#gnc reader

[mggsv]

The French Kiss

gn!reader x dean winchester

summary: Turns out..you’ve never kissed anyone before, to Dean’s surprise, so he teaches you.

warnings: none! fluff, first time kissing, intense kissing, heavy touching

“Oh come on- you serious?” His mocking laugh made to shrink more into yourself. Sitting there wearing an oversized sweatshirt that covered your legs. You sat there on Dean’s bed in the bunker, only you two in the home-like place. “I’m serious.” You muttered.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“No.”

“I find that to be bullshit- Have you seen yourself?” That made you shiver. You look up at him, face flushed in embarrassment. He popped open a bottle of water and came closer. “I know i’m hot. Trust me, i’m well aware.” You scoff, “doesn’t mean I just go around kissing people, unlike some of us..”

He rolled his eyes at that, taking a seat next to you, “Well, don’t just sit there- come on.” He motions you forward and your body moves on its own, scooting closer to him. This whole thing- You and Dean, it was new to you. For years you kept to yourself until a case brought you to the Winchesters. Since then, you’ve been inseparable. It was only recently you started to feel something for Dean..seeing him in a way you’ve never seen before.

It was days like these in the bunker where you two just talked comfortably- that’s how it started. Your talks together..just You and Dean.

You lean forward, lips puckered, ready to kiss him. But he laughs, “Dude- okay come on. We have to set the mood. Loosen up a bit huh?” His hands move forward, grabbing your chin. Your hands shook nervously… His thumb grazed your cheek, his other hand gently coming down on your thigh. “It happens naturally..” He murmured, lips close to yours. “So I’ve heard.” you swallow nervously, eyes looking at his as they fluttered shut.

“Close your eyes.” you hear him groan. your eyes flutter shut, and then you felt it- Dean’s lips pressed against yours. You couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out of your mouth. His lips move against yours. It felt strange, you felt light but your heart heavy. Your hands grip his shirt, and he pulled back.

“Well?” He asks, hands still at your thigh, skidding up.

“Is that it?”

“Oh we haven’t even done french kissing.” He laughs as you catch your breath. Dean lays your body back on the bed, slowly hovering over your body. “Let me know if this is too much okay?”

“..Okay.” you murmur, wanting his lips back on yours. “I’m gonna do something different- and if you don’t like it then-“

“Kiss me already please Dean, god.” That makes him laugh and his lips are back on yours in an instant. Your body felt hot, at the touch of his hand going from your thigh to your hip. His thumb grazing over the bone gently. They ran over the stretch marks, making you gasp. Dean took that opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips.

It made you jump- the feeling strange and new. But he’s gentle…something you didn’t expect from Dean in any way possible. His tongue slips over your own, like a blanket. He damn near swallows your mouth whole. He lets out a small grunt, and you could tell he held back some.

You kissed him back to the best of your ability, even when your teeth bumped against his- he said it was okay- you still kissed. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t help but let out a small noise when he pulled back. His lips red, yours swollen.

“Well?” He asks, looking down at you with a small smile. “How was that for our first lesson?”

“First lesson?” You pant.

“Well yeah, doesn’t just stop there.” He scoffs out a laugh

[mommycity]

Phone sex with ftm geto ughhfdbbnj imagine he’d put the phone on face time and show you his still naked body, hoodie between his teeth and his pajama pants brought down around his thighs. He looks so fucking sexy as he pulls his pussy lips apart showing you how wet he is. It’s almost hypnotizing till he finally groans out “m so horny baby look”. His clit is so swollen and red, his lips so fat with little trimmings of hair. His pussy clenches around nothing and you can visibly see him getting wetter from being watched.

“Play with it sugu” and thats all he needs. His fingers will rummage through his soppy wet folds and anchor themselves to his clit. Fuck he’s so beautiful. Just wanna see sugu moan about good it feels. He’s arching his back panting,”m a good boy? Please fuck me pleaseee” over and over.

[heyhelloitsmilo]

couch cuddles

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moon system x gn!reader

word count: 666 (nice)

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✨ might be a little ooc, getting back in the rhythm! owed a steven fic so heres one :) my IOU is paid

⚠️ warnings: milo standard fluff, show accurate depiction of DID, petnames used (lovingly)

💛 pairings: steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader, jake lockley × reader, moon system × reader

💫 summary: pillow talk/mornin cuddles

🎶 music i listened to: A Man Without Love, Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Kiss Her You Fool

=========

You stirred to the feeling of warm breath on your collarbones, neck cricked from sleeping on the couch. You groaned softly, opening your eyes against the morning sunlight, greeted with a sleeping Steven, nestled up on your chest. Being light sleepers, it didn't take long before Steven woke up, your hand in his curls, breathing quietly in the cozy apartment. It seemed the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch after watching some Ancient Egyptian documentary. Marc had been co-con for a while, at least while the gods he knew were involved, but he'd been long gone. Jake? Nowhere to be found. Or just quiet.

"Mmn..." Steven hummed, resting his face in the crook of your neck, hugging your side. You giggled softly, feeling his stubble against your skin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "G'mornin' love..." He mumbled into your skin, eyelids fluttered shut, hand around your waist. You smiled, nestling your face in Steven's hair, kissing the crown of his head, gentle and sweet. "Good morning, Steven."

The two of you stayed like that, legs tangled, hands gently caressing one another, the sound of birds outside coming through the window. You sighed softly. Slow weekend mornings like these were always nice. Khonshu leaving the guys alone, at least for a little while, experiencing peace and quiet.

"We should get up and eat soon." You mumbled, face still in Steven's hair. He groaned softly, shaking his head. "I know... but a lit'le longer couldn't hurt, right?" You nodded with a small chuckle, gently rubbing your hands up and down Steven's back. "I didn't say right now. But yes, we can stay cuddled up for a bit longer." You felt Steven melt under your hands, more than he had already. It made you smile, knowing how comfortable you made Steven and the guys. It made you very aware of how much they trusted you, how much they valued you. And it made you feel nice. They held a spot in your heart, just as much as they held spots in their hearts for you.

You tilted your head to the side, fixing the soft cushion beneath your head, watching your partner as he relaxed. You appreciated every detail, the way his chest expanded with every breath, his pretty eyelashes, his nose, the way his curls framed his face. You loved it all, cherished it all. You pressed a gentle kiss to Steven's forehead, smiling as he playfully scrunched his face in response.

"You're so cute..."

"I'm not cute, you are."

"Nah, you're way cuter."

"Can we agree that you both are cute and eat breakfast?" Marc spoke up, sounding a bit done with your little banter. It made you crack up, your shoulders shaking as you stifled your laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, grumpy." You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Good morning to you too, Marc. And Jake if you're listening."

"He always is." Steven said after a moment, coming back to full consciousness. "...We really should eat breakfast. I can hear your stomach gurgling."

"Maybe." He wasn't wrong on that front. You were hungry. And you'd be damned if you didn't wanna get up and eat. But... the couch cushions and the cuddles were so cozy... You wanted to get up and stay put simultaneously. Conflicting feelings. "What're we feeling for breakfast, anyways? I think we still have those vegan sausages in the freezer, pretty sure we have pancake mix, cereal, fruits, oatmeal... Lots of options."

