#just me getting more and more annoyed with how little they remember despite OWNING notes they should have on it

[u5an5]

Just ended going through entire Witchlight and Im somehow annoyed so I gotta ask

If, when I go through it all again (which will be probably soon cause I want to remember EVERYTHING I need when Season 2 starts to come out), I wrote down every single thing they got and deal they made each episode, would anyone be interested?

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[appocalipse]

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

[popponn]

here and there, about him.

summary: is he perfect? no, just like anyone else. but there will always be something about him. (aka a snippets of one of many, many things he will do for you.)

notes: missing lovesick bllk boys trope for a hot minute while doing other stuffs. short and light stuffs to scratch the itch. was about to isagi and nagi, but turns out self control is still a thing for me. warning: none, just minor swearing + fluffs capital f of smitten boys, chigiri is ready to fight for you. reader's gender unspecified.

characters: rin, chigiri, kaiser.

itoshi rin is very, very much very obvious in his favoritism to you. so obvious that both his teammates and his brother told him to tone it down a little bit. of course, rin only scoffs and tells them to mind their own business (actually he said it more as ’fuck off, cretins’, but details). but, really, no one could exactly blame them. this guy could be in an ongoing tirade about how person a is an utterly pathetic soggy wet trash, then you greet him with a smile and he turns into a cold, suave, rich boyfriend on a snowy winter day. drape his jacket on you, hold your hand, and ’let you hug him from behind while discreetly intertwining your finger with his’ type of stuff. it’s a bit disgusting, honestly. and no one wants to start commenting on how he immediately looks in your direction after scoring a goal. also if he buys something, the only one who has the slightest bit of hope of ever receiving anything is his brother here—and that chance is very miniscule on its own since none of them are you. put simply, it’s a bit infuriating, yet undeniably infuriatingly cute in its own way to watch. especially when there is a very high chance you will be the one and only romance this anti-social guy will ever have. everyone in the team supports the two of you, but by gods maybe please do something about him a little bit?

chigiri hyoma will never let anyone hurt you. it’s common knowledge already that he takes no shit from anyone and ever since he has seen you as ‘the one’, he pretty much already thinks of you as an inseparable part of his life already. so, in other words, that means you have gotten yourself a boyfriend who is ready to become a biting guard dog at a moment's notice. someone insults you? tries to physically harm you? oh, baby, hold your boyfriend back because he is also known to get angry real quick. save his reputation and hold himself back from spouting words that would make someone’s ancestors cry or, worse, from beating someone up. this is a speedster athlete trained by ego jinpachi himself—no one could escape unscathed from something like that. but hey, this is someone who naturally turns into a shoujo manga male lead with soft gazes and flowery smiles the moment you put a hand on his cheek. this is, in a way, just another way for him to protect and make sure of your comfort. also, he needs to have an outlet for the less soft part somewhere other than soccer.

michael kaiser is very reliable and observant, despite whatever persona or deflection he will give you even in the ‘official already’ part of your relationship. this guy has a high ego and puts on an air of someone high and mighty, beyond your league. but everyone all knows if you get to the part where he proudly lets you wear his clothes or makes sure you stay pressed to his side during walks, he is down bad. still, for his sake and maybe everyone else’s, let him take care of you and act casually about it. don’t point it out when he suddenly crouches down and ties your untied shoelaces, keep talking as if nothing happened when he puts a hand in the small of your back, and just act as if nothing happened when he gives someone a ferocious glare while making sure you cling unto his arm. don’t praise or, god forbid, swoon at those. it will only make him get flustered and lose his composure or, worse, get real annoying. he is indeed good at the whole act of service thing, surprisingly, but please do remember his attitude is indeed also in the ‘piece of shit’ category most of the time. just let the yellow and blue betta fish swim at his own pace and let what means to happen in the future, happen at its own time, including giving praises to him without him reacting like a lovesick brat.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

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

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

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

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

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

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[shinsocest]

No. 005

notes: I don't remember this being so slimy but I love it. Anyways wish me luck at work tonight. It's my first time being in charge without the general manager breathing down my neck 💀

warnings: Size kink, degradation, praise, breeding, oral (both), voice kink, overstim, body worship

“I said no.”

You spit the words from your mouth angrily as you glare at the man you just shoved. The bass of the club thrums heavily in your chest, mimicking the heavy thud of your heart as he looks at his alcohol strewn shirt and returns your glare.

He’s been haranguing you all night. Awful one liners that he had to have thought up with his dick, and trying to buy you drinks. You’ve been polite, declining his advances one after another just trying to enjoy the night out with your friends, but now he’s crossed the line.

