#ginger shut up challenge

[dudja]

Robin Williams Called Conan After The Tonight Show Ended:

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?

Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕

thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶

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| George Weasley x fem!reader

cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.

MDNI 18+

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You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.

“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.

You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.

But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.

“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.

“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.

“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…

You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.

“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”

You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.

He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

You nodded, clamping your lips shut.

The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?

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Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.

You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”

Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”

You grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.

A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.

The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.

“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.

His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, maling your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

“Merlin, I missed you.”

“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.

“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.

“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.

“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.

“Can I put trousers on first?”

Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”

You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.

“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”

“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.

George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.

“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.

George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”

“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”

It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.

“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”

Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.

“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”

You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

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Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.

“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.

He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.

“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.

“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.

“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”

“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.

“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”

“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.

“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”

“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.

You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”

“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.

“Don't fucking touch me—”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.

An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.

“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.

You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.

You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?

You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.

“George,” you said, and he looked up.

“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.

“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Why? They won't win without you!”

“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”

You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.

“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”

You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.

“Are you questioning my aim?”

“Just your sanity.”

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.

He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”

The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.

George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”

“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[koqabear]

hiii this is for the 2k event, i wanted to ask if u write hybrid!au cause yeonjun dressing up as nick wilde has got me feeling a little delusional. if u don’t completely ignore this but if u do, can i request fox yj and maybe bunny reader?

[2K Masterlist]

"Yeonjun is adamant that you’re a pretty, porcelain doll. You’re more than ready to shatter that idea and show him that you’re stronger than he thinks."

fox hybrid! yeonjun x bunny hybrid! reader // wc: 1.9K // genre: hybrid au, pwp. this is just straight filth im sorry. MDNI.

warnings dom!yeonjun, sub!mc, somnophilia (consensual), oral (f rec.) pet names (bunny, good girl), degrading, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, kitchen sex, manhandling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, aftercare kinda, girl idk i literally just dissociated when i wrote this i forget how exhausting this all is!!

Notes: the healthcare system is fucked even in fanfiction, you can’t escape. 

Every decision you’ve made throughout your relationship with Yeonjun has led to where you are now:

Face down, ass up, tears in your eyes and words muddled through the drool that spills through your lips. 

You’ve told him countless times that you’re not fragile; that the sweet, docile image he has of bunny hybrids is nothing but a sham, and that you can take anything he offers with a confident stride— and though he simply laughed in endearment and shook his head at your claims, you insisted. You insisted throughout all the sugary sweet times he made love to you, during all the moments where you felt his hands hesitate to hold you, as though he was afraid that putting pressure on your body would be enough to make you shatter. 

The words were tiring to both his and your ears at some point: the petulant whines asking for more, your pathetic attempts to try and take control and change the pace entirely— Yeonjun’s sharp, narrowed eyes that flickered at you in warning was the harshest thing you received from him— but judging by the shivers that flowed down your spine like water, your fluffy tail twitching in attention, you knew that your body only craved for more and your brain wouldn’t settle down until you got your way.

You could say that he warned you. He really did, technically, sitting you down for a serious talk about something you two never really discussed in detail. You watched with wide, slightly confused eyes as he explained to you that his heat was approaching, and that you definitely shouldn’t be around for it— when you perked up to interrupt, he merely shook his head to shut you down and continue his explanation. 

“I usually take medication, but my insurance no longer covers my usual prescription.” he told you, his ginger ears twitching in annoyance from the mere memory, “I’m taking a leave from work for it, and… I want to spend this time alone.”

“It gets intense… I don’t want to hurt you.”

A bruised ego and terribly confrontational personality was truly a god awful combination. Though you suppose it helped you for the better, considering that after a good argument with your ever-so loving and doting boyfriend, he finally gave up. 

You can remember the sight so vividly; his ruffled hair, the fluffy tail that whipped from side to side as he finally slumped back against the couch, out of breath and exhausted— his ears pinned against his head in defeat the moment he took a good look at you, in all your still fired up and energetic glory. 

He knew it was a losing battle the moment you cocked a challenging brow at him, as though begging for him to continue.

The word okay has never sounded better from your boyfriend's mouth. 

••••

That all leads you back to today. It’s been— oh, you really can’t remember. A day? Maybe two? You don’t think it matters at this point, since the only thing that fills your mind now is the feeling of being full, stuffed, and warm. 

Yeonjun gave you a chance to back out the second he opened the door for you. He spoke to you calmly, softly, nervously, watching you hop around his living room and throw your overnight bag on his couch, overjoyed to be taking such a monumental step forward in your relationship. You dismissed every slow, anxious sway of his tail as you ate dinner together, listening intently as he told you about how he’s gotten with his previous partners. 

It was too much for many of them. He gets aggressive. He gets insanely needy, it goes on for hours, even throughout the night. 

You prayed that he didn’t notice the pathetic clench of your thighs and slight arousal as he told you about his details, nodding sweetly when he asked if you were okay with doing the things he mentioned. 

You established a safeword, coddled him the moment you noticed his temperature beginning to rise, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as you murmured your goodnights. 

About six hours passed when you first felt it; you’ve always been a light sleeper, so you were doomed the second your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of restless rustling behind you. You tried your best to ignore it, your drowsy mind eager to go back to sleep, but the white noise of sheets moving around was quickly accompanied by something else— breathy, desperate gasps.

“Bunny…” Yeonjun’s raspy whine was enough to have your ear twitching slightly; more rustling, and suddenly, a scorching heat hovers behind you. “Bunny, need… need you s’bad…”

His hands are heavy on your skin, almost scorching with the way he restlessly makes his way up your shirt, groping at your tits before they slide down your stomach, feeling you up all the way down before they stop at your thighs— without warning, he presses flat against you, a hand snaking beneath your body to wrap around your stomach and pull you flush into him. He was so hard, so needy that the very feeling of your soft ass pressing against him was enough to rip out a broken sob from him.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, words that slurred together showing that he was also half-awake, probably not too aware of his actions and the way he rutted into you helplessly, “C’mon bunny, lemme use you.” 

Your ass that pressed back into him and the sleepy whine that left you was enough for him.

You can only remember drifting in and out of consciousness that night; the sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin and desperate grunts was nothing but white noise to you at that point— Yeonjun was glued to you for hours on end, fat cock thrusting harshly into your poor, abused cunt, filled with so much cum that it could only smear onto your inner thighs and his balls, leaving a mess you wouldn’t be able to clean anytime soon. 

When you woke up, you were on your back— your pussy was sore and a whine bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat, hips canting up and against Yeonjun’s face— your hands were shaky as you fisted the sheets, tears pricking your eyes as you listened to Yeonjun’s sweet nothings against your skin, leaving bites and kisses against your thighs as he promised you that he’d be quick, that he just needed to eat your sweet cunt— you’d get cleaned up nicely after. 

Yeonjun was a liar, of course— because none of his sweet promises included his burning desire to fuck you after you came, cleaning you up only to push his cock back in and fuck you right into the mattress; legs pressed against your stomach, wails leaving you as he plunged into you with abandon, frantic hands scratching down his back as you cried from the overstimulation— it only ended with him pressing deeply into you and emptying yet another load into your tired cunt. 

The semblance of normalcy that followed after didn’t last very long, either— yeah, getting carried to the shower and having him clean you up and scrub you down was nice, and sitting at the counter as you watched him make a quick breakfast was nice too, a heartwarming glimpse into a domestic future with him— but you were only able to get halfway through your meal before Yeonjun decided that he’d much rather bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there instead— moaning wantonly as he watched your trembling legs fail to keep up, buckling under his pace and forcing him to hold you up with his insane strength— and just when you thought he was getting tired, he simply flipped you on your back and laid you on the counter instead; he always did think you looked really pretty when you were totally fucked out, anyway. 

Maybe that’s when hours started blending together— he was sweet and caring when he needed to be, cleaning you up with a feather-like touch and kisses that warmed your heart— only to give you the whiplash of the century when his pupils dilated and the only thing he honed in on was you. 

You. You you you. 

His ears would press against his head and his tail would flicker dangerously, narrowed, focused eyes meeting your bleary ones with ease; you could only sit there and let him maneuver you however he liked, shivering and falling limp with each time he’d slide his cock into you, as though you finally felt complete. 

You looked so breathtaking to him— under him, over him, whatever position he suddenly found himself needing you in— teary eyes and swollen lips calling his name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for him to use your body until he got his fill.

There was something so addicting about the way you trembled from the overstimulation, sobbing and writhing yet never saying your safe word. It had Yeonjun fascinated, the guilty part of his mind berating him for trying to see how far he could take things— yet, no matter what he did or what he said, you only seemed to beg for more, like you’d been waiting for this moment for ages.

“Take it, T-take it like a good toy,” Yeonjun hissed, fingers digging into your hips as his cock battered into you ruthlessly. You merely cried and moaned, cotton tail wiggling with every drag against your walls, the soft fur coated with dried cum, “said you could handle it, right? Stupid fucking bunny— nothing but a cumdump for me, hmm?”