Steven watched as you rambled, supposedly finding the whole thing adorable, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "Hmm, sausage and pancakes sounds nice... Cut up some strawberries if we have 'em..." His voice was still gravelly from sleep, thinking about food with you was nice. He gently pressed kisses to your jawline and chin, loving and soft with every touch.

"Mmnh...." You smiled, tilting your head back into the armrest, allowing Steven more access to your neck.

"Five more minutes?"

"Of course, Steven."

=========

masterlist/intro

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i love fluffs (short n sweet <3)

hope you enjoyed!

- milo 💛

[defectivevillain]

darling i do

pairing: Percival Graves/Reader

The reader experiences gender dysphoria and is implied to be transmasculine/nonbinary/gnc. no pronouns are used and race is ambiguous.

summary: You’re having a bad day, but you don’t want to burden Percival with the details. Unfortunately for you, he is rather perceptive.

word count: 1.4k | ao3 version

This is extremely self indulgent, but I hope my fellow transmasc/nb/gnc folks find solace in this piece. :)

also i'm using this gif again and no one can stop me.

warnings: gender dysphoria

You hear the exact moment Percival gets home—not because he’s loud, but because you’re sitting in the living room waiting for him. You greet him with a soft smile, pretending the gesture doesn’t take an unreasonable amount of effort. “Hi, Percival,” you remark. 

“Hello,” he remarks, the tension seeping from his shoulders as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. Percival takes his bag off and hangs it on the hook near the entrance, before doing the same with his coat. “How was your day?” He asks.

“Alright,” you remark, pushing past all the self-deprecating thoughts running through your mind. You don’t want to burden Percival with the details. “How about you?”

“It was good,” Percival replies, bending down to remove his shoes. “The department’s starting to get pretty busy—sorry I’ve been home late these past few days.” His lips are pressed in a thin line and there’s an apologetic look on his face. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” you’re quick to reassure him. Percival is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after all. His work is important. “And don’t forget—we have leftovers from takeout the other night.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, taking a few steps forward. “Thank you.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before walking to the fridge. You watch him for a moment, before settling back on the couch. The television is on, but you find it hard to focus. A maelstrom of apprehension, dejection, and dysphoria is swirling around you. 

You don’t want to acknowledge your feelings. Unfortunately for you, Percival is rather perceptive. He’s an Auror, after all. Not to mention, the man has high emotional intelligence. You’re not sure why you even bother trying to hide from him in the first place. 

For an immeasurable amount of time, you let the light from the television wash over you. At some point, you hear Percival get up from the table and wash his dishes. Before you can attempt to slip away, he’s standing before you. “Something wrong, love?” Percival asks, moving to sit next to you on the couch. His attentive gaze nearly makes you crumble right then and there. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“It’s nothing,” you murmur, looking down at your clasped hands. You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your thoughts hidden. Somehow, your feelings must show on your face regardless, because Percival frowns. 

The man places a hand on yours, prompting you to look over at him. “If it’s making you feel like this…” he breaks off, concern written all over his face, “It has to be something.” You still can’t find the words. Your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth; you can’t even begin to describe the confusing torrent of emotions rushing through you right now. 

Percival is stubborn, though. “What is it?” He implores. 

You inhale slowly, feeling as if a giant spotlight is searing through your skin. Sentiments of inadequacy and wrongness refuse to leave, clinging to your skin uncomfortably. You don’t feel right today. “I don’t like my hair,” you eventually answer. Indeed, you’d spent the better part of the walk home from work looking at the people passing you, wondering why you couldn’t look like them. 

“Why?” Percival asks. He doesn’t look disbelieving or skeptical—he simply wants to understand. 

“I don’t know,” you choke out. In reality, you do know. You love your hair, you really do, but for the past few days, you’ve been perceived as the opposite gender more times than you can count. While you’ve already taken steps to socially transition, it doesn’t feel like enough. Your hair seems like the easiest thing to change, and your dysphoria has narrowed in on it as the source of the problem. If your hair were shorter, you’d look better. If your hair were shorter, you wouldn’t be mistaken as someone you’re not. 

“You sure?” Percival continues. His hand remains on yours, providing a reassuring pressure. His gaze hasn’t wavered since he first sat down next to you. The recognition makes your eyes begin to burn. You stare at him, before silently leaning forward and embracing him. Percival is quick to reciprocate, tugging you closer until your head is nearly buried in his shoulder. 

“I’m not sure,” you whisper against his shoulder. It comes out muffled, but Percival seems to understand regardless (as he always does).

“What can I do to help?” He questions. That is just one of the many reasons why you love Percival. Rather than scrutinizing your feelings or trying too hard to understand your experiences, he focuses on assisting you above all. He doesn’t treat you like a puzzle that needs to be solved, doesn’t make you feel irrational or unreasonable for having bad days. 

“My hair,” you choke out. “Can you help me cut it?” 

Percival blinks. “Of course,” he responds without hesitation. He places a hand on your shoulder briefly. “Let’s move to the bathroom.” Percival says, eyes flitting to the door down the hall. You get up from your seat and walk over there, knowing he’ll follow you. 

Moments later, you find yourself sitting on the nearby chair with Percival standing over you. His gaze wanders your face before settling on your hair. “What length are you thinking?” He asks. You’re briefly overwhelmed by appreciation, at the way he immediately moved to help you in whatever way he knew how. You forget that he’s waiting for an answer until he repeats himself.

“Short,” you say, avoiding his eyes. 

“Very helpful,” Percival smiles mirthfully. You huff past the tightness in your chest. “How short?” 

“I don’t know,” you respond helplessly. “Just… really short. Almost a buzzcut.” 

The air is quiet for a few seconds. “Are you sure?” Percival asks. You know he’s not questioning your decision; rather, he’s clarifying that you want him to be the one to do it. 

“Yeah,” you say, your throat feeling tight. There’s no one I trust more than you, you think. 

“Alright,” he says. “Ready?” Percival stills and holds his wand up towards you. You nod silently and he takes a deep breath. “Crinus Muto.” You close your eyes and ignore the strange chilling sensation that runs up your spine, knowing it to be a mere side effect of the spell. It should only take a few seconds, but you keep your eyes closed for a few moments after. For some reason, you’re scared to look. Fear strikes through you as you imagine how horrible you could look. What if you don’t have the right face shape? What if this haircut just makes everything worse? What if-?

“You can look now,” Percival says gently. 

You stand up and slowly open your eyes. For a moment, the light assaults your eyes and you’re squinting. Your vision clears soon enough, leaving you to take in your new haircut. “I-” You break off, feeling your lips pulling at the edges as you stare at yourself in the mirror, “I love it.” You’re smiling now. You bring a hand up to your hair and continue looking in the mirror. Your reflection looks… like you. You look more comfortable, more confident. You can’t hide the grin on your face. For a minute or two, you simply stare at your reflection in awe. As you’re looking in the mirror, you accidentally make eye contact with Percival, who is looking at you with an unreadable expression.  “What?” You ask self consciously. 

