#chris cerulli imagines

[yournecessaryevil]

Imagine...

...Chris and Ricky trying to get you to finally fall asleep after a long day while on tour...

• fluff; language; very light NSFW (if you squint)

"But I don't want to go to bed yet!"

You let out a quiet huff, clutching the pillow tighter against your chest as you cast a pleading look at the two men in front of you. Both gave you a raised eyebrow, neither one of them seeming to be impressed by your whining.

"Babygirl, you look so fucking tired-" Ricky began. "Yeah, you need sleep," Chris cut in, nodding in agreement. You stuck out your bottom lip in a slight pout as you continued to give them your best pleading look.

"Do I have to?" you asked, earning an immediate synchronized response of "Yes!" from both of the guys.

Ricky reached up to adjust his beanie before shaking his head at you, a smile playing at his lips. "It's been a long day for all of us, but especially you," he pointed out.

Chris grinned, the piercings in his bottom lip briefly catching the light from the dim interior of the bus. "Yeah, you're not used to the tour life like we are," he teased you.

This earned an eyeroll from his bandmate, who lightly elbowed him in the side. "It's been years, dude, and I'm still not used to it," he retorted, though his former smile still remained in place.

Chris shrugged, before winking at you. "I'm telling you, sleep's gonna be your best friend while you're with us."

You buried your face in the pillow, grumbling to yourself. "Slp fckng sks..."

"What was that?" Chris laughed.

You raised your head, scowling at him.

"I said, sleep fucking sucks."

"True, but-" Ricky began, before casting a sideways glance towards Chris, who returned the gesture. A smirk slowly appeared on both men's faces before Chris turned to look at you, leaning forward until his face was a foot away from yours.

"-If you be a good girl for us and go to sleep like you're supposed to-"

"-Like we want you to-" Ricky cut in.

"-Then we'll make sure to reward you for it," Chris finished, his smirk growing a little.

This caught your attention.

It was no secret (especially to the rest of the band) how much of a certain... fondness... you'd developed for Chris and Ricky.

Although at this point, anyone would say it had become a little bit more than that...

You sat there in silence, contemplating the idea Chris had now planted in your mind.

"I think we've got her," Ricky laughed, exchanging a conspiratorial look with his bandmate, who nodded in agreement.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Chris get up from his spot on the couch, moving to sit behind you. You glanced down to see tattooed arms and hands grabbing the pillow out from between your fingers, placing it behind you on Chris's lap, before those same arms were pulling you closer to the man himself.

"Come on, Y/N," you heard Chris purr softly in your ear, "be a good girl for us, for me. Stop fighting it and just give in, go to sleep for me."

His words were accompanied by a gentle kiss on the soft spot behind your ear, followed by another a little further down, along the side of your neck, and yet another on the back of your shoulder.

Chris's hands slowly moved down to splay flat against your lower belly, his thumbs tracing soothing little circles along the inch or so of skin that lay exposed there, due to your sleep shirt riding up a bit.

The way his hands moved, the gentle seduction of his words in your ear, all of it was much too nice, and you felt your blinks slowly getting longer, almost against your will.

"Oh, Chris, man, she's dozing off," Ricky observed in a soft whisper, a grin playing at his lips. His bandmate gave a soft hum of agreement, gently tugging you down so you were now lying in his lap, your head resting on the pillow.

His hands moved up, grazing lightly over your stomach, your breasts, stopping at your shoulders. Again, his thumbs were tracing little circles along the skin there, slowly coaxing you off into sleep.

But wait, sleep- you didn't want to sleep-

You struggled to keep your eyes open, fighting back a yawn. "But I don't wanna go to sleep-" you mumbled.

Chris softly shushed you, leaning down to place a kiss against your forehead. "Shh, don't fight it, Y/N. Be our good girl and go to sleep."

"Yeah, we'll still be here tomorrow, I promise," you heard Ricky agree, his voice getting closer. Out of the corner of one half-open eye, you saw the guitarist reach down, pulling a blanket over you and tucking the edges in around you. "Get some sleep, babygirl. We're not going anywhere," he murmured.

You watched as he took a seat on the floor next to you, leaning back against the couch, his head resting against your thigh.

"Ricky's right, we're not going anywhere. Get some sleep for us, baby, please?" Chris said softly. You let out a soft grumble in response.

You really didn't want to fall asleep, but fuck, Chris's lap was so comfortable, and ugh, the way Ricky smelled right now-! Everything was so nice, too nice...

Maybe an hour or two wouldn't hurt...

You yawned, before allowing yourself to relax and sink further into Chris's lap, pulling the blanket closer around you.

As your eyes fell closed, you could've sworn you heard Chris murmur, "That's our good girl..."

And as sleep finally claimed you, your mind drifted back to his and Ricky's earlier words, a smile gracing your face.

They better live up to their promise and reward you good for this tomorrow...

🎃 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @thesazzb @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @motionlessindoubt @motionlessomens @nixwolfe @bobateaandchocolatepudding @annateagan @kingdxmxfcxrds @talialovesmiw @bxrnthyfears @nerdraging4point0

[nerdraging4point0]

Underdog//Motionless one shot

The work below consists of fictionalized ideas and stories. It is an alternate universe story with only names and likenesses used in creation of a character. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Please review the content warning before proceeding.

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent. This does not mean that the behavior is ethical or acceptable in reality-does it happen, yes. Is that something I am going to go into? No. I am not an attorney. Per ChampionWomen Sexual contacts or “romantic” relationships between an athlete and a person who has a position of power over the athlete are prohibited. Person of power includes but is not limited to coaches, administrators, judges, referees, employers, staff, medical personnel, and even volunteers or older athletes and teammates.] the following one shot includes unprotected sex, P/V sex, fingering.

A.N: @mysticdoodlez and @ladyveronikawrites I present to you and owe you for this fucking piece of art.

Exhibition

Coach Cerulli stood off to the side in the coach's box, not saying a word, his legs shoulder-width apart as he swayed back and forth on his feet. He wears his disgustingly dark ensemble of worn high-top Converse and straight-leg jeans. Already obnoxiously tall, the dress style made him look even more intimidating. Glancing over him once, you notice an apparent sweat triangle starting at the collar of the black cotton tee he wore under his polyester team jersey. An electric green sea turtle was stitched on the right side of his chest, and Cerulli was stitched on the back. Trying to focus on your drill partner, Rachel, you steal quick glances after each ball toss. Under the black bill of his ball cap, Coach Cerulli's jaw clenched as he chewed the pale green gum between his teeth. 

Rachel rolled the neon yellow ball across the rust-colored dirt toward you; spreading your legs apart, bending at the waist, glove in hand, you dip to the ground, catching the ball on its roll, securing it with your other hand, you take a step, and toss the ball to her again. 

As a team, you'd been at this for an hour now; the humidity from the earlier rain made beads of sweat start at the back of your neck and under your cap. The gray storm clouds rolled over the Florida coast, looking angry; another storm was approaching.

Balmy tropical air and classic South Florida smell were something you'd missed when you were on break. Some of the girls decided to pack up and hit the slopes of Colorado for a week; you were more than eager to go. It had been a celebratory and bittersweet season last year, and you were all due for a nice getaway. Coach Adams announced last season that she'd be retiring sooner than expected. Her youngest had just graduated High School, and she struggled to adjust.

Enter Coach Cerulli. 

He was overbearing and a perfectionist; he drilled and worked the team till he felt you were perfect. It worked, or maybe it was because you wanted to impress Coach Adams for her final season. Leaving the season last year, you were nearly undefeated. And it was no surprise now that he demanded the same perfection. 

"You're looking soft, ladies. Let's pick it up. I wanna see some sweat, some determination, act like you fucking want it." He crossed his arms, kicking up some of the dirt from the field before he dropped down, squatting on one knee as he stretched the other to its entire length. 

Several players on the team turned to look at the coach; it was no secret most of the team found him hot. He was older. Way older. But that added to the heat of the idea. You were aware of Coach Cerulli's attractiveness, his dark hair and eyes; the only part of his skin not covered in tattoos was his achingly beautiful face. Once you'd gotten close enough to see his three little scars on his bottom lip, it only added to the mystery of what had been his past. Fantasy is what it was; it was all fantasy. There was no room for error when your college life was riding on a full sports scholarship. 

The team continued to drill, the breeze from the water bringing a salty taste to the air. Soon, the sun started to get lost behind the gray cover, thinking it might rain you guys out; the team slowed on drills, looking to coach and back at the sky. Coach stands up to his full height, his powerful form casting a shadow over the field. Deep and commanding, his voice brought the team's eyes and attention to him. 

"I've high expectations for my team; this isn't just any season. I have my sights set on the championship title, and we won't settle for anything less." Clapping his hands, you can hear the friction of him rubbing the skin together, his tattooed fingers lacing and curling over each other in a frenzy. A low rumble of thunder sounded from the sky; Coach Cerulli pursed his lips and looked at the foreboding weather.

 "One scrimmage, and we'll call it a night."

The team scrambled to their gear as he called out names and positions. You adjusted your cap, pulling loose strands of hair around your ears and reaching for your glove when the coach's voice called out your name.