Your friends had excused themselves from the dancefloor to get more drinks, but before you could follow them he’d slid up behind you and put his arms around your waist. The unwanted touch had been enough to make your skin crawl.

You try to maintain your glare as he towers over you, but there’s a flutter of unease in your chest when he grabs your arm. His expression is taut, annoyed. “Don’t be a bitch. Just tryin’ to have a good time.”

“Let go.” You glance around warily, a familiar bitterness and panic sparking at the lack of attention this is receiving from nearby clubbers. Of course.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Just take it easy.” His purred tone makes your face twist up in disgust.

You’re preparing to throw the elbow of a lifetime when he suddenly splutters beside you, and is yanked from your side.

"Think you're looking for a good time in the wrong place."

Your head snaps up to see a tall, dark-haired man with your assailant's arm in a vice grip. He's covered in purplish scars that react strangely to the flashing red, blue, and greens of the club lights.

His eyes seem to pierce right through you as he spares you a glance, before he winks and turns his attention away. You stare; his eyes are so shockingly blue.

"What the hell, fuck off man." The other man struggles, but you watch him stiffen as the newcomer grips him tighter and whispers something in his ear.

His face pales, looking stricken, and he stumbles back as the newcomer throws him forward. He pushes through the crowd of people without looking back, ignoring their exclamations of irritation.

The newcomer watches him go, and you take a moment to just look him over. He doesn't exactly look like all the other clubbers. He's in a high collared, long black overcoat that's seen better days, black jeans and loose white t-shirt. But he doesn't seem out of place either; it's like he belongs here.

You don't realize you're staring until he turns to peer at you, and you look down, a sudden wave of self consciousness washing over you.

"Uh, thanks. Thank you," you manage after a moment, peeking up to see him giving you an amused look.

He gets closer, a grin widening across his cheeks. It looks uncomfortable to you, pulling at the staples holding his skin together. He speaks loudly, combating the music. "What was that? Can't hear you, babydoll."

You raise your voice as he steps closer, ready to repeat yourself, but your mind switches tracks. Despite his scars, you can’t deny that he’s incredibly handsome in his own way. You’re entranced by his roguish smile. "Dance with me."

Sapphire eyes gleam approvingly as his fingers close around your waist. He tugs you closer, guiding you to grind back on him in time with the pounding music.

You can hear him much clearer low, a low throaty rasp in your ear.

"Been watching you all night, little mouse. You sure do know how to tell a guy no. Can we have a little fun? Or are you gonna tell me no too?"

His words bring a shudder up your spine. There’s just something about him that draws you in. He feels wild, and dangerous, and you want to be swept up in it. Even if it’s just for a night.

Before you can answer, you can hear your friends calling your name. He peers over your head at the trio of girls standing a few feet away, all of them looking at you expectantly.

You look at them, giving them a reassuring look. “I’ll catch up with you guys, okay?”

Your best friend glances at him then at you, a knowing smile on her face as she tugs the other two back towards the bar.

Once they’re gone you lean your head back into his shoulder, pressing your hips back against him more firmly, letting him feel your agreement.

He makes an approving sound in his throat. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Name's Dabi by the way, babydoll.”

The way his voice is warm and hot in your ear makes it that much easier to melt into him, silencing any nerves as his long fingers toy with the hem of the dress you wore out tonight.

It’s painstaking how he inches the already enticingly short hem up your legs as you sway to the music. You can feel the telltale bulge against your ass as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, his fingers kneading the flesh of your exposed thighs. At this rate, if anyone nearby were to look too close, the lacy front of your panties would be clear to see.

Normally you would be an anxious wreck at the thought, but with his tall form pressed right up behind you practically molded to your backside, and his arms wrapped around your waist—you can’t even think beyond the sparks of anticipation. Your body feels moments away from igniting.

You feel more than hear Dabi’s approving moan as he slips a couple fingers between the apex of your thighs, pressing the rapidly dampening fabric deeper into your slit. “Shit, you’re soaked.”

His teeth meet your ear. “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Dabi pulls you off the dancefloor, towards one of the dark hallways that leads off towards the bathrooms.

Your squeal gets cut off as he presses you against the wall, his lips on yours. He kisses fiercely, his tongue insistently bullying past your lips, but the way he drags his hands down your body is almost reverant, palming at your tits, smoothing them down your hips like he wants to rip your dress from your body to get what’s beneath it.

Then he breaks off, leaving you both panting as he retreats to the other wall, beckoning you towards him.

“On your knees, little mouse. I wanna see what else you can do.”

He’s undoing his jeans, and that little tingle runs up your spine, a strange rush to earn his approval.

You delicately settle on your knees as he pulls his cock out, and don’t hesitate to reach for it, closing your hand around the girthy shaft, your lips already pressed to the dripping, pink tip.