He blinks for a moment, as if waking from a trance. A smile grows on his face. “You look wonderful,” Percival admits, reaching out to run a thumb along your temple and across your new short hair. You don’t say anything, but your skepticism must show on your face, because Percival is quick to continue. 

“I’m serious,” he maintains. Percival brings his hands to your face again, turning your head to the side to get a better look at your new haircut. He brings you back with a delicate hand on your jaw and you feel flames race across your skin as you see the expression on his face. Percival looks absolutely lovestruck. Smitten. Surely that isn’t for you—surely that look isn’t because of you. “You look… incredibly handsome.” He confesses. At first, you suspect that he just said that to make you feel better. But the way he’s looking at you—the way he’s holding you—convinces you that the compliment is entirely genuine. 

“...Thanks,” you remark hesitantly. And you’re sure Percival knows that you’re thanking him for more than just the haircut. You’re thanking him for understanding you, in a way few others have even bothered to. You’re thanking him for his endless compassion, his determination, and his unwavering faith in you. 

Percival smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Any time, love.” He promises. You take comfort in the unshakeable knowledge that he truly means it.

Me: *includes pet names a total of two times in this story* Also me: this feels like too much.

grAHHHHHHHH where is Percival Graves. I need him like SpongeBob needs water.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian

[abbertionaldyke]

adrian chase/vigilante headcanons

forgot how much of a bbg he is ugh

black plus-size gnc reader

includes sfw and nsfw situations

listens to music inside his helmet

loves to collect those aprons with bodies printed on the front—any type of body at that

neurodivergent !

rambles a whole lot about random shit and redirects the conversation at least ten times before getting back to the main topic

he’s so sassy like you really can’t be going back and forth with him and expect to have the last word

sandals w no socks + flexes his toes a lot (stimming)

so papa-coded

mask on/off sfw = heavy eye contact

if he’s flustered with his mask on/off he’s gonna look everywhere but at you and will be sneaking glances

^actually it depends. he can be very heavy eye contact being flustered tew hmmm.

he’s so feral and unhinged

likes to bite you

is a jokester mostly but can turn it off in an instant once you give him a certain look

giggles a lot

touch starved lord. when’s the last time he got a hug

^gives long tight hugs + buries his face in your neck

likes to touch but the first time y’all went out his hands only hovered near your body, his demeanor hesitant

very clingy—both as a companion and as a lil boo ting

likes pda when it’s initiated by you

a brat. kinda hard to tame lmaooo he’s a good tease.

^starts off talkative then turns into a mess of whimpers and incoherent words.

begs easily. like you really don’t gotta do much intimidation once his brat battery runs out

sleeps with his mouth open

actually purrs when y’all cuddle

good big spoon and little spoon

checks on you a lot when y’all decide to sleep separately

is a really good cook—watches the cooks at the diner he works at a lot

loves to feed you + watch you eat

easily flustered by ordinary things you do

definitely gets turned on by your bouts of aggression and moments when you take control (outside of intimate settings)

so when y’all are on missions, his adrenaline gets paired with arousal

and after he’s v unhinged have mercy

gives off stalker

that's bc he is! and he doesn't deny it when caught

ending it here but more parts are to come :3

[alphasunpup]

Feedist Kinktober Day 15- Slasher/Guardian Angel

Once again, you're thr last standing survivor of a horror camper

Ready to fight against the slasher villains and then there's a bright light and you're whisked away

You wake up in a cabin, your injuries bandages up nicely and a bowl of hot food with some whiteish soda

You eat the food, liking the nice feeling it gives as it sits in your tummy. You take a sip of the soda and the flavor reminds you of that milkis soda

Once you're finished, you decide to explore the cabin

You find a beautiful angel cooking in the kitchen. They don't touch the ground. Their wings are tucked close to them and you have the sense there are more eyes than you can see

They notice you and sit you down for another bowl of stew this time with some bread as a starch to help you heal up. They explain to you how they were your guardian angel and rescued you.

You try to remember what happened before but everything is white and fuzzy. So you take their word and est your food. They explain that they would let you go once they felt it was safe for you to return back to the human realm

You don't question any of it. You're tired and need the food and sleep. This goes on for some months maybe years, time doesn't exist or matter anymore.

You're so much fatter now. Your belly folds over itself, covering any hopes of reaching your vagina. Your flat chest filled out so much it's hard to see your top surgery scars.

You ask your guardian angel if it's safe to go back to the camp or the human realm on general.

They give you a sweet expression, their brown doe eyes warm and inviting. And they tell you gently, not yet. That they would protect you until the danger passed.

You take their word and go to sit down and have your 2nd dinner of the evening

Of course the danger would never pass because they weren't going to let it

Sure being this slasher person and killing humans was so beneath them. But if it meant getting to protect you from humanity and watching you plump up, it's worth it then

[taking-a-footnote-in-your-life]

Does anyone know any December writing challenges?? I wanna try and give myself some motivation and accountability 😭💀

[space-cowboys-and-aliens]

Off The Case

Jim Hopper x GNcoworker!Reader

Private love confession, coworkers, mutual feelings, clueless!reader, age gap (legal), height difference, bossy!Hopper, behind closed doors, surprisingly emotionally vulnerable!Hopper, affectionate!Hopper, praise!kink, not beta’d, no use of Y/N

Applies to Stranger Things 1-3

Summary: You’ve hidden your feelings towards Hopper for so long, it’s hindering your work. He notices you haven’t been the same recently, and becomes dead set on making it right.

Word Count: about 750

Rating: M (18+)

Minors do not engage

Hop and you on a case. 

You have been acting weird recently: avoidant, withdrawn, melancholy. Not fully yourself. He can tell something is eating at you and he finally pulls you away from the investigation.

One day, he leads you into an empty conference room while you both are at the station.

He knows you are probably going through something you do not want to talk about or mix work/personal.

So he tries to give you time off the case.

Back on desk duty for the moment, which you do NOT want, insisting you are fine even if it will keep you away from him.

He keeps getting frustrated that he cannot do anything to help you. Still asking if this is serious, if you are sick, or having guy troubles (bristling at the thought).

“No, and you can’t make this go away.”

“Why not? I’m the Chief of Police,”

he smirks.

“Because.”

You look up at him, straight in the eye. Your lungs feel like they are about to buckle and your stomach drops to your tailbone.

You find you cannot hide anymore.

Lowering your voice-

“Because you’re the guy who’s giving me trouble, Hop. And I can’t make that go away, no matter how much I’ve tried.”

Do not break eye contact do not break ey-

“I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for far too long now, a stupid amount of time.”

His eyes have been widening with every word, eyebrows following further up to his hairline.

“And I know it’s stupid, I’m just a kid-”

your voice breaking a bit but you recollect.

“With a stupid crush. Who will grow out of it eventually, I know. I just need time, but that hasn’t been working so far,”

you started out of the room.