"y/l/n. You're batting." There was no nonsense in his voice, and when you turned to protest, he smacked his gum between his teeth, heading to stand behind home plate. 

You never bat, at least not first; the pressure is too much. You were a fielder on the team with the best reflexes and speed. Others were better at this than you. Grabbing the bat, you lower your cap and head to the base. Coach is droning on about how he demands perfection from all players.

"We won't be putting people in places of their strength. I want you uncomfortable; it's the only way you grow." He turns to look at you and nods his head. Stepping up to the plate, you take your spot, raising your bat, eyes locked on Sammi, who is pitching. She gives you a look of pity, and you know she'll take it easy on you, at least. 

"Bat up." Coach growls. 

"It is up," you snap back. 

"If 'up' means hanging off your shoulder. It needs to be up higher. Fix your grip." 

You tighten your hands on the bat's base, nails nearly touching your palms as your hands turn white.

"Too tight, you're not strangling it." 

You huff out the air in your lungs, rolling your eyes. Just let me hit the ball, goddamnit. 

Sammi pitches the ball. It's a simple pitch, and you swing, barely ticking the ball; it doesn't even get air, hardly leaving the home base as it rolls back to her. Just great, I look like a peewee player in front of the coach. 

"Jenson, if you're gonna pitch. Pitch." he snaps. 

You watch as her face turns apologetic; great, no easy out this time.

"Fix your stance." a smack of his gum between his teeth follows his command. You can hear the wet smacking sounds, throwing you off concentration. He continues to throw useless advice your way each time you miss the ball. 

"You're off center."

Your patience is running thin, and you can see the players on the field becoming bored from the lack of action, just standing in the field and talking back and forth. 

"Ladies, look alive!" Coach booms, and they jump into their stance. 

Sammi nods at you, winding up to pitch; you lose all of the coach's advice, squaring up how you want. The swing is powerful, but the ball still whooshes by your bat and hits the fence behind the coach. 

You let the air out of your lungs, turning around to see Coach Cerulli looking right at you, arms crossed over his torso. You can see his brown eyes sparkling under his ball cap. 

"Nice hit," he says sarcastically. 

Tossing the bat, you walk off the field, tears stinging the back of your eyes and starting to burn your throat. You've had enough for one night. 

You can hear him bark orders to the team as the practice continues without you. Walking from the field, you walked around campus once, then twice; on your second lap, you realized you were halfway to your dorm and didn't have any of your gear. Your hands drag down your face in frustration, pushing your cap off your head. Your hair is sticky as you put the cap between your teeth and readjust the ponytail. Throwing the cap back on your head, you turn on your heel and head back to the field. 

Making your way back, you pass several teammates; keeping your cap down, you avoid their eye contact, but the sudden silence as you pass and the sad voices that follow behind your back don't go unnoticed.

Rachel caught sight of you, jogging up to meet you halfway walking backward as you continued your walk of shame to the field. 

"What's up? You walked off?" She has such sadness in her voice. She knows that you are sometimes too hard on yourself. You only have a little social life between studies and sports; your trip out of state lets you loosen up and gives you a good one-night stand. But it made you realize how much you hated having unsatisfactory sex with some drunk frat boy. 

"Rough time, that's all," you confess.

"I know you hate batting. I'm sorry." you only shrug your shoulders in response.

Coach Cerulli is tossing bags of extra bats and gloves next to the storage shed; the way he lifts the gear bag, throwing it over his shoulder, you catch his shirt ride up just a bit to reveal his tattooed torso.

"Need me to wait?" Rachel asks, offering a soft touch on your shoulder. 

"No. I got this." She jogs back to the campus as you enter the field. Turning at the dugout, not meeting the coach's eyes as he looks your way.

You are gathering your gear in your bag, trying not to make eye contact with the coach. The thunder is rumbling overhead again, closer than before; you can smell the rain coming. A heavy set of footsteps, and suddenly, he's clearing his throat behind you, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Sorry, coach." You keep your voice low and sincere. Feeling the pain in your throat again. Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"What's up with you out there?" The way he sounds less demanding, and the friendly tone in his words makes a lump form in your throat.

"I just get choked up."

"Why, you're here on a scholarship. Adams said you were the most dedicated player."

"And I am." You don't bother turning around. Tossing your glove and a few extra things into your bag.

"Didn't look like it today."

"People aren't perfect; not everyone can play every position you know." You turn around to face him; he's leaning against the dugout rail, ankles crossed, hands resting on the dark blue rail. 

"So, what is it that holds you back?"

"I just…. It's the crowd, the ump, and the pressure. The crowd is watching me, the team is watching me, and you're watching me." He adjusts his cap, turning his head to spit his gum out in the grass. 

"Grab your bat."

"What?" He kicks off the rail, stopping till he is only a foot in front of you. 

"You heard me. Grab your bat."

You scrambled for the bat as he walked back onto the field. You follow close behind, with no other teammates around the field that looks like it goes on for miles. Taking up your space next to home, you get ready to bat. 

You are barely set before he criticizes you. 

"Okay, first, your grip is too much." He stepped forward, putting his hands over yours, pulling your fingers loose from the neck, his large hands encasing your own as he helped re-grip the bat properly.

"Loosen up, spread your hands out a bit. There," the last word comes out as a soft whisper.

His brown eyes softened as he looked into your face, calloused hands brushing your skin; they were surprisingly well taken care of, the tattoos accenting every knuckle. The sweet smell of wintergreen off his breath, the fragrance winding up your insides. 

"Your feet," he circled around till he was standing behind you, twisting your body around till you could see him again; he tsked, circling the air with his finger for you to return to where you were.

 "You're always on your toes,” he complained.

His words were almost lost to the electricity in your brain; he squatted down behind you, one arm sliding between your legs to wrap around your thigh, a hand bracing on your knee, as his other massaged down my calf to have your heel flatten on the ground. 

"Now, for your hips." Coach's words sound scratchy; you can hear him swallow hard behind you. His hands ghost over your hips, carefully not to actually touch you. "You must bend at the waist and practically fold yourself in half."

"Arch my back?" you offer. He clears his throat the way it sounded like he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah, sounds about right." 

You adjust your hips arching your back, with your feet firmly planted against the ground, your cleats into the dirt, pushing your ass back. You feel yourself brush against his body, and he hisses.

"Easy there, tiger." 

"S-s-sorry." you stammer as you try to step back. His hands grab your hips and place you back in your stance. His body is so close you can feel the heat building on your skin; suddenly, you aren't distracted by nerves but by something else. 

"We aren't done; just watch it," he whispers. "You want to keep yourself firm in this spot until you're ready to swing."

A drop of warm water hits your arm, then another, and another. The rain starts to pour down in a gentle storm. 

"Shit." Coach releases your hips as you both jog back to the dugout. Safe under the awning, you lose footing on the last step, stumbling into the coach. He catches you, arms around your waist, as he stumbles back.

"Sorry," your voice barely audible over the rain tapping on the metal awning; you place your hands on his chest, feeling the stiff muscles underneath. Trying to push off to create distance between the two of you. Coach Cerulli's hands don't move as he looks down at you, those dark eyes glistening under the shadow of his cap. This close to him, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of him-palo santo and amber, a rich blend like a robust coffee in one of those expensive coffee shops. 

His hands slid up your back, gently caressing over the upper part of your arms, stopping at your wrists and taking them in a grip before pulling your hands off his chest.

"Let's work on your hips some more. It looks like we've got the time." The way he says the words suggests he doesn’t mean anything about batting anymore. 

He spun you around so seamlessly, releasing your wrists to take your hips in the vice grip of his tattooed fingers. Pulling your body toward him, you could feel yourself make contact with his chest; he was so tall, the feeling of what was unmistakably his own arousal resting at your lower back. 

Flames licked into your lower belly as his hands tightened, then loosened on your hips. He started to move you, sliding your hips from left to right in slow motions. "Keep your feet planted on the floor." The harsh whisper in your ear made every part of your skin tremble with anticipation. 

You tried to steady your breathing as he moved you in slow motion against his body. Was this all a dream? Were you asleep in physics and about to be highly embarrassed when you woke up?

Your hands rested on his, trying to prove to yourself that all that was happening was real. Leaning back into his chest, he groaned as he pulled you in closer. 

"This is so wrong." your voice trembles as you speak.

"Very," he growled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck. "Tell me to stop, and I will." 

Fuck, please don't.

It wasn't a good idea to continue, but the feeling, the expert way his hands held you without touching anything intimate, made you melt. 

Leaning your head back into his chest, your face turned to him, desperate for his kiss. Sensing your desperation, Coach took the bill of his hat between two fingers, spinning the cap on his head so it faced backward. Closing in on your face, his full lips consuming your own, two fingers brushing your cheek, tapping twice, asking you to open. 

The second your jaw relaxed into the kiss, his tongue was assaulting your own. He tasted so good, that gum he'd been chewing and something nutty at the end filling your taste buds. 

You let your arm snake behind his head, cupping the back of his neck to bring him closer. One of his hands takes your breast and squeezes the flesh through your clothes, your nipples sensitive to the touch even through all the layers. His other hand slides over the front of your shorts, pushing between your thighs; your hips start to grind into his hand, desperate for friction, earning a sound of approval from the coach.