“Open up, there you go,” Dabi groans as you close your lips around him, swirling your tongue around the sensitive glands on the underside of his cock.

After that you stop thinking, letting yourself feel the way he pulses on your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, the salty taste of his precum almost getting lost in the way you are shameless salivating over his cock.

The ring of a cellphone, heavily muted by the club music, hits your ears.

"Keep going, babydoll—don't you stop," Dabi hisses out, fishing his phone out of his pocket with a growl, glancing at the dimly glowing screen. "Shit."

He bites out a low curse as you swallow around him, fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Shigaraki, kinda busy."

You look up through teary eyes as you bob on his pulsing length. That name sounds almost familiar, but you're far too focused on the task at hand to spare it another thought. A moan sounds in your throat as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you deeper.

"Look I know what I'm—fuck—fucking here to do, okay? I'll get your man. Hngh—he's ashes, I promise."

Dabi listens for a moment, breathing hard as he stares down at the way his cock disappears and reappears from your mouth. Then he scoffs, voice shaking under the strain of swallowing another moan. "Fuck off, I'll do what I want in my free time. Gotta go, slut’s really good."

You whine as he hangs up and pulls you off of him.

"Quiet, babydoll, gotta return the favor before I forget and fuck you stupid," Dabi drawls, shoving his phone in his pocket and yanking you to your feet.

Dabi’s head swivels before he pulls you into a nearby bathroom. His touches are fervent as he paws at your body, his lips sloppy against yours as he pushes you up on the counter. He urges you up onto the marble, peeling the bottom half of your dress up; the countertop is cool against your flushed skin.

His palms are hot as they spread your thighs, opening a space for him to kneel between them. Dabi peers up at you through his lashes with a devilish look in his eyes before dragging his tongue over your pantyclad pussy. “These are cute.”

The casual comment makes your face burn, turning your face as he chuckles.

“Kind of in the way though.”

You squeak, eyes snapping down at the sudden feel of heat, to see him holding the singed fabric between his fingers. You really liked that pair. Before you could complain however, Dabi’s tongue slips between your folds. You gasp at the warmth of him, your eyelashes fluttering when he hums, and flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Just don’t be too loud, you know.”

You fucking know that, but you have never had to remind yourself to not moan so freely than now—the way his tongue disappears into your cunt, so slick and warm and agile. Either his tongue is way too fucking long, or he has found some magical angle that makes your thighs quiver, but between that and the way his nose nudges at your clit repeatedly, you feel yourself racing towards an orgasm.

He’s relentless, messy; your juices spilling down his chin. For once, you are getting as good as you gave. You bite back a moan as the knot in your stomach twists, threatening to snap.

Then Dabi pulls back.

“Should I let you cum now?” He sounds so condescending, contemplative as he toys with your clit, eyes glowing at the way you shake desperately under his touch. “I mean you haven’t made me cum, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Dabi, please—please, hah, please I need it.”

Your voice is shaky at best, words broken by panting as he drags the flat of his tongue over your dripping hole just once with a lazy precision, before resting his head against your thigh. His nonchalant grin doesn’t change as he keeps drawing featherlight shapes on your throbbing bud, so you desperately try again, trying to convince him.

“Someone m-might see, please.”

“Oh?” Dabi’s grin sharpens. “Well in that case.”

You cry out in loss as he stands, abandoning your clit. Your body aches at the denial, and Dabi chuckles at the broken-hearted pout on your face.

“Poor slut, look at you. But you said someone might see, so we need to hurry this up, right?” Your eyes instinctively flash down as he adjusts his jeans further down his thighs, stroking his cock. It looks especially pink and pretty in his hold, contrasting with the purplish skin on the back of his hand. “I didn’t even lock the door. So you want it or not?”

“Yes,” you breathe, captivated as he thumbs over the slit of his cock, spreading his precum down the shaft.

“Get over here then, babydoll.”

You don’t need to be told twice, easing off the counter and into his arms, where he smirks and allows a quick, sloppy swap of tongue before he spins you around and places your palms against the mirror on the wall.

It’s a little embarrassing, seeing for the first time how taken apart you look. Your makeup is smudged and running, your dress hiked up your hips, and your eyes are misty and desperate looking. As you meet his eyes in the mirror, it’s obvious that he sees all the same things you do, and revels in it.

Dabi smirks as he puts his hands on your hips, forcing them to jut out as he slots himself behind you. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? How ruined you look when I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You jolt as he taps his length against your inner thigh, sliding leisurely through your folds. “I asked you a question, doll.”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes, what?” Dabi coos, the thick mushroom tip catching on your clit now, making you mewl.

