N?” He asked.

“I wanna make out,” You said bluntly. “With you.” Your first streak of courage jump started his cock, and as Jin was rocking his hard on, you leaned in and grabbed his hand.

“Yeah, sure.” He followed you, excited as you walked towards the bathroom with him in tow. A few people watched as you passed by but no one was paying that much attention. He kissed you square on the lips as you entered the bathroom, seeming a little too enthusiastic about it. You opened your mouth wider, garnering him more access as he grabbed your hips and kissed you. He set you down on the counter, and you gasped as he pushed himself between your legs. If it weren’t for the jeans, and the general layers separating you two, your genitals would be crushed together. 

You gasped as he trailed a hand up the side of your top and slid your bra up so he could feel how hard your nipples were with his fingers directly, his eyes closing as he had a handful but leaving them open as he watched you moan under him.

“J-Jin, what are you doing?” You groaned, feeling a clot of blood leak out of you at once. It was enormous, causing you to sit upright in discomfort. Jin, sensing something was wrong, stopped touching you for a moment, putting his hands at his shoulders as if he was holding them up where you could see them.

“Are you okay?”

“Um….in a moment,” You sat up and concentrated on trying to feel okay again. It was just a bit of blood, and that never hurt anyone. However it still felt like you were walking around in a diaper. Curse pads but you didn’t have any tampons on you and you didn’t want Jin to know that you were carrying a crime scene between your thighs. “I’m good. Just stomach cramps.” You partially lied, as you did cramp on your period quite often, but not at this exact moment. You just didn’t want to tell Jin what the real issue was.

“Oh, okay,” You pulled him in again for another kiss in hopes of distracting him. As drunk as you were, it still wasn’t enough for him to let it go completely. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Sorry.” You looked down.

“Hey…” Jin tilted your chin up so you could look at him. For 5’10” he was definitely taller than most. You would’ve thought he was 6’ completely, but he was still taller than you by comparison. “It’s okay,” The way his porcelain skin was flawless, his face shimmering in the dim warm lighting of the bathroom, you thought he looked handsome. He smirked slightly, before leaning in to kiss you. “You know, in this lighting you don’t look half that bad. You’re aight’.” You rolled your eyes. That sounded like something a douchebag would say, but at this moment you needed his lips on your again. He deepened it, before pulling your top off completely. Followed by you unhooking it and tossing it on a nearby rug before pulling him in with your legs and passionately tangling your fingers in his hair while you settled into a proper make-out session.

After about 30 seconds, Jin’s sweatshirt was on the floor. Your hands found their way up his abs as you kissed him, and grinned, as you both started stripping down. Then his hands reached your jeans. You bit your tongue, trying to keep him from pulling them off.

“W-wait, Jin..” Ignoring your protests, he pulled your pants down. His lips parted, forming a light “o” shape as he saw the small bulge in your underwear, the outline indicating you were wearing a pad. “I’m..kinda, on my period.” You said, embarrassed as you were almost completely naked, save for the panties.

“Yeah, I kinda noticed.” He said mockingly, his tone switched to one of passive-aggressiveness. You hang your head down low. 

“Should I just leave?” You wanted to die. This was the most horrible night of your life. Jin pulled down your pants, saw you were on your period, and now whatever little shred of dignity you had left was leaving your body with an audible fart. 

“Was that you?” Jin looked…amused. You looked up at his face after what seemed like a minute to find that he wasn’t angry with you.

“Y-yeah. Sorry. I get all gross and my body starts filling with gas…and I get really horny when I’m on my period and normally…can’t go further than kissing…” You started rambling.

“That explains it,” Jin smirked. “So that’s why you’re with me instead of Brian.” You tilted your head. He didn’t seem to care that you farted. At least it didn’t stink up the entire room.

“Brian? Oh no, yeah I just kissed him cause I felt like it. Why? You have a problem with me kissing guys on a whim?” You folded your arms.

“A whim, Y/N?” He put his hands on his hips, in his back pockets as he was still wearing his pants as you stared at him. “You call making out in front of the entire party a WHIM?” Jin rolled his eyes. “It’s like you don’t even care about how you make others around you feel.”

“I do,” You pouted. “Jin, did you think I was taking advantage of you tonight?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, Y/N. I actually feel like you are using me for my luscious lips and impeccable kissing skills.” He said with sass, which surprised you.

“Not at all. I think you’re just honestly really hot. Um…Jin, did you really….wanna have sex with me?” Now it was Jin’s turn to be put on the spot.

“Yeah. I didn’t plan for it but…I do admire seeing someone so…assertive, with what they want.” You let out a sigh.

“Sorry for ruining the night with my stupid period.” You could feel the blood inside you coming outside, pouring out every five minutes. Whenever you got uber-horny your blood flow also increased.