Your squeals and chants of yes! Yes yes yes! only spur Yeonjun on even more— his body feels as though it’s on fire, bright hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he merely pushes himself further— you can practically feel his back hover over your own, able to tell that he’s close from his faltering pace and shaky breaths that fan across your skin. 

“Want me to breed you?” he asks, though there’s no need to ask anymore if the previous loads he’s dumped into you are any indication of your answer. Yet he still does, almost like instinct; it’s much more satisfying to hear you beg for it, anyway. 

And you do— your begging is so cute, how could he ever resist? Yeonjun’s nails might break your skin with how tightly he’s holding you, teeth digging into his pouty lip as he pumps himself into you, once, twice, then empties out everything he has to offer— your back arches and your hips move back to try and glue yourself to him, crying out his name in satisfaction as he fills you for the nth time of the night. 

The way you keen out, the sight of your ears that are pinned to your head along with your tail that shivers with satisfaction is like drugs to him; he’s hopelessly addicted to you, to all of you, from your stuffed cunt that continues to suck him in to your soft voice that whimpers out at every sensation you offer him.

Such a good girl, Yeonjun thinks to himself, butterfly kisses spanning along your sweaty skin, your barely conscious form curling into him for more, how did he get so lucky?

Even after he’s given you a moment to rest, laying down with you on top of him, you still cling onto him, sighing in content as you allow him to cockwarm you, already bracing yourself for the moment he feels himself needing you again. And as you both drift into a much needed nap, Yeonjun can only find himself thinking one thing. 

Thank god for you and your argumentative nature.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[russo-woso]

Hot shots | Mary Earps x Russo!reader

Warning vomiting, think that’s it

Summary You and Mary try a challenge with your sister and Maya, but it doesn’t go the way you’d planned it

“Mary, you’re not actually gonna make us do it are you?” You asked your fiancé, Mary, as you sat down on her bed with your sister and Maya.

“Of course I am, babe. It’s good for us.” Mary explained and you shook your head at her.

“I can’t believe this. I hate you. I really do.” You said, lying through your teeth.

How could you ever hate Mary? How could anyone hate Mary?

“That’s a lie!” Mary exclaimed, as she set up her phone.

“I know. I could never hate you.” You told her, resting a hand on her back once she’d sat down next to you.

She threw her arm over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Stop it.” Alessia complained, pushing you off Mary. “You two can’t go one minute without your lips touching! It’s disgusting.”

“Less, let me kiss my girl.” Mary told her, reconnecting her lips with yours.

“Your girl is also my sister and I don’t like it when you eat her face off. As much as I hate her sometimes, I would still quite like it if she had a face.”

Instead of obeying to Alessia, you and Mary looked at her before reconnecting your lips.

“My god, you two are like teenagers! You can’t go a minutes without your lips on each others.” Alessia exclaimed, diving in the middle of you both to disconnect your lips.

“Fine, fine, let’s just start the video.” You said, much to Mary’s dismay, who wanted another kiss. “You’ve got all night to kiss me.” You whispered in her ear and a smile appeared on her face.

Mary leaned forward to start the video and you nearly fell off the bed, sending Maya into a fit of laughter.

As Mary sat back on the bed, Maya still laughing, she wrapped her arms around all three of you and began talking to her phone.

“Right. Hello, everyone. We’ve got a challenge for me, Maya, Alessia, and my gorgeous fiance, Y/N, today.” Mary began, introducing you all.

“You just had to get that in, didn’t you?” You asked her, rolling your eyes.

“Of course I did, everyone needs to know that you’re mine. Anyway, It’s a weird one today. Hot shots, like the hot shots we are.” Mary continued, and started to open the packaging, handing you each one bottle.

“What’s in them?” Alessia questioned, curiously looking at the bottle.

“Why don’t you do a presentation?” Mary suggested.

“Have you kept them in the fridge?” Alessia asked, laughing as she shook her bottle.

“She has. They’ve been taking up our whole mini fridge.” You said, shaking your head at Mary.

“Orange, lemon, ginger, turmeric, and cayenne.” Alessia called out, naming the ingredients in it.

After a conversation about how to say turmeric, it was time to try them.

“Right, rumour on the street has it, it’s got to be down in one.” Mary told us

“Mary, that’s too big to do it in one. Look, it’s 100mls.” You pointed out the obvious, turning your bottle to show her.

“I can smell that from here.” Maya said, smelling the strong scent from Mary’s bottle.

“You can’t say that because Alessia eats with her nose cause she’s a weirdo. She’s done it since she was little. I mean, who eats with their nose?” You said, purposefully trying to wind your sister up.

“Shut up, Y/N, it’s not my fault.” Alessia whined, nudging her shoulder, roughly, with hers.

“Right girls, to good health. Down the hatch.”

You all clinked bottles with one another before preparing to drink it.

“I’m not doing it all in one.” Alessia stated, you nodding in agreement.

“No, we’ve got to go for it. You both got to do at least half.” Mary compromised and you and Alessia nodded, agreeing to do at least half.

“You just need to keep swallowing.” Maya suggested and you took a deep breath, preparing for the vile taste to take over your mouth.

“3, 2, 1, go.” Mary counted down and one she finished, you all started drinking it.

You took one sip, before sprinting off to the bathroom, spitting it out.

You heard Maya and Alessia laughing as you rinsed your mouth out with water.

Mary quickly followed you, making sure you were okay.

Once you’d washed your mouth, you made your way back out and into the room.

“That was fucking vile.” You exclaimed and sat on the bed. “How did you finish yours? I’d be sick if I had anymore.” You asked Maya and your fiance as you noticed their empty bottles.

Alessia on the other hand, had a half full bottle in her hand, clearly only having a sip or two missing from it.

“Do you want the rest of mine?” Alessia offered Mary and Maya, pulling a face in disgust.

“Come on, baby, can you not just have another sip?” Mary asked you, and you shook your head straight away.

“I’m gonna be sick if I have anymore. That was the worst thing I’ve ever drank.” You stated and Mary laughed before resting a hand on your lower back, rubbing it in circles.

“Come on, Less, you’ve got to finish it.” Mary encouraged Alessia, whose jaw had fallen to the floor.

“So I have to finish mine, but as soon as Y/N says she can’t finish hers it’s okay?” Alessia asked, and Mary nodded.

“Of course, I’m not having a sick girlfriend.” Mary said and you nuzzled your head on her shoulder, smirking cheekily at Alessia.

“This is so unfair.”

“You alright there, Maya?” You asked the young girl who was searching frantically for a drink.

“Maya, tell the camera what you think.” Mary suggested and Maya sat down on the bed.

“It went up my nose when I started laughing. Because your…” Maya made a gulping sound which made you giggle. “…was really loud.”

“My gulp?” Mary fell back in laughter, pulling you down with her. “I quite liked it. I didn’t find it spicy.”

“I can feel it in my throat.” You told them and Alessia hummed in agreement.

“I can too. Like just there.” Alessia agreed, pointing to her throat.

“That wasn’t bad.” Maya stated as you clapped your hands in front of Alessia’s face, startling her because she was completely zoned out.

Alessia punched your arm, and you whimpered in pain, gathering Mary’s attention.

“Alessia, don’t punch her.” Mary lectured less as you run your arm in pain.

“She started it.” Alessia fired back, sending you glares. If looks could kill, you’d be on the floor dead.

“I thought that was quite easy. Challenge complete, no? I think you two failed because you haven’t finished yours. Clearly russos aren’t good with hot shots. It’s a good thing you’ll be an Earps soon.” Mary changed the subject otherwise you and Alessia would have kept arguing.

“I can’t wait to be an Earps.” You whispered, mainly to Mary as she looked down at you smiling before pressing your lips on hers.

As much as you loved kissing Mary, it being one of your favourite things to do, this time was different.

All you could taste was the drink on Mary’s lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna throw up.” You managed to get out as you ran to the bathroom once more, throwing your head in the toilet.

Mary came and rubbed your back, comforting you.

“Fuck. I’m never having one of them again.” You told Mary as you leant your back against the wall.

“You alright, sis?” Alessia asked, genuinely concerned, a whole juxtaposition to how she normally is.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’m traumatised of kissing Mary again now.” You said, lying a bit just to see Mary’s reaction.

“What? You don’t want to kiss me again? Nope. I’m not having that.” Mary panicked, immediately grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste to wash her mouth.

“Baby, I’m joking. Calm down.” You rested a hand on Mary’s cheek, rubbing it.

“I really want to kiss you.” Mary announced and you sent her a sympathetic smile.

“Brush your teeth and then you can.”

“Oh my god. You’ve just kissed her and now you want to kiss her again. I swear to god, you’re gonna have no face by the time you get married. Do you know what? I’m gonna go call Luca. At least he’ll talk to me without someone kissing him, unlike you. I’m his favourite sister as well so I know he’ll pick up.” Alessia said, grabbing her phone and began to walk out.

“Less?” You called out and she turned to face you. “Sorry to tell you but Luca’s told me I’m his favourite.”