Pulling apart from each other, lips wet, red, and swollen, you were panting to catch all the air you'd lost in the kiss. 

"Brace yourself, tiger," he warned. 

Pushing hard against you, he shoved you forward till you folded over against the railing, his body pressed tightly against yours. Forcing your hands to grip the rail.

"Remember your grip." he teased, releasing his hold. His hands slid slowly down your sides, thumbs hooking into the band of your shorts to tug them and your panties down to your ankles. You gasped being exposed like this, the adrenaline of being caught coursing through your blood, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

He kicked your feet apart, having your legs spread till you could feel the resistance of your shorts tight around your ankles. He took your hips in his hands, bringing your ass against him again, "Remember your stance." the words going straight to your center as he nipped at your ear. 

His hands disappeared, and you let out a whine from losing his touch. He shuffled behind you, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to place soft kisses on your pulse point. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and feeling the muscles quiver under his fingers, you paused to consider what you were doing, your mind telling you that this was wrong. You'd get caught, and you'd be a disappointment to your parents. The thoughts of calling it off stopped when two fingers slid inside your warmth. His fingers scissored open and closed, swirling around before opening and closing again, stretching your walls with expert skills.

"So tight." He continued to whisper dark and dirty words as his fingers buried into you to the knuckle. The rough pressure pushes you forward and off your heels. Feeling your release boiling just under the surface, you start to grind down on his fingers as they thrust up into you, whimpering for more. You have started to lean over the rail, seeing the field's dirt and glancing down more to see both your feet and his. His pants at his ankles like yours, and the thought that his cock was out and ready for you, made you moan. 

He wraps his hand around your hair, still pulled into a ponytail under your cap; rolling the strands around his hand, tugging you back so his chest is pressed tight to your back, fingers still buried deep inside you.

"Say the word, and I'll stop."

Past the point of no return, you moan, rolling your hips into his hands, still chasing your release. He presses his face into your cheek, nose running through the hairline above your ear as he inhales your scent; it's feral, it's animalistic, it's so fucking hot. His lips press into your ear, and you feel his hot breath against her skin. "You gonna come for me, tiger?"

You barely managed to nod your head before he curled his fingers, pressing on that soft spot inside you, making your walls clench around his fingers. He lets out a strangled sound of approval and surprise, taking the slick of your orgasm to rub on his erection. His left hand cupped your ass before delivering a harsh slap to the skin, making you rock up onto your toes. 

He slides his length between your thighs, coating the head in everything left of your orgasm. Muscles in his chest are tight with anticipation and what you hope is desire. "Listen carefully, tiger," his voice breathless as he pants in your ear. "This is the only time I want you on your toes for me. Got it."

"Yes, coach." you gasp as his length slides into your warm center. He pumps slowly as you stretch around him, the hiss from your lips echoing across the field through the rain. "F-f-fuck." you moan. 

Bottoming out with hard thrusts, Coach's hands rested on the railing on top of yours, his fingers lacing between yours as he held you and the rail in a vice grip. Your bodies molded into each other so well you felt the hem of his jersey wrap around your thighs; god, if only you could take it home with you as a trophy for this. 

"I should stop," he was panting, his voice strained. "I'm gonna get fired." 

"Please," you begged, turning your head to see his beautiful flushed face, mouth agape, tufts of his black hair sticking out from under his cap. "I won't say anything, just please don't stop." 

"Fuck." he groaned, continuing to thrust into you, the force pushing you practically over the rail still on your toes, the muscles in your calves straining. Your thighs shook, the rain coming to an end as another tight coil wrapped itself in your belly, ready to snap.

"One more, give me one more, tiger," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. The scream as you clenched around him echoed off the field, causing him to clasp a hand over your mouth. "That's it. Scream for me." 

Your noises were muffled by his hand on your mouth, and the hot breath as he panted on your cheek brought another orgasm on the wave of the first. One final snap of his hips and warm ropes filled your body, and all the tension of his muscles was released in one minute. 

The magic of whatever you two did was gone when he pulled his softened cock from you, reaching down to pull up your shorts and letting you get them back on the rest of the way; you barely turned around, seeing him taking a little bounce to get back into his jeans. 

"Head out, tiger. I'll see you at tomorrow's practice." 

You nod briefly, grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and bat in the other hand. Just as you are about to leave the field, you turn around to see Coach sitting on the bench in the dugout, hands running through his sweaty black hair. 

"Coach?" you let the rasp fall off your tongue, and he turns to look your way. "Extra practice tomorrow night?" giving a wink to let him know what you mean. He doesn't skip a beat, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"It'll be a late practice. You game?"

"Anything for you, coach." you leave the comment in the air as you walk back to your dorm. 

Crashing into your dorm with shaky legs, you throw down your gear. 

"Whoa." Rachel commented, "You look brutal!"

"Thanks," you meekly respond, flopping onto the bed before curling up under the blanket. 

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?" you mumbled, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

"Coach. You look like he had you do suicides for leaving the field?"

"Nothing gets past you, Rach." you smiled as your body drifted to sleep. 

Several months later, and one game win thanks to you and a home run hit, Coach Cerulli announced his retirement. Disappointed but not surprised you accepted the new coach with open arms. She was sweet and spicy, a good coach, making your focus back on the game. The rumors were Coach moved states, you’d had his number but the digits disconnected a few weeks after his departure. 

Just as well, you thought.

 It was almost winter break, and a final due in Psychology had kept you up most nights, your body riddled with tension from the stress. 10 p.m., and you hadn't even bothered to try and sleep yet, your phone buzzed with a new text. Opening it up, it was a number you didn't recognize, but the message was clear. 

How you been, tiger?

[beaker1636]

Busted - Chris Motionless Smut

A light cry escapes your lips when there is a knock on your hotel door, ripping you away from the orgasm that you were just falling over the edge of.  You were so close and now you are having to wrench the toy out of yourself with a sigh.

“Give me just a minute, I am just getting out of the shower,” you call.  Trying to buy yourself a few moments to collect yourself before you have to answer.  You finally have time off and one of the bastards has to interrupt your alone time.. The alone time that you desperately need.  Luckily right before you started you had showered so your hair is still pretty wet, making your lie somewhat believable.  You slip a shirt on and quickly throw on a pair of shorts before you rush to answer the door, being greeted by Chris standing in front of you.

“Oh, hey. What is up Chris?” you ask, trying not to look annoyed, or to let it show that you were just getting yourself off to the thought of being underneath him, lightly moaning his name as you fucked yourself with a toy in your hotel room.

It’s not your fault that he is so fucking attractive, that he likes to keep fucking around with the microphone stand on stage… that his makeup lately has gotten more and more attractive in your opinion.  And that fucking purple hair, you don’t know why it is so fucking hot to you, but it is.  

“The guys all went off somewhere, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something.  If not it is no big deal, just figured we both were staying behind so,” he says, giving you a smile.

“Uh yeah sure, we can find a movie and watch it,” you say, opening the door up more to try and let him in.

He walks in and takes a seat in one of the chairs in your room, watching you walk in before glancing away from you… suddenly turning bright red and glancing away from where he was looking, making you wonder what the hell just happened.  You quickly look towards your bed where his eyes were and instantly turn red, covering your face with your hands as you realize what he just saw.

“Oh my fucking god, Chris, I-sorry.  I thought I put it away, fuck.  This is so embarrassing, I am so sorry, shit,” you start rambling, rushing to put the dildo that you had left out on your hotel bed away in your suitcase.  Embarrassed to the point of almost tears, wishing the ground would eat you alive right now.  You swear you put it away, how the hell did you forget to do so when you were in your suitcase before answering the door.

“Did I interrupt something? I can leave if you need me to,” he says, glancing over at you.  Feeling almost as uncomfortable as you are right now, both of you struggling to figure out what to say or do next.  

“Uh no, that’s fine.  We can skip to the movie and pretend that this never happened,” you answer, refusing to look at him. “I don’t want us to be awkward, fuck I’m so embarassed right now.” You mumble, glancing down at your feet before taking a seat on the bed and grabbing the tv remote.

“Why, we all do it.  It’s just easier for us guys…. So did it do the job or do you want some help?” He asks, glancing over to you out of the corner of his eye.  Hoping that you might take him up on this offer, allow him to help you get the relief you clearly needed… and get himself some much needed relief as well.  Especially now when he saw that, and the thought of you fucking yourself with the toy has him slightly worked up, has him half hard if he is being honest, but he won’t say that outloud.  Fuck, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t find you attractive, he wouldn’t be against doing things with you if you let him.

He notices how stiff you go when you hear his words, that you tense on the spot and look like you have no clue what to think, how to respond.  Your eyes get large as you process what was just said, the shock visible on your face.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” You ask, there is no way that you just heard his question right, that he just offered to help you get off.

“I asked if you wanted some help.  Sometimes it is better to let someone else get you off than yourself, and we could help each other relieve some stress and relax? I help you, you help me and then we act like it didn’t happen…. Shit I shouldn’t have asked, pretend that I didn’t.  This is a bad idea,” he says with a groan, his hand now running through his hair in frustration and embarrassment.

You know this is stupid, that there is no way that you should say yes to this, let him touch you like this when you already have a crush on him.  But part of you wants to say yes, recognizes that this could make things messy, but when would you have this chance again? 