“I look like a pathetic slut,” you whine, arching your hips into his touch, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Very good,” Dabi rasps, the head of his cock catching on your eager hole. With a low moan he pushes in. “That deserves a reward.”

Your fingers bend against the glass as he thrusts home, the force of it threatening your balance. The intrusion is sudden, but your slick walls are accommodating, throbbing and ready to take as much as he’ll give you.

Every time Dabi drives into you, his cock slides against that stiff patch of nerves that makes moan after moan tumble from your lips. It doesn’t take long for that rolling wave of pleasure to begin cresting in you again, especially when he pulls the top of your dress down, groping at your tits as they spill out.

Your arms shake with the effort to keep yourself upright for the both of you as he rolls both of your tits between his fingers, pulling on them. As the tension pulls tight and snaps, your arms fail.

Dabi’s pace stutters as you fall against the mirror, your pussy spasming and creaming on his length, but after a quick adjustment, he returns to that hard and agonizingly steady tempo.

“Aw, babydoll, did you just cum? Poor thing, just from that?” Sympathy drips from his tongue as you whimper and nod—smudging the glass in the process—but when his thrusts get harder, you know it doesn’t run that deep. “Well I’m not quite done with this pussy yet, so just hang on for me.”

“Ah, ah, fuck!”

Your eyes go glassy as he continues to drill into you, your walls hot and sensitive, quivering in a way that would be embarrassing if you could think beyond how painfully good his cock feels.

“Fuck, squeeze me like that again. Gonna make me cum right in this pussy.”

Your whole body ripples at his words, causing Dabi to chuckle breathlessly. “Wait, did you like that? Hmm? Little slut, you really want to be knocked up by a guy you don’t even know?”

You look over your shoulder, your eyes teary, expression so fucked out as you nod at him that Dabi stiffens, his release suddenly much closer than it had been. “Damn.”

You fall into bliss so suddenly your moan is loud and unfiltered, rocketing off the bathroom walls and snapping the coil in his gut so fast that he snarls as his release takes hold of him.

“Oh fuck, babydoll, fine. You want me to stuff a brat in you? Then take it, take it—oh f-fuck, there you go, all for you, doll.”

His groan rumbles against your back as he presses you hard against the glass, his cock throbbing as he empties himself into your cunt.

Dabi leans into you heavily, relaxing against your body as the fading spasms of your pussy milk whatever he has left, before sighing and pulling out. With nothing to stop it, his cum spills out down your thighs.

You moan as you feel his fingers pushing his spilt cum back up into you.

“When you see those two lines, just come back here and ask around for me. I’ll find ya, doll.”

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT A GAME — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: the playful banter was fun at first, but the line had blurred so long ago that you were starting to get sick of wondering how jess really felt. luckily for you, he’s been thinking the same thing.

warnings: angst into fluff, jess being annoying in a way that makes me love him more lol, swearing ofc,

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i hope it does jess justice for you— i love writing him so much. i hope you enjoy — sorry it’s quite short i just wanted to keep it short n sweet

———

“Well that’s two hours of my life I’m never getting back, huh,” Jess took a final sip of the drink he’d been cradling for the whole film and threw it dramatically in the trash, his arm slung around your shoulder, “Think I aged like fifteen years in the time they took to wrap up that fuckin’ terrible plot.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him and discarding your own empty cup as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and eyed you curiously, “What, don’t tell me you actually enjoyed that?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you shrugged, “You’re just being pretentious.”

His brows furrowed at that — he hated when you of all people called him pretentious, and he knew you only ever did it to wind him up.

“Okay, what have I done?” Jess huffed, “You so didn’t enjoy that film, you’re just trying to piss me off. What did I do?”

You looked down at your feet with a grunt, “Nothing.”

“Despite my sweet baby face, I wasn’t born yesterday Y/N. It’s not nothing.”

The truth was that he had done something.

In fact, he was always doing the exact thing that had just tipped you over the edge.

“Fine, Jess,” you drew in a sharp breath, “I just— I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Have I missed something or was that movie just so dull that it corroded your brain?” Jess kicked a stone as he watched the frown on your face, “‘Cause I don’t remember playing any games. Not even footsie. What are you talking about?”

You scoffed, “That, Jess. Exactly that!”

“Woah, woah, c’mon Y/N. You’re going to have to give me more than just snapping at me. What the hell have I done?” Jess was growing increasingly frustrated now, but so were you.

You pressed a palm to your forehead, “I’m— What was that in there?”

“I was asking the same question,” Jess’ perplexed expression made your own angered one soften a little.

“What is this? Me and you?” you looked down at the floor as you posed this question, not wanting to argue any longer and too afraid wanting to see his reaction, “Because I’m sick of playing games and not knowing. You put your arm around me at the cinema, you share your popcorn with me when you’d like—literally snarl at anyone else if they asked, we kind of flirt like all of the time but we’re just friends.”