“Go away, Y/N.” Alessia snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Mary had erratically brushed her teeth, immediately bringing you in for a passionate kiss as soon as she had finished.

Her hands roamed your body and landed on the hem of your shirt playing with it before sliding up and over your head, your lips parting for a second before connecting again.

Mary picked you up, your legs wrapping round her hips as she attacked your neck, light moans leaving your lips.

She began walking into the bedroom but your body tensed as you looked at it.

Mary felt your body tense up and stopped kissing your neck to look up at you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mary asked, her eyes following your gaze as hers widened.

Maya was laid on the bed, watching tv with a smile on her face, knowing exactly what she was doing.

“Maya, you fucking cockblock!”

[dollyyss]

The main four failing NNN

No Nut November. Just because it’s November and I think it would be funny :3

Established relationship. All characters are 18+

Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman.

Kyle Broflovski:

-He doesn’t actually have a hard time, in some way he participates and in some ways he doesn’t? He just doesn’t act on his urges as often as most would? Basically he knows to control himself.

-He finds it a bit amusing that you’re so “concerned” about it, honestly it’s not that big of a deal it’s just some stupid challenge.

-he curses himself for calling it stupid because now he’s sat on his bed with you between his legs staring up at him so prettily.

“Curse you y/n” Kyle groans. It’s not that this challenge was hard it’s the fact that you’re his girlfriend.. and he obviously has needs. He loves you for you obviously but the hormones of a teenage boy can be wild. “We’re supposed to be watching Ike..” you sigh softly and rub his thighs “he’s asleep it’s fine, ky if you don’t want to do this just tell me, if you really don’t want to fail.” You smirked gently and looked up at him, he gave you a sassy look. “Fail? I’m.. it’s a stupid challenge anyway, just.. just do it.” He stuttered gently and ran his hands through his curls before setting his hands to prop him up properly. Your fingers were quick to dance around the hem of his boxers, looking up at the ginger as you took out his length. Your eyes widened, you shouldn’t be in shock as you and Kyle have done things before, but they aren’t wrong about what they say about tall skinny nerdy boys.. they’re big. He looked to the side before side eyeing you and clearing his throat. “You stare a lot.” You quickly look up at him blushing “S-sorry sometimes it still shocks me..” he groaned and placed his hand on the back of your neck gently, rubbing his thumb on your skin “shut up” his hand found its way to your cheek, holding the side of your face to bend down to place a kiss to your lips, his member twitching in your hands. He was always so gentle.

Stan marsh:

-.. he’s trying so desperately to not fail. He wants to show you he can go without that stuff. But god does he fail so quickly. Stan never wants you to think he only wants you for sex, never. But he can’t help himself when you look so cute sitting on his lap while he plays games. Your arms wrapped around his neck, legs on either side of his waist while your head snuggles into the crook of his neck.

-he holds it out for so long but it all comes crashing down on him when you’re wiggling in his lap, nibbling on his ear while he try’s to keep quiet and focus on his game with Kyle.

“Baby, you’re moving too much..” he mutes his mic for a moment before going back to his game, while one hand was on his keyboard walking around the game he was playing His other hand rubbed your back. Your eyes peered up at him, smiling softly “sorry” you whispered. You laid your head back down on his shoulder, thighs softly squeezing either side of legs, your arms wrapped around his neck and played with the back of his hair. It wasn’t long before you moved again your clothed heat against his crotch making him clear his throat. It was when you whispered that he knew you wanted something. “..I’m trying not to fail..” you let out a soft huff and poured visibly “you wouldn’t even fail for me?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes causing him to lean back in his chair a bit “baby c’mon don’t say that.. you’re gonna make me feel bad..” you let out a soft laugh at his comment and watch him go back to focusing on his match. You thought for a moment.. “we don’t have to do anything I just wanna, feel you.” His eyes immediately snapped back to you, staring at each other until he was lifting you up so you slightly hovered over him, his hands quickly unzipping his pants and pulling them down as well as his boxers so his member was freely revealed, you were quick to push your pj shorts and panties to the side to sink down on him. Stan lets out a low groan, his two hands gripping onto your waist “relax baby” his lips find the corner of yours before reaching back for his keyboard and mouse and letting you bounce on him.

Kenny McCormick:

-fails without FAILURE MF IS FAILING THE MINUTE HE GETS A HOLD OF YOU OR EVEN HEARS YOU SPEAK. HE’S DONE FOR.

-everyone laughs at him because they can’t understand how someone can be so fucking horny, but they know Kenny would never participate and if he did he’d be failing the minute it his 12 am November 1st. That’s not what exactly happened but it did happy two days after. You had him staying over at your place and when your ass rubbed against him whilst you both laid down in your bed.. he was immediately taking your pants off, lips latched to your neck and thrusting into you like he was so desperate for it.

“Kennyyy” Kenny’s smile grew wider as he watched you tiredly walk over to him your arms open, eyes half closed and standing in his black slightly ripped tshirt. He smiled wide to show his missing tooth further in. His arms opened wider, letting you fall into his chest and move enough so your back was against him, ass comfortably sat against his crotch. He was quick to pause for a moment, looking at your bedroom door and looking back at the back of your head. His elbow propped him up so his eyes stared down at half your face. “What cha doing” kenny spoke in a soft playful tone. You cocked a brow slowly moving your head enough to look at him fully “laying down? What are you doing?” Not much of a verbal answer was needed when you could feel his member growing against you. “Kenny. You’re not even four days in and you’re gonna fail?” You question giving him a jokingly disappointed look. He looked shocked, but played along with you “how dare you think I Kenny McCormick would participate in such a challenge, that’s just not me” he looked at you again, chuckling. “Besides.. I can’t help myself when you’re pressed against me.” His hand slid between your legs pulling you much closer, fingers sliding under your pj pants and panties. “Mmm.. feeling up for it babe” you only shook your head playfully and lifted your bottom half a bit so he had room to pull down your clothing, revealing your puffy heat. He was quick to do the same quickly pushing himself inside and biting your shoulder. “Think it would be funny if you told the guys I was able to last through the challenge.” “Oh my god shut up and start moving”

Eric Cartman:

-surprisingly he does fairly well. Like actually super well out of all of them, he’s the one the can last most likely to the very end. It may be just be to spite Kyle, or to show him he can do things better then him.. but still he holds off for quite a while.

-if I’m being honest I don’t think he fails at all. Though he’ll beg you to show him things just to settle him, though you always refuse because he’d still be failing by looking at your naked.

“Just one peak” you sigh and look up at him, the movie in the background now paused “Eric if you ask me one more fucking time, you are seeing my boobs and that’s final” he looks back relatively shocked but rolls his eyes “jeez, someone’s got a stick up their ass. It’s not a fail if I just see them” “ERIC” he puts his hands in the air in defence and leans back into the couch “alright alright god damn, chill out woman” you cross your arms and look back to the movie to unpause it, you’re now about half way through when Cartman puts his arm around your waist, fingers dancing under it and on your skin “so like I don’t get to see like at all? Not even for a second?” “ERIC FUCKING CARTMAN NO”

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Pounding

Summary: Reader has a migraine, and Spencer wants to help.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.2k

The transition of seasons is something that has to be endured. It’s the time when you wake up to frost on your windshield in the morning but must remove your coat by the time you leave work. It is a painful time of inconsistency, especially for your sinuses. Not only with the pollen in the air (as well as on your car at all times) but the dryness as well. It causes your headaches to go from sometimes once a month to now twice a week.

And the first one happens this week, today. The migraine descended on you like a storm, brewing from your nasal cavities, its relentless waves of pain crashing against the shores of your temples. With each throb, the world around you seemed to blur and spin.

You shut the door to your apartment and let your bag fall from your shoulder, with no care with where it lands. Light, food, the smell of home is all too much to bear. With a sigh, you shuffle to the sanctuary of your room and bask in the silence while you can still control it. You unleash yourself from your business casual attire and fall into bed, nestling yourself under the covers.

The darkness relieves pressure, only slightly. It will probably be hours before it has settled, so you think it is best to call it a night now at 5:56 in the evening. There was no point in doing anything else as streetlights alone from the windows have proven to be enough to make the back of your eyes ache. You remained still, motionless, unmoved. Minutes could stretch well into hours without your knowledge.

Until the sound of the front door opened, cutting through the quiet. Spencer was home, which means it’s 6:06 now. The creaking floors from his aged apartment tell you he goes to the kitchen first, the sink runs, then his steps only grow closer to you until you can feel his presence at your back. “Migraine?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

It drains all energy and motivation out of you, so you merely nod in response. He’s more than familiar with severe head pain; chronic migraines that were resolved with a vitamin regimen. Fortunately, he has yet to complain about them bothering you in the year you’ve been together. And he never leaves home without them.