“I, I mean okay.  If you wanted to, just two friends helping each other out right? It doesn’t have to be anything weird.  So I mean, if you want to we can,” you respond.  This time you are watching him, waiting to see how he responds. Praying that he takes the initiative and does something, anything because you know that you could never make the first move yourself. You can see the wheels turning in his head and can't figure out what he is thinking, it is making you anxious.

“Yes, two friends helping each other,” he says softer this time.  You can see the bulge forming in his pants and debate going over to him to help try and relieve it, but you just can’t bring yourself to make that first move.

A few moments later, after both of you sit there awkwardly and don’t acknowledge each other he mumbles a fuck it and makes his way over to you.  You glance up at him from where you are sitting, him towering over you as he stands in front of you.  A couple seconds of him just standing there and he moves to sit right next to you.  Instantly grabbing the back of your head and crashing your lips to his, no hesitation, no holding back.  You give in almost immediately, letting him take what he wants from you when his tongue meets yours, clashing and harsh as the two of you search for the pleasure the other could bring.  

His hands quickly settle on your waist, one slipping up underneath your shirt before he gets annoyed and just lifts it off of you, groaning when he realizes you have no bra on.

“Can I ask you something, were you doing this when I knocked on your door? Is that why you didn’t answer the door right away?” He asks you, his eyes meeting yours as one of his hands starts to toy with one of your nipples, bringing it to a stiff peak and making you shudder from how sensitive you currently are.  When you don’t answer he pinches it rather harshly. “I asked you a question.”

You whine, enjoying the sting but not wanting to admit it to him. “I, yes.  I was so close when you interrupted me,” you admit, throwing your head back when he lightens his touch, moving his fingers to your other one, leaving teasing touches around it. You squirming in your place, feeling so sensitive that you could almost finish just from him playing with your tits, why does that feel so good when he does that?

“What were you thinking about while you were fucking yourself? Were you thinking about someone?” He asks you, his lips now nipping at your ear while he speaks.  

You let out a shuddered breath, not wanting to admit to him that it was him that you were thinking about but scared if you don’t answer him that he will stop what he is doing and that idea scares you even more at this point.

“I-fuck-I was thinking about you, pretending that it was you who was fucking me, not the toy,” you admit, regretting your words the second that they left your mouth.

His hands still for a moment, one of them moving to push you down onto your back while he settles himself over the top of you, watching you with half lidded eyes.  Just hearing you say those words could have just made him cum in his pants, hearing that you were thinking of him touching you, fucking you.  That you want this too, fuck, you are going to be the death of him.

He slips his own shirt off before his face is in your neck, leaving kisses along your throat while one of his hands snakes down your torso, settling on your shorts.  He dips his hands below the waistband right as he starts sucking a mark into your skin.

The groan that he lets out when he feels you, feels how wet you are is the most sinful thing you have heard in your life, the most erotic and you pray you never forget how it sounds. He peels his lips away from your throat, bringing his fingers away from your folds to look at it, noticing the sheen of your arousal on them.

“Fuck, you’re so, thinking of me touching you got you this wet.  Fuck,” he says, glancing at your face before his gaze returns to his fingers, slipping them into his mouth so that he can taste you.  Making sure that you are watching him do so, that you can see just how much he is craving you like you are him.

“Can I, I want to use the toy on you.  Make you come with it before I fuck you and prove to you that the real thing is better, can I do that, please?” He asks you, making sure that your eyes meet his, that you can see how much he desires you right now.

When you nod your head he slowly lifts himself away from you, stepping towards your suitcase to pull the toy back out before settling by your feet.  Silently urging you to spread your legs and let him see how wet your cunt is before he slowly slides the dildo inside of you, being met with absolutely no resistance.  

You throw your head back against the mattress when he begins to slowly, teasingly, slide the toy in and out of you, making you ache for more.  Your hips are bucking to try and get more from the toy when he doesn’t give it to you.

“You like that, it’s not enough though is it? Beg for it, beg me to fuck you with it,” he demands, watching you closely when you let a little whine out.  He wants to see you give in, let him take charge and take care of you.  Wants to hear how much you want it.

“I, please Chris, I, I need more.  Please will you?” You ramble, struggling to form a coherent thought as he continues to barely rock the toy inside of you, tormenting you with how slow he is being.

“Please what?” He asks, eyes meeting yours as you let out another whine.

“Please, fuck me with it Chris,” you mumble, covering your face with your hands because you feel shy asking, no begging him for what you need right now.

The second the words are out of your mouth he thrusts the toy inside of you roughly, starting a pace that makes your toes curl almost instantly.  It feels so much better with him doing it to you, he is able to get it deeper and harder than you can yourself.  You throw your head back and close your eyes, feeling yourself get closer to the edge, but not quite there.

One of your hands subconsciously settles on your breast, pinching and kneading your nipple yourself without realizing what you are doing.  Seeking out more pleasure than you are already receiving, craving touch there.

“Oh shit, that is hot.  Yes, play with your tits for me,” Chris groans, watching you do so for a few moments, overtaken by the thoughts that the sight of you is bringing him right now. 

You listen and continue, letting out a gasp when you feel his thumb from his free hand begin to circle your clit, unable to ignore just how close you are now.  Everything is getting to be too much, you just want to cum.

“Fuck, please, I’m close,” you whine, shifting your hips while seeking out the release that you need.  

“Okay, let go. Cum for me,” he groans, watching you closely as you do.  Your chest heaving, your legs clenching, you panting as you breathe through it, letting out sounds that will haunt his wet dreams for months while continuing to fuck you through it until you start to come down from the high. 

When you come down and nudge him away he leans back over you, giving you a kiss while he chuckles, watching you open your eyes.  “Welcome back, now, should I show you how much better my cock is than this toy? Ruin it for you so that you will always think of me when you get yourself off from now on?”

You can’t find the words to speak so you just nod, giving him your permission to keep going.  

“On your hands and knees for me,” he says, moving to slip his jeans and underwear off while you do as he asks.  Him admiring your ass while you get into the position he asks you to, no hesitation on your part.  Makes him want you that much more seeing how submissive you are for him, maybe you two need to do this more than just this time.  

Clearing those thoughts from his head he kneels on the bed behind you, one hand settling on your ass as he gives it a light slap before it moves, settling on your hip as he helps position himself, barely nudging the tip in before stopping.  You instantly whine, growing desperate you rock your hips back into his, forcing him to enter you further as you take him inside of you completely.

“Needy little thing aren’t you, I don’t even have to do any work,” he breathes out, watching you begin to work yourself on his cock.  He lets you do so a few more times before his grip on your hips tighten and he thrusts harshly inside of you, taking the charge from you while setting a relentless pace, taking you hard and rough in ways that you have never experienced before.  

Your mind shuts off while you focus on how great he is making you feel, on how hard and deep his thrusts are inside of you, touching you in ways you have never been touched before.  You never would have thought that you would enjoy being taken so roughly, enjoy letting a man use your body for what he wants.

His fingers find themselves around your throat, applying light pressure around it. Another first that you are enjoying way too much, he isn’t even cutting off your breathing but just knowing he can has you growing even wetter, if that's possible, around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m getting close y/n.  Touch your clit, make yourself cum around me,” he says, moving his hand to grab yours, making it settle between the apex of your thighs.  Encouraging you to do as he asked, which you do without a passing thought.  Feeling yourself grow close, starting to clench around him as you come closer and closer to the edge. 

His hand finds its way around your throat again, this time applying more pressure and that does it for you.  The stimulation of him fucking you, rubbing your clit and now that is too much, making you cum abruptly, with no warning around him.  You tighten and clench around him, milking his cock as you finish with a loud moan, unable to help yourself as you are hit with the strongest orgasm you have felt in your life.

A few moments later you feel him pull out of you, hear him panting as he jerks himself, finishing on your back with another groan before letting himself fall next to you on the bed.  Both of your chests heaving as you catch your breath from what just happened, as your minds begin to realize what the two of you just did together and it all hits you.

A few moments later Chris speaks up, “I’m going to get something to clean you, I’ll be right back.”

He returns with a towel and helps wipe the mess off your back for you, not wanting you to try and miss some or to stretch too much, because after how rough he was with you he’d be shocked if you were not sore soon.

Both of you lay there, quiet for a moment while you try to come up with what to say, with what you think and want.  Finally he breaks the silence.

“So, I know this is out of order but am I allowed to take you on a date the next time we have a day off?” He asks, glancing at you with a shy smile that makes you giggle.

“Of course you can… but don’t think that you are going to get any again any time soon, I think I may be slightly out of commission for awhile,” you joke, moving to give him a soft kiss.  “I’m kind of glad that you caught me, would have made sure you did sooner if I knew it would lead to this.”

“I’m glad I caught you too,” he says with a laugh.

[h0rr0rqu3en]

🥵

[horrorolson]

Deal

The man, or I suppose not really a man but let's call him a man anyway, sat in the center of your living room floor staring up at you, his legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back on his hands.

“Did you miss me?” The smirk is audible in his voice. You laugh at his dramatics, tossing your bag into a chair.

“Sure Chris. Now get lost, I have company coming.” You laugh, walking back into the kitchen only to find him sitting on your counter waiting for you.