“I apologize if it affected my work and my performance here. I never meant for it to and had no idea-”

Jim grabs your hand, preventing you from packing any more files into your briefcase.

“Stop talking.”

Stern like you’ve only heard a few times before.

You turn to look at him, your hand still engulfed in his.

He uses the other to lift his hat from his head and drop it. He shakes his head softly.

In a whisper, air punched out,

“Stop talking,”

as he moves in closer to you.

And before you can respond, his lips reverently join yours in a crash that splits atoms in your skull. You barely get any oxygen in before his hands are moving up the sides of your face, mouths meeting over and over again until you try to pull away.

“Jim, don’t-”

“Stop. Talking,”

he gasps, desperate for your taste more so than any air passing between the two of you.

“Stop talking,”

his fingers gripping the back of your head.

“Stop,”

arm trailing around your back.

“Talking,”

deep inhale as he finishes the word.

Like he was trying to breathe you in. 

You moan and melt into him. He lets himself fall into the chair behind him where he does not have to bend down to get to you, standing at his eye level now.

He finally breaks away to take you in, hand running over and through your hair, eyes shining ardently. “My angel,” he whispers. “You’re an angel, you know that?”, he says. Looking at you this way, you know he believes it. You cannot.

“I never, ever thought I’d hear you say that to me,”

cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead, then temple, cheekbone, eyelid, nose, forehead, hairline, until he drags you onto his lap and you clamor over his spread thighs. 

His hat had long gone to the floor behind him for you to rake your hands through his hair, resting your elbows on his massive shoulders. 

He kisses you like you are his last drink before a marathon, nails digging into your hips. Like you would disappear if he does not keep you here. And you feel like it, too.

“Wanted you for so long,” between kisses

“Felt so wrong for it,” he confesses.

main masterlist

[hollowtakami]

Welcome to my blog! ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

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┊ ◦ ABOUT HOLLOWTAKAMI;

-> KOFI | COMMISSIONS | MASTERLIST | AO3 <-

-> COMMS OPEN | REQS OPEN ★⋆

★⋆ ┊ . ˚ hi! you can call me keiji/duckie! i write fics of my comfort characters (sfw + nsfw)! they’re pretty self indulgent, but if they put a smile on someone’s face, that’s pretty neat.

★ ALL NSFW POSTS COME WITH A WARNING BEFOREHAND! ★

i self ship with keigo takami! he is my boyf and i love him very much! ^-^ i am not comfortable with sharing him :)

this blog is a big comfort for me, but i hope you find some peace in it too <3

my fics are written for mainly (trans) male and/or g/n adult readers, so please be mindful of that! though, i can write for all genders through asks/requests!

-> likes, follows + asks come from satostar <-

-> art by doodlingpanda (commission, do not use!) <-

COMFORT CHARACTERS; ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

• KEIGO TAKAMI -> this blog is very hawks-centric, so me writing for other characters is pretty rare :)

• Satoru Gojo

• Giyuu Tomioka

• Rengoku Kyojuro

• Bokuto Koutarou

• Akaashi Keiji

• Oikawa Tooru

•Daichi Sawamura

(subject to change/more to be added)

[mggsv]

I feel like Spencer would be big on praise, specially from reader- being the one to give it to him the most.

I like to think when they have sex, reader’s mostly on top of things. They whisper to sweet, sweet little Spencer while he moans out at the praise falling from your lips. How your hands hug his waist perfectly while you kiss the skin there, telling him just how beautiful his slutty little waist is.

Or when you take his cock into your mouth, how you look up at him with most enjoyment. How you kiss the tip, all the while letting Spencer know just how perfect his perfect little cock fit into your mouth.

Maybe it’s when he’s finally fucking you. How his face is buried into your shoulder while you tell him how much of an amazing job he’s doing..pressing spots only he can reach. How your hands always find his beautiful hair, letting him know just how much you loved the smell when he’s tucked into your shoulder..and how you liked to pull it.

Perhaps it’s when you’re both done and he’s cleaning you up that you whisper how much you love him, and how full you were and proud of it. How he’d blush and fidget around like he didn’t blow into you before.

[mommycity]

SatsuSugu who rub their leaking angry cocks together while thinking of you. Gojo is whining saying how pretty Geto looks, so frazzled and red. Geto’s grip on both of their lengths only tightens when Gojo tells him how you sucked him off two days ago

[weebsinstash]

Ok I'm sorry one more yandere Valentino thing because I think about this man more than I should even though I'm 100% building a vision in my head that's probably nothing like whatever we finally get to see in January

He would absolutely say some nasty and I mean RAUNCHY shit right to your face just to watch you squirm but I love the thought of him like losing his temper and saying something the lines of "you're lucky we aren't still alive or I would've knocked you up by now to keep you in line"

cause like. It's a typical Abusive Male Trope yeah, yeah, but for him it almost has a deeper meaning because, he's the emotionally detached bitchy petty catty asshole who's just a big sex loving manwhore, and here he is talking about PREGNANCY? to KEEP YOU AWAY FROM OTHER DUDES? It's about 🤌 the attachment 🤌 the possessiveness manifesting in new behaviors 🤌

Valentino is looking around at all his other conquests who he whores out to fucking LOSERS for cash like Angel Dust is having to blow people in their cars and meanwhile TO YOU completely unapologetically Val just puffs a cigar, blowing hearts in your face "you're lucky your ass can't get pregnant anymore cause I'd make you have my son on your hip and let all these other motherfuckers know you're taken" like??? Imagine him whipping this comment out of fucking nowhere??? Or it's a threat because he thinks you're a being a brat? I'm normal about this man, I'm normal, I'm well adjusted, I don't constantly think about how he's like over 10ft or something unspecified and he'd just be an absolutely terrifying force just being able to jealously cuddle and grab you with 4 arms alone, god knows he probably has powers or something as an Overlord, it's fine, I'm being normal over here, this is A Normal Person's Blog and he's just a nice man who is definitely respectful to women 🙏

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Adventurer NSFW Headcanons

*You are responsible for your own media consumption*

Mentions of: Dumbification, intimate dreams, bongage, choking, praise and degradation, dry humping, use of the word "slut", masturbating

General:

- First thing to note about Jesse: he is panromantic, meaning he adored his darling for how and who they are. Does he have sexual urges? Yes and those sexual fantasies of his darling develop as he descends into his obsession. Does that mean he feels like he NEEDS to have sex with his darling? Absolutely not. Give him a fleshlight and his darling's undergarments and he's good to go. Would he want to have sex with them? Yes but if they ain't into it, they ain't into it, but that's fine because he just wants to spend every waking minute being with them.

- Jesse is definetly a switch. Yes, he'd love to use his whip to tie your hands above the bed and watch you squirm underneath him in pleasure but he also would love the idea of waking up to see you straddling him and looking down at him with hungry eyes.