Unfortunately, this makes him eager to figure out your head pains. Last spring, he left out an array of vitamins in a pill organizer. They didn’t. It wasn’t an issue at first. It was clear he was trying to help. The downside of your boyfriend being a child prodigy and objective genius is that he will never back down from a challenge, even when you have asked him to. He can’t do it. Later in the month, he came home one day with an array of tea brands, mostly ginger and peppermint. He’s bought humidifiers, massaged the cartilage of your nose, and even consulted Reddit. It’s certainly worn down your patience, especially when you require complete silence.

“I can get you some hot compresses from the pharmacy if you want.” He jumps in completely. The last three words are merely to cushion the obvious; reiterating the point rather than saying something like, “I’ve had headaches before. I know how awful they are, so you should let me help you.” Which he’s also said.

You continue the annoying pattern by shaking your head with an audible moan. Opening your eyes hurts.

“What about nasal spray or decongestant? I can get those at the pharmacy as well.”

“I don’t need anything from the pharmacy. I took ibuprofen. Just need to keep my eyes closed.”

“Well, that can only help so much today. Saline will help encourage drainage and expansion in the vessels. Ibuprofen solves the head pain, not the root problem.”

“Unless the BAU can order planting fruit trees, it’s the best we can do.”

“What I’m trying to say is—”

You groan louder. “This isn’t a time for solutions, Spencer.”

Another unfortunate aspect of your relationship is that you can feel the way Spencer’s face softens from your tone. He then mutters out an apology, a brief sorry, but he doesn’t leave. He touches your shoulder and keeps his hand there until you turn to face him. And because you love him very much, you strain to open your eyes. You can make out a blur of his silhouette in the growing darkness, but still see clearly his glossy eyes and the quirk of his lips. “Can you do something for me first, though? Real quick?”

Before you answer, his hand slides toward your upper back, meaning you have to sit up for this. You were ready to say something along the line that he’s lucky you love him right now and leave it at that because thinking further made the pressure in your temples increase. 

You didn’t have to speak at all, though. Because Spencer is also holding a glass of water in front of you. You look up at Spencer’s puppy-eyed silhouette. “Not a solution,” he says softly. “It’s something you always need.”

Well, if that didn’t make you feel like an asshole. You accepted the glass without a word, feeling the coolness against your palm as you brought it to your lips. Each sip, at the very least, a distraction from the throbbing. Spencer watches you closely. You had no choice but to finish the whole glass. And you did, leaving Spencer satisfied enough as he took the glass and walked out.

You didn’t say a word. The sink ran again, and Spencer returned with another full glass. He doesn’t hand it to you, instead puts it on the nightstand before turning precariously on his heels. It takes you a second through half-closed eyes to realize he’s walking back out. You’re afraid to ask, wondering if you’ve made him too upset to talk. You push yourself and do so anyway, keeping your tone in mind. “Where are you going?”

Spencer turns on his heels once more, looking around momentarily like there were others in the room. He then looks at you. “I figured you wanted to be alone.”

You reach out, moving through the pain quite literally, and you catch the polyester of his cardigan just between your fingers and pull him closer until you can wrap your arms around him. You hold your breath, knowing the intense smell of his laundry detergent would be enough to collapse down to your pillow in further pain. His cardigan is soft against your face. “Do you have other stuff to do?”

He chuckles, his abdomen bounces. So, he’s not too mad. “I do not.”

Encouraged by his response, you tug him gently (and not so gracefully) into bed. He’s delightfully warm. Spencer kicks off his shoes in response before pulling you close. Then you bury your face into his chest, hesitant to breathe in the scent of cedar that clings to the cardigan. You try best to ignore it as you cocoon yourselves beneath the blankets, finding refuge in each other’s company amidst the inner turmoil that comes with spring. You listen to the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat, and find a fleeting sense of peace in the storm.

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society

summary: y/n receives yet another profession of love under their door—too bad the hallway is always empty when they open the door

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 591

i am back two years and one english degree later to write a fic that no one asked for! now that's what i call self care!