“What do you want now?” you sigh, moving past him and pulling the things out of the fridge to start making dinner.

“You know exactly what I - Are you cooking?” Chris asks from his spot on the counter, stopping short, Friday has always been takeout night.

“Do you have a date?” He stares at you in disbelief, betrayal playing slightly at his features as he looks at you.

“I mean, I have a guy coming over for dinner, and I think-”

“But-” You look up at Chris, perched on the counter, and freeze, taking in the look on his face.

“Chris, what-” You take a step towards him, only to find him on the other side of the kitchen from you, standing in the doorway to the living room, facing away from you. You stop, taken aback that he’s running from you, when usually he’s the exact opposite, taking any opportunity to crowd your space.

“Chris?” You take another step towards him only for him to vanish entirely. You quickly look around the house before figuring he really had left. You sigh, shaking your head, thinking about his strange behavior as you go back to your cooking.

Dinner went well. Your date brought flowers and a bottle of wine, and you enjoyed listening to him talk about a book he had just finished.

And then things start to fall apart. The light in the dining room refuses to stop flickering. The speakers start blasting static until you whine about it hurting your ears, at which point it abruptly stops. By this point, your date has started to panic, and you have started to fume, absolutely furious with Chris for whatever tantrum he's deciding to throw now of all times. You try salvaging things, moving into the living room, hoping for a reprieve, only to find the TV turned on and flashing “GET OUT” repeatedly.

Your date promptly bolts from the house, the door slamming shut behind him, and the lock sliding into place, all the electronics abruptly turning off.

“Christopher! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You fume in the absolute silence that suddenly seems thick in the air.

“Chris, get your ass in here so I can yell at you properly!” After another moment of silence Chris appears in front of you, the height difference leaving him looking down at you in such close quarters.

His hair is a mess, clearly having been running his hands through it, his pupils blown wide. His breath falls heavy on your face.

“You called?” His voice is shockingly soft given his appearance, and your breath catches in your throat as you fight the urge to reach out to touch him, knowing your hand would meet with empty air.

“What the fuck was that about?” You finally ask.

“I don’t share.” His lips hover over yours, torturously close, before pulling back. “You’re mine.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly before opening your eyes again, looking up to meet his.

“You can’t be mad at me for trying to find someone I can actually be with, someone I can touch, who can kiss me goodnight and make pancakes with me on the weekends and hold me during scary movies. Someone who can hold my hands when they're cold, and push the cart at the grocery store.” He paces circles around you while you rant, which normally would make your heart race, and cause you to stumble over your words, but right now you’re simply too frustrated to play this game with him. “I deserve that!”

He pauses for a moment when your voice breaks, his face suddenly soft again, “You do deserve that. I could be that. I want to be that for you.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten Chris,” You sigh, shaking your head, “but you need my soul to gain an actual body again.” He stops directly behind you, completely in your blind spot, and you bite your lips, fighting not to squirm.

“Need a deal, not a soul.” His lips just at the shell of your ear makes you shiver despite your efforts, as your heart lurches in your chest and your mind races out of control. “Your soul’s just the most… traditional option.” He corrects. You stare blankly ahead, thinking through the new information, asking yourself if you’re actually considering this.

“Say it again.” You blurt, even though you’ve really only half thought it through. His eyebrows draw together in confusion as he comes to stand in front of you, his head tilting to the side as he considers you, and then he inhales sharply, his mouth falling open slightly as understanding dawns. His voice comes out as a whisper when he responds.

“You’re mine.” He stares at you, licks his lips, stares at you for another moment, “Be mine.” His condition, his only condition.

Your eyes meet his, lips curving into a smile. “Deal.”

Part 2

[lexusiswriting]

A love you deserve (Ricky Olson) - Part 1 of ?

Hi guys! Long time no see.

I missed writing so much and here I am, trying to make a comeback. This will be a Ricky Olson/ Horror love story and we will see together how many parts it will have.

NOTE: Ricky will not be present in the first part, being more of an introduction to the story.

Warnings: none.

I hope you'll enjoy it and by box is open if you think I can put your ideas into something nice.

__________________________________________________________

“Lexus, you’ve got 5 minutes!”

“Alright, I’m coming!”

I am rushing to the stage while trying to dodge the many people that were on my way. Today was a big day for us, our second studio album being released on the last day of our American tour. We tried to keep it a secret and tonight the fans are going to hear one of the singles.

Being a little nervous is a misunderstanding, because I am terrified. The whole band united to make something better than the first album, where we tried different things to show we can do more. We are not dreaming of going #1 on the charts, we only want to hear our fans saying they are proud of what we want to become.

Now I’m in the backstage, waiting for the guys to prepare my entrance. We always try to do something different and today, Seth, the drummer, came with an idea. He will play a little solo, giving a little hint about the first song on the setlist. After that Andrew, who plays bass, will do the same thing. In the end, Xander, the guitarist, will be the last one to have his moment which will mark my entrance. And that moment is happening now.

I only hear screaming and I can barely see any faces from the lights. But I always feel like home while on stage. In that moment all of my fears disappeared, being replaced with excitement for doing what I love.

“Let’s rock this place out!”

If there is a thing I hate about myself is that I will never be a morning person. My alarm started to ring so loud that I could feel the vibration in my brain. I tried to stop it and I failed miserably when the phone fell on the floor. When I reached out for it I saw a message from Xander:

~ Wake up you piece of sunshine, we have business to do. ~

Getting out of bed was my main business at the moment. I went to the bathroom and saw that I completely forgot to take my make-up off last night. Tried to repair the damage and made myself look a little more presentable I made my way up to Xander’s room.

“Look who finally decided to show up looking like a mess.”

“Such a sweetheart. I’m sorry I did not get all glammed up for your poor little eyes.”

“At least you are not losing your sense of humour when you barely sleep.”

Well, that’s true. About both things, of course. My sense of humour? One of a kind. Sleeping schedule? A completely mess. This tour got all the life out of me but I know now we have a couple of months free to prepare the international tour for the new album.

“The manager called and apparently we are going to play some shows.”

“Where? Last night we finished the tour, isn’t that enough?”

“Don’t give me this attitude cause you’ll love it. It’s about Warped Tour.”

We had a thing that I hate and now a thing that I love. I always loved Warped Tour because I don’t see it as a job I have to do, but as a place where I can hang out with my friends every day. Maybe I will not regret that much the sleep I will still not get.

“Oh and a little birdie told me your boyfriend will be there as well.”

“Then it will be one hell of a summer.”

[celestineveil]

Needy Theater

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Author's Note: Hello, Hello! It's me again! This oneshot is Ricky Olson x Original Character

Content Warning: This oneshot contains smut.

Oneshot Summary: This is a Ricky Olson x Original Character ( Ariadne ), and they are at the movies when Ricky got out of hand

Word Count: 590

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Throughout the duration of the play, a sense of anticipation hung in the air around Ariadne. The theater was dark, but the sensation of Ricky's hand gradually inching up her thigh was unmistakable. She attempted to divert her attention to the stage, yet Silas seemed to possess an intuitive knowledge of how to arouse her. Soon enough, his fingers found their way into the confines of her jeans, teasing her through the fabric of her panties. A sharp intake of breath betrayed Ariadne's attempt to maintain composure, prompting her to glance at him.

"What?" Ricky murmured, his expression feigning innocence as he met her gaze. With narrowed eyes, she gently removed his hand from her pants, guiding it to rest on his own lap. Hastily, she fastened her zipper, endeavoring to focus on the unfolding drama.

Undeterred, Ricky draped an arm around Ariadne's shoulders, slipping her hand beneath the neckline of her blouse to toy with her nipple. Suppressing a whimper, she bit down on her cheek, struggling to keep her attention fixed on the performance. Ricky's caresses persisted, his lips tracing a path along her neck. Overwhelmed by sensation, Ariadne could endure no more. She rose abruptly, seizing Ricky's arm and leading him out into the parking lot, where their unlocked car awaited.

Seated inside, Ariadne turned to face Ricky. "If you desire anything tonight, you'll drive us home immediately," she instructed, her tone firm. Ricky smirked in response, igniting the engine and propelling them toward their shared apartment.

Upon arrival, Ricky hastened indoors, with Ariadne following closely behind. Keys were discarded, and before Ariadne could react, Ricky had her pinned against the door, his hands restraining her. Locking eyes with her, he issued a command.

"You're mine, understood? Not a sound unless I permit it," he growled. Ariadne nodded, the anticipation building within her. Rick hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her to their bedroom where he undressed with careless abandon.

As Ricky stripped Ariadne of her clothing, his gaze lingered appreciatively on her form. Positioning her over the edge of the bed, he administered a gentle caress to her ass before plunging two fingers inside her. Ariadne gasped, hoping her pleasure wouldn't betray her. But Rcky was attuned to her every reaction.

A resounding smack against her skin accompanied his reprimand. "What did I say about making noise?" he demanded, his voice commanding compliance. Ariadne remained silent, feeling his hardness against her.

"Good girl. Now, tell me what you want," Silas murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

"Please, I want you," Ariadne pleaded eagerly. Without hesitation, Ricky entered her forcefully, eliciting a cry of ecstasy mixed with pain. He silenced her with another slap to her rear.