- LITERALLY DOESN'T CARE IF YOUR EXPERIENCED OR NOT, HE IS COOL EITHER WAY. If you're inexperienced then he'll try be as gentle as possible, softly guiding you through it and showing where to touch and helping you. Will absolutely stop in the middle of sex if you have any concerns and it's amazing how goes from seductive to listening to you so patiently and smiling softly at you as you speak on your concerns and he tries to reassure you as best as he can or tweak his whole approach and once you're all good, he goes back to being seductive.

- If you're pretty well experienced, he is absolutely excited to see it for himself. Would love to be beneath you even when he's the one domming/topping because he wants to see if he can make you experience an orgasm like you've never felt before or touch you in ways you've never been touched if you let him.

- Jesse would feel an extreme amount of guilt at first. He wakes up in a coldsweat in his tent in the jungle because he had an erotic dream about the two of you and he just pants softly before he rubs his face and tries to shake it out of his head.

"C'mon, Jesse, the hell's wrong with ya?"

- He knows he has feelings for you at this point, he just isn't yet aware of how dark they are. In the beginning, he'd try to wake himself up as fast as he could when he had those dreams but the deeper he becomes obsessed, the more he allows himself to indulge in them.

- You wouldn't know about this either, since he's very good at treating you same as ever. He might be easily flustered around you a lot more but he plays it off as just lack of sleep from researching and adventuring and thats why he's so weird and out of it. But then you look away and he just stares intently at your ass and shakes his head and goes back to what he was doing.

- If you happen to leave an article of clothing or something in the archives of the university you both work at, like a scarf or a jacket or anything else then it is his now. First he would put them over his pillow and cuddle it and pretend it was you but then one night he had one of his damn dreams again and well, he felt absolutely pathetic as he used it to try and get rid of his boner. When he returns it after it loses your scent, he makes up something like that it was in the lost-in-found but really dirty so he took it home and cleaned it. His heart soars when you smiled and thank him but frowns when you ask: "Jesse, you're honestly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for!"

"Aw, shucks, darlin'...That's-...That's real sweet of ya."

- WHEN YOU TWO FINALLY GET TOGETHER, IF YOU WANT TO EXCITE HIM: use the keys you have to get into his house and wait for him nude. He'll come home, tired and exaughster but when he walks in the bedroom and sees you there with your legs spread nice and open for him. He just smiles like a doofus and is quick to strip and jump in bed with you.

Kinks:

Dry Humping: God he will absolutely hump his hips against his bed or his pillow when he thinks or dreams of you. In general, he'd love how sensual and exciting dry humping is. Like, you'll he bent over one of the tables in your shared work spot and you moan softly and desperately as he grinds his hips against you from behind, or maybe you'll wrap your arms around him and grind against his thigh and palm at the bulge in his pants and he'll squeeze your ass through whatever bottoms your wearing. It's like heaven honestly when he looks down at you and your looking up at him, your eyes dreamy and half-lidded but when he hears footsteps of the annoying headmaster, the both of you are talking about the history of some civilization and once he leaves, you and Jesse look at each other and smile. But yeah, you wouldn't even have to be naked for Jesse to want to bend you over the table, just let him hump you from behind and massage your chest as he leaves hickies on your neck.

Fingering: God please just let him shove his fingers in your hole and give you the most pleasure you've ever experienced. His hands are big and calloused from his adventures and sometimes you catch yourself noticing the veins on them. They'll feel so good as he uses them to squeeze your thighs and they'll feel even better once they're inside you. If AFAB, PLEASE LET HIM FINGER YOU IN THE MIRROR. Lean against his chest and moan and beg as his fingers explore inside of you and fuck you so good that you'll keep a hand on his wrist to let him know that he's not done yet. Let him see himself touching that sweet pussy of yours and how he leaves you so nice and wet. If AMAB, him jerk you off and if you'll let him, stretch out your ass. Just him gently whispering about how good his darling is doing for him as he pumps your cock with his hand and praise you for taking his two fingers so well and being so good for your sultry moans and whimpers.

Brat taming: Yandere Adventurer has the whip and the "fuck around and find out attitude". Jesse is a sweet man but even he has his limits, especially if it's his darling trying to tease him sexually or being a little difficult. When he finally gets his hands on you, he will make you absolutely cry as he somewhat mocks you.

"Aw, whats wrong, poor baby? Don't worry, after ya learned your lesson, Jesse'll take care of you real good. Just hold on a lil' longer~"

Pegging: LOOK, IF YOU WANT TO BEND HIM OVER AND TIE HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK WITH HIS OWN WHIP AND RAIL HIM WITH A GIANT STRAP ON, HE WON'T STOP YOU. If you want to grab his lil pony tail and pull it back so you can hear him beg and yell like a whore in his southern drawl, he is down for that. If you want him to get on his knees and suck on your strap on and then grab his hair and face fuck him with it for the fun of it, HE HAS NO COMPLAINTS. But like, only if you want to tho-

Anything that has to do with you sitting on his face: Please let him eat you out. When you're stressed, sometimes he just thinks that maybe you'd be a little less stressed if you just sat on his face and let his tongue take away all the stress from your pretty little head. If you're worried about hitting him, he will reminded you he got trapped in an elephant stampede and survived somehow.

"...A-Are you comparing me to an ELEPHANT?"

"WHA- NAH, I'M JUST- That definely ain't what I meant! See? This is why ya gotta sit on my face so I don't say dumb shit like that-"

".... Have a good day, Jesse-"

"DARLIN', I JUST MEANT TO SAY YA DON'T GOTTA BE AFRAID OF ME GETTIN' HURT!"

Manhandling: Look, he grew up in a farm in the south so he absolutely is able to to toss, choke, and hold you down but since it helped him realize his own strength, he knows how gentle he's gotta be with you too. But yeah him just holding your wrists above your head as he pins you against the wall and his other arm wrapped around your waist so he can fuck you. Or like, 69 you but HE'S STANDING UP. So if you're sucking him off but slowing down, he can grab the back of your hair and bob your head for you as he does his part to make you feel good.

- Bondage: Loves the idea of tying you up and being tied up himself. HE'D BE SO DOWN FOR SUSPENSION but understands if you don't want to do it, but let him tie your hands together and tie your legs apart. Another thing is that he's escaped ropes before so when you tie him up and he acts all whiny and helpless as you tease him, just know that he's actually enjoying it. Also, about those dreams he's had, he's definetly had one where he got stuck in a bunch of tree vines and was suspended from the ground but was exactly crotch level to your face and instead of getting him down, you sucked him off. He walked into a wall the next day and when you asked about his black eye, he tells you that it was a hitman-

- Choking: It goes without saying that Jesse won't try to hurt you, since, after all, he's fucking you so YOU feel good but he does like it when he leaves bruises on your neck from his hands or small indents if his nails and he licks over them when you're both in the bathtub and he's cleaning you up. If you choke him out? Instantly nutting and he's absolutely shameless about it.