part two

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped it's students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope—one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."

~~~

a/n: who could it possibly be?? 🤯

part two

[bangchansdirty-slut]

A top! Jeongin x bot! Male reader. The male reader seduces jeongin by wearing tight boxers and thigh-high socks. The reader wanted to ride him with Jeongin wearing pants while he rode his dick. The reader also loves Jeongin to stay shirtless while humping or riding on him.

Thigh Highs

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: top! Jeongin x bot! Male reader

Genre: smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"Hey, Jeongin, you're home early," M/n called out from the bedroom, hearing the front door shut. Jeongin, his ginger hair a bit messier than usual, poked his head in with a tired smile.

"Yeah, had a bit of a break in the schedule today," he replied, tossing his bag onto the floor. "How's your day been?"

M/n stepped into the room wearing nothing but a pair of tight boxers blue and white striped thigh-high socks that hugged his thighs. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he approached Jeongin, who couldn't help but let his gaze wander over M/n's body. "It's been okay," M/n said, his voice a low purr. "But it's about to get a whole lot better."

Jeongin felt his heart race as M/n closed the distance between them. He reached out, his hand brushing against M/n's bare chest, feeling the heat and the firm muscles beneath the smooth skin. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

M/n took Jeongin's hand and led him to the bed, pushing him gently down onto the soft mattress. "I was thinking," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips, "about how much I love watching you move." He climbed onto the bed, straddling Jeongin's waist. "But I think it's your turn to watch me this time."

Jeongin's eyes widened as M/n began to slowly roll his hips, the fabric of his pants tightening around his growing erection. The sight of M/n's body moving in such a sensual way made him feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. "I want to ride you," M/n whispered, his voice barely audible. "But I want you to keep your pants on."

The request took Jeongin by surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He liked the idea of M/n being in control, and the added challenge of keeping his own pants on only made the situation more thrilling. He took of his shirt, laid back, his arms folded behind his head, watching as M/n reached down to pull his boxers aside, freeing his hard cock. M/n's hand wrapped around it, stroking gently as he positioned himself over Jeongin's crotch.

M/n's eyes never left Jeongin's as he lowered himself down, feeling the warmth and pressure of Jeongin's erection against his own. Jeongin bit his lip, his eyes hooded with lust as M/n began to grind their hips together. The friction through Jeongin's clothes was driving him wild, and he knew that M/n was feeling it too, judging by the way he was panting and his pupils had dilated.

M/n leaned forward, his hands planted on either side of Jeongin's head, and began to move in earnest. His muscles flexed with each movement, the tight fabric of his socks and boxers accentuating every line and curve of his body. Jeongin reached up, his hands sliding along M/n's thighs, feeling the power and control in his legs as he rocked back and forth. The tension in the room was palpable, a heady mix of want and need that was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic symphony of flesh against fabric that was punctuated by M/n's breathy moans. Jeongin could feel the heat building in his own pants, the pressure of his erection against the zipper becoming almost unbearable. He watched as M/n's face contorted with pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent cry.

M/n's movements grew more urgent, his hips snapping down with increasing force. Jeongin could feel the precum leaking through his own pants, making the fabric stick to his skin. He reached down, fumbling with the button and zipper, eager to free himself and feel M/n's bare skin against his own.

"Not yet," M/n breathed, his eyes snapping open to meet Jeongin's. "Let me enjoy this for a bit longer."

Jeongin nodded, his own need momentarily overridden by the desire to give M/n what he wanted. He watched as M/n leaned back, his hand still working his cock in time with their rhythm. The sight was almost too much to handle, but he forced himself to stay still, his hands gripping the bedsheets tightly.

M/n's hips rolled in a way that sent waves of pleasure through both of them, the friction from the boxers and pants creating a delicious tension. Jeongin could feel his own orgasm building, the pressure in his balls tightening with every stroke. He reached up to trace the line of M/n's jaw, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of his cheek.

"You're so beautiful," Jeongin murmured, his voice thick with lust.

M/n's cheeks flushed at the compliment, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his climax. He leaned down, capturing Jeongin's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues tangling together as their hips continued to grind. Jeongin could taste the sweetness of M/n's mouth, feel the tremble of his body as he grew closer and closer to the edge.

Their kiss broke, and M/n let out a guttural moan as he came, his cock pulsing in his hand, spurts of cum landing on Jeongin's bare stomach. Jeongin watched, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch, as M/n's body shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"Your turn," M/n panted, moving off of Jeongin's hips and sliding down his body. He took Jeongin's cock in his mouth, the fabric of his boxers still in the way, creating a barrier that only served to heighten the sensation. Jeongin's hips bucked upwards instinctively, his hands finding M/n's hair and gripping it tightly.

M/n teased him through the fabric, licking and sucking, feeling the heat and the pulse of Jeongin's erection against his tongue. Jeongin's breathing grew ragged, his body straining against the restraint of his own pants. "M/n," he moaned, his voice a desperate plea.

M/n sat back up, a wicked smile on his face as he looked down at Jeongin. "You know what you have to do," he said, his voice low and commanding. Jeongin nodded, his eyes never leaving M/n's as he quickly shed his pants, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, pointing straight up towards the ceiling.

M/n straddled Jeongin once more, this time facing away from him. He leaned back, pressing his ass against Jeongin's cock, feeling the tip slide along his crack. Jeongin's hands came up to grip M/n's hips, guiding him into position. With a slow, deliberate movement, M/n lowered himself down, feeling the head of Jeongin's cock breach his entrance.

The sensation was intense, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made M/n gasp. He took a deep breath, bracing himself as he continued to sink down, taking Jeongin inch by inch. Jeongin's eyes were on M/n's ass, watching as it swallowed him whole, the fabric of his boxers stretching tightly over his balls. He couldn't believe how tight M/n felt, even after all the times they'd been together.

Once M/n was fully seated, he paused, giving Jeongin a moment to adjust to the feeling. Jeongin's grip on his hips tightened, his nails digging into the flesh. "Fuck, you're so tight," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

M/n leaned back slightly, his hands on Jeongin's chest for balance. He began to rock back and forth, setting a slow, deliberate pace. The feeling of Jeongin's cock sliding in and out of him was exquisite, the friction of the fabric against his ass only adding to the sensation. He could feel Jeongin's muscles tense and release with each of his movements, the way his abs flexed and his chest heaved with every breath.

"F-fuck me," M/n whispered, his voice a mix of need and challenge. "Har-der."

Jeongin's eyes narrowed, the fire in his gaze burning hotter as he complied. He pushed up into M/n, his hips moving with more force. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a raw and primal symphony that echoed off the walls. The headboard of the bed began to thump rhythmically against the wall, a steady beat that matched the racing of their hearts.

M/n's breath hitched as Jeongin's cock hit that perfect spot inside him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through his body. He leaned back further, arching his back, giving Jeongin deeper access. The feel of Jeongin's bare skin against his own was electric, the heat of their bodies melding together in a way that made M/n feel like they were one.

Jeongin's hands moved from M/n's hips to his waist, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin just above the band of his boxers. He could feel M/n's muscles clench and release around him, the tight grip of his ass driving him wild. He began to piston his hips upwards, meeting M/n's movements with his own, the pace of their lovemaking increasing with each passing moment.

M/n's moans grew louder, his body moving in perfect sync with Jeongin's. He reached down to stroke his own cock, the sensation of being filled and pleasured at the same time overwhelming. His hand was a blur, his strokes matching the rhythm of Jeongin's thrusts. The room was a whirlwind of sensation: the feel of the cool air against his flushed skin, the scent of their combined arousal, the sound of their breaths mingling in the quiet of the afternoon.

As the intensity grew, M/n's movements grew more erratic. He could feel his orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in his stomach. "Fuck, Jeongin, I'm gonna-" he gasped, his voice cut off by a loud moan as he came, his body shaking with the force of his release. Jeongin's grip on him tightened, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt M/n's hole clench around his cock.

The sight of M/n's climax pushed Jeongin over the edge. He buried his face in the pillow beside M/n's, his hips bucking up as he filled M/n with his cum. His body was a taut bow, every muscle straining as he emptied himself into his lover. He groaned into the pillow, the sound muffled but no less intense.

M/n felt the hot spurts of Jeongin's release, his inner walls pulsing around the thick cock inside him. He collapsed forward, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his own orgasm. Jeongin's arms wrapped around him, holding him close as they both caught their breath.

"That was… incredible," Jeongin panted, his voice muffled by the pillow.

M/n chuckled, his body still shaking with the aftermath of pleasure. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, his voice filled with satisfaction. He leaned back into Jeongin's embrace, feeling the sticky warmth of their combined releases between them.

Jeongin kissed the back of M/n's neck, his breath hot against the damp skin. "You're amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration. M/n shivered at the contact, his body still sensitive from the intense climax. He turned his head to the side, capturing Jeongin's lips in a lazy kiss that spoke of contentment and love.

[aureatchi]

.🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WHAT A SCAREDY CAT ! — nakahara chuuya

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?” “shut up chuuya.”

a/n. it’s spooky szn !! so of course i need to write something fit for the occasion…so,, why not do it w my fav ginger-haired!

info. fem!reader. fluff. lowercase ✎. profanities. horror movies, drinking, small argument. it gets suggestive sjwsj, neck kissing. wc. 1.9k

“oh, this is so cute.” 

