#i almost slipped on that rock by the way.

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.5

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four

summary : As the days start getting closer to Christmas, you find yourself even more comfortable with your previous enemy. In a drunken spirit and ego boosted from karaoke, Lando can’t control his words. Even when Max finds you two in bed together.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! alcohol! swearing! drunk lando!

words : 3334

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Lando. Listen to me.” Oscar says over the phone, his voice registering in my brain but being distinctly distracted by two women taking instagram photos next to me.

“I am listening.” I mumble, watching Y/n turn and smile at the camera. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Oscar has requested facetime instead.

“What?” I look at the man who’s sitting in the sun and probably at the beach, “Can you pay attention for two seconds? I don’t want to be talking about work either.”

I sigh, turning away from the girls, “Can I ask you something?” I walk farther away just in case they can hear me.

Oscar groans at me still being off topic, “Shoot.”

“How did you know Lily fancied you?”

His brow jolts up, “I mean, We were pretty young, I just remember that she spoke to me a lot and she-” Lily pops her head in the call now.

“Don't listen to him, Lando! He was absolutely oblivious even though I was literally a giggling school girl around him.”

Oscar looks at her lovingly, “You were quite smiley.”

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds.” I roll my eyes.

Lily leaves and Oscar looks at me quizzically again, “So, who do you like so much that would possess you to ask that question?” I stay quiet for a moment, glancing back at Y/n who’s backlit by the sun, “Aren’t you with your family? Or Max and his girlfriend right?”

“No one. I’m just curious.” Deny deny deny.

He hums, “Wait… Doesn't Max have that sister you stalked all year-”

“Okay bye Oscar!”

He scrambles to get words in, “Wait we still need to talk about-”

I hang up on him.

⋆༺

Max and I have been kicked out by our the women. More like I was kicked out and Max was just craving a coffee. It’s not my fault I can’t cook!

After almost catching Y/n’s hair on fire, I was banished to the little coffee shop that’s been getting us through this week.

The barista hands us our coffees and one hot chocolate for Y/n. Max and I walk slowly to our car, looking at the scenery on the way. “I’m excited for Christmas.”

I smile as Max hums, “You’re awfully chipper.” He gives me a side eye and a smirk, to which I promptly shove him, “Ugh! I do not want to know!”

He laughs, “I know that P teases you about it, But I really do think a girlfriend would be good for you.”

I don’t just want a girlfriend. I want Y/n. I kick a rock at my feet, mumbling, “Yeah I doubt that.” I meant that he wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend if it was his sister, just he scoffs.

“Think about it! This year was completely fucked and yeah a lot of good shit happened but imagine how much easier the bad shit would be if you were in love.”

“You’re disgusting. Us ten years ago would be gagging at this conversation.”

He’s smiling still, “Yeah and that’s because I am in love.” I roll my eyes at his cheesy ass, “How do you have no roster, mate? It’s honestly embarrassing.”

“Maybe I do.” I sip my coffee, “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Maybe i’m just hanging out with Y/n and P too much, their best friend girly vibes are fun.” He points to me, “Still, it’s break! Get your groove on!”

I walk faster, shaking my head. “Groove? I’m going to leave you in the snow.”

⋆༺

you

I’m in a mini dress in the snow. What could go wrong?

I slip five minutes out the door which makes Lando’s arm become my new best friend even though my faux fur coat keeps tickling him.

We may or may not have pregamed for the tiny local bar which has me slipping on ice. “Four jolly jolly shots please…” Lando reads off the bar's menu, laughing a bit.

He looks good. Like really really good. His curls are perfect as usual and when he leans over to talk to the bartender, his dark green shirt tugs against his arms.

My brothers arm goes around my neck, tugging me and laughing, “Merry Christmas, sis!”

“Let go of me you vermin!”

“Shots!” P sings, handing me mine.

“Cheers to us!” Max grins, holding his tiny glass up.

“Cheers to Christmas.” P smiles happily.

Lando taps his glass on the table along with us, winking at me, “Cheers.” We all down the weird peppermint alcohol and swiftly make our way to the dance floor.

We sing along to shitty music and dance together in a crowd of college kids home for break, and their parents.

Lando’s hand finds my waist and is quickly slapped away. He gives me a pouty look which I find annoyingly attractive and quickly turns it into a smirk.

I down my drink, spinning back to my friends and dodging a guy and his friends. “Hey!” The guy smirks and I accidentally laugh in his face, he looks about five years younger than me and is staring at my chest.

I find my friends laughing and drinking with a random man who sort of looks like santa.

“Y/n!” Lando puts his arm around me which I promptly pull off.

“Aren’t you busy trying to hook up with a tourist?” I blink at him while my brother and P are distracted.

He leans in a bit, “You’re a tourist, aren’t you?”

“You trying to get in my pants, Norris?” This makes him smile.

“I’m familiar with the area.”

I find myself at the bar again, but this time I order water. P and I giggle at the sight of Max and Lando just standing there looking lost without us.

“I’m really proud of you.” P says out of the blue.

I frown, “Thanks? I’m proud of you too.”

“I just mean… you’ve been through a lot.” I know what she means. My ex. “And you’re the best person I know.”

I smile, “I adore you, P.”

The truth is, my ex cheating really did break me. But I already knew something was wrong. I wasn’t being treated correctly and honestly breaking up with him was not on the top of my to-do list.

P was always there for me, my brother is a lot to handle and sometimes I just need a girl to talk to. That girl for me is P.

She pops back to her boyfriend while my water gets refilled. I swear this altitude is fucking with me, i’m so thirsty all the time.

“Hi.” I'm about to yell at the college guy who approaches me, until I realize there is no way this man is under twenty five.

“Oh! Hi.” I smile politely and tap the bar.

I clock his douchy attitude as soon as his ringed hand (which definitely came from shein) and patchwork tattoos land on the bar, clearly flexing.

“You’re gorgeous… Sorry, I just had to tell you!” He acts shy, like it’s horribly embarrassing to hit on. woman.

“Thank you…” Is all I can say before he continues.

“I’m Seth!” He’s australian… I think? He’s got short hair with dark skin that makes his eyes pop. “Are you visiting? I am.”

I nod and sip my water, “Yeah…”

“My girlfriend used to live here! My friends let me choose the place and…” He’s going on a long rant that I definitely did not consent to hear.

He’s loud in the way that i’m embarrassed to be heard with because he’s talking nonsense and trying to scoot closer to me with every word he speaks.

I bring my glass to my lips again, looking around then back to Seth who is still talking about his ex. Did I do something to offend the universe?

The hand on my hip scares me, but I don’t jump. I know the feeling too well by now. Lando’s smiling at the bartender, a protective arm around me, “Three green tea shots, thanks.”

He leans his hip against the bar, holding me close as my cheeks go red and I start chugging my water. Seth looks absolutely astonished, “Who’s your new friend, Sunshine?”

“Seth.” I say, swirling my straw around the cold glass.

“Hey man…” Seth looks scared. “I- I didn’t know she was taken.”

“She’s not.” He’s quick with it and I have to bite back my smile to contain myself from embarrassing Seth even more.

“Oh…” Seth hums, clearly wanting to go but I know Lando’s doing that thing where he states blankly at someone while smiling. “Well uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, Seth.” Lando slides him the shot then hands one to me. I decline and he downs it easily.

“Thanks.” He downs the drink with Lando, “And sorry.” Seth looks at me before scurrying off.

I turn to Lando, his hand never moving from my body, “Who knew you were so intimidating?

He shrugs, “I don’t mess around with the people I care about. Plus he just seemed like he was bugging you.”

“Quite talkative.” I smile softly as he laughs, “You’re good at the whole protective act.”

“Who said I was acting?” His face is serious when he says it, but immediately changes when he hears Max’s voice.

“Yo!” His hand drops to his side and he smiles at my approaching brother, “They have karaoke!”

P and Max end up on stage exactly two drinks later. I stick to water, my head already hurts from the others singing.

They're singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and sort of slaying it. Max spins P as they both laugh and pretend they’re at some sort of concert.

“Please get up there!” I giggle with Lando, my hand on his arm as he smiles at me in that dreamy way he does so often.

“No way, Sunshine.” His eyes lined on my lips, his words a bit slurred.

“Please, Lan?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “What’ll you give me if I do?” My breathing quickens as he looks at me, drunk and so out of it that he looks like he’s about to kiss me.

I reach my arm out to fix the messy bit of his hair. His eyes follow my hand and drift down my arm back to me. There’s something so personal about the way he looks at me but it’s hard to explain.