“Not completely,” Jin stopped you before you moved. He walked forward actually, trapping you between his arms and the sink, which you hopped off of in a feeble attempt to jimmy back into your jeans. “It’s just a little blood, right?” You shook your head. What was he saying? Your face was definitely hot now, you felt a little sweaty yourself at the thought of Jin going down on you in this state.

“Jin, I’m really hot right now. Please say psych right now so I can leave and forget this happened or…” Jin leaned in, kissing you again. He wrestled out a towel from the back of the cupboard on a shelf above you. 

“This one’s mine. We can use it in case things get messy.” You nodded as he placed it on the floor, on top of the rug as you sat down. Jin assisted you with removing your panties, his eyes fixated on your swollen clit, and red streaks of blood painting the inner and outer folds of your labia.

“D-don’t look so hard…” You blushed.

“Why? You’re gorgeous.” Jin leaned in, before diving in, tongue first into your pussy. You moaned, it was like Jin’s tongue unblocked whatever was stuck inside, as you felt a lot of things gush out, blood, cum, you couldn’t tell. Your thoughts were on one thing and one thing only: dick.

“J-Jin, s-stop!” You whined.

“W-Why?” Jin sat up, slightly leaned over. The bulge in his pants was making you feel things right on your bud.

“I don’t want your tongue, I want your cock. Now fuck me, please….I’m so fucking horny I can’t take it, I need you to fuck my period pussy until I can’t walk straight, please! I’m so fucking horny, I’m so fucking horny…” You moaned, your entire body feeling like it was on fire. The bundle of nerves in your lower stomach and your chest thrummed as one. You needed his cock. It was like you were cock-starved, depraved even. He stared at you with bewilderment. No woman had ever desired him this much. Let alone on the floor of his friend’s upstairs bathroom, on a towel under the sink.

“Fuck…” Jin didn’t have to be told twice. Like a good boy, he removed his belt, pants, and boxers, revealing his long, erect dick to you. He wasn’t as girthy as you thought he was, but it was long. You bet you could only take a little after the tip, unless he stretched you out. You gasped as he entered, the blood already acting as lubricant for his moist cockhead, which was covered by a pink condom. You wet your lips, watching his face as his eyes squeezed shut. It felt good for him, really good. He was fucking a girl on her period, of all things. His mouth was also stained with blood, along with his perfectly otherwise pale face looking like he committed murder or just had a steak dinner. You giggled a bit, feeling elated as he thrusted into you, knelt down as you had your legs on his shoulders. This angle was enough to where you could see all of him, save for his dick as it disappeared inside you and reappeared every so often he moved back. He was still a work of art, even with the dried blood on his cheeks and lips. “How’s it so tight?” He moaned, fucking you steadily now.

“Oh yes…oh yes! Fuck…” You moaned in reply, closing your eyes as he gave you exactly what you were craving. Your blood was staining the towel now, but there wasn’t as much as before of it on the towel. Jin had forgotten that part, as the condom was stained red as well now, and Jin was more focused on fucking the ever living shit out of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there, yeah, I want you to fuck my slutty pussy open, fucking stretch that shit out, fuck fuck fuck!” You moaned, your entire body clenching down on him and not letting go of his cock as you came, Jin staying directly where he was, his mouth open as he grunted, and filled up the condom. He took it off, standing up as you both had cum. He wiped his blood-stained lips and looked down at you with a smirk.

“Who knew that menophilia could be so much fun?”

[runwithwolvcs]

Addicted To You

Let Me Down Easy

Word Count: 1655

PAULS POV

Paul heard Kaycee say from the backdoor, “Yeah, she's gone for the week. If anything happens to Tommy, she’ll kill me.”

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was talking about Sulli. Tommy was basically her child, she cared more for him than anything else on earth.

“Hey, man.” Collin nodded in his direction as he entered the room.

“Where's Sulli?” Paul asked, sitting in the lazy boy across from the lovesick imprints. He envied them, they had it so easy. Meanwhile, he could figure out how to keep his own imprint from hating him. Paul felt it, it was hard to ignore but he didn’t want to anyway. It was his own personal punishment for hurting Sulli. Three weeks and counting since their argument. Paul was on edge more and more every single day.

“Seattle.” Kaycee said nonchalantly as she kept her eyes downcast on Collin.

“What's in Seattle?” Paul asked quizzically. Sulli had never mentioned anything about Seattle as she had started to open up to him after spending more nights in his sheets than her own. She would talk about anything, from the new plant she had gotten to old highschool stories and Paul listened to every single word she said. 

Kaycees eyes flicked up at him, “Why do you care?”

He shrugged, “Just making conversation.”