you and your lover both shared an eye for aesthetics. that’s why you gazed so proudly at the coffee table in front of you when you stepped back to see the finished product—the rounded table was filled to the curved edges with your favorite takeout meal, bowls of junk sweets to indulge in after, popcorn, two wine glasses, and accompanying of course, a bottle of wine. other than the food, there were two lit candles to set the ambiance of the space, and a jack-o-lantern chuuya had carved himself. 

all were organized beside each other to make it look like it came out of a pinterest post.

“i agree,” chuuya replied with a smug smile, also proud of your combined work. he joined you on the side. 

you grabbed your digital camera resting on your couch and took a picture of the cozy scene. 

“before it all gets ruined,” you chuckled. 

chuuya then took the camera, turning the lens towards the both of you. 

“let’s take a few together,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pose. you and chuuya were also wearing matching pajamas: black tees and halloween themed pants. 

“okay!” 

click! click! click! 

the trio included a picture of you holding up a heart with your hands as chuuya’s arm encased around you, a picture of you turned towards him with your arms around his neck (you realized the flash was very bright), and one more of you kissing his cheek. 

“awh!” you widely grinned as you looked through them, giggling to yourself when you noticed how the camera captured chuuya’s conspicuous blush in the last photo. 

“what’chu laughing at?” he asked, looking over your shoulder. 

“nothing, it’s just cute,” you replied, putting your camera away. “can we eat now?” 

“yeah,” he replied, motioning towards the snug sofa nuzzled with your cushiest of blankets.

you enveloped them around you as chuuya grabbed the remote control to browse movies on the tv. 

RANKED #1 HORROR MOVIE THIS YEAR!

“wanna watch this?” chuuya asked, hovering the selection over the movie. “i just realized we’ve never watched a horror movie together.” 

“yeah, if you want me screaming and retreating on your lap every five minutes.” 

“exactly,” he replied, smirking. “that would be nice⎯”

“too bad. i was joking. i don’t get scared easily.” 

you held an opposing smirk back, but in reality, you did get agitated easily, especially when jumpscares were involved. but you felt stubborn and didn’t want to give what chuuya wanted, so you decided to take it on as a challenge. 

and he seemed to sense your game too. “better not catch ya lying, doll. there’s consequences for everything.” 

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your face heating up, but he gave no answer to your avail. now you really had a challenge. 

“…whatever. i don’t need to know anyway. i’m not getting scared.” 

“hm,” chuuya said as he clicked on the movie. up popped a screen with the synopsis of the two-hour film, including all of the content warnings. 

…murder, blood, sudden jumpscares…

oh shoot.

chuuya pressed play, and immediately, the movie started.

…

the first twenty minutes were actually okay. there hadn’t been anything too much to frighten you yet⎯eerie music, corporate workers, and dark rooms were the only thing you had seen so far. 

“damn, when does this good?” chuuya mumbled, finishing eating the last of your main course. 

you were glad things hadn’t been intimidating to you so far. but you also knew your lover was awaiting for something to happen, something to cause him to win.

that wasn’t going to happen. 

you were snacking on the bucket of popcorn when suddenly, a creepy humanoid creature engulfed the screen, accompanied by a petrifying sound. there was no way to see that coming⎯there was no warning. you couldn’t help but squeal and jump slightly on the couch, the bucket of popcorn following. luckily, it wasn’t so much that it fell and made a mess. 

“o-oh shoot! chuuya, i thought i saw a spider!” you said right after the moment passed, turning your head and making it look like you were searching the cushions for a spider. you knew he was watching for your reaction the entire time. 

“spider, yeah?” chuuya asked, amused. “nice excuse, sweetheart.” 

you crossed your arms. “okay! that was a mild reaction! i didn’t jump on you so that doesn’t count.” 

“scared yet?” 

“nope!” you popped the p. yet, a shiver went down your spine.

you continued watching the movie. more horror started to seep in, grisly scenes causing unease. you weren’t sure if you preferred those drawn-out sights to the jumpscares, but you could hide your reactions better with the former. you hadn’t seen any more sudden clips yet, thankfully. 

“yikes,” you and chuuya said when a corpse got shot multiple times even after they already died and then mutilated. 

“i’m opening the wine,” chuuya said about an hour and thirty minutes into the movie. 

“alright,” you replied, not opposing. you probably even supported it. maybe if you drank a little, you wouldn’t scare so easy.

especially because you could feel the plot’s climax approaching. you were already suffocating a couple of pillows on your lap in anxiousness. 

chuuya poured the glasses and handed one to you. you quietly finished yours quickly so you could have it refilled. 

“oh shit!” you shouted when the main character suddenly made a super stupid decision⎯as you probably did too by pretending that you didn’t spooked⎯of course resulting in a chase by the disgusting creature that popped out of nowhere earlier. you clutched the pillows even harder, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. you needed to prove to chuuya you weren’t lying to him. 

the wine was not strong enough against the fear-fueled adrenaline that surged through you, paralleling the intensifying background music. 

stupid chuuya. he made sure the volume was cinema-loud. it did not help trying to drown out the creepy atmosphere that engulfed the entire room. 

the figure suddenly appeared in front of the protagonist with a dramatic scream.

“AHH!” you screamed too, but immediately bit down on your hand right after. 

but then it happened again. the main character turned a corner, and it popped up again, even more disturbing than the last time. 

“AHHH!” 

you screamed again, jumping on chuuya to try and bury your face on his neck. your heart was racing from the images you had seen. 

but he had other plans. 

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?” 

“shut up chuuya!” you replied, yet you still gripped tightly on his shirt. 

but then, chuuya pushed you off of him.  

“chuuya!” you tried to climb back on him, but something was preventing you from making contact with his skin. 

“…are you using gravity manipulation?!”

“i thought you said you wouldn’t get scared,” he taunted with a smirk. “eyes on the screen, brave girl.” 

“you’re so mean!” you shouted, but faced back toward the tv. he had even gone out of his way to use his ability to turn your own words against yourse⎯

“AHHH! WHATTHEFUCK!” 

you were already screaming as the creature finally caught the main character, but you weren’t alone as chuuya cursed and pulled you on top of him, horrified.

“DAMMIT. what the hell was THAT?” 

“put us down, we’re FLOATING!” you cried. it didn’t help at all that you were both scared and floating above all solid surface, even though it was only about three feet.

“s-shit, sorry!” 

he rested the both of you down on the sofa once again. you had missed most of the eerie epilogue, but you didn’t really care when your brain had now conjured a new character for your nightmares. 

chuuya poured the last of the bottle’s contents into your glasses and handed you yours. you finished the cherry-red liquid instantly to try to get some relief. 

you turned towards chuuya right after to see that he had done the same. and then, you broke out laughing. 

the ginger-haired raised an eyebrow and glared back at you as you continued to stare at him and snicker.

“i-i didn’t know YOU were a scaredy cat,” you tried to speak, but it was hard when you were overcome by laughter. your stomach was hurting and your chest was heaving, but you couldn’t stop. 

“shut up!” he shouted. 

“i-i can’t!” you replied, continuing to laugh. “how ironic⎯it’s one thing for me, but the port mafia executive? getting scared?!” 

you were only silenced when chuuya had pulled you on his waist once again. 

“if you didn’t think you were in trouble for lying, you definitely are now.” 

you immediately stopped, staring into his eyes. you had forgotten about his temper.

“wait, i’m sorry!” but your apology was futile because you were immediately lifted once again but this time, higher and alone.

“put me down, chuuya, i’m sorry!” you screamed, about eleven feet off of the floor. you really hated his ability sometimes.

“why should i?!” he observed you from the couch, trying to grab onto something but stuck inside a sphere of air. he would never try to hurt you, even while he was mad, but currently, his ego had been offended by your words.

“i was joking, chuu! i didn’t actually mean it⎯i promise! i’m sorry, i’ll make it up to you.”

you were slowly lowered, relieved once your legs hit the couch.

“i’m sorry,” he said, quietly after you had made sure you could stand on floor again. “i got carried away, plus you weren’t wrong.” he sighed at the confession.

“it’s okay,” you replied, straddling his lap. “that just makes the two of us scaredy cats. i think that’s cute.” you booped him on the nose.

“but you’re the bigger one,” chuuya provoked.

“no! you are!”

“you are!”

“you are!”

“who’s the one on my lap?” he asked, moving a piece of your hair out of your face as he smirked. “just as she foreshadowed earlier too?”

“shut up,” you replied, but he had gotten you where he wanted in the end. “want a trophy or something?”

“no, you’re just gonna make it up to me now.“

he pulled you closer, and kissed you softly, seeing if your reaction would allow him to continue.

you pulled back. “if this is what i have to do, that’s easy.” you leaned back in and resumed the kiss, lifting your hands to play with chuuya’s hair. you could still taste the wine on his lips⎯it made you feel even more high combined with the tension between you two as he kissed you deeper.

he pulled back for the both of you to catch breath and then spoke.

“you’re funny if you think that’s it, doll.”

he moved one of his hands to move your hair away from your neck and the other to cup your cheek on the opposite side.

he started kissing there, and then, sucking.

“…chuuya?”

“this is for lying to me,” he said, focusing on the spot. once he was done, he moved to another.

“and for making fun of me.” he sucked again, until your neck had two new red marks.

“…keep going.”

“yeah? want more?”

“yes. it helps me not think of that scary murderer in the movie.” chuuya laughed.

“alright, i’ll help take the scaredy cat’s mind off of the things that bring her fear.”

“hey! stop calling me th⎯”

you were silenced as he went back to what he was doing, until your entire neck was filled with shades of red.

reblogs are cherished. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal — including this post’s banners (they’re mine).

[yestrday]

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger— even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt. 

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

[chocsra]

if you’re ok with writing for multiple characters, could i request a platonic oneshot with chuuya and dazai x fem!reader who is apart of their “double black” (except ig it wouldn’t be double black anymore) and both mediates their arguments and instigates them? (maybe a snippet of friends to lovers between chuuya and the reader 🤭) tysm have a nice day!

"Unlit Cigarettes stained by Warm Lips"

15! Chuuya x gn! reader x 15! platonic! Dazai

A/N: ofc! yall i should keep my mouth shut bc i make too many promises i cant keep. HALLOWEEN IS SOON BTW AAAAAA