“Just friends, huh?”

You almost felt silly when you looked up at him and saw a smug smile on his face — almost.

But you were trying to open up to him and he was being just as irritating about your relationship as he always was.

“Jess…”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, taking your hand and pulling you around the corner to a park bench where he tugged you to sit down beside him.

“Do you seriously think we’re just friends, Y/N?” he was so close to you that you were sure he could hear your heart palpitations and see the goosebumps springing up on your skin.

“Well we’re not enemies, we spent a fuck ton of time together, and we’re not dating. So yeah, I’d like to think we’re friends,” you huffed, still avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head, “Why the hell do you think I invited you to see a fuckin’ romcom I’d never want to watch? Why do you think I asked to share popcorn? I know I’m the intellectually superior one here,” he paused to nudge your side as if to ensure you understood he was teasing, “But I didn’t think you were dumb enough to miss that I was obviously trying to make this a date.”

You bit your lip, finally returning his eye contact as his soft eyes stared intently into yours.

You drew in another deep breath, “Sure. Jess Mariano, Mr. Always Speaks His Mind, failed to tell me it was apparently a date so I’m dumb for not reading his mind?”

Neither of you had noticed that he was still holding your hand until that moment, and so he pulled it to the corner of his mouth and gave the back of your hand a gentle kiss.

Despite the unfamiliarity of this small but romantic gesture, your heart swelled in your chest and it almost felt natural.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for fuckin’ ages. Everyone knows that. We flirt and we act like there’s nothing going on when people ask, but I thought at the very least you knew how I really felt,” Jess shrugged, not releasing your hand and instead now rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

You didn’t retreat from his touch, but used your interlocked hands to shove his chest gently, “You’re an asshole, you know that right?”

The small smile tugging at your lips eased the anxiety that had begun to set in. He’d almost started to fear that you didn’t actually feel the same, but your unsteady breathing and the glint in your eye confirmed the opposite.

“I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “But that’s all just part of the elusive charm that made you fall madly in love with me, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Well in my defence, the prettiest girl in Stars Hollow has, like, totally got the hots for me,” your heart fluttered at the smirk still gracing his features, “Hard not to have an ego.”

You just chuckled softly in reply, your heartbeat still racing as he watched you carefully. His own gaze softened now, and he reached his free hand up to cup your cheek.

“Look, in all seriousness I’m sorry this has been so— well, just that I haven’t been more direct about this stuff. But you know me, you know I’m bad at—,”

You squeezed the hand that was still in yours, “I know, Jess. It’s alright. I really like you, and to be honest I’ve been happy enough with any excuse to be close to you.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward a little, “Can I kiss you, then? Make up for a shitty first date?”

You blushed crimson at the fact he’d asked, your cheek growing hot beneath his touch, “Of course.”

His lips met yours gently, as though testing the waters. You met his kiss with the same softness at first, but quickly the kiss grew more urgent — as though making up for lost time.

When you finally pulled away, your face was still bright red, and you felt almost embarrassed by how overcome with emotions you were.

“So, uh, about the film?”

He laughed, the loud affectionate laugh he reserved only for you, warming your heart as he sent you a teasing grin and licked his lips.

“And here I was thinking I’d be the one to ruin the moment, huh?”

———

thanks sooo much for reading — i hope this was okay! sorry for the radio silence for a while, i’ve had a lot going on and a LOT of unfinished drafts.

if you wanna read more of my stuff — here’s my masterlist!

[pretzel-box]

I have a funny headcanon. Sebastian loves dad jokes. He's an old fart after all and he just looks like that. How about I request Seb with reader who knows a lot of dad jokes

Tags: Super bad jokes I googled, bear with me. Sebastian and Reader sharing a braincell and the same humour. Comedy.

Words: 1,4k

Authors Note: The Impasta got me.

Sebastian had never been one for humor. Down in the depths of the Blackside, there wasn’t much to laugh about. The darkness, the constant threats, and the never-ending struggle to survive were no joke. But there was one thing he had always secretly liked, something he’d never admit to anyone down here: dad jokes.

It had started as a way to pass the time, a way to distract himself from the cold emptiness of the halls. He had found an old book once, torn and waterlogged, filled with terrible puns and silly one-liners. At first, he had scoffed, but then… he started reading. And to his surprise, he found himself chuckling. The jokes were so bad, they were actually good. They were simple, lighthearted—a rare commodity in this place. They were a small slice of normalcy in a world that had long forgotten what “normal” even meant.