He’s got many different expressions and maybe I'm just a bit self centered, but I swear he has some just for me.

He’s drunk now so all secrecy goes out the window. He’s lucky Max and P are singing so horribly on the tiny sticky stage.

“Whatever you want.” I pull my hand away, “When you’re sober, though.”

“I’m not even that many drinks in!” He scoffs in a whiny tone.

He’s five drinks in I think.

“But i’ll do whatever you say apparently.” His chair makes noise against the floors, practically pushing P and Max off the stage as his chosen music starts.

Linger, by the cranberries.

My smile grows as he starts, absolutely butchering the song immediately. He looks fucking free and absolutely ridiculous.

The microphone against his lips as he spins around and points to me, “You’ve got me wrapped around your fingerrrrrr!”

It was my favorite song in highschool.

He’s a terrible singer and incredibly drunk but knows all the lyrics by heart.

Max starts videoing and Lando flips him off, P is actually in tears and I feel a sense of calm and quiet happiness. It’s weird to think about, especially surrounded by sound and drunken people.

Still, I really do appreciate my friends in moments like these. I watch Lando on the stage again, his eyes are closed and he’s singing along quietly.

Most of the bar claps when he’s done, providing him false confidence even as he almost falls from the stage.

Lando slumps himself in the chair next to mine, Max and I speaking about old Christmas’ and how weird it is that so many things have changed.

P talks about her family traditions and how she’s happy we’re all together even if it is a bit unconventional.

Lando stays quiet, just hums along to the music and keeps his eyes closed. Max laughs at his friend, “Ready for bed, Bob?”

“I can drive back.” I sit up.

Max and P aren’t quite ready to go and assure me that they can take a cab. Lando, however is piss drunk and giggling at everything I say.

He holds onto my hand as we leave, the cold air hitting him like a wreck, “Ay!” He practically runs to the car, tries to get in the driver's seat, and finally gives in to me driving.

“I don't want to go back!” He complains as I drive off.

“We can… look at lights?” He nods eagerly and rests his head against my arm, his fingers drift up and down my arm, doodling invisible drawings.

I drive through the small neighborhoods, all quiet for the time of night. The lights are bright and nothing like where I actually live.

Lando slips his hand in mine, holding it tight and looking out the front window. I let him rub his thumb against my skin, acknowledging the goosebumps it sends up arm.

Maybe I let myself pretend like it means something more than Lando’s drunk touchy self.

His curls brush my bare arm because he requested I take off my coat and turn the heat up instead because it was ‘itching him’.

And I did it because something about Lando makes me just want to say yes.

“I wanna house like that.” He says, pointing to a medium sized white home. It’s got colorful lights all over and a tiny display of Rudolph in the yard.

“I like this one.” I take my free hand off the wheel for a second and point. It’s across the street and covered in white lights.

I keep driving as Lando turns the radio on which is playing Christmas music.

He hums along with the song that he most definitely doesn’t know.

His hand goes to my hair, twirling it around his finger as he looks up at me, doe eyed, “Can I have my reward now.”

“You’re nowhere close to being sober, love.”

He stops when I speak, whispering as if there’s a million people around, “You called me love.”

“You’re not even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

He gasps, “Tomorrow's Christmas eve! What a good present. You love me.” He hums and rests his head back against my shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Norris.” I say while smiling.

We look at all the different lights, rating them and laughing. I mostly laugh at drunk Lando who can’t stop laughing.

Lando rolls down the window and even though it’s freezing, I let him. It’s silent out, except for our music on low.

“Do you like me?” Lando asks as I start back to our place.

I raise a brow, “Sure.”

“But do you?” He looks up at me but I don’t dare look down.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s easier to get him into the house than it was to get him in the car. Besides a tiny slip, he laughs it off and instantly pulls his shirt off when we step inside the hot house.

We both stumble upstairs, I'm so tired that I could fall asleep on the floor. Yet I drag myself into the bathroom and remove my makeup and change into sweats and a hoodie.

Lando is in sweats now, leaning against the bathroom door as I brush my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

I laugh, “You haven’t even tried.”

“Come with me?” I shake my head, going to my own bed. He follows me still, catching my wrist and begging, “Please. I’m cold.”

“You have no shirt on.”

“I want you to.” He admits and for a second I wish he wasn’t so fond of Vodka.

I’m dragged into his bed, his arms wrapping around me quickly and humming against my hoodie, “You’re warm.” His hand goes to mine again, holding it.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I say as I see the smirk on his face.

“The doors locked.”

His hand is still intertwined with mine when he looks up at me. I probably look terrible, but he just smiles.

“You’re really beautiful, Sunny.” His voice is clear and the softest it’s been in a while, especially while drunk.

He yawns and rests his head back on me. Lando whispers while his eyes are closed, i’m not even sure if he meant to say it out loud, but he does. “I hate you for it.”

It’s the first time his words really hit me.

“Why?” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know.” And then he’s asleep and i’m stuck with a man cuddling me who I think I just might like more than I ever thought I could.

⋆༺

There’s few times in my life where I completely regret my life’s decisions. This might just be one of them.

Max is staring at us with his mouth open.

Max is staring at Lando’s shirtless self and his bare arm that’s around me!

I elbow Lando so hard that he wakes up with a groan. “Five more minutes.” He tries to pull me closer but I slap him again.

He opens his eyes this time, at first they’re narrowed at me as if I had the audacity to wake him up. Then he turns his head to what i’m staring at and promptly sits up straight.

“Goodmorning, Max!” He grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” My brother responds, Lando’s face goes slack and lays back down, covering his face with a pillow, “Is this why you two wanted to leave early yesterday?”

“No!” I say right as Lando says, “Yes!”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” Max starts pacing while I see P peek her head in from my room, surveying the situation as I mouth ‘help me’ and he leaves me.

“Chill out! Nothing happened.” I say while Lando moans and reaches for the water on his bedside table. “Right, Lando!?” I hit him again.

He sends me an annoyed look, “Right.” He takes a drink, wiping his mouth and looking at Max, “Trust me mate if something did happen she wouldn’t be wearing anything.”

I think he might still be drunk.

Max and I scream in unison. I climb out of the bed, my leg getting stuck in the bedsheet.

“I came to check if you two were still alive because it’s eleven in the morning, but Lando’s door was locked. Yours wasn’t and your room connector was wide open!” I roll my eyes and stomp into my room.

“His drunk ass practically dragged me in there and I wanted to sleep!” I shrug, putting on my slippers and pulling my bed head hair into a messy bun.

“My head is pounding, can you two be quiet!?” Lando says from the other room.

Max follows me down the stairs, “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I echo, finding P in the kitchen and sending her a wide eyed look, “He was drunk, Max.”

I pour myself some coffee, crossing my arms as Max gives me a look. Lando comes thumping down the stairs, hoodie on now with his hair an absolute mess. “Guys…”

Max stops him, “If you make another sex joke Lan, I might kill you.”

“Hey!” He groans, taking my coffee from out of my hands and drinking it! I roll my eyes and pour myself another. “I was just going to say-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Norris.” I mumble.

“Happy Christmas Eve.” He raises his mug, smiling at all of us.

“Oh.” Max blinks as P lets out a little snort.

“Well then…” P smiles at me, “I think it’s time to cook!”

[revelboo]

YOU 🫵 WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE 😤

Getting me back in my transformers phase with all your amazing writing! How dare you! Now I have to go learn how to draw damn robots 🤧

In all seriousness, tho I'm so glad to find other people who love transformers as much as I do, even if it's all online 🥲

I regret nothing! And the Transformers community here is pretty chill. 18+ Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 90

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Irritated, Starscream slides an arm around you. Between you and Soundwave to pull you to him and away from the communications officer. Optics lifting to meet the other Decepticon’s stare over the top of your head as he drags you into his lap. Knows exactly what Soundwave is up to, trying to ingratiate himself with you. To get back in your good graces after betraying you. And also knows your soft heart will forgive him. Allowing him to hurt you again later. That’s not going to happen, even if he has to protect you from yourself.

• Relaxing slowly as Starscream bands an arm around you, the other hand cupping the back of your head, you hide your face against the warm mesh of his neck. Maybe they’ll allow you to go home. Get some things and your phone. You don’t have to give your family details, only that you’re okay. You met someone. Fell in love. With Star and Soundwave. It’s still so surreal when you think about it, your mind shying away from that word. Love. You’d blurted it out in front of Megatron and it’s lingered there, weighing you down with the knowledge that you’ve not actually told either of them. Star had felt it you’re almost positive when you’d touched his spark again. So tangled in each other there could be no secrets. But that’s not exactly the same as saying it. And saying it to both of them still feels uncomfortably like betraying one or the other of them. That you shouldn’t love them both, that something’s broken in you for feeling that way. For warning them both equally.