Praise/Degradation: If want to be praised, he's got you! He praises you all time in non sexual ways but moments when you're sitting on his lap and he's planning for his latest trip that he decides to be mean and whisper sweet nothings and seductive praise. For degradation, he's a bit hesitant and would want to talk about it since he doesn't think people who love each other should say things like that to each other but if you're into it, watch him slowly enjoy calling you his cockdumb slut. He also likes praise himself, no matter whose being more submissive that session, but if you want to degrade him, he'll hesitantly allow it but the longer he's with you, please call him a manwhore. A pervert who instantly opens his lega for you and only you. Be smug that you got the most amazing and impressive historian underneath you and his eyes are rolled back as you call him some mean names that don't cross over the line TOO much. Whether you're being mean or being nice, he loves it, but he comes to find out that you being a bit mean to him hits different.

- Overstimulation: THIS MAN HAS SO MUCH STAMINA IT IS INSANE. NO TOY CAN OUTDO OR MAKE YOU FEEL HALF AS GOOD FOR AS HALF AS LONG AS HE CAN. Cry as he fucks you through your orgasm, go numb with pleasure as his mouth licks and sucks whatever it can reach, and whimper timidly when you feel his calloused hands grab you and pull you into him because he promises this is the last tine and he'll be done. Alternatively, OVERSTIMULATE HIM. Put him to the test by using so many toys and vibrators on him while having him eat you out or such or bitting into him. Watch as that happy little smile turns into a lip bite as you make him orgasm for the 6th time that night and how he'll hasp in surprise as you get ready to make it 7.

- Dumbification: He loves watching you turn into a babbling mess. He loves having intelligent conversations with you but he also discovered that he loves it when you talk absolute nonsense because his cock is pounding you so good. He will get dumb with you two and soon you both are just two bodies pressed each other mindlessly fucking and he loves it. He loves that all you can do is incoherently beg for him not to stop and that your whines are the only thing that his brain can hear and that the pleasure of his cock being squeezed by you is the only thing he can feel.

[dnvrsmedia]

love at first suture

abigail anderson x medic!reader

warnings: mentions of injuries (no gore)

canon universe setting, no pronouns or r physical attributes used!

°°°

Soft light enters the hallway as the rising sun shines its beams onto Earth, enveloping its warm rays like a blanket on your skin. Puffs of air leave your sleeping lover's mouth as her chest steadily rises at a rhythmic rate. Calm is the state you find yourself in on the rare occasion you wake up before the blonde. Her long hair cascades along her broad shoulders like a warm toned waterfall. On days like these you feel a little bit more filled with gratitude. Never have you believed in soulmates until you met yours. Abigail Anderson was the textbook definition of your other half. She fulfilled every need, want, hope, and dream you could ever have asked for—ever so effortlessly. Love was never easy, but loving Abby was the easiest thing you have ever done.

Your hand moved to tuck a stray piece of hair from tickling her nose. A giggle erupts from your mouth as the blonde scrunches her nose and furrows her brows, trying to get away from the tickling strand of hair. Her body relaxes with a content hum as you free her from the itching. Abby moves into your hand, subconsciously yearning for your touch. No matter how big and scary she looks to others, you’ll always know the true Abby. Your loving and caring partner. Abby who goes to the ends of the earth for what she believes in. Your sweet girl and most powerful protector.

Reminiscing on when you first met always brings a smile to your face. The once tough girl falling into a puddle of mush—flushed beyond belief as you patch her up in the infirmary. You were newer to the area and quickly became one of the most crucial surgeons for the WLF. Abby luckily was not hurt badly, just a few lacerations to various parts of her body. Leaving only a slightly deeper cut on her upper thigh. The blonde stubborn as always, grumbled her way in the infirmary. Nora being the only one to get through her thick skull.

“Abigail I swear to god if you don’t sit your ass in that fucking chair-“ Nora’s voice heard through the groans and chaos of the infirmary.

Your eyebrows shoot up in amusement. In the few months you’ve been with WLF, you’ve known that Abby was not one to be fucked with. The top scar killer, Isaac’s number one asset, was one to be listened to. You had only a few run-ins with the tall blonde. Abby did well in either playing down her injuries or patching herself up. Yet, here she was, being yelled at like a toddler by her best friend. Tail tucked between her legs with an adorable pout to her plush lips. Her thick thighs spread wide after unceremoniously plopping into your open chair. Her pout could be seen from miles away as scoffs left her lips.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You don your nitrile gloves with a ‘snap’.

Abby’s stubborn nature made her snarl before she looked up at you. All of her previous stipulations melt away as her eyes meet yours. The stubborn blond rendered speechless as her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“Uh-I…um-” Abby struggles to speak as she dumbly points to her thigh.

Nora catches onto her best friend’s actions with a smirk as she nudges Abby’s watermelon sized bicep.

“This dumbass needs stitches on her thigh and bicep. The other lacerations aren’t deep enough for stitches, but a good cleaning should fix it. I’d help her myself but I'm busy and you need more friends, bye!” Nora rushes the last sentence before going into the middle of the storm of hurt soldiers.

Crimson red is the color that peaks under Abby’s freckles. Your own belly betrays you as it flutters w butterflies. Her teeth sitting atop her tucked in bottom lip makes your knees weak. You snap out of your trance, turning to attend to the matter at hand. Your fingers fumble with the suture package before placing your materials on your tray. You sit down on your stool before her.

“How are you feeling? I’m sure there’s no major injuries since your reluctance to be checked out, but this is a pretty gnarly cut here.” Your gloved hand caresses her clothed thigh that currently has a gash in the fabric.

Abby’s thighs tense at the feeling of your gentle finger caressing her. You take that as a symptom of tenseness and pull away immediately in worry. Abby silently curses herself.

“Is that painful there? I could check you out some more to see-” You ramble before being cut off by the blonde.

“N-no i'm okay just wasn’t ready for your touch. I didn't mind it.” She smirks, loving the shy smile that adorned your lips.

“Oh! Okay then, that’s perfect. So I’m just gonna need you to uh take off your pants- or what’s left of them, to stitch you up and send you on your way.” Your eyes veer from her eyes, oozing with nerves. Abby has this effect on you that you couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, Abby is trying not to lose her shit at the thought of taking her pants off for you. She wished she was taking them off for a different circumstance-

“Uh, *cough*, yeah, th- that’s fine.” Abby tried-and failed- at keeping a cool and mysterious tone. In actuality, her brain was going a mile a minute all because of the beauty in front of her.

She stands and unbuckles her belt in front of you. Due to your height difference as you were still on your stool, her hips stood at face level. Your mouth salivates at the filthy thoughts flooding through your brain. You clear your throat and turn your head in a hurry, pretending to preoccupy yourself with something useless. Once the clang of her heavy belt buckle sounds, signaling it hitting the ground, you turn back to your patient. Your eyes bulge out of your eyes at the sight. You thought her thighs looked good before but holy shit. Her sculpted thighs were something to worship. Yet, this certainly was not the time.

You get through your mini short circuit and immediately get to work cleaning her wounds. The whole time you talk the blonde through what you’re doing. Abby wasn’t stupid, she was actually decently knowledgeable on things of the sort due to her late father, yet she didn’t once stop you to mention she knew what you were doing. She fell in love with your passion to heal others, your passion for your craft. Any frustrations from her patrol melted away as she listened and watched you work. Soft giggles leave your lips as Abby filters in jokes every now and then. If your voice is honey then your laugh is heaven to her. The way your nose scrunched when she said something you found particularly funny or dorky made her heart soar. Your laugh gave Abby a high that no drugs could ever give her.