Content: stuck in a jail cell with your unfortunately idiotic subordinates, fluff, crack, mafia work, reader is MEAN, a little romance w chuuya, dazai may be ooc but i like to think that in this kinda dynamic he acts more like a normal teen, slight soukoku, smoking, lots of swearing, NOT PROOFREAD‼️‼️

"Missss.. [Y/N]s smoking."

You slap the lanky boy's shoulder harshly as you shove the cigarette box back into your sleeve, watching as your other subordinate's face contort in surprise as Dazai mockingly whines. "Ow.." he rubs his shoulder with bandaged fingers, the ginger next to him looks at you with amusement and confusion. "Where the hell did ya get that?" he asks, you sulk in annoyance from the whining bastard beside you, "Up your ass." a quiet click of the tongue from the ginger can be heard as you defy his genuine question.

Unfortunately, these two are your subordinates, your partners in criminal work, your associated murderers in the underground business. Even though Double Black is all scary and terrifiyingly violent, you thought they were a pair of funny, immature and idiotic assholes.

Dazai Osamu, a lanky, greasy boy wrapped in bandages, loved dying. Yes, he wanted to fucking die, but he doesn't. You sometimes question his skill of staying alive after that many suicide attempts, but it's alright, you suppose. The mafioso had messy brown hair and wore massive suits that did not fit him and constantly smells like dog shit. He claims he has a silver tongue with women but the only woman he 'has' is the front-desk suicide hotline lady. If somebody ever asked your opinion on him, you would answer.. "He's.. interesting."

Next is Chuuya Nakahara, a short, but strong arrogant boy who is frustratingly brutal. Veeery brutal. He's extremely competitive and takes every minor activity as a sweat-inducing challenge. Karaoke is a pain when he's screaming his ass off, simplistic cooking or baking is horrifiying because this shithead works like he's donating food to charity as if his fatass isn't going to inhale everything afterwards, and any sort of video game was devasting, any one.

He had short ginger hair and stormy azure eyes. His fashion sucked until Koyou, a fellow superior of yours knocked some sense into him. Chuuya had a rather small figure but fairly muscled. Yeah, he flexed his abs (ribs) in the mirror randomly. The boy loved fedoras, chokers and classic, fancy clothing that made girls scream 'DAMON TORRANCE 😍‼️' under his Instragram posts. If someone were to ask your opinion on him, you'd say: "He's an alright guy," with a shrug.

Some dumbass landed you three in jail for a reason you'd rather not speak of, and now you have to deal with the aftermath of waiting for your 'beloved' guardian, Mori Ougai to come bail you three out.

"Mackerel," Chuuya jabs Dazai's side, intensely glaring at him. "Why'd you get the guard's attention? I could've smoked." he hisses, causing the taller boy to snap back at him with an eyeroll. "Nah it's fine, I don't have a lighter anyway." you mediate the tension, boredly playing with the flimsy cigarette box in your hand. The redhead scoffs a little, leaning back in the concrete seat of the jailcell, impossibly manspreading further. "We could use Dazai's hot ass breath as a makeshift lighter.." Chuuya suggests with a smirk, the lanky teenager sassily scoffs, "Or rub pipsqueak's oily hair until it catches fire."

"Like- how would that make a fire?" you retort in amusement, "Have you ever been to a science class?" Dazai and Chuuya shrug in sync unshamefully,

"Was busy protectin' gangsta kids."

"Missed most of middle school 'cause of an attempt."

...

"Fair enough," you shrug back, fixing your hair. "Y'know, Boss is gonna kill us when he gets here." you add on, leaning your head against the prison wall. "I know, I'm not fuckin' prepared," Chuuya copies your movements beside you, loosely throwing an arm around your shoulder. Dazai's eyebrows knit in amusement and embarrassment at the sight, "Pipsqueak, you are NOT smooth." the ginger almost glitches as he flew away from you at those words, now chasing the brunette around the jailcell.

"'Playfighting between you guys is a fuckin' hazard, even for the mafia." you mumble, placing the unlit cigarette between your lips to feel the sensation once more. "This isn't playfighting! I'm gonna kill his ass!" Chuuya pants between missed kicks thrown at Dazai. "That's why [Y/N] thinks you give 'dog vibes'!!" the brunette retorts, bringing up a previous conversation based off you psychoanalyzing your coworkers.

"Why you!-" the smaller boy curses, flying off a wall aimed towards Dazai's head. "I'm not wrong though!!" you fling your arms up in surrender, smiling cheekily as Chuuya rolls his eyes. "After this fuckboy, you're next." You swallow thickly in slight fear. You swore you could hear walls crack and floors thump at the loud commotion, drowning out the poised footsteps towards your cell.

"Sir, are these your children?"

A kind, petite policewoman points to you three fighting like rabid animals. Mori Ougai, your tall, diabolic and terrifiying boss smiles fakely, watching his underlings fight in pure irritation.

"Unfortunately."

The tall brunette immediately halts as the ginger almost decks him in the face. Your hands stay frozen in the air as if you've been caught instigating a chicken fight.

Dude, you are so fucked.

[band--psycho]

Fred Weasley x Reader - At Last

For the amazing @beeroses who requested this story for my 3.6k drabble challenge!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Prompt - You kissed me last night / And you didn't stop me

“Just talk to him, Y/n/n,” Angelina urged as she pulled Y/n up the staircase towards the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“And say what, Angelina?” Y/n snapped back, trying and failing to fight against her friend's grip. 

“Y/n/n, you’ve liked Fred for as long as I’ve known you, and last night he kissed you, don’t you think that means something?” Angelina insisted, but her words only made Y/n sigh.

Y/n had had a crush on Fred Weasley since their first year at Hogwarts…and that’s why she was terrified to talk to him about last night. 

Gryffindor had won a Quidditch match against Slytherin; which meant that they were celebrating in typical Gryffindor style, with a party. 

And it was during the late hours of the party when most people were beginning to leave and go back to their dorm room, that Fred kissed Y/n. 

They’d both been drinking; that’s what gave Y/n the confidence to kiss him back like she did, with absolutely no hesitation.

But that’s also why she was scared; because all she could think about was that it was simply just a drunken kiss. 

A mistake. 

That’s why she didn’t want to talk to him.

“Fred, just the guy we were looking for,” Angelina beamed, letting go of Y/n's arm, watching as the ginger twins walked up the staircase.

“Am I just invisible?” George questioned, with a confused look on his face.

“Talk to him,” Angelina whispered in Y/n's ear before grabbing George’s arm,  pulling him away, despite his protests. 

“Y/n/n-” Fred began, but he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Y/n's voice interrupted him.

“You kissed me last night,” she stated, a shaky breath leaving her lips as her y/e/c eyes met his. 

“I did,” Fred answered softly, walking up a few steps so that he was closer to Y/n, “And you didn’t stop me.”

“Was it…was it a mistake?” Y/n stuttered out, trying to ignore how her heartbeat quickened when she realized just how close they were to one another. 

Her question caught him off guard.

“A mistake?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing in confusion as hers moved to the ground.

“We’d been drinking…”

“Love, the only thing that was a mistake, was that I waited so long to do it,” Fred admitted , raising his hand to her face, his index finger tilting her head up, so that their eyes met once again.

“But don’t worry,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, as he wrapped his other hand around her waist, “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

The last word of his sentence had barely left his lips before his eyes fluttered shut and he pressed his lips against hers, softly. 

Closing the distance between them completely. 

And just like the night before; Y/n didn’t hesitate in kissing him back. 

[starvsq]

୧⋆｡💄. doing their eyeliner .

featuring. Xiao, Al Haitham, Childe

notes. implied modern au, gender neutral reader, suggestive?

魈 xiao .

Xiao sighs and curses to himself. He had agreed to this, but now that it was happening, he wasn't sure why. He feels you brush his eyelid with eyeliner, causing him to twitch involuntarily. You chuckle and say, "It's just eyeliner, Xiao. Relax." You were sitting on his lap at the time, his hands resting on your thighs. "I know," he replies blankly as he tries not to squirm too much under your touch. “It feels weird.”

You rolled your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips betrayed the fact that you were secretly enjoying yourself. You continued to do his eyeliner, not saying anything but ignoring Xiao's gaze as it drifted away from you and towards the floor. Xiao’s cheeks turned red, embarrassment flickers across his face as he becomes aware of how close you are, how close your faces are, and he suddenly feels hot all over. He wonders if you can hear how loudly his heart is beating or see how fast his pulse is racing and tries to calm himself down by taking deep breaths.

His breath hitches, and he looks into your eyes. "....Are you almost done?" He asks, his voice a little shaky.

You deadpan. "We have a long way to go," you say, running your fingers over his cheekbones. “I haven’t even done your other eye yet!” Xiao blushes even more deeply, he’s going to be dead by the time you finish.

艾尔海森 al haitham .

Alhaitham sits there casually, his face relaxed as you sat on his lap. You chuckle at his relaxed face as you continued doing his makeup, one of his eyes opened and an eyebrow raised as he looked over at you in a slightly annoyed manner.

"You're not doing it right." Alhaitham observes, staring at you with a critical gaze. Your eyebrows furrow playfully in response; he's clearly noticed something. "I just started," you say defensively. "Give me a chance to show you how it is done before you can judge me." Alhaitham rolls his eyes at your response, but not protesting.

The silence in the room was deafening. You looked at Alhaitham, waiting for him to speak. But he didn't say anything. His expression was neutral and his body language nonchalant. It seemed like he had nothing to say to you. After a few minutes of silence, Alhaitham finally broke the silence. “Is this necessary?" Your mischievous smile returned as you replied, "Yes, very necessary."

Alhaitham pauses before speaking again, but you see a hint of approval in his eyes. "I don't see the point in it," he says blankly. "I can do it myself, you know." You frown; his tone sounds like he's about to challenge you again. "Just shut up and let me do it," you say with finality in your voice. He nods reluctantly.

His eyes drift to where you sat in his lap, then up again to meet your gaze.“You’re going to poke my eyes out.” “Hey!”

公子 childe .

Childe jumps a little when he feels your thighs straddling his lap, getting out your makeup supplies and starting to apply some onto his pretty face. His hands wander to your hips, holding them protectively as if you might try to escape before he's gotten what he wants out of this situation.

the ginger chuckles as you apply the eyeliner on his eyelid, and you can't help but ask a question.

You arch an eyebrow and ask, “Are you enjoying this?” Childe’s smirk doesn’t waver, it seems like it’s growing wider instead.

“How could I not enjoy it, Y/N?” You can feel your cheeks flush as you hear the teasing tone in Ajax’s voice, but you don’t mind.“You’re always like this, Ajax..”