• Petty as a sparkling refusing to share a favorite toy, seeing him as a threat. Knows that the Seeker will try his best to convince you that he’s all you need. Maybe even that Soundwave is a danger to you. Venting softly and refusing to back down, he slips his hands between you and Star and slides them down to your hips. Sees the Seeker freeze, wings trembling with fury. Pointedly glaring right back as his servos wander down over your lower belly until you make a soft, hitching sound and squirm against the Seeker.

• Warm hands slide against you, servos sliding under the hem of your loose pants. And all thoughts of confessing your feelings scatter as Soundwave cups you. Aware of the decidedly unhappy sound Starscream is making as you shift in his lap, almost growling as you catch at his chassis and lift up onto your knees. Feel Soundwave follow you, his hips bumping against your butt as he strokes a servo against you and then slides it inside you. His mouth against the back of your shoulder as your own mouth opens against Star’s chin, teeth grazing him as you’re trapped between them. Trapped in the haze of heat and need as your body responds to the stroking of those servos.

• Denta bared as you make a soft needy sound that goes right through him and your mouth brushes the corner of his, frustration and annoyance twist into need. Knows this is a calculated move, Soundwave trying to distract him from his goals with you. Growling when the communications officer pushes against you and he’s forced back onto his elbows in turn, your little palms on his chassis. Shifting yourself against him to seek his mouth and he tangles his servos in your hair, giving you what you want, aware of the sound of cloth tearing and you crying out against him as Soundwave grips your hips and slowly buries his spike inside you. Moving inside you while you’re on top of him.

• On his knees behind you, he rocks himself against you. Listening to your needy sounds as the Seeker lazily explores your mouth. And it occurs to him that even though Star doesn’t like sharing, he does enjoy watching you being fragged even though he’ll never admit it. Losing himself to the feel of you wrapped so tight around his spike, your mind whispering warm through his, it’s strange to realize that he doesn’t hate this. Doesn’t like the treacherous Seeker by any means, but can’t truly hate him, because if not for him Soundwave wouldn’t have this. Wouldn’t have you. And he’s not going to let the Seeker take that away even if he has to take a page from Starscream’s own book to protect this feeling and bond you without asking. To take.

• Too much. Body winding up as Soundwave lazily thrusts against you, spike stroking deep with wet sounds and Star’s mouth moves hungrily against yours. Star’s hands. Soundwave’s hands. Soundwave’s mouth on the curve of your shoulder where it meets your neck. Can feel him in your head again, warm as he wraps himself around you. Overwhelmed by both of them and loving it. “Let go,” Soundwave growls, thrusting a little harder as Starscream’s glossa steals inside to tangle with your tongue and you come apart. Star swallowing your cry as Soundwave buried himself deep, feeling him release inside you. Loving them both. Needing them both.

• They’re all degenerate deviants. An army of them. Passing by Vortex and Skywarp returning from patrol, both of them had scented of humans. Different humans. It’s an epidemic of xenophilia and he can’t understand it. Can’t figure out the fascination with the little organics. One or two Decepticons, okay. Curiosity. Some mechs will frag anything their spike can fit inside. Primus, knows he’s overheard Hook ranting about removing objects after a certain body part gets stuck inside them. But this?

Previous

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[thef1diary]

Oh my goood Di!! You killed it with my last request and I need more. Reader starts missing hearing ghost!Max’s voice after a while following the investigation, even if he’s still there and she goes to buy a spirit box or different device that would allow her to speak with (or hear) her beloved ghost, maybe set up some motion cameras to see where he is around the house?👀 way too many thoughts about this!!

~🫠

— hm motion detection cameras you say? it is a very good way to know where he is and what he’s doing at all times, even when you’re at work. 18+ content below

Your excitement buzzed through you as you finished downloading the app on your phone. The paranormal motion camera was your latest attempt to keep track of Max since you couldn’t see him. Now that communication devices had proven to be a frustrating failure—a temporary setback, this seemed like the perfect alternative. Sleek little cameras were now perched throughout your house, angled perfectly to cover the entire space.

Of course, you hadn’t actually set it up. After some coaxing—and a fair amount of teasing—you’d gotten Max to maneuver the cameras for you, his invisible hands carefully securing it in place. You couldn’t help but laugh as the device wobbled midair while he adjusted it, his impatience apparent even without words.

“Perfect,” you murmured as the live feed popped up on your phone. The motion camera worked seamlessly, showing a faint, glowing outline of his form whenever he moved. You tested it out for a few minutes before leaving for work, grinning as you caught the faint figure of Max lounging lazily on your bed.

By lunch, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Sitting alone in the breakroom, you opened the app, eager to check in on him.

The image on your screen made your breath hitch. The faint outline of Max was visible, but he wasn’t just lounging anymore. He was in your bedroom, standing at the foot of your bed. And in his hand, unmistakably, was a pair of your panties—the new lacy ones you’d bought after you told him about needing to wear them in public.

You watched, utterly transfixed, as his hand moved. The camera couldn’t capture all the details, but the glowing outline of his figure made it clear what he was doing. He rubbed the delicate fabric against his cock, the motion slow and deliberate, his hips rocking ever so slightly. The idea of him using your panties like that made your head spin, heat blooming low in your belly.

Your phone nearly slipped from your trembling hands as you stood up and bolted to the office bathroom. Locking yourself in the farthest stall, you leaned against the door, chest heaving. Your hands shook as you brought the screen back to life, the feed reconnecting.

There he was—still in your bedroom, still working himself over with your panties. His outline was sharper now, more defined as he moved faster, his ghostly form shuddering with each stroke.

Your free hand slid under your skirt, trembling fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. You were already wet, the arousal pooling between your thighs too intense to ignore. Biting your lip, you dipped your fingers into the slick heat, fingering yourself in time with Max’s movements on the screen.

The thought of him, alone in your room, desperate and needy, using something so intimate of yours to get off—it was intoxicating. Your breath hitched, soft whimpers escaping as you circled your clit, matching his rhythm.

On the screen, his movements grew more frantic, his body tensing. You could almost feel the energy, the raw heat of his arousal spilling through the feed. It quickly sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you as you bit down on your lip to muffle the cry that threatened to spill out.

Slumped against the stall door, you stared at the screen, chest heaving, body still trembling. Max had stilled now, his outline faint but he was clearly satisfied.

As you cleaned yourself up, one thought burned in your mind: you’d never look at that camera—or those panties—the same way again.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[coryndoll]

STAY THE NIGHT ( prologue )

plot ── you unexpectedly bump into your ex-boyfriend, drew starkey, years after a breakup. you reluctantly help him escape the spotlight. what starts as a tense reunion turns into a secret, spontaneous journey through the city that forces you to confront your shared past. will he stay the night?

content ── “starstruck” inspo, exboyfriend!drew starkey x exgirlfriend!reader, aspiring writer reader x new rising actor drew basically

authors note ── hi guys so .. yes a new series i fear.

main masterlist

drew stumbles through the narrow back halls of the club, his vision swimming as the alcohol dulls his senses. his shirt sticks to his skin, damp with sweat, and the lingering press of too many hands, too many bodies, feels like it’s still clinging to him.

he’s out of it. too many drinks, too much noise. but somewhere in the fog, a single thought keeps pulling him forward: he needs to leave. he needs air. he needs to go home.

his hand trails along the wall as he walks, searching for balance, his steps uneven. someone—he can’t even remember who—told him to use the back exit. avoid the crowd. the fans are still out front, waiting, calling his name. the idea of facing them feels unbearable, so he keeps moving, rounding corners, ignoring the distant voices of staff and the clinking of glasses from the bar.

finally, he reaches the last door. it’s heavy, metal, the kind that slams shut behind you if you’re not careful. his fingers curl around the handle, and without hesitation, he pushes it open hard, letting the door swing wide.

the impact is immediate. there’s a solid thud, followed by a sharp, startled noise.

he freezes, his heart lurching as he realizes he’s hit someone.

outside, you’ve stumbled back, your hand shooting up to your head where the door clipped you. the sharp edge of the impact throbs, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to do anything but blink.

“what the hell?” you snap, your voice cutting through the quiet of the alley.

drew peeks out through the doorway, his movements unsteady but quick. his eyes land on you, and for a split second, he doesn’t register who you are, just that you’re there, and he’s the one who hit you.