“Her dad’s prison is in Seattle.” Brady informed me from the doorway to the living room, a sandwich in hand. The kid never stopped eating. Paul opened his mouth to tell him to get lost, knowing that was an off limits conversation to Sulli. It always had been, even as a little girl she would shut down if anyone but herself mentioned her father.

Kaycee beat him to it as she scoffed, “Yes, it is. But that's not why she's there you jerk.”

“Why else would she be there?” Brady shot back.

“Kay?” Collin looked up from her lap, all eyes on Sullis bestfriend for an answer.

She looks between the three men, “It's not for me to say.”

Brady scoffed, “Oh, come on. Is it because of some guy?”

“No, it's not,” She said pointedly, “It's because of you!”

“Me?!” The youngest wolf asked as if it were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

Paul stayed silent, he knew it was a possibility. The guilt that had been eating at him since their argument reared its ugly head. Had they really pushed her too far? Maybe he should have left her relationship with Brady alone, he thought. 

Kaycee stood up from her spot on the couch, forcing Collin to sit up,“She’s talking about moving to Seattle and finishing up her schooling there because you decided to do a complete 180!” 

Brady gulped nervously, his eyes shifting from Kaycee to Paul, before back at her again, “You’re sure that's why she's there?”

“I’m positive.” She said with surety, “She said the only thing keeping her here was me, and now that I have Colin and she knows I won't be alone, she wants a fresh start. Again. I would too if I was her.”

“Meaning?” Paul crossed his arms as he watched his imprint's best friend justify Sullis decisions.

“Meaning everywhere she goes she gets fucked over.” Kaycee said. Paul could see the sympathy in her eyes and his jaw locked into place. She knows something he doesn't, it was obvious, though that didn't surprise him. Kaycee continued her rampage, clearly enraged by the whole ordeal that had occurred, “This was supposed to be her fresh start after foster care, a real home. You two stomped all over that and ruined it.”

Paul scoffed, standing up to face Kaycee as she took an unprovoked step towards him,“I don't know why you’re dragging me into this.”

“I warned you. I said to leave her friendship with Brady alone and you didn't.” She poked his chest with her pointer finger, as if that would help her get her point across better, “She has me, Paul. That's it. And then Brady and Collin came along and it was great until you ruined that, now all she has is me again.”

Kaycee looked towards Collin who seemed stuck to the couch, watching with bated breath. She tilted her head towards the door before turning to Paul and saying,  “Just leave her alone, Paul.”

“I would if she wasn’t my fucking imprint.” He said angrily. Paul had never meant for things to go this way. It's not what had wanted, or even envisioned the first time he had laid eyes on her. Sulli was supposed to stay in La Push. Sue wanted her to stay, to have the family she deserved to have. A life that he got to witness, and be a part of. That's what he had wanted.

Instead she was ripped from him and next thing he knows he is staring in the eyes of a young woman who's been sleeping with his little brother. 

“What?” Kaycees face went through a multitude of emotions, “I knew it.”

“Dont fucking tell her.” Paul snapped before pushing past her, the small living room now making him feel claustrophobic. He needed her voice, even if it meant her losing her cool again. It was selfish, but he didnt care. The alternative was letting the rage inside of him take over and running to Seattle to see her in person.

He dialled her number and groaned impatiently as it went straight to voicemail.

Trying again, his fingers tightened around his phone as he listened to the dial tone. He nearly gives up before hearing he soft a sigh on the other line but her harsh tone of voice, “What do you want?”

The corner of his mouth upticks, at least she answered,“Do you have time to talk?”

“Not with you.” She laughed insultingly. He grimaced, realizing he could just charm his way out of this one.

“Sulli, please.” He begged.. His eyes widened as he realised what he had said. Paul was not a beggar, yet here he was. There was silence on her end, so he took it as an invitation to keep speaking and hopefully not completely fuck things up again, “You can't move to Seattle.”

Sulli scoffed, “Why not?”

“You wanted to know about the wolf stuff, and I’m ready to tell you.” He said honestly. There was no way of getting back on her good side without telling her the truth. The truth about the pack, the imprint, all of it. Paul continued cautiously saying, “Now, I’m going to be gone for a couple of days, maybe even a week. But when I get back, I’ll tell you.”

“You’re only telling me because I’m mad at you.” She pointed out.

“Yeah.” He agreed, “I don't want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not moving to Seattle.” She said after a beat, quietly adding, “I just needed a break.”

Paul tried not to let the information of her not moving deter him from what he really wanted to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that things were bad. Nothing about what you went through was fair.”

“That was only the beginning.” Sulli remarked solemnly. That familiar feeling of fury boiled within. The idea of anyone laying their hands on her made him physically sick to his stomach. Paul made a mental note to never let her see his own rage, he didn't want her fear to ever be caused by him and what he was capable of. 