He leans in for a kiss, but you pull away right before his lips can meet yours. “Hey, sit still!” you say as you pat his cheek. “You’re messing up your makeup.” Childe pouts, and leans back onto his seat.

"Can I kiss you after you finish my makeup?" He asks, his blue eyes peering into yours. "If you sit still, yeah." You respond, and his smile returns.

“I can’t wait, then.”

[lovelykil]

ohhmggg YOU HXH FAN?2!3?2 im so happy i love hxh and im looking forward to any stuff youll post out!

im not sure if you’re allowing hxh requests as of right now since ur still deciding, so can i req NNN w/ stan, kyle, n kenny? but y/n keeps trying to make them fail and acts innocent :3

─Headcanons─

main 3 x reader older ver.

hc; trying to make the 3 fail nnn

cw; I think u alr know

note; HELPP why didn't I think of this?? omg. Also YESS I'm writing for hxh as of now :3 if you have any requests tell me if it's a killua one I might explode (good thing) I love lobelobelovelbvevvevwv him 😣🙏🏾 ⤵

Kyle─

I swear I feel like there's was an ep about this but I just don't remember..

anyway

I feel like Kyle wouldn't participate in such an activity because he's too busy with school and NOT pumping out white stuff from his genitals.

He thinks nnn is dumb 🤷🏾‍♀️

"if you think nnn is so dumb why don't you participate in it ky?"

"because I have far more important things to do."

"I think you're bluffing."

"bluffing? Please. I could easily pass it but there's no significant reason why I SHOULD participate in it."

Your brow rose with an amused grin.

"You think you can? Alright, let's test that."

"🧍‍♂️wha-"

He should've never spoken.

Attempt 1.

Desk.

sweat pearls drip down the sides of his face, his mouth hung open letting out weak, gentle noises into your ear, his eyes in daze as you suck on his bare pale skin.

You mark up his neck tracing down to breathe onto his collarbone making him shiver as he attempts to write.

He struggles to give in to your OBVIOUS teasing, he said he could pass this stupid challenge but..

this boy is such whore for hickeys. Your warm breath on his sweaty skin is driving him insane.

"y/n.. stop.. I'm serious.." He begs in a whisper, dropping his pencil to grip the sides of his chair.

You lean away with an innocent smile, having your arms around his neck.

"what?"

"you know what."

"I'm afraid I don't?" You picked at his hair. The ginger leaned away from your reach and shook his head.

"Off."

"huh"

"get off"

"why"

He sighs heavily, looking at you. You smile again, a mischievous one.

He picks up from his lap and sets you on his bed.

"I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you make me lose." Kyle leans down to your level, his eyes staring into yours. You bit your lip mischievously with a giggle, you leaned closer.

"You're so cute when you're serious."

He rolled his eyes in response and got up. You laughed watching him walk away back to his desk.

"You look adorable with those hickeys thoughhh"

"Shut up"

Once your laughing died out you sighed softly, watching him do his studies.

you're gonna lose broflovski mark my word.

Did he actually lose or were YOU bluffing?

🧍🏾‍♀️🤔

FIND OUT NEXT TIM-

jk there will be no next time

Kyle is pretty tough, he can hold his 'urges' I guess pretty well

So it took awhile for a second you were just gonna give up but if it weren't for his basketball game lost 😙

He got home and dragged you to his room, locked the door, laid you on the bed, and looked down.

"you win."

"I did?-" your face grew hot, surprised.

he inched down to your exposed neck and breathed. His pale, strong slender hands began to venture down your shirt.

You felt immense butterflies tackle your tummy, causing you squirm a little.

"You wanted this didn't you? Stop acting so scared." He whispered softly yet in such a sensual way that made your body get goosebumps.

"oh god."

Stan—

HELP why do I see him being so confused to what the hell you are doing kissing him all over and shi and he is just like

🧍‍♂️

"what tf are you doing"

tbh I don't see him failing because he does not care to participate like Kyle except he just doesn't wanna

I'm not saying this because I totally had no idea what the hell to put for him, nooo 👩🏾‍🦯

I'm sorry if I was a Stan girlie I would so know, but I love his bsf 🤗

nah but I'd say if you were going to make him fail do it while he's drunk.

He's vulnerable.

With your hands roaming around his chest, you on his lap and the intense eye contact with your grin he's bound to give in with all that alcohol in his system.

He just kinda forgets about the whole nnn thing not like he cared though.

"Soo you lose this month?" You leaned away from his lips. His drunken eyes left your lips and into yours. He graced his thumb along your wet lip.

"Lose what? The nnn thing? Sure whatever."

"Oh so I wi-"

"I said whatever, now c'mere I wanna fuck you to a deftones song."

"o-oh?"

😫😫.

Kenny—

DO I EVEN..

DO I EVEN NEED TOO-

SAY

ANYTHING?..

As SOON as you start to tease him to make him fail

He ALREADY FAILS

he actually failed on the 2nd day cause he thought of you while pleasuring himself on accident

He was trying to edge but he failed lmao

anyway

This man had no intention of really doing this challenge either 😭🙏🏾

Not because he didn't care, didn't wanna no.

Because he loves having sex

Why would he stop for a month? That's torture.

He gladly gives in to your teasing, actually teasing you back.

At first your rubbing yourself on him, bottom to crotch with no care type shi

Next thing you know he's rubbing his tip against your clothed throbbing cunt. Begging him to slide it in already.

"Oh but you wanna tease me, huh?" He smirks, rubbing your legs softly.

You whine, pleading some more until he gives in.

He was bound to lose anyway 👩🏾‍🦯

[little-emerald-snake]

Hate Sex - Sebastian Sallow X Leander Prewett

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Warnings: m/m, prewlow, dom!sebastian, sub!leander, rough sex, name calling, unprotected anal sex, mentions of condoms but no use

1k words

Leander slammed the door to the bathroom open, crossing the threshold while pushing his thumbs deeply against his temples. “Holy fuck, Sallow. Drop it already. I said I was sorry I got knocked out of the duel early. I told you what happened over and over. I can’t change it. So why the fuck are you still taking the piss out of me?”

Sebastian was hot on his heels, sleeves rolled up, robe and tie abandoned with his blind Slytherin companion back at the arena. His freckles stood out against the reddened skin of his anger filled face. “Because Prewett, nobody gets this far in Crossed Wanda only to lose by tripping over his damned school robes. I told you to take the bloody thing off anyway. You cost us a lot of fucking points…”

Leander rolled his eyes, thankful the Slytherin was still behind him and couldn’t see his reaction. “What is screaming at me going to do?” He finally turned to face the brunette in the middle of the bathroom. “I can’t fix it and you can’t keep bloody going on about this forever? Are you looking for a fight?”

Danger flared in Sebastian’s eyes and he ate the distance up between them. Leander readied himself for a fist but only let his eyes widen in surprise when the freckled face in front of him changed. His brown eyes now showed a different kind of heat he’d never seen on the Slytherin before.

Before he could ask, Sebastian pushed Leander against the sinks, strong freckled arms wrapping around him as their lips connected. Leander stayed absolutely still, trying to get his brain to catch up with the drastic change of pace.

Finally his eyes slid shut and his hands wrapped around Sebastian’s broad shoulders. Sebastian grunted, pushing harder so the gingers back slammed against the tap behind him.

Leander whimpered into the kiss, pain lancing through him but not enough to break his hands hungrily sweeping over the muscles under the shirt of the man kissing him.

At the sound of voices outside they broke apart. Faces flushed with shame, hair ruffled from greedy hands, and trousers tight with the electric excitement coursing through them.

Sebastian cleared his throat, stepping back a bit and casting a glance around the bathroom. Were they even alone in there? How careless could he have been. He quickly casted a spell to see if anyone was in the room and upon finding it empty save for them he casted a locking charm on the door. “Shall we continue arguing or do you want to take the punishment?”

Leander knew he should deny him and leave while he could. But everything in his body yearned for the Slytherin to touch him, he craved those fingers that sent fire racing through his veins.

He nodded, ignoring his better judgment and choosing to continue with whatever path they were careening toward. Sebastian stepped closer again, boots echoing off the bathroom walls around them. “Turn around and pull down your trousers.”

Leander reddened. “Why me? Why don’t you take my cock?” Sebastian just raised a brow in challenge which caused Leander to deflate a little. Sebastian chuckled. “This is your punishment for causing us to lose. Now. Turn around.”

Leander bit into his lip, swallowing harshly while undoing his trousers and turning around. He pulled them down just enough to make room for Sebastian. The brunette crowded up behind him, pushing down on the back of Leander till his chest met the cool porcelain of the sinks.

Sebastian hummed in satisfaction, undoing his trousers. “I should go get a condom before I fuck your tight ass but I want to feel every second of exacting my revenge on you.”

Leander sighed in relief when Sebastian muttered a lubrication charm behind him. He felt the slickened blunt tip of the Slytherin’s cock nudge his entrance and swallowed nervously.

Sebastian prodded his entrance again. “Stop clenching. Just let me fuck you already.” Leander blew out a heavy breath as finally Sebastian pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Leander squeaked, teeth gritting at the intrusion.

Sebastian groaned, slamming his hips forward into Leander, keeping one hand on the ginger's hip and the other slid up to the center of the back, keeping him in place. “You’re lucky your ass feels so fucking good right now or I’d still be going off on you.”

Leander moaned, tightening around Sebastian and drawing a groan from the man above him. His hips slammed harder causing Leander to have to hold the mirror in front of him to keep his head from slamming against it. “E-easy…”

Sebastian chuckled, somehow fucking him harder. “What…can’t take it anymore pretty boy? Don’t want me to yell and can’t take me fucking your ass this good? I guess I've been giving you too much credit, Prewett.”

Leander whined. Partially from the brunette's words and partially from the directed thrust of Sebastian’s hips into his prostate. His cock twitched and Sebastian hummed, fucking him harder. “That’s it, cum from my cock fucking this tight ass Prewett.”

Leander moaned weakly. “Sh-shut up, Sallow.” Sebastian chuckled, slamming his hips into him harder.

Leander tightened, biting into his hand and moaning as he spasmed around Sebastian. “Ah! I’m gonna cum! Fuck!”

Leander crumpled against the sinks, cock twitching as he came, making a mess of the floor below them. Sebastian chuckled, pulling out of him and admiring the mess he’d made of Leander.

Leander looked back, trying to compose himself as he took in the view of Sebastian moving to a nearby sink to wash himself off. “W-what are you doing? You didn’t…”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. I didn’t. That’s okay. Just means you owe me for later. Go clean yourself up and next time…” Sebastian took a step closer. “Don’t wear your robe while we duel, Prewett.”

Leander pulled his pants up, leaning against the sinks as Sebastian’s boots echoed their way out of the bathroom. “What the fuck…”