“oh shit,” he mutters, his voice low, hoarse. “i’m so sorry— are you alright?”

he steps toward you, his words tumbling out fast, almost slurred. there’s a frantic edge to him, like he’s not sure how to fix what just happened. his hand hovers near your arm, unsure whether to help you or keep his distance.

you straighten slowly, your fingers still pressed to the side of your head. you glance up at him, your eyes narrowing in irritation, but something about him catches your attention. it’s the way he’s looking at you. he’s panicked, apologetic, but also . . . strangely familiar.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap again, but your voice wavers slightly now, your irritation giving way to confusion.

drew’s gaze flickers over you, and something shifts in his expression. it’s subtle at first, a flicker of recognition that grows stronger with each passing second.

you notice it, too. the way his features seem to change, the way his panic starts to melt into something softer, something heavier. you stare at him, your chest tightening as realization creeps in, slow but undeniable.

“wait,” you breathe, your voice softer now, almost disbelieving.

he doesn’t say anything, but his eyes meet yours, and it’s like the world around you falls away.

“drew,” you whisper, the name slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

his breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he stares at you, his eyes wide with something between disbelief and urgency. “y/n,” he says, your name tumbling from his lips like it’s a lifeline, like he’s been holding it in for years.

you can’t move, can’t speak. your legs feel unsteady beneath you, and your hands hover awkwardly near your thighs, like you’re trying to brush off the dust and rocks but can’t quite follow through. your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

drew looks away first, his head snapping to the right toward the street. his body tenses, his shoulders rising as he scans the sidewalk just beyond the alley. a few people walk by, but none of them glance your way. still, it’s enough to make him anxious.

he exhales sharply, almost like a curse, and his hands move instinctively to your shoulders. his grip is firm but careful, like he’s grounding himself, or maybe grounding you. his fingers tighten slightly, and there’s something in his touch that says more than words could: relief, hesitation, maybe even regret.

you blink up at him, your lips parting like you’re about to say something, but he shakes his head, just barely, and pulls back.

he starts to turn, his body angling toward the street like he’s about to leave. “i—” he begins, but the words don’t come. he takes a step away. a part of you doesn’t want him to go.

your hand shoots out before you even think, grabbing his arm just below the elbow. your grip is firm, your fingers curling around his forearm in a way that stops him in his tracks. he freezes, his breath catching, and then he looks back at you.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything slows. you search his face, your gaze darting between his eyes, his mouth, the faint lines of tension in his jaw. you’re looking for something, like an explanation, a reason, anything that might make sense of why he’s here, why he’s running, why he’s leaving already.

drew glances over his shoulder again, his jaw tightening as he checks the street. this time, he mutters a curse under his breath, low and frustrated. when he turns back to you, his expression softens, but the urgency is still there, tugging at the edges of his features.

“do you have a car?” he asks, his voice low and hurried.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. your hand is still on his arm, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. the first time you’ve seen him in years and this is what he asks you?

authors note ── there will be sm drama & a journey & adventure around los angeles & actors & rekindled sparks just u wait omg. if u want to be part of the taglist for this new series, let me know thru replies, anons, dms, reblogs, etc !!

early tags ── @nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @hoelesslyt @lotuslovers

[wrathofrats]

Let Me Slip Inside Your Ultraviolet Disguise

Mountain/Rain, explicit

Merry Christmas @forlorn-crows (:

Rain gave him a soft closed lip smile. His hands reached to overlap mountains that sat at the hem of his sweats, simply rubbing his hands over the fabric. He had never had his tentacle actually inside of anyone. Sure, maybe countless mouths but this? This was different. More intimate and strange in rains mind. No one else had something like this.

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could.

Or, mountain rides rains tentacle for the first time.

Small warnings for t4t, rain has top surgery, mountains big naturals, cunt and clit and folds used for both of their anatomy’s, tentacles, it’s literally all fluff

Read under cut or on Ao3

“Could I try?” Mountain sat back on his heels, biting his lip. Rain didn’t meet his gaze, instead opting to pick at a loose thread from the pillowcase. His sweatpants were double tied around his waist, probably stolen from Swiss or simply bought to be a size too big. The extra room was comforting.

Mountain pulled at the drawstring, simply wrapping his finger around and pulling for the first knot to come undone. Rains shirt had rode up to expose the soft part of his stomach. It wasn’t that rain didn’t want this, but the nervousness settled inside him like a rock. Heavy and uncomfortable as mountain continued to toy with the hem of his pants, careful not to brush over his skin as to not seem like he’s trying to take it too far.

“Are you sure? It’s just ..” rain finally plucked the stray piece, throwing it onto the floor before finally looking back up at mountain, “isn’t it weird?”

“Do you want it to be weird? Dew sometimes likes it better when I treat him like that” the last knot came undone, letting the sweatpants slouch a bit more under rains tummy. It wasn’t meant to be weird, it was just rain, that’s all mountain needed.

“No, I don’t think so. Can you just ..” Rain trailed his thought off, the combination of not exactly knowing what he wanted to say and not being able to get the words out even if he did. Mountain knew though, knew him better than he knew himself, rain was pretty sure. Even if mountain didn’t know what he needed, he trusted him to take care of him anyways.

“I’ve got you waterlily”

Rain gave him a soft closed lip smile. His hands reached to overlap mountains that sat at the hem of his sweats, simply rubbing his hands over the fabric. He had never had his tentacle actually inside of anyone. Sure, maybe countless mouths but this? This was different. More intimate and strange in rains mind. No one else had something like this.

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could. Rain watched mountain undress in front of him, pulling his shirt over his head with a crack in his back, the amber sunset making his skin look almost golden. There was no flair in the way he took his clothes off, something almost domestic in the prospect of not showing off. It made Rain feel more at ease.

Mountain turned back around to focus on rain once his pants were in a careless heap on the floor along with his sweater. He only added to the mess, neatness not a virtue of his but especially not when he needed to focus on the water ghoul in front of him. The sweats and thin t shirt that rain had on were quickly discarded, leaving him in the same vulnerable state. Delicate scars decorated his chest, ones that mountain found it almost impossible not to kiss and rake his teeth over whenever he got the chance.

The prospect of different tasted funny on rains tongue. Something bitter but not exactly bad. Sure, they had done things countless of times before but there was no plastic or silicone involved this time, not some quickie in a dark corner with mountains fingers shoved deep inside of him. The idea of being inside of mountain was for some reason intimidating, either just because of anxiety or the small amount of fear that mountain would get freaked out and stop.

Suddenly a large hand rubbed over rains thigh, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts once again.

“Don’t think too hard, ok? I can practically hear your thoughts rainy. Im excited that you get to be my first time” there was a small chuckle to mountains voice, as if he was being half ironic to lighten the mood a bit.

“Your first time? Thought you were supposed to be the experienced one. Lead me through my first time”

“It can be both our firsts then. Together. How about that?” Mountain leaned over rain, pressing his lips softly to rains own. Chaste, even if he lingered for a moment over him.

Rain snorted and pushed against mountains chest to get him to sit up right again. Sappy fucker. An intimate experience even if mountain was exaggerating a little bit for the sake of the mood. Mountain knelt between his legs, hands rubbing closer and closer to his folds. Rain was already a little slick, mountain had the tendency to get him like that without doing much.

“Gotta coax her out” Rain practically whispered, almost sheepishly.

“She loves me” mountain spread rain open and thumbed at the smooth patch of skin right below his clit. Something wriggled beneath it, the tip of rains tentacle emerging from its sheath, “see, didn’t think she would take much convincing”

It slowly pushed itself out and wrapped around mountains hand. Surely just searching for warmth but still a bit endearing, especially with how the flush on rains face grew watch the whole ordeal.

“Come on- don’t just play with it, said you’d take care of me”

Mountain gave a playful roll of his eyes before moving his hips to be flush with rains. He used his free hand to open himself up, spreading his lips to rub the tentacle along his cunt hoping it would take. Rain is sure he started drooling. Thick hair from his navel down his thighs but pretty pink between them, warm and wet. It was hard not to completely zone out staring at him. A bit of hair covered his chest as well, large breasts bouncing slightly with every move and god mountain was just beautiful.

The tentacle removed itself from mountains hand before slowly pushing inside of him. The two released a punched out groan in tandem, mountain slamming his hips down with a tight grip on rains waist. Rain was right, he felt fucking perfect. Silky and soft inside, absolutely tighter than he thought he could be but it was all entirely new. His mouth fell open and eyes screwed shut, tangling his fists in the sheets below him to hold on to a semblance of reality as his tentacle explored mountain from the inside.