“You are good to go!” You finish wrapping her bandage securely.

“If you have any questions feel free to stop by, okay? Make sure you’re not doing any rigorous training or activities for at least a few days.” You pointedly look at her with your eyebrows raised. You may be new but you know that all of your warnings will go in one ear and out the other.

Abby laughs at your knowing look, wondering how you could read her so well so soon. Unbeknownst to the two of you, that would only be the beginning.

[mychemstat]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

[lttllovely]

MOONLIGHT ON THE RIVER | Ethan Landry x Freeman!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You are Amber Freeman’s sibling and a fellow survivor of the 2022 Woodsboro Massacre. Coming to New York, you isolated yourself from everyone, only talking to your close friends. You were shunned and made out to be a serial killer by most in New York, them thinking that you were cut from the same cloth as your sister. But not Ethan. Never Ethan.

Genre: Fluff with some angst. Ethan has a heart, surprisingly. A cold one, at the end of Scream VI, but yeah.

Notes: It's referenced once that the reader is wearing a dress with their Angel costume, but no other gendered terms/clothing are referenced in this. Might write a sequel(s) to this if I feel like it/if demand is high enough. So, if you want this to be continued, let me know. You can even throw me some other ideas/requests for this series/other one-shots and I might write them :)

COMING TO THIS PARTY HAD BEEN A BAD IDEA. The booze was flowing. The apartment was stuffed with so many people that no matter where you turned you were met with a face or pressed against someone else. The rooms were rank with the scents of alcohol and sweat. Everything just screamed “Uncomfortable,” and “Get out,” yet you glumly remained.

Really, you wouldn’t have even gone if it wasn’t for your friends worrying about you. They saw how you only talked to them, never went out to parties, and had generally cocooned yourself from the rest of society. They knew it was because of what happened back in Woodsboro. You had lost so much. Your friends, your sister, everything. But, they wanted you to be happy. To get out there. So, when they begged you to come to this party with them, you said yes.

And at first, the party was fine. Fun, even. You had mostly stuck with Tara, who had progressively gotten very, very drunk. You weren’t one for drinking, however, staying stone-cold sober. You were too paranoid about everything and everyone to let yourself lose focus for a second. And besides, your friends needed someone to bring them back home and nurse them to health.

Hanging with Tara was fun. Freeing, really. You two talked about whatever was on your mind, chatting about the silliest things. You guys complained about sleazeball professors that set deadlines way too early and avidly discussed new A24 releases (including a pointed comment from you about how much Tara looked like one of the leads in A24’s X, which she shook her head at). You made fun of Tara for her obvious crush on Chad; she poked fun at your relationship with Ethan. You told her that there was nothing going on between you two, but she held a knowing smirk that you couldn’t rub off of her face no matter how hard you tried.

But, drinking nothing but water wasn’t great for your bladder. So, you had to leave her to use the restroom. After hearing a brief comment about how she’d “see you soon,” you left. When you returned, however, Tara was gone. It was strange. Tara wouldn’t just leave you like that. Then again, she was shitfaced and might be talking with a literal wall right now.

And she indeed was talking to a wall- well, more like a pole. She was talking to some six-foot mass of curls in a plain white tee—no costume in sight, sadly. His back was turned to you, so you couldn't tell who it was, but Tara seemed to be enjoying the conversation, so you left them be. Besides, you weren’t good at talking with new people. You never were. Plus, you didn’t want to scare off Tara’s new friend.

So, you went to refill your water bottle in the kitchen. Upon doing so, you were eyed by some drunk girls who started giggling. While you couldn’t hear everything they said, the words “murderer,” and “Ghostface,” were enough to shake you. Your head pounded. Everything awful about the party that you had been able to ignore with Tara nearby suddenly was in your face, impossible to avoid. It was all suffocating. You scuttled out of the kitchen, weaving your way through party-goers with several apologies leaving your lips. The girls’ awful, loud cackles followed you, even outside of the party.

This led you to where you are now, sitting on a bench, alone on the balcony. Your feet tap incessantly as you run through a breathing exercise, trying to center yourself. You are nothing like Amber. They don’t know any better. You are fine. Everything is fine. You can breathe.

Suddenly, you hear the door behind you close shut. You sharply turn your head to see Ethan and let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” He says. He motions to the bench. “Is it okay if I join you?”

You nod, scooting over. “Yeah, that’s fine,” You reply, your gaze already growing soft and fond. You pat the spot, flashing him a small smile. He returns it with a smile of his own, sitting down next to you.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, your surprise at seeing him being pretty apparent.

He shrugs, taking a deep breath in. “I needed some air. You?”

You nod. “Yeah, same,”

You two fall into silence. Only the muffled sounds of blaring music and drunken shouts accompany you. But, the silence is comfortable. Neither of you mind it.

Then, Ethan speaks up. “Uh- so, how’s the party been… for you?”

He’s a little awkward with starting the conversation, his eyes not quite meeting yours until after he speaks. You giggle lightly, your eyes crinkling up in a way that makes Ethan’s heart skip a beat. He’s happy to see you with a smile on your face again. He’s even happier to know that it is because of him.

“Well, it’s been… fine,” You reply. He nods, staying quiet. He seems like he wants to hear more, so you continue. “I mean, I got to hang with Tara for most of it. And, it was really nice spending time with her, just us two. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to be one-on-one with her. Everything feels like a group activity nowadays- which I’m definitely not against. I love it actually. But, it was nice.”

Ethan nods, a smile on his face. “That’s good! That’s really good,”

You shake your head, chuckling. “Yeah, it is.” You agree, “What about you? Has the party scene been treating you well?”

Ethan hesitates, tilting his head. “Uh- it hasn’t been bad,”

Your smile drops. “Oh,” You say, full of concern.

Ethan shakes his head. “Hey, nothing that bad happened. It’s just- Chad tried to get me to flirt with a girl,”

You nod. “Ohhhh, okay. Well, how’d it go?” You ask. While you’d normally cheer him on or hype him up, considering that there isn’t a great ending to this story, you are a lot more restrained with your response than normal.

“Well, she wasn’t interested. She just kind of- shook her head and laughed,”

You still, grimacing. “Shit, I’m sorry,” You apologize.

Ethan shakes his head again. “It’s okay. I don’t think she meant to be mean. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s going to find me very attractive in this,” He says, motioning to his cardboard armor.

You balk at the comment. “Hey! I think your suit is very cool,” You retort, fully meaning it. His suit is cool. It seems handmade yet is super creative and made well. It’s a labor of love.

“You mean it?” Ethan asks softly. He seems surprised, which only hurts you more. What kind of pricks were shitting on his passion projects? This was cool stuff! God, people suck sometimes (a lot of the time, actually, but you were trying to be more positive).