So, when you first wandered into his shop, dripping with sweat and shaking off the nerves of a close encounter with some unnamed horror, the last thing he expected was for you to make him laugh.

“Hey, I'm back!” You called out.

“Sup’ Back, I'm Sebastian.” You two laughed before he continued.

“Rough day?” he’d asked, eyeing you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

You had nodded, catching your breath. “Yeah, ran into some… thing in the hallway. Almost took my head off.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, they do that sometimes,” he replied dryly, leaning back against the wall. “Gotta watch your head.”

You nodded, but your eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to keep it attached. Bad habit to lose your head, you know.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “You’ve got a point.”

You grinned, catching him off guard with your next line. “Hey, speaking of points… what do you call cheese that isn’t yours?”

Sebastian blinked. “What?”

“Nacho cheese,” you said with a deadpan expression.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, unexpectedly, Sebastian laughed—a short, sharp sound that echoed through the dimly lit shop. It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in… well, he couldn’t even remember how long. You joined in, your own laughter bright and contagious.

From that moment on, you were hooked on getting him to laugh again. Every time you came by the shop, you’d try a new joke, a new pun, a new one-liner, and every time, Sebastian found himself waiting for it, looking forward to it even. He’d pretend to be annoyed, rolling his eyes or shaking his head, but he couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?” you asked one day, leaning over with a grin.

Sebastian sighed, but his eyes were sparkling. “Why?”

“They don’t have the guts,” you said, your expression serious.

He snorted, covering his mouth with one of his hands to hide his grin. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, but there was no hiding the laughter in his voice.

You laughed too, clearly delighted with yourself. “Come on, you know you love it.”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Maybe a little,” he admitted.

You had a knack for it, a way of turning even the darkest situations into something a little brighter, a little more bearable. You made him laugh, even when he didn’t want to, even when he was tired or frustrated or feeling the weight of this place pressing down on him. Your humor was like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness.

One day, after a particularly close encounter with a wall dweller, you came back to the shop with a new joke ready. “Hey, Seb,” you called as you entered, breathless but grinning. “Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?”

He glanced up from his spot, already smirking. “Why?”

“It was two-tired,” you said, your grin widening.

Sebastian shook his head, chuckling. “You really have a thing for these, don’t you?”

You shrugged, leaning against the wall beside him. “What can I say? Life’s too short to be serious all the time.”

He looked at you, his smile softening. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess you’re right.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. And for a moment, just a moment, it was easy to forget where you were, easy to forget the dangers lurking just outside the door. In that moment, it was just the two of you, sharing a laugh and a smile in a darkened shop.

Sebastian didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful for you—grateful for the way you made him laugh, for the way you brought a little light into his world. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a soft spot for dad jokes after all.

Sebastian leaned back against the wall, his grin slowly fading into a competitive smirk. "Alright, since you're so keen on these dad jokes, how about a little competition?" he challenged, his fluorescent eyes glinting with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a matching grin. "Oh, you think you can out-joke me, Seb? You're on," you replied confidently. "But just so you know, I've been preparing for this my whole life."

Sebastian chuckled, crossing his arms. "We'll see about that. First one to laugh loses. Deal?"

"Deal," you agreed, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. "You go first."

Sebastian thought for a moment, his face serious. "Alright," he said slowly, "Why don't oysters donate to charity?"

You tilted your head, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Why?"

"Because they're shellfish," Sebastian said with a perfectly straight face, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

You fought the urge to smile, barely keeping it together. "Not bad," you conceded, "but I've got a better one. Why did the math book look sad?"

Sebastian’s lips twitched again. "Why?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Because it had too many problems," you said, your eyes twinkling.

Sebastian let out a small chuckle but quickly coughed to cover it up. "Alright, not bad, not bad," he admitted. "Your turn."

"Why did the scarecrow get promoted?" Sebastian asked, his tone deadpan, knowing this one was a classic but with potential to get you.

You smirked. "I don’t know, why?"

"Because he was outstanding in his field," he replied, his voice steady.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. "That’s a good one, but I’ve got another. What do you call fake spaghetti?"

Sebastian tilted his head. "What?"

"An impasta," you said, and for a moment, you could see his resolve cracking.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "That’s terrible," he groaned, though he couldn’t hide his smile. "Alright, my turn."

He leaned in a bit closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Why did the coffee file a police report?"

You frowned, genuinely curious. "Why?"

"It got mugged," Sebastian said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

You snorted before you could stop yourself, and Sebastian’s grin widened. "Ha! Got you," he declared triumphantly.

You waved a hand, still trying not to laugh. "Alright, alright, you got me. But it’s not over yet!" You took a deep breath. "Okay, here’s one for you: Why can't a nose be 12 inches long?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because then it would be a foot," you said, trying to keep a straight face.