Sweet little suckers pumped in and out, practically kissing the rim of mountains hole. He rocked back and forth, working up to ride him in earnest. Rain had never seen him like this before, sure he had mountain ride him countless times but this was, again, different. His eyes were practically in the back of his head and his thighs shook with every small downstroke. His long hair fell into his face as he threw his head forward, giving a low moan seeing how rains tentacle entered him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful waterlily”

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

I and @aquinnix co-wrote this fic, Zed And Scar’s Guide on How Not To Do Basic Science, for @hermitadaymay’s Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event!

My chapters, “Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics” and “Conductivity and Meteorology”, are below the cut!

Gravity, Velocity, and Basic Physics

Honestly, neither of the culprits, who also happened to be the victims, could remember how it began.

But where it started was certain. At a sheer cliff-face on a particularly tall mountain whose peak reached past the clouds.

Zed planted his hands on his hips, squinting past the blindingly white snow up to the flat landing some hundreds of blocks upwards. “All the way up there?”

Scar nodded, his face painted in a grin far too genuine to be real. “Yup! I mean, I’ve seen mountain goats make it up there, and sheep too, and some chickens, and the occasional horse, so why couldn’t you?”

“I mean, why not? It’s technically science! Because… gravity!”

“Yeah! Good luck!”

Zed almost immediately regretted his classification of the request as science. Most of the cliff was nearly vertical, with only the tiniest footholds for his hooves. And he wasn’t exactly used to walking on solid rock and slippery gravel and fresh snow, so the whole affair hurt like the dickens.

From somewhere down below, Scar called up what could be called encouragement. “You’re doing great! I can hardly see you, but I’m sure you’re doing great!”

“Thanks, I think? Oh, and how do you intend to get up here? I can’t be doing this all by myself! Science is cooperative, after all.”

A pause. He had not considered this whatsoever. “Uh. Well. I think I’ve got ender pearls in here somewhere…”

“Break your feet if you wanna.” Zed resumed climbing for a moment, but then he had an epiphany. “Wait. Don’t you have wings?”

“Wings. Wings? Oh, yeah, wings! I’m a half-vex, so I can fly! Right!” Manifesting the half-transparent, and honestly kinda pathetic flappers, Scar made for the cliff at a pitiable pace. “I’ll be right there!”

“Sure you will. See you at the top!”

Putting his all into not slipping off and falling and certainly dying, Zed made a mad scramble out of the rest of his climb. Externally, the whole affair looked rather desperate and haphazard. Internally, he was exclaiming ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow with every new hoof- and hand-hold.

But somehow, he made it.

Collapsing into a panting heap among the snow and grass, he only rose when a scream echoed from somewhere below. Popping his head over the edge, Zed saw Scar dangling from a single outcropping (that he had conveniently missed on his own ascent), beating his wings into a hurricane in an attempt to stay aloft.

“ZEEEEEEEEEEED HEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEE—”

“Oh, you’ll be fine! And I surely have something to drop you…” Rooting around his pockets, the scientist produced a few arms-lengths of useless sewing string, a bundle of spider eyes, and, finally, a good, sturdy chain about as long as a spruce can grow tall. “Grab on!”

Without looking over the edge, Zed dropped the chain, which had a soulfire lantern on one end, and a caldron on the other. Dropping the lantern down, he anchored the caldron with a swiftly collected bucket of powder snow before bothering to check on Scar. Evidently, from the noises alone, he was still terrified.

“Zed? Zed? Zed, you’re gonna bring me up, right? Right? Zed?”

“Of course! But this is another chance for science! There’s something called velocity I’m rather interested in. And you might be the perfect test subj— I mean, assistant for the job! Interested?”

“I mean, if it gets me up this cliff, yeah! Go ahead and do science!”

“Gladly!” Promptly downing a potion he found in his pockets, which was probably strength, he planted both hooves and grasped the chain. “Hold on tight, until you’re going so fast you can’t handle it!”

“Why would I be going fast wait wait wait this is fast this is reaAAAAAAAAA—” Quickly returning to screaming, Scar indeed hung onto the chain for dear life as Zed put his whole body, which wasn’t much but was still something, into swinging him around in the air. Not very far in the air, mind you, but he was still airborne.

The screaming continued for an almost concerningly long amount of time, before Scar finally let go and was launched into the near distance. A tiny streak of blue and noise, Zed watched him depart happily.

Until he hit a tree. Face-first.

“Ooooh. Let’s mark that as human error… Aww, I don’t have my notes. Where could they have gone?”

One place, obviously. The ground beneath the cliff. Peering over the edge again, Zed spotted the book, the quill, the bottles of ink, the ink still in the sacks, the backup quills, and everything he needed to record his science, at the base of the cliff.

“Oh. Well. I do need to get whatever Scar dropped.”

He began the desperate scramble but in reverse, twice as terrified thanks to the dying light of the setting sun. The chorus of ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow returned in his head, and every so often he’d halt and start fiddling with his comms box to calm his nerves.

One of those times, he managed to leave it open and floating as he began descending again.

Of course, Scar chose that moment to ping him.

goodtimewithscar: Zed?

Yelping in fear and surprise, Zed performed his usual reaction.

A small jump.

The last thing he remembered from that afternoon was seeing his notes a split second before everything went black.

-

At least he remembered to record his observations the next morning.

“Note to self, falling off a cliff results in the worst back pain this side of getting kicked by a horse.”

Conductivity and Meteorology

Thunder sounded for seemingly the millionth time that evening, cracking Zed’s ears open again. It was loud enough to shake his cabinets, sending the pots and pans rattling. That noise gave him an idea, an idea that began bouncing in his brain harder the more the rain drove into the ground and the closer and closer the lightning became.

Who would be awake at this hour? he thought, and more importantly, who would hear me out?

He wasn’t on speaking terms with Cub after what had gone down in the shopping district, and Impulse was almost certainly still after his head for that thing with the cats. Grian wanted his hide for that incident with the fish, Cleo had sent multiple letters over that display he destroyed, and Scar…

Oh, he would do perfectly.

-

“Why did you want me to bring all my cutlery?” Scar asked, as he placed several shulker boxes on the kitchen table, their metal contents clattering.

“I didn’t even know you had that much cutlery.” Zed clapped his hands together out of sheer excitement. “This is perfect! You got the string?”

He produced several spools from his pockets. “Yeah..?”

Zed took up his largest pot and one of the forks. “Start tying things together. We’re going to capture lightning in a bottle.”

There was no hesitation. “Okay! Uh, is the string going to be enough? Your pots are quite big.”

“Don’t phrase it like that. And yeah, maybe we need something more. Got any wax?”

“…No? Maybe? Actually, let me check.”

He commenced a great rummaging in his pockets, pulling out boxes and bundles, tearing through piles of wood and stone and what seemed to be concrete. Zed started getting nervous when he began tossing terracotta around his kitchen.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, mate? You’ve got an awful lot of construction material on hand.”

Scar looked up, not even stopping in his search through gravel and dirt. “Huh? No, this is just what I happened to have on hand. Raw iron, moss, wool, oh! Even a lighting rod! Dyes, wheat seeds—”

“Did you just say you have a lighting rod, Scar?” Zed’s hooves began to drum in excitement. “Three copper, arranged in a line? An honest-to-Void lightning rod?”

”Jeez, calm down. Yeah, it’s a lightning rod. Wait, do you want to use it? To catch the lighting?”

“Yeah! I don’t know how yet, but that’s the beauty of the scientific method. Try, try, try again, and if you fail, try yet again! After all, what’s death in the face of great discovery? Or great fun!”

-

Zed stood looking at his newest contraption with pride. A monstrous shape of pots and pans with forks sticking out like so many feathers, her head, a kettle, was crowned with a lightning rod horn. It was terribly unwieldy and amazingly magnificent. She was also very, very heavy, and they had no chance at moving her anywhere.

“So… got any minecarts?”

“Nope!”

“I guess she’s staying here, then. Here’s to hoping that Seraphina won’t burn down the forest!”

“Cheers, Serena!”

“It’s Seraphina, Scar. Now all we’ve got to do is wait.”

”For what?”

Of course, lighting chose to strike Seraphina right then, thunder clapping barely a moment later. The flare momentarily blinded both of them, and while Zed instinctively dove for cover, Scar summoned his wings and flew directly upwards. And, being possessed of something akin to sense, he was wearing a good, sturdy, metal belt buckle.