"Not a word," he growled, setting a punishing rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through Ariadne's body. Despite her struggle to contain her moans, Ricky's words fueled her desire, bringing her ever closer to climax.

As their passion peaked, Silas whispered huskily in Ariadne's ear, expressing his desire to assert their connection. Unable to contain herself any longer, Ariadne moaned loudly, her release imminent. Ricky's thrusts grew more frenzied until he reached his own climax, collapsing beside her in a satisfied heap.

Breathless and spent, Ariadne snuggled into Silas's embrace, feeling utterly content. "That was incredible, Ricky," she murmured, a smile playing at her lips.

"Yeah, it was," he chuckled, pulling her closer. "But I think you'll be sore tomorrow," he added, his laughter echoing in the intimacy of their shared moment. As they drifted off to sleep, Ariadne couldn't help but feel grateful to be exactly where she belonged.

[holding-on-to-smoke]

thanks for the pic pookie @motionless-in-blue-socks

[ch4p3lofbl00d]

I love you~Chris Motionless

Y/N Pov:

Another day at school. Another day that I have to deal with the bullying. I've been at this school for three years now. Everyday, I get bullied for being goth; I wear spiked chokers and if I'm feeling like it, I wear spiked boots.

I shaved my eyebrows and draw them on everyday. Most people think that I'm satanic or a devil worshiper. It makes me laugh, but recently it hasn't. The jocks at my school are all football players and if you get in their way, they'll beat the actual shit out of you.

They've punched, kicked, slapped, threw disgusting words at me, and more than that. There was only one boy at this school who understood you. In a school filled with jocks and popular girls it was hard to be yourself, but it didn't stop me. It didn't stop Christopher Cerulli either.

I had a crush on him; he was the sweetest person ever. He was the only other person who dressed like me. He was also the only person who I would talk to. Everyone else were dick heads who slam you into lockers if you didn't do something right or even walk past them to get to your class on time.

I sighed as I looked over at the desk next to me; he still wasn't here. Just as I looked up, I saw him running to the back where our desks were. I smiled, and heard him quietly say "did I miss anything"

I quickly shooked my head "no" and said "you were just in time" I smiled at him as he flashed a quick smile back at me.

I felt butterflies, but I tried to push them away by focusing on my work. I bit the end of my pen as I tried to figure out a question. I guess Chris saw this because he whispered the answer to me "it's 1,000"

I smiled at him, and whispered "thank you, Chris". I saw him smiled back at me, and say "No problem, Y/N" I smiled as i looked back down at my book.

I finished up the last few math questions I had, and closed my book, just as the bell rang. I put my book in my bag, and threw my bag over my shoulder. I walked out of class with Chris right by my side.

We walked to the cafeteria together side by side, but I stopped walking. A few days ago, Chris didn't come to school due to being sick, so that cause my bullies to start bullying me. They started throwing things at me and started calling me horrible names.

I just ignored it until I got home; I spend hours in my bathroom crying. All because of some jerks. I shaked myself out of my trance, and saw Chris looking concerned. "You okay, Y/N?"

I quickly nodded, and said "I'm gonna skip lunch. I'm not that hungry" I saw Chris shake his head, disapproving of my decision, and he said "come on Y/N. You have been skipping lunch for days. I wanna eat with my best friend"

I sighed as I smiled, and said "okay. I'll meet you for lunch in 5" I saw Chris nod, and run to the cafeteria. I sighed as I walked to my locker to put my backpack and books in there. I can't believe Chris talked me into eating lunch with him today.

It's not like I don't want to, I just don't want the bullies to come after him too. I sighed, and walked to where Chris was standing by a table. "You came!"

I nodded while smiling, and said "of course, I came! I wanted to eat lunch with my best friend" I saw Chris smile at me, and pull out a chair for me to sit in.

I nervously sat down and looked around the room as Chris went and got us some food. I sighed when I spotted my bullies. I tried to hie the best that I could without them spotting me, but to my luck, I failed.

They saw me and immediately started throwing trash at me. I'm just glad that Chris wasn't here to see this; he didn't deserve to be bullied either. He was too sweet and caring.

I looked down as I felt someone throw a tomato at me. That's definitely gonna leave a bruise. I felt tears threatening to come out, then I heard a voice say "Leave Y/N the fuck alone"

I stood up, and slowly walked over to Chris as more garbage was getting thrown at my back. "Chris, I don't want them to start bullying you too"

I saw Chris shake his head, and say "it's okay. I just want you safe. I love you Y/N more than a friend" I stood there shocked, Chris liked me back? "I... I... Love you too.."

I saw Chris smile and walk over to me, pulling me into his arms "I love you so much. Those assholes are never ever gonna mess with you again. My horror queen" I smiled as he said this; we stood there, staring at each other as we slowly leaned in and it was so weird, feeling Chris's soft lips on mine, but it felt nice.

We stayed like this for a few more minutes, until we both heard everyone in the cafeteria "awe" I giggled as Chris pulled me out of the cafeteria and we went to our next class. I never thought that this would happen, but I'm so glad that it did.

Thank you for reading! :)

[yournecessaryevil]

Imagine...

...playing video games with Chris during your downtime on tour, the two of you trashtalking each other's playing...

"No way, old man. I can totally kick your ass!"

You shifted in your spot on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself, PS5 controller clutched between your hands.

The two of you were currently going head to head at one of the old Call of Duty games Chris had downloaded onto his console, and so far... it had been a back and forth of the two of you kicking each other's asses and sniping each other.

You always preferred playing as "Ghost" Riley, he'd always been your favorite of the boys. You had once joked with Chris that he and Konïg had a lot in common, with the two of them being tall as fuck, and it had kind of stuck, the tall masked man now being Chris's character any time the two of you played each other.

"Oh, bullshit. I'm gonna make you eat your words, you know," Chris shot back, raising a brow at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, noticing the way one corner of his mouth twitched up into a tiny smirk in response.

"Brat."

"Bully," you shot back, grinning.

Chris placed a hand against his chest, pretending to be offended, even though you knew better. "Me? A bully? How dare you?" he said, unable to keep from grinning.

"You. Fucking. Shot me!" you protested.

"You made it too easy, find a better hiding spot next time," Chris countered, shrugging.

"See? Bully. Imma kick your ass this round, let's fucking go," you retorted, letting out a huff as you tightened your grip on the controller.

Chris laughed, picking up his own controller and reloading the menu to start a new game. "Alright, small fry, you have a 20 second head start," he told you, casting you a sideways look. "But," he added with a smirk, "if I find you, I snipe you."

With that, he loaded up the new round, before reaching up to cover his eyes with one hand. "Anddd.... go. Tick tock, pipsqueak."

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you focused on the screen in front of you. As soon as you had your hiding spot, you cast a sideways glance at Chris to see if he'd been peeking, which, ever the gentleman he was, he had not.

"Time's up, let's go," he announced, uncovering his face to pick up his controller and start hunting you down. As you sat there and watched him, there was a knock on the break room door, and you looked over your shoulder to see Ricky poke his head into the room.

"Hey, you guys need to get ready, we're leaving in 10," he informed the two of you. You nodded, turning back around to watch the screen. "Give me one second, hunting Y/N down," Chris answered, his eyes focused on the game.

"Okay, but just-" Ricky started, when he was cut off by a laugh from his bandmate. "Ha! Game over, tiny. I win!" Chris announced, his statement followed by the sound of a gunshot from the screen.

"What??? NO-! Again, are you serious???" Your mouth hung open in disbelief, Chris's laughter still sounding from next to you.

"Better luck next time, small fry."

🎃 TAGLIST: @synthetic-wasp-570 @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @circle-with-me @motionlessindoubt @motionlessomens @tearfallpixie @bobateaandchocolatepudding @th0ughts-pr4yers @bxrnthyfears @talialovesmiw @cookiesupplier @beaker1636

[fandombandomfics]

Motionless in White One Shots/Preferences

Collection of Motionless in White One shots/preferences. Still on going and has 18 chapters so far!

Ao3

[beaker1636]

So no clue where this came from but it just happened like a month ago and I haven’t had the guts to post it yet but my friend Paige keeps telling me to soooo here’s a very smutty Chris fic.

Please be gentle, I don’t write smut at all, this is my first attempt. And I absolutely hate it despite paige and another friend saying it was really good. Also sorry if formatting gets fucked up, I type these on my laptop but can’t remember my tumblr password so I cut and paste it from a document on my phone into tumble so sometimes it gets wonky.

“Hey baby, I am sorry but things are not going how I wanted so I will be done late, we will have to move our date to another night. As soon as we finish this song I will come to your place and we can watch a movie or something,” you read the message from your boyfriend Chris for a second time, your mood instantly dropping.

This is the third time he has had to cancel date night in the last couple weeks that he has been home so that they can continue working on the new album at night. You understand that this is what he does for a living but you are getting really tired of this happening all the time. Honestly, it is making you start to feel like you arent important to him and that maybe he doesn’t want you around as much as he used to.

You sign, before responding to him. ‘Okay, don’t worry about coming over tonight if you are going to be late, you can go home and rest so that you are ready to work tomorrow.”