Sebastian’s lips twitched, but he held it together. "Not bad," he admitted, "But I’ve got another one. What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?"

You blinked. "What?"

"A carrot," he said, his face deadly serious.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, the image too ridiculous. Sebastian threw his hands up in victory. "Yes! I win again!"

You shook your head, still laughing. "Fine, fine, you win," you said, catching your breath. "But I’ll get you next time, Seb."

Sebastian grinned, his eyes warm. "Looking forward to it, Starfish," he replied. "But I’ve gotta admit, this is the most fun I’ve had in a while."

You smiled back, the warmth in his voice making your heart flutter a bit. "Me too," you said softly. "Me too."

And in that dimly lit shop, amidst the darkness and danger of the Blackside, you both found a small slice of joy, and you had to admit, this might become a regular thing. After all, there are many untold dad-jokes in the dark of the Hadal Blackside, waiting to be told.

[daleyeahson]

Girl On Film | Perv!Eddie Munson x best friend reader

Summary: Eddie tries to catch a sneak peek of what it is his best friend gets up to when he’s not around. He’s thrown for a loop when he finds out that you’re more than happy to play into his little game.

Warnings: 18+ smut// minors go on and get outta here. Male masturbation, mentions of female nudity, hidden camera, cursing, use of y/n just a little bit but mainly pet names, praise and degrading kink. If I missed anything let me know!

Word count: 4.4k

next part

A/n: Also, this is my first time writing a fanfic, let alone something with some smut in it. Let me know what you liked & what I can work on but please be nice about it! Thank you guys for the support and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do! P.s. I made the mistake of typing this on the notes app on my phone and just copying it to here so that’s why the spacing is messed up I’m sorry. I’d retype it all but it’s almost 3am for me so I’m gonna have to pass on fixing it for now lmao my b y’all x

It was Friday and you, Robin, and Nancy had all left to go have a girls night out. It wasn’t very often that the three of you had spare time to hang out all together, so when the girls called you last minute saying to hurry and get ready, you didn’t think much of it. You rushed to get dressed after hanging up the phone, throwing clothes all across your room in hopes of finding your favorite pair of jeans and whatever t-shirt you could get your hands on. Having just enough time to put your hair up in a somewhat cute ponytail and slipping your shoes on, you made your way out the door as Nancy and Robin pulled up to your place. You were so excited to hang with the girls again that you didn’t even give a heads up to your best friend, Eddie Munson.

You and Eddie had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Growing up and living across from one another, you two had always been very close. When you were younger, you both would take turns on having a sleepover at one another’s place, and you still do. Having graduated from high school, you moved out of your parents home and into your very own apartment. Eddie still lived with his uncle Wayne since he was still in school and was now in his third year as a senior. Eddie was super excited when you told him you had gotten the apartment and even joked about coming over all the time to annoy you, as if you didn’t see each other almost 24/7 as is. You had laughed it off thinking he was just joking, but he wasn’t. He came over more often than not, which didn’t bother you a bit since you genuinely enjoyed his company, and eventually you just decided to have him a key made so he could come and go as he pleased.

Which brings us to now, Eddie making his way over to your place just like he does any other day. Even though he knew he’d see you tomorrow for your sleepover, he still wanted to hang out with you and just talk about his day. He loved how you would listen to him talk about whatever it was he needed to say, whether it be about school or the newest thing that’s happening in his Hellfire campaign despite you not understanding a word of what he’s talking about. All throughout your lives you’ve always been there for him for whatever he needed. It was one of the many things he loved about you. Your love and support for him is what slowly made him fall for you and here recently he’s been having trouble keeping you off of his mind. The last few years he’s been able to bury those feelings for his best friend, but with all of this extra time you two have been spending together, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out without doing something. He doesn’t want to scare you away or ruin your friendship by confessing his feelings. He doesn’t know if you feel the same way about him and he can’t bare the thought of not having you in his life, even if you remain only best friends. So with that, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and jerks off to you most nights. Is that really the next best thing? No, definitely not. Does he still do it? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Eddie pulls up to your apartment and steps out of his van. He makes his way to your door and reaches for his key to let himself in. It’s quiet, which he finds odd since usually you’d at least have music playing in the background or something.

“Y/N?” He says stepping into the place and closing the door behind him. “Hello? You here?”

He makes his way down the hall to your bedroom only to find it a mess and you not in it. “Huh, that’s weird.” he thinks to himself.