Zed only stuffed himself deeper into his front yard’s bushes when Scar screamed. It was by no means a new noise, nor an entirely surprising one, but its length indicated that he wasn’t quite dead yet.

And a thump indicated that he had returned to the ground. At speed.

Finding some half-intact goggles in a pocket, Zed carefully wiggled out of his bush to tend to the half-vex. Very singed, very burned, and having lost his shirt to the storm, Scar was groaning mostly out of pain, but also out of annoyance.

“Ugh. I hate respawning after fire stuff. And I can’t see! You there, Zed?”

“Yeah. And I’m fresh out of healing potions. You want me to make it quick, or do you want to stick it out?”

“Let me die naturally, please. Losing my head always gives me the most annoying neck pain. Is Sofia intact?”

“Seraphina. And yes, she’s fine. I can attach the bottle and we can get our captive lighting bolt in no time. Just stay put.”

-

Scar groaned again, this time out of boredom. “Zed, how long has it been?”

“Long enough. Are you sure you don’t want me to end it?”

“Yes, let me live for now. I think I can see the sun!”

“That’s the moon. And it’s still pouring.”

”Aww, my nerves must be shot. Wait, if it’s night, do we need to worry about mobs?”

“Probably not. Xisuma made me light this whole area to the Nether and back, after the enderman incident.”

Another arc of lighting struck some far-off lightning rod, giving Zed another reason to sigh. Seraphina wasn’t particularly tall, barely making it to the second floor of his house, and her rod was hardly the only one in the area. Most of his neighbors had the good sense to put one up.

“I am this close to going over there and stealing their lightning rods.”

Scar seemed to groan in response, deeper and longer. And again. And again…

Wait. That wasn’t Scar groaning. Scar was screaming again.

“Zed? Zed! Get over here! It’s zombies!”

”Of all the—“ Pulling out his sword, he ran to the only shadowed spot in his garden. Three zombies and a skeleton were shambling out of the darkness, and Scar was desperately scooting away, trying to nock an arrow on his bow.

“Get down!” With a swipe, he took one zombie across the chest, sending it stumbling back. “Put the Hot Guy away, too! You’re more likely to get me than any of these!”

“Aww, let me try! OUCH!” Before he could even loose an arrow, the skeleton sent one through his shoulder. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow—”

“This is too much for me. Sorry, Scar!” In one movement, Zed put his sword through the heart, and Scar turned into light. “I can’t let my assistant have a useless arm in addition to blindness. Now, would you four lay off? I’ve got science to do!”

-

Four destroyed mobs and an annoying arrow to the leg later, Zed had refitted Seraphina with a bottle on the… hoof? Foot? One of the sticky-outy bits that anchored her to the ground, and he was waiting for lightning to strike for the third time. Judging by his clock (which he thought worked, probably), he had two hours of night before the storm inevitably passed. Another boom sounded, in the far off mountains.

Void below, this was boring without Scar.

Zedaph: Is anyone else awake out there?

The radio silence stretched on for a little longer than necessary before someone answered.

docm77: I am

Oh. That is. Interesting.

Zedaph: Hi there, late night buddy! Or should I say early morning buddy?

docm77: What’s keeping you awake?

Zedaph: Science! Wanna see?

Radio silence, again. Typical. Turning back to Seraphina, Zed almost shut his comms box when a response finally popped up.

docm77: Not like I have anything better to do

-

Doc almost immediately regretted his decision.

“Why… no, what is the purpose of this?” He gestured at the giant pile of pots and pans and forks and buckets and scrap metal and old weapons and a single lightning rod. “I assume you want to conduct some electricity, but why?”

“I want to catch lightning in a bottle! And Seraphina here—“

“Of course you named it.”

“—is going to do it for me! Oh, and don’t look so glum, Doc. You don’t need to do anything but wait!”

“…fine.”

Settling down onto his hooves in a crouch, Doc couldn’t help but look around Zed’s front yard with concern. “Are you sure this place is mob proof? I can see a lot of shadows.”

“Don’t worry! X himself came over and certified it. I’ve got the paper somewhere in here.”

As he began rooting around in his pockets and Doc tried to count the number of forks on Seraphina, no-one heard the nigh silent footsteps of a creeper… well, creeping below the contraption.

And storm decided just then to send a bolt of lightning.

The creeper never saw it coming, but thankfully, Zed and Doc saw it easy enough. The surroundings were certainly dark enough for it.

“Hey Doc? Doc, why is the creeper glowing?”

“Don’t ask me, man! It’s your science!”

Zed began backing away very, very slowly. “I think it’s the creeper’s science now, mate.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, we kill it. Right? See what the lightning did to the insides?”

“No… No. This is your problem now.” Doc got up and pulled out a compass. “The nearest nether portal is a hundred and twenty blocks that way…”

Zed waved him a happy farewell. “Suit yourself! More science for me!”

In that time, the creeper had approached, creeping as best it could while glowing like a lantern. And then it did what creepers do.

-

Zed woke up the next morning in a lot of pain everywhere on the back of his body. It was a fascinating pain, like normal explosion remnants but somehow worse. He hurt especially badly on the back of the head and on his rear end, but it wasn’t anything debilitating. Yet.

Opening up his comms box, he found people conversing normally, Doc cursing his name for all to see, and Scar pinging him at least twice a minute.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

There was probably no use in replying.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Probably.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Okay, fine.

goodtimewithscar: Zed

Zedaph: Yes, Scar?

goodtimewithscar: Finally! Did you get the lightning?

Huh. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Scar wasn’t actually mad.

Zedaph: No

Zedaph: Creeper got the lightning, and creeper got me

goodtimewithscar: Oh

goodtimewtihscar: Did you do science?

He smiled. Maybe it was worth the pain.

Zedaph: Yes! Lots!

[pissvortex]

Ok @lakemojave I jumped into the river. or waded into the creek. Fuck it I nominate @brucebocchi, Greg, and YOU (the girl reading this) to jump into a fucking river.

Also @jimmyhoffathecat.

Daily click

Donate e-sims

Donate to the PCRF

[gallusrostromegalus]

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, established relationship, whiny nanami, cowgirl, mdni.

nanami loses his mind whenever his dick slips out of you.

thin blond strands of hair stick to his forehead as he stares at you. “sweetheart,” he almost pouts, hearing nothing but white noise in his ears as you’re jerking your body up and down against him. you felt so good, the warmth you always provided for him made him fall more and more in love. your saturated grip was merely addicting. he was quite literally drowning in your cunt. he found himself licking his lips, tossing his head back in bliss with a beefy arm clinging onto the rickety headboard. nanami uses his free hand to hold onto your waist, padded calloused thumbs brushing up and down your waist. “ugh, you do it s- so well, ride me so good,” and his words were like a broken record, a broken whisper. despite its raspiness, you could still hear the neediness lingering underneath. he looked so pretty, glossed up with tears of damp sweat. nanami’s mahongy blown irises rolling back before a low grunt pours from his lips.

“kento, ‘m close,” and as those sweet three words left your quivering spit-glossed lips, you let off a pitchy loud moan. your knees dig themselves deep into his thighs. as you vigorously rock further against his lap, it happens. he’s got a hand attaches to your waist only for his cock to abruptly slip itself out of your slippery cunt mid thrust and you could hear a tiny gasp leave his lips.

“o- oh fuck,” he groans, blinking twice. his entire palm creeps up against your ass as he pants. even the way he swore sounded angelic. the squelching pop sound that created from the sloppy action of your hips makes his ears ring. nanami buries his face into the forbidden crook of your neck in sheer embarrassment, wrapping a few thick fingers over his veiny length. “let me put it back in, s- sweetheart. stay still . . please.”

there was so much entreating beg in his voice, he felt the furrowing curl of his eyebrows compress together before he sprawls your thighs apart further with a single hand.

“okay,” you hum, feeling a breeze of wind rip straight out of your lungs. you’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been, riding him until he was a dumb pussy drunken mess. nanami felt his cock twitch at any and every word escaped from your lips. he could listen to your voice all day and never grow tired. your voice was his own favorite song to listen to on loop. “put it back in, ‘ken.”

“anything for you, my love,” he huffs, broad arms wrapping around your torso. he held you close, never wanting to let go.

the parching hot temperature of your own body radiates against him - your chest, it presses up onto his own and he practically feels himself melting from your balmy heat.