You nod excitedly. “Yeah, I mean, this is cool as hell! You made it yourself, right?” You ask. He nods, confirming your thoughts. “Well, how long did you spend on it?”

“I- uh, I stayed up last night making it,”

You nod, beaming at him. “That’s cool! And honestly, it’s well made too.”

Ethan was practically glowing from your compliments, his smile growing wider.

“Look, if anyone is shitting on your costume, they’re just jealous.” You admit. You turn towards the door where you get a hazy view inside the party. You pat Ethan on the shoulder, getting him to turn the same way. “I mean, look at everyone at this party.” You say, pointing at everyone. “No one put effort into their costumes, not even me. Most people just wore whatever they could find in their closet and are trying to get laid, while you, sir, are an artist.” You say the last line with a chuckle, but with meaning too.

Ethan giggles. “An artist? Now you’re just inflating my ego,” He quips back.

You shrug. “Would that be so bad?” You joke, laughing more. “But I’m being serious. What you’re wearing is cool. No one’s going to care about Jessica’s vampire costume ten years down the line, hell, not even ten days from now. Or mine. But yours is cool. It’ll be something sick to show your kids,”

“Hey, I think your costume is cool!” He refutes. You balk in return, laughing.

“Eth, now you’re just trying to inflate my ego.” You retort. “This is an Angel costume. This dress is from my closet and I had to get the halo and wings from Anika. I didn’t exactly come up with anything groundbreaking here,”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,”

The words leave you speechless. You turn to Ethan, searching his face for any traces of malice, humor, or anything disingenuous. But, there aren’t any. He looks at you with wonder and a gentle fondness that makes your heart ache. His gaze is incredibly gentle, like he thinks that if he looks at you too hard you’ll shatter, yet he can’t tear his gaze from you.

Yours doesn’t leave his either, taking his features in. You haven’t gotten much one-on-one time with Ethan before, always being split apart by a Meeks-Martin or a Carpenter. So, you never get to look at him this close. But, god, he’s beautiful. You’ve always been aware of that, but more so now than ever.

The scenery around you two isn’t anything special, consisting of a few very real (dying) plants strewn around and a few rows of string lights overhead. But, the string lights give Ethan this incandescent glow. Even though you’re the one wearing an Angel costume, he looks like the real deal. A halo forms around his head, and god, okay, maybe Tara has a point. A really good point, actually.

Then, a stray frat guy slams against the door, his alcohol spilling against the door and him with it. Yikes. You both grimace, feeling sorry for him. With bated breath, you two are silent as the guy rushes off. Only after he leaves do you both start awkwardly chuckling.

“And that is why I don’t drink,” You comment, causing Ethan to hiccup with laughter. “Have you drunk at all?”

Ethan hums, shaking his hand back and forth. “Some. Not a lot though. I don’t have a great tolerance.”

You nod, humming. “Fair.”

“How come you don’t drink?” Ethan asks before another hiccup. “Not judging. That’s fine that you don’t. I’m just curious,” He tenses up, fearful that he said the wrong thing.

You chuckle. “You’re fine. I didn’t think you were.” You confirm. He sighs in relief, leaving you awkwardly chuckling. He’s cute. “I mean- I used to. Back in Woodsboro. Not a lot, but I did. But, after… uhm,” You draw out the last word, giving him a pointed look.

“Ohhh,” He murmurs, nodding. Knowing that he understands what you mean, you continue.

“Yeah, that’s why. I’m just… anxious about it happening again. I know that it probably won’t happen all the way out in New York and it’s probably just my own anxiety messing with me at this point, but I just…” You pause for a moment. “I don’t know, I just never want to feel as powerless as I did that night. If it ever happened again, I want to be present. Defend myself and my friends, y’know,” You look to Ethan and he understands, nodding. But, there’s also this strange haze in his eyes. It’s only there for a moment, passing almost as quickly as you see it, but you swiftly forget it. It’s probably the alcohol affecting him.

“No, that- that makes sense,” He responds, swallowing thickly. His gaze leaves yours for a moment, flicking toward the vast jungles of New York. Then it returns to you. “Is that uhm, night, also why you’re out here?”

You pause, sucking a breath in. It makes sense that he saw through your fake excuse for coming out here. Hell, he probably saw you leave the party suddenly and followed you (because he cares, a distant voice in your head says). So, you nod. “Yeah,” You glumly admit. “I- uh, right before I came out here, when I wasn’t with Tara anymore, these girls were… saying things about me.”

Ethan hums, looking at you with wide doe eyes. “I couldn’t hear much of what they said, but words like “Ghostface,” and “murderer,” weren’t exactly markers of anything positive,” You continue. You chuckle darkly, but Ethan can tell that you’re still hurt by those words. They’re fresh wounds.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it’s your fault,” You joke dryly, but you’re a lot less lively than earlier. You’re more dead, stewing in your anxiety again. You play with your hands, rubbing circles into them repetitively.

“Look, those girls don’t know what they’re talking about.” He pipes up. His conviction is so strong that you tear your gaze from your hands, returning it to him. “They’re just going off of Reddit theories. They don’t know you,” He leans in slightly, his voice falling to a near whisper yet remaining powerful. “They don’t deserve to,”

You’re taken off-guard by the possessiveness in his voice, by how sure of himself he is now. This isn’t how Ethan normally is. But, his words are sweet, and assure you that you aren’t anything like Amber. For once, the stupid voices in your head trying to convince you that maybe those Reddit theorists have a point quiet. It’s just you and Ethan, and everything is peaceful. You can breathe, finally.

You smile at him. It’s a genuine, soft smile, speaking volumes for how grateful you are for him. Not just for him being here tonight, but for everything. For being so sweet. So kind.

Then, the moment is suddenly interrupted by Anika storming onto the balcony. Shoving the door open, she grimaces at intruding on the romantic scene but continues. “Sorry to break you guys up, but Tara’s in trouble,”

While at first annoyed by the intrusion, you perk to attention at the mention of Tara. “What? Shit, what happened to Tara?” You ask, worried. You know Anika wouldn’t get you guys if it wasn’t something serious.

“It’s Frankie,” Anika explains, your heart dropping. Shit, you shouldn’t have left her alone at this party. If you had known she was talking to Frankie, there was no way you would have left her alone with him. That guy was a serial creep and freak. You quickly thank Anika before exiting the balcony, pushing through the drunken crowd. Ethan tails you, with Anika following behind.

“He’s taking her up the stairs!” Anika yells. Once you three reach the stairs, that’s when you get a front-row view of the night going from 0 to 100 in terms of batshit craziness. One second, Chad is talking to a handsy Frankie dragging Tara up the stairs, the next, Chad is fighting him, then Sam is tasing Frankie in the balls.

You gape at the sight, seeing Frankie finally get the beating he deserves. Looking at Ethan, you awkwardly chuckle while he grimaces, almost feeling bad for the guy. Almost. Grabbing Ethan by the hand, you drag him away from the scene of the crime. And, if he’s struck silent for damn near the rest of the night because of you holding his hand and not the preceding events, that is only for him to know.