You get a response rather quickly, catching you off guard. “I want to come see you, I feel like we haven’t had any time together with both of our jobs.”

That message is what finally breaks you, that makes you snap and let out all your frustration in one strongly worded message that you send back.

“And that is somehow my fucking fault, YOU are the one who has cancelled on me yet again. Go fuck yourself, I don’t even want to see you tonight now,” you type out, fighting tears of frustration that are threatening to fall as you hit send.

You quickly shut your phone off and throw it on your living room table so that you don’t have to see what his response is. You had a rough day at work and really needed to be with him tonight but that doesn’t matter anymore, nothing matters anymore.

Storming off to the bathroom you start to wash your face of your makeup, its just going to get ruined when you eventually stress cry, which you know is going to happen. You also say fuck it and change into pajamas, theres no reason to be dressed up just to spend the night alone in your apartment.

You follow this all up with getting a large glass of wine before going to your room with your new romance book to read and drink your feelings away, hoping that it would give you a much needed distraction so that you don’t spend your night sulking about your fight with Chris.

About an hour later it has worked, you are so drawn into the story that you don’t hear your front door open rather hashly, nor do you hear the footsteps leading to your bedroom until your bedroom door slams open.

You look up and gulp when your eyes lock with Chris’, his eyes showing you very quickly just how pissed off he currently is.

“This is seriously what you have been doing while ignoring my texts and calls? Reading a book?” He seethes, glaring at you to the point you are uncomfortable and glance away.

Fighting the tears that are now threatening to fall down your cheeks, you decide to be quiet for a minute to think about what you want to say.

“Maybe if you actually made time for me and didn’t always put me second I wouldn’t want to ignore you.” You finally say, quietly, feeling rather small in the moment. You hate confrontation so to know that Chris is upset with you really has you anxious.

“You know we are recording and have deadlines we have to meet, I can’t just leave in the middle of a song,” He spits out, growing more frustrated.

Feeling like Chris isn’t even listening to you and not wanting to get yelled at even more you decide to go back to reading your book, this conversation can be finished once he has calmed down some.

This is the last straw for Chris however, who is not going to let you continue to ignore him. He storms over to your bed and quickly rips the book out of your hands in annoyance, his eyes scanning the text on the page that you currently had the book opened to.

“Seriosuly, you are ignoring me so that you can read about other people fucking eachother?” His eyes darken as they scan your face, watching for your reaction.

Finally having enough of his tantrum yourself you finally crack. “Yeah, I am. It could have been us if you would actually show up for a fucking date.”

If he wants to fight then fine, you will fight back. He doesn’t get to be a dick when it is his fucking fault that you are upset and fighting right now. You match his glare, not wanting to be the one to back down at this point, too riled up to give in. But slowly his glare turns into a smirk, and he makes his way to the other side of your bed, climbing in next to you.

“You want to read your book so bad, fine. Read it, out loud,” he challenges, thrusting your book back into your hands.

“What? No I…. I can’t. That just, what? No Chris,” you struggle to come up with a coherent response, feeling awkward and honestly embarrassed at the thought of reading out such a dirty scene out loud in front of him.

“Why not? You seem like you have plenty to say tonight, so come on. Put your words to good use and read it to me,” he teases you. Chris knows that if he pushes you enough that you will do exactly what he asks you to, because you always do.

“Ugh fine,” you grumble.

You know Chris well enough to know that he is playing some kind of game with you but what exactly? You aren’t sure.

“‘You’re already so wet for me,” he whispers, his tongue running flat alone the darkening marks along your neck. He drags his fingers up the length of your heat’”.

You cut off suddenly with a gasp as Chris slips a hand inside your pajamas and your panties to do what you just read to you, removing the garments from your body.

“Keep reading, you wanted to ignore me for your book so bad so lets see if you actually can,” his voice grows deep as he continues to tease you.

You suck in a shakey deep breath before you continue.

“‘What do you want me to do to you,” he asks, your thighs shifting around his wrist. “Hmm?’

‘To touch me,’ you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

‘You’re going to have to be more specific,’ he informs you. ‘And aren’t you forgetting something?’

‘Sir?’

‘Much better.’ He nod his head and you withhold a sigh, you’re never going to remember that. Before you can utter another word, two thick fingers are inside of you, you being wet enough to where he has very little resistance as he thrusts them knuckle deep.’”

You hesitate, swallowing as you try not to make a sound as Chris yet again does what you just read. You don’t want to give that cocky bastard the satisifation of knowing what he is currently doing to you.

He stops moving, glaring at you again. “You stop reading, I stop touching you.”

“‘ He pulls his hand back enough only to thrust them back inside you roughly, causing a deep whine to leave your throat at the sting of pain and pleasure, shivers immediately crawling up your spine.

He pulls away slightly, watching you under a heavy lidded gaze as his fingers continue to thrust into you, rough, forceful and unforgiving…”

You cut off, finally giving into Chris, whispering fuck this, throwing your book onto your bedside tabe before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

He resists, not giving you the kiss that you are craving so desperately.

“I always get what I want,” he says with a chuckle. “And don’t think that after the way you spoke to me that I am going to let you cum that easily.”

You try to hide your disappointment when his fingers leave where you need them most.

“Now clean up the mess you made,” he demands, holding his hand infront of your face.

You learn forward, taking his two fingers between your lips, tasting yourself. You decide to take your time to make sure you actually get them cleaning, hoping that maybe if you do what he says that you will get what you want from him. He removes them, resting them on your lower lip.

“Good girl, now tell me, how bady do you want me y/n?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours.

“Badly, please Chris,” you whine, deperate for him to touch you again, to take care of the ache that he has created.

He slides your shirt off, smiling at the fact that you had already taken your bra off when you changed, leaving you bare as he stands up.

“Then how about you show me how much you actuary want me,” he commands, making you shiver at his tone of voice. “Get on your knees for me baby.”

You don’t hesitate to get up and do just as you were told. Reaching out to open the button and slowly slide the zipper down on his jean before tugging them and his boxers down in one movement, his hard cock finally free much to his relief.

He tugs your hair harshly, pulling you forward and silently urging you to do something, anything, just as desperate as you are for what is to come.

You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft before running your tongue along the underside, only to then teasingly lick around his head tasting the pre-cum there before dipping lower, not missing any of his length.

“Stop teasing,” he groans at your actions, growing frustrated as you continue to do so. You want your revenge for him doing just that to you earlier.

You can’t help but smirk up at him, glad that you could make him crave you just as much as he makes you crave him.

Finally you decide he has had enough and take him into your mouth, slowly lowering as your hands strokes what you can’t quite take. He tugs on your hair to make you look up at him as you hollow your cheeks and start to actually bob your head, ready to drive him crazy like he does to you. His eyes meet yours as you take him even deeper.

“Fuck, I love how great you are with your mouth,” he groans, knowing that the praise always motivates you, makes you work harder in hopes of receiving more of it.

He starts to pull on your hair, taking control away from you as he urges you to go faster. You gladly let him, loving that he is making you do what he wants, taking what he wants from you with no restraint.

He groans, pushing deeper, your eyes watering as you keep swallowing around him, trying not to choke as he gets rougher and rougher with you.

His eyes close as he leans back slightly, letting you deep throat him as he shudders, getting right to the edge. After a moment his grip on your hair tightens again as he pulls you away from his throbbing cock, you gasping for breath.

“Get on the bed, hands and knees for me baby,” he growls as he helps you up, pulling his shirt off as you crawl on the bed, looking over your shoulder at him.

You tense in anticipation when he climbs up behind you, pulling you back towards him by your hips and making you both groan at the friction that it creates. His hands pull you up by your hair o that your back is pressed against his chest, leaving kisses that trail form your neck to your ear.

“I’m about to fuck you, hard,” he whispers as he reaches around, cupping your breasts before pinching your nipples which makes you jerk back into him, causing the much craved friction between you both again.

You fail to fully process his word as all you can think about is your want, no your need to finally cum.

He gives you a kiss before letting you go, you falling back on your hands as he enjoys the view of your ass and the fact he is able to have his way with you without you putting up much a fight.

He can see just how wet you are as it glistens in the dim light from your lamp. It pleases him to know how much he can make you crave and need his touch, that only he can do this to you.

He cam tell that you are growing impatient as his fingers make their way to your hips yet again.

“I bet you still want me to go home, don’t you,” he murmurs, not wanting to give you what you want just yet.

You glare over your shoulder at him, barely holding on to what little resolve you still have left, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how badly you actually crave him.

“Use your words y/n, I want to hear you beg for me before I even consider touching you. You wanted to use them so badly to get me to leave earlier” he demands of you, harshly thowing back your words from earlier in your face.

You still refuse to answer, which just frustrates Chris, so he harshly smacks your ass, instantly making you whine at the sting.

“I still don’t hear you.”

“Oh come on, you can clearly tell how much I fucking want you. Just fuck me already,” you groan, annoyed that he is making you do this. Any other time you don’t mind begging but the angry part of you is still holding on weakly, making you want to put up a little more fight that usual.

“Good girl, thats more like it,” wraping his fingers around himself, practically pulsing from how close you had him with your mouth.

Without warning he roughly enters you, making you gasp in surprise. You press your face in your arm, jaw clenching at the sudden sting from the action.