“s- so soaked for me.” he points out with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, preparing to re-align himself. nanami finds himself gawking at just how wet you were, creating a sheeny trail of your heat all on his lap. it made his mouth water at the thought of him licking it right up. he never minded to be messy — especially for you.

anytime you let him go inside, he makes it his entire life goal to make sure you feel good.

you let off a whimper, skimming a few trembly fingers down his faded undercut as he’s going back inside. you can hear his irregular pants as he’s smearing his damp cockhead against your entrance. nanami stares down, practically about to cum just from going back in.

with ease, you suck him in slowly and that moment was gonna always be embedded into his brain. you always swallowed him in so good. his girth, it stretches you open right away and your pussy greets him yet again with another greeting welcome. “k- kento, fuuuck.”

“i know, i know,” he pants, maneuvering soothing circles around your back with a clammy palm. you still had your knees dug into his thighs, making a cute attempt to start moving again. both bodies so close, perspiring with sweat that you start to stick and glue against him. with his sculpted jaw tightening, nanami can’t help but give the left cheek of your ass a nice squeeze. “oh, sweetheart. ‘m not gonna last if you keep— keep clamping down on me like t- this, fuck.”

as he’s fully inside again and his eyes salaciously roll way back, the powerful jerk of your hips starts to accelerate again and he’s already dumb.

dumb from your sweet, sweet cunt - his true enemy, you had him whipped.

there’s already a milky white ring coating around his thickset base. each time you jolt up from his lap only to slam back down, you hear the squelches of your own slippery cunt.

it’s messy, he’s messy. only for you though.

nanami feels the warm palm of your hands playfully shove him back against the fluffed pillows that’s directly behind him. “ah,” he lands back with a sheepish expression, gentle umber colored eyes flickering at your grinding body. “w- what’s this?”

“lie back, ken,” you murmur to him, feeling the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kiss up against your most sweetest spots. it took everything in you for your thighs - for your legs to not collapse right then and there. you see more teary beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead as he clings onto your unstable waist. “there . . good,” you purr to him, sliding a hand up his abs, a finger ghosting down his chiseled v-line and further back down toward his visible blond happy trail. “good boy.”

he swallows — a soft noise leaving out of him. nanami felt his cock twitch again, and this time, you felt it too. “s- say it again,” he pleads, his voice gruff yet still needy. you steady your hips, creating more haste before pressing a kiss into his neck. “c- call me that again, sweetheart.”

“good boy, kento,” you repeat in a whisper, realizing that he actually got off to your praises. he melts again, this time at your words. the bed creaks and grates in rapture, sweaty bodies mirroring springy movements in sync before he abruptly sinks his face into your chest.

“praise me more,” he utters hoarsely, and you let off a soft moan as he shifts himself underneath you.

you’re still bouncing on him, hearing the groaning springs of the bed sing out a lewd tune of its own and your back arches. as you felt brief bittersweet pangs near the undersides of your thighs spread like wildfire, he whines.

“mhh,” and within seconds, you feel the wet tip of nanami’s tongue lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest. pretty lashes of his flutter shut before he holds your hips in firm place. as you stare down, his twitching thickset cock still concealed deep within your walls, he pouts one more time, squished face tuck right between your chest.

“please. praise me again, my love. pretty please.”

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

[littlelamy]

boat scene with rafe

requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘 part 2

credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.

“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”

You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.

Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.

You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.

“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.

For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.

The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.

“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.

You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.

Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”

Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”

But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.

When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.

“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.

His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.

Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.

You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.

“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.

The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.

You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.

You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.

You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.

He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.

Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[kamitv]

Saw a pottery video earlier and started thinking about Nanami and how he’d definitely take pottery classes just for fun.

You miraculously attend a class one weekend and meet him there, watching the way his thick fingers dive in and out of the clay over and over and over—secretly wishing that it was your cunt he was sinking those lengthy digits into.

The veins in his hand bulge with every firm press of his fingertips into the moist clay and lord knows your thoughts are everywhere else except for the instructions he’s giving you.

Even when you work on the same item as him and as he guides your noticeably smaller fingers against the steadily molding clay, you can’t keep the erotic thoughts out.

He’d be right there, practically in your ear, hushing out a low, “Juuust like that sweetheart, right there.” In that sexy deep baritone voice of his.

If you weren’t squeezing your legs together before, you damn sure are now.

Hours in and you swore he was doing it on purpose, slipping his smoothly surfaced fingers in between yours and forcing you to curl your digits against the clay as he teased you with his words, “Feel right here? This spot’s important,” You don’t know a damn thing about clay or pottery but you’re pretty sure there’s no reason for him to be speaking like that over some weathered rock.

“Dig in there nice ‘n deep,” Nanami hums right against the shell of your ear. You can feel his hot breath tickling your skin and your lips part to let out an all too lustful breath of air.

Even while he was correcting something you did wrong, your mind was spinning. He’d ease your hands out and whisper yet again, “Not like that, watch me.” Nanami would instruct, tipping his head to the side to find your eyes and watch you watch his hands.

It’s definitely purposeful the way he slides only his middle and ring finger against the wet clay in a downward motion. Then he’s talking again and you’re soaked. “Like this. In and out, sweetheart. Carefully and slowly. Wouldn’t want it to break, would you?” Each word is dripping with a husked tone that makes your legs glue together.

And when he leans in even closer, your breath noticeable hitches. “I’m gonna need an answer from those pretty lips,” He hushes out, voice barely above a whisper.

It’s like it was only you and him in the room—despite there being many other people with their prospective partners or teachers.

Your lips are shaky as they part, “N-No, I-“

“Look at me,” He orders.

Your spine stiffens and your eyes flick up to meet his, only for your lashes to flutter as if to mask the heat that overcomes your flustered expression.

Nanami gives you a kind smile, “There she is. Now, what was that? I couldn’t hear you, you’ll have to speak up a bit for me, pretty girl.”

Your heart clearly wants to jump out of your chest at the intimate eye contact he’s giving you and his gentle words. All as his fingers still dig in and out of the nearby clay. Clearing your throat, you shake your head, “I was s-saying no, I don’t want it to break.”

He nods at your every word and you swear his eyes linger on the outline of your lips far longer than they should be. “Mhm, exactly. Now try again for me.” Nanami requests.

You swallow the lump in your throat and move your hands over to the clay once more. Your entire body feels hot and you pretty much lose your mind when he slides closer to you.

“Careful with the tip, it’s sensitive,” He whispers directly into your ear. Truth be told, he was referring the the edges of what seems to be a small pot forming but, that didn’t matter to you at the moment.

You nod again, “Sorry.”

He hums quietly to acknowledge your little apology and then his hands cup yours again, molding your fingers to almost sensually slide in and out of the forming pot.

Nanami’s lips graze your ear this time and you sigh a little too heavily. “She’ll be set out to dry later but, listen to how wet she is. It’s almost lewd.” He purrs, making your lashes bat at the way he refers to the pot as she instead of an it.

“N-Nanami, I don’t think—“

“Kento,” He corrects, “You can call me Kento.”

You gulp, “Are you-, are we still uhm, talking about pottery?”

The man lets out a low chuckle and he shakes his head, “What else could I be talking about that’s wet and makes lewd noises when you touch it? Hm?”

Oh he’s such a fucking tease.

“N-Nothing, sorry.” Lord knows if you stutter one more time you’re going to lose your damn mind. This is just embarrassing at this point.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, forcing your fingers deeper into the pot ahead. “Because if there’s something else you’d like to talk to me about, I’m all ears.”

Your face is burning. “No. There’s nothing else,” You try to mask your nervousness through words spoken without a stutter but the slight shake in your tone wasn’t helping much.

Nanami hums deeply, the sound vibrating against his throat. “Mmmh, but there is, isn’t there?” He points out, dropping his voice even lower as he moves his lips against your ear again, “Every time I open my mouth, your thighs clench together. Something tells me this soon-to-be pot isn’t the only thing wet right now.”

“I, uhm…” You sigh, “I—“

“It’s okay, I know these sessions can be quite arousing, pretty girl.” Nanami talks to you so quietly and gently, like he’s known what he’s been doing since the start.

“I’m not-, uh,” All you can do is sigh and try to control the constant pulsing in between your legs.

You feel him smile against the shell of your ear before he utters, “Just admit it, you’re soaked.”

How could you not be? Especially when he talks to you like that. “I…”

“Say it for me.” Nanami urges, “I promise I’ll help you after this if you admit it.”

You’ve never admitted to something faster in your life, “O-Okay, fine. Yeah, I am…”

Nanami’s fingers sensually slip against yours, “Good girl.” He hums. You’re so fucked. “See? Was that so hard?” He asks rhetorically, “Now, once we finish with this, I’ll be sure that you do as well.”