“If you want to talk about--” He started, though she cut him off quickly.

“I don’t.” Sulli said adamantly, “I just want to forget and move on. I can’t do that with you, and your friends constantly asking questions that I can’t answer without feeling suffocated.”

“Okay. No more questions.” He acknowledged, before immediately asking after, “Do you feel suffocated in Forks?”

“That's a question.” She pointed out, a small giggle-like sound passed through the speaker causing him to smile. This was good. There was no hostility in her tone of voice, just her usual teasing nature. The one that pulled him every time making him work for her attention to be kept on him as it wandered away until eventually his head was between her legs and she was moaning his name, solely focused back on him. Paul was as selfish as they come, but for her , he would do anything.

“Last question.” Paul promised.

“Sometimes.” She admitted, her voice wavered nervously as she added, “More so La Push. The pack. You.”

“Me.” He confirmed. Paul felt like he had been sucker punched with that revelation. He suffocated her. Was that what he was doing now?

“It's good and bad, y’know? Everyone…moved on with their lives like…like..it was a nightmare for me and just another Sunday for them.” Sulli reasoned, and he could see where she was coming from, but it still didn't ease his mind.

“Can I tell you a secret? Not even Brady knows.” Paul asked, the amount of information he was willing to share was more than he ever thought he would. 

“Mhm.” She hummed.

“Sam, Jared and I spent the last ten years looking for you. Just to check on you.” He said warily, unaware of how she would react to the new information. “We only ever caught your scent once, four years ago. Which makes sense if you weren’t too far.”

“I moved around a lot.” She responded, the sound of her moving her phone from one ear to the other filled the speaker before she timidly told him,  “I don’t want to move around anymore.”

Paul frowned, “You don’t need to. Forks is your home.” 

She was silent for the longest minute of his life. So quiet he had to check his phone screen to make sure his phone hadn't accidentally disconnected. Sulli sighed quietly before teasingly saying, “I’ll see you in a week, Paul.”

[robbyrobinson]

All For One's Characterization (SPOILERS)

Got to say just love how AFO's being written thus far in the Final War arc. All For One is more or less a deconstruction of several villainous tropes like the criminal mastermind; the villain that does evil just for the sake of evil; and ultimately exemplifies the saying "pride goes before a fall."

Before, AFO accumulated his rule from the shadows, but, in doing so, he basically made himself a phantom. MHA's central theme is succession and making way for the newer generation of heroes and the like. However, AFO represents stagnation with his refusal to change. He simply refuses to yield; doing so would force him to realize that he had become obsolete, and thereby his dream of becoming a demon king is all for naught.

So, this is a guy who desperately tries to stay relevant even grooming Tomura as a means of using his body as a way to obtain OFA. But then that goes into his other problem:

In his attempts at becoming a demon king like he envisioned from reading comics, AFO came to believe the real world functioned in the same way. It's like he believed he entered some isekai world where he was the OP protagonist. To become a feared villain, AFO is convinced that he has to be needlessly cruel to break his enemies' spirits. Take All Might.

Even though he knew that he was on a limited amount of time and was in danger of ceasing from existence upon being forced to use Rewind, AFO could not help but battle All Might again. Even though he was quirkless and his main priority was getting to Shigaraki to finish the merge. And that causes AFO to burn through even more of his time until he becomes a young boy.

But, okay. He kills Stain (and probably takes his quirk in the process) and leaves All Might near dead. He can now finish his mission. Gloop starts to come out of Shigaraki's mouth indicating the warp ability was working, only for Shigaraki to then slam his mouth shut and swallow it.

During his fight with All Might, AFO wasted even more time he could not afford. Shigaraki's willpower had grown too strong. So, as with all his other acts, AFO goes for the most evil option that being dragging All Might into the battle and then killing him in front of Izuku which literally blows up in his face.

He keeps going for the most evil option instead of going the more pragmatic route. Like, again, he knew that All Might would try to keep him occupied long enough to keep him from entering the battleground between Izuku and Shigaraki and to also whittle down as little time he had left. He could have ignored All Might, and when he took down Stain, he could have also taken out All Might then and there.

But it is not enough to just kill him. AFO wants to completely dismantle him and everything he stood for. What better way to assert your authority than brutally executing the very Symbol of Peace for the world to see? And yet, it is because of his needless sadism and cruelty, that it became his undoing.

AFO may have succeeded at becoming one of the most hated villains in the world, but that by itself also kicked him severely in the ass. Because with him going down that path, that meant that he had no loyal followers with some either working for him out of fear or for their own purposes. Instead of dissuading people from taking action, he instead united them to work together to destroy him.