He starts out rather slowly, deciding that he is still going to tease you before he finally starts to get rougher and rougher with each thrust, pulling your body back to meet his with each movement.

You lose your breath and close your eyes as you get closer and closer to the edge. Enjoying that he is being so forceful that it almost hurts, loving this new and rougher side of Chris that you have not seen before.

He’s slamming into you with no restraint, pulling you right to the edge but still not giving you enough to actually cum yet, the need tormenting you at how close you are.

His fingers slip around your waist to tour clit, making you cry out from the pleasure as he enjoys the sight of the bruises forming on your hips from the hold he just had on them.

You suddenly clench around him, making him groan.

“Please, Chris, I’m” you cut yourself off, not able to finish what you are saying as you beg him for your release, knowing that the only way he would give it to you is if you do.

“Fine, cum,” he demands as he presses his body down into yours on the mattress. “Cum.”

You finally do, your vision going a bit blurry as you cry out, loud enough that Chris secretly hopes that your neighbors have heard you.

His rhythm slowly becomes erratic as he can’t take it anymore and spills himself inside you with a low groan “fuck”.

His arms slip around you as you both go limp, him gently rolling you over onto your back as you lay there for a few moments, catching your breath, still pressed together as you lowly regain control of yourselves.

He slowly pulls away, gently helping you get more comfortable as you let out a sign in exhaustion. You barely notice that he left the room until he returns with a damp washcloth, helping you clean up the mess that you both let on your now very sore thighs.

“y/n, do you need anything? Are you alright?” he asks after he finishes, laying down next to you in the bed, pulling you into his arms and bruising your damp hair out of your face.

You nod, not quite ready to answer his question.

He gives you a very gentle kiss, almost as an apology before speaking.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you, I promise that I will take tomorrow off to spend with you, just us,” he says softly, toying with your hair in the way that he knows you love.

“Thank you,” is all that you mange to get out, not feeling like any other words need to be said as you oth lay there, slowly falling asleep next to eachother, glad that the fight has ended.

[h0rr0rqu3en]

My babies 🥰💜💜💜

[horrorolson]

To Be Yours (Deal pt2)

Part 1

The man, because he is a man now, (again?) reaches out, and you sigh as his hand brushes against your arm, real skin against real skin. You lean forward, your forehead meeting a solid chest made from flesh and bone, with a heartbeat beneath it. His arms come up to hold you against him, and they’re warm against your back. His head comes to rest atop yours, and you can feel the weight of it. His chest rises with each inhale and falls with each exhale that moves your hair just the slightest bit. You wrap your arms around him in turn, hyper aware of the slight scratch of his shirt against them, the way it scrunches beneath your hands.

You just stand there like that, just holding each other, until your feet start to hurt from standing still for so long. You shift between your feet, trying to be subtle, hoping he won't notice and let go of you.

After a minute of this he pulls back, raising an eyebrow in question. “My feet hurt.” You grumble in explanation, pushing your face back against his chest.

He laughs, pulling you closer against him, his arms squeezing you, strong, but obviously being careful with you. After another moment he pulls away, taking your hand. He leads you toward the sitting area, bypassing the couch and falling into the overstuffed chair you favor, pulling you down into his lap.

You smile and roll your eyes at his decision, though you certainly aren't going to complain. You settle into the chair with him, your legs thrown across his, your arms wrapped around his torso and head resting against his shoulder, your lips ghosting against the exposed skin of his neck. He sighs in contentment, one hand holding onto your legs, fingers spread across the skin of your thigh, the other moving to run through your hair, soothing you rather quickly to sleep.

After a few minutes of indulging in a good pout, perhaps even a slight mope, you pull yourself out of bed. As your brain finally starts to wake up a little, you realize you seem to have slept in your clothes from the night before and you can't seem to think of why you would have done that. In fact, now that you're actually thinking about it, you don't remember going to bed at all.

You wake the next morning tangled in the blankets of your bed just like every morning. You sit up, looking for Chris, wondering if the night before could have been just a dream. You flop back onto your mattress when you don't see him, glaring at your ceiling in your disappointment at waking up alone again.

You eventually wander toward the kitchen, in search of breakfast, and more importantly caffeine. You make it through the living room and are about to cross into the kitchen, when you freeze, backtracking as your brain catches up with your eyes.

Chris is asleep on your couch. While the couch is perfectly comfortable for you to lay on, Chris is taller than you by no small margin, leaving him almost comically squished onto the cushions. You stifle your laugh, thinking how sore he's going to be when he wakes up, and wondering why he didn't join you in the bed.

You turn and head back toward the kitchen, starting coffee, and taking stock of your breakfast options (you really should go grocery shopping soon). You settle for toast and spread, and a mug of coffee for yourself and the same for Chris, though you leave both his toast and coffee plain for now, not sure how he prefers them, or if he even knows himself.

You leave the food set out on the table and go to wake Chris. You kneel next to the couch, shaking your head again at how uncomfortable he looks. You reach out and brush a few strands of hair away from his face, quietly calling his name. His hand flies up to grab your wrist, his eyes snapping open. After a second he processes that it's just you and he relaxes, releasing your wrist, a smile sliding onto his face. You start to apologize but he shakes his head, waving it away. “Good morning.” He whispers into the space between you, his voice gravely from sleep, and you find yourself again wishing he was there when you woke up, though breakfast would have likely been much later in the day if he had been.

“I made breakfast.” You whisper back, “Well. I half made breakfast. I have no clue what you like to eat. So right now it's plain toast and black coffee.”

He laughs and unfolds himself from the couch, groaning as he stretches, his back making a truly impressive series of pops that you're certain would have made you lightheaded.

As he sets about fixing his breakfast to his tastes (you can't quite decide if he knows exactly what he wants or if he's just picking things at random), you sit and sip your coffee, feet propped up onto one of the spare chairs. After he finally seems finished and also sits, your curiosity finally gets the better of you, and you ask why he slept on the couch when he would have been much more comfortable in the bed.

He finishes chewing his bite of toast before responding, “You fell asleep, and I knew you'd be more comfortable in your bed. I didn't want to assume I would be welcome.”

You reach across the table and take his hand in yours. “It was very considerate of you, but I wouldn't have agreed to your deal, to be yours, if I didn't want you with me.” He squeezes your hand with a nod and a quiet, "ok." and you let go, both refocusing to your breakfasts.

[holding-on-to-smoke]

Do you do imagines for Ryan Sitkowski of MIW?

Yes I do ☺️

[ch4p3lofbl00d]

Today's the day~Chris Motionless

Y/N Pov:

Today is the day, I'm going to get married to my true love, Christopher Cerulli or as most people know him by Chris Motionless. Yes, the Chris Motionless from metal band Motionless In White. Everyone found it shocking that Chris would date someone like me. I'm not a fashion model or a famous person. Like everyone wanted Chris to be with.

I'm just an ordinary goth, who works at Hot Topic. I'm into Halloween and all things dark and spooky. Not into pink and wearing uncomfortable outfits for magazines and trying to be someone else for people to like me. That's not who I am; I'm gonna be myself no matter what.

The amount of hate that I get from just being myself is fucking insane. Even from my own family, I get hate. They didn't like the idea of me dating a rockstar and me being goth, so they kicked me out. Then I moved in with Chris; we had already been dating for a few months, so we already had met each other parents.

To say that my parents didn't accept Chris was an understatement, they threw disgusting words and comments at him and that was the day that I snapped at them.

Flashback|

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!?!"

I heard my mom scoff and yell back "HE'S A FUCKING FAGGOT Y/N I'M NOT LETTING NY DAUGHTER GO AROUND HIM"

I rolled my eyes and quietly said "Yeah, like you actually care" that just made her even more pissed off.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU LITTLE BITCH AND TAKE YOUR DRUGGIE BOYFRIEND WITH YOU AND NEVER COME BACK"

I felt hot tears stream down my face as I turned and left her house.

Flashback over|

That was honestly the best decision that my mom had ever made if she didn't kick me out, then I wouldn't be getting married to my soulmate today.

I sighed happily, and looked at myself in the mirror. Chris had Angela Undead do mine and his makeup; he wanted me to feel special on our big day.

Angela did black smokey eyes with purple inner eyes. I loved it a lot! She was such a great makeup artist! Knowing Chris, he probably asked for his Cyberhex look. I laughed to myself and looked at myself one last time.

I looked beautiful; I never think that I look pretty, I actually feel and look pretty. I smiled to myself and heard Angela's voice "are you ready?" I nodded, and walked out to see Justin waiting on me.

Justin was gonna walk me down cuz I didn't have my dad to walk me down, so Justin offered to walk me down. I smiled and linked our arms together, and walked down the aisle.

As soon as I reached the end, I took Chris's hands and smiled at him. I didn't pay much attention to the ceremony. All I wanted to do was kiss him and be Y/N Cerulli.

Finally what seemed like forever, it was time. I felt soft lips smash onto mine, I wrapped my arms around Chris's neck and smash my lips into his. I could hear cheers from all our friends and Chris's family.

We both backed up, and quickly smiled at each other and walks down the aisle together. Hand in hand. I can't believe that I'm Y/N Cerulli Motionless now.