All you can do is nod blankly, “Okay…” Then a moment passes as his word truly sink in and you realize what he meant. “Wait, what—“

[revelboo]

I'll do anything to have an update of idw thundercracker. I fell for him so hard because of the way you write him asdfgjkl

He is the sweetest of the Seekers. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Better Open The Door Pt 12

IDW Thundercracker x Reader

• Heart racing as his servos slide from your hips to your thighs and then curl around your calves when you stand straddling him, there’s a thought to just stop this here and now. Pretend it never happened. Those optics are staring up at you as he keeps making that rumbling growl that’s almost a purr. Do this and there’s no turning back. And no just avoiding him afterward if it goes sideways. It’s the soft way he’d asked you not to go when he’d thought you were running from him, from this, that you think of. Those hesitant admissions that you’re all he has. You’ve heard him talk about the other Decepticons before. About his brothers, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he was lonely before he’d admitted it, because you can’t understand it. He’s so sweet and likable, so why?

• Servos sliding against the back of your legs as you reach for the button on your pants and then just stop, guilt twists through him that he pushed too hard. Demanded too much and might have ruined everything. “You don’t have to. Really.” Because he wants to be wanted, for this to mean something. Not just be because you feel like you have to. Those eyes close for a moment, before you’re undoing the button. Venting roughly, he watches you strip, reaching to steady you when you try to kick off your pants and nearly fall on him. Your eyes meet his optics as your face heats and he wants to drag you down to him. To roll you under him. Servos trembling faintly when he slides them up your legs, sitting up some when you stumble back a step.

• Big, warm hands catch your hips, tugging you forward and you almost fall into him. With him sitting and you standing, everything is on display for him and you wish the lights were out, that it was dark. Because this is vulnerable in a way you’ve never experienced before. And you’re not sure what to say, what to do. Head tipping back, he pulls you close until his chin is against your lower belly as he stares up at you, one of your hands landing on his helm for balance. And his hands are sliding over your hips, one running up your side, the other curling around you to slide between your thighs. Sucking in a breath as slides his thumb against you until he finds you and presses deep. “Primus, you’re beautiful,” he growls and you make a noise as he strokes you. “Is this okay? Can I touch you? Taste you?”

• You still don’t seem quite real to him as you go up on tiptoes when he plays with you, servo curling inside you until you make a ragged, needy sound that goes straight to his aching spike. “Please. Don’t stop.” Venting against you, his mouth opens and presses to your hip, pulling your scent into him. Wanting more. And stopping? It’s much too late for that even if you asked him to. Servo slipping free, he nudges your thighs further apart and grips your hips. Pressing his mouth against you, glossa stroking over you. And that noise is even better, your hands catching at his helm as he tastes you. Shifting under you as he takes his time, his wings flaring slightly to show off his wingspan for you. Coaxing you with his mouth and glossa, convincing you that he’ll be a good mate for you.

• Hips rocking as his glossa strokes deep again and again, curling inside you, there’s a faint thought that you should be mortified of how wanton you are. Moving against his mouth as your body coils, aware of the sounds you’re making, that you’re begging him as you come apart on his glossa, legs trembling when he eases you down into his lap then lays you back. Head lifting when he frees his spike and it rubs against your thigh. “I’ve got you,” he growls, his voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it as the head of his spike slides against you before he grips himself and finds you. Your back arches at the feel of him stretching you, sliding deep when he shifts to more fully cover you. Optics bright, he begins moving against you, that spike stroking inside you as you cling to him.

• Thrusting against you, he brushes his mouth over your jaw. Lost in the feel of you under him, the way you feel made just to take his spike. And you’re going to be such a good carrier for his sparklings. Ignoring that shadow of doubt in the back of processor that whispers just because you’re compatible this way, doesn’t mean you’re compatible that way. Doesn’t want to think about that right now, letting desire and need drive him. Because you’re finally his. To keep. To breed. He’s doesn’t need to ever be alone again. Hears you cry out under him, tightening on his spike as his rhythm falters. Rocking himself against you when you fist his spike until he sheaths himself deep and overloads inside you. Mouth opening against your neck, groaning as he tries to make it last. Aware of those soft hands holding onto him, of your ragged breathing as your mouth brushes his helm. “I have you,” he growls, sliding a hand under your head to hold you to him. Because he’s never letting go and he’s not nearly done with you.

Previous

[webism]

ᯓ Kento Nanami doesn't even know he has a breeding kink until he cums inside of you for the first time. It's like a flip switches in his brain, and the second that sweet release floods your womb he is plagued with the instinctual need to fill you over and over and over until something takes.

And breeding you doesn't have to mean a baby, but rather the primal possession that comes with having you spend the rest of the day with a part of him inside of you. No other man has the privilege, the right, or the reason to claim you as he has, and it does something nasty to the way he fucks.

He's still the gentleman he's always been: still makes sure you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before he graces you with the hard-to-manage length of his cock. But rather than in the spirit of purely giving you pleasure, he's trying to ensure you're so wet that he can force himself just that little bit deeper inside of you.

A guilt of his, perhaps, but Kento read that if he were to edge himself between moments of intimacy with you, that his loads would be bigger, more forceful—and the idea of giving you even more of himself than he already had been is enough to get him hard. So, he starts touching himself whenever the thought clouds his mind, which is more-often-than-not nowadays. He fucks his fist to the thought of breeding you out until he's cumming dry and you're so full of his cum that it has nowhere to go other than down your legs. Stopping before he cums is a pain like none other, but his new adopted thought process claims a load spent anywhere other than balls-deep inside of you is a load wasted.

And he doesn't say a word of it to you. You only pick up on it when you realise he won't cum anywhere else. When you're sat between his legs after a long day of work, serving him with your mouth and coaxing those lovely groans from his chest. How his hands try and guide you off of him before he gets close enough to lose control, sys he doesn't want to cum down your throat. Once upon a time he would get hard all over at just the sight of you swallowing his lust.

"I just... want to be inside of you, honey, is that okay?" He says, and you oblige because the way Ken gets once he's finally seated inside of you is nothing other than animalistic, euphoric. But you have to wonder if there's a reason he avoids spilling his seed over your tongue or tits like he used to.

"You know I like the taste, right?" you glance over at him when he bends you over the arm of the couch and slips his aching cock into you. You doubt you'll ever get used to his size—he always has to take a moment to let you settle once he's in.

"I know, love," he claims. "I just... prefer it this way."

"Don't you like fucking my throat anymore?"

"God," he groans, presses his body into your back so that his breath fans over your ear. "No. I love your throat. I love all of you."

A thrust to test the waters— at your moan, another. Kento rocks his hips, drags his cock out of you and then drives forward until you and him are as connected as you can be... almost.

"You wanna breed me, is that it?"

Kento's hips stall. You're not stupid, and he doesn't even realise he's got an arm wrapped around you so he can splay his fingers over your stomach. His wedding band presses against your skin, sets it alight with burning need. Hearing you say it, though, makes him nearly cum on the spot—he wouldn't be so selfish.

"How'd you—"

"You say it, Ken," you drawl your words out, tease him with your tone. "When you cum, you say you're gonna fuck a baby into me, that you're gonna 'breed me like the pretty whore I am'. Don't worry, I like it. I want it."

He can hardly believe it, such words feel foreign to his mind. But they taste familiar on his tongue, like a part of his subconscious speaks on his behalf when he's all blissed out like that. He wonders just how deep the instinct to breed you runs, because his cock twitches and all of a sudden he's thrusting into you at a speed that seems only supernatural.

The snapping of his hips, the sound of skin against skin and the curses that slip from his lips like wine. It doesn't take long for you both to cum alongside each other, Kento, of course, deep inside of you.

And it takes a very strong part of him to pay attention to himself this time, and you aren't a liar: the song of need and primal lust that spill from his mouth are made for porn. Not that he can find it in himself to be embarassed, you seem to like it, what with the way your whole body shakes in orgasm as he fills you up.

Yeah, you'll be throwing out every condom you've got stashed away in the house.

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[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[saetoru]

imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)

“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.

you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.

so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”

“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”

you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.

it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.

the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.

and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.

“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”

“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”

“m-more, more—need—”

“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”

his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.

“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”

“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.

you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.

you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.

“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.

you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.

“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”

you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.

instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?

evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.

it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.

you think you might want that.

he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.

“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.

he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”

“satoru, don’t joke about—”

“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”

satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that. 

that doesn’t sound so bad. 

“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”

“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”

“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers. 

“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”

if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.

“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”

“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”

leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.

“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”

“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”

and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part. 

i wanna be his girlfriend :(