He didn’t expect you to be gone without letting him know first. Not that you have to tell him, but he’s so used to you doing it anyway that it puzzles him that you hadn’t said anything. Maybe you had and he just forgot. With all that’s been going on in his head lately, he wouldn’t be surprised if you did tell him you had plans and he just wasn’t paying attention. He walks further into the room and takes a look around not really knowing what to do. He must’ve just missed you because he notices the candle you always have burning was still melted and had yet to harden back again. He turns to leave and as he does something catches his eye. Right there out in the middle of your floor there it was.. a pair of black lace panties. Eddie instantly blushes when he sees it and can’t help but think about you in them, or the opposite since here they are laying here on the floor. His mind wonders to the thought of you stripping from them while changing before you left. Tossing them off to the side and standing in the same spot he was but nude from at least the waist down. Eddie would give anything, do anything to be able to see you like that. He wanted it so badly. He needed it. He just didn’t know how exactly he would get it though, until it hit him. He has a camcorder somewhere in his van that Wayne gave to him years ago. He’s never had a reason to use it, but this sure was a damn good one.

He runs to the van and opens up the back. Like a mad man, he starts going through all of the junk he has in there. After a minute or so of searching he starts to get frustrated.

“God damn, where the hell is it? Why do I have so much shit in here?” He curses at himself wishing he didn’t keep things so messy. Finally finding it, he picks it up and smirks. “Aha, gotcha.”

He hurries back inside and into your room. Instantly, he starts to look around for a spot to hide the camcorder. After searching for a bit, he notices a shelf where you had some of your old stuffed animals on display. “Perfect.” He says as he makes his way over to it.

It really is the perfect spot for such a thing. From that angle he’s able to see almost your entire room, apart from the doorway. He doesn’t mind though, thinking there’s no way you would change clothes right in the doorway anyhow, so it wasn’t a big deal if he couldn’t see that part. He doesn’t turn it on just yet. He plans on waiting until he’s here during the sleepover so that the next morning he can grab it and leave before you have a chance to notice it.

Once he has the camera hidden, he makes his way out the apartment for the last time. Getting into his van he can’t help but feel guilty. He knows he shouldn’t be doing such a thing, but the growing bulge beneath his zipper says otherwise. There’s no way you’d know about it, right? He made sure you couldn’t see the camera from any part of your room, or at least he thought he did.

He makes his way back home and as soon as he gets inside he makes a beeline to his room to take care of his situation. Just the thought of him possibly having a chance of seeing you like that for real has him making a mess all over himself. Afterwards, he cleans up and decides to go to the living room to watch tv and have a beer or two. He figures he would just try calling you in a few hours to see if you made it home alright and to see where you went.

******

It’s about 10:30 at night before you make it home. The three of you would’ve stayed out later if Robin didn’t have work early in the morning. You make your way inside and take your shoes off at the door. Heading straight for your bedroom, you start to take your hair out of the ponytail. Instantly feeling that sweet sensation of having it down after keeping it pulled up for hours on end. The kind of relief that hurts just a little bit but feels so good at the same time.

You search your drawers to find some pjs to slip into then start to make your way to the bathroom. Just as you’re about to go in there, your phone rings.

“Hello?” You say hesitantly, not expecting anyone to be calling this late.

“Hey, sweetheart, where ya been?”

Eddie. You had forgotten to tell him you were leaving this evening. You felt guilty thinking he must’ve been worried about you not knowing where you went last minute.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you but it just slipped my mind. Robin and Nancy called and told me to hurry and get ready so we could have a girls night.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, I promise.” He reassures you. “I’m glad you got to go have fun with them. I know it’s been a while since you last had a girls night. Are you just getting in?”

“Yeah..” you said with a sigh, tired from the night you just had, “I was actually about to get a shower right before you called.”

Eddie has to stop himself from audibly moaning once you said that. He can’t help but think about how if he hadn’t called, you’d be in the shower all hot and steamy. Soap running down your body and between your breasts. Eddie finds himself fumbling over his words like a fool when he tries to speak again.

“Oh- well I-uh - don’t let me keep you waiting.” He chuckles. “I’m sure you’re wanting to hurry and get that over with before you have to go clean up the mess of clothes in your room, right?”

“Oh..” you say feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw the mess you had left in a hurry. “..you saw that?” Usually, you tried to keep things somewhat clean when he came over, not that he would mind because lord knows he shouldn’t be one to judge, you just didn’t want him to see things in such a big mess like that.

“Oh- uh- yeah, I did. I came by to hang out but I must’ve just missed you.” He laughs, “Don’t worry though, I didn’t stay long so whatever you may have laying about in your room, my eyes did not see a thing. Scouts honor.”

You couldn’t help but blush at the suggestive comment he made. The idea of Eddie thinking you’d have anything like that brought a familiar feeling to your core. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve felt like this because of Eddie or something he’s said. You two were very close so it was only a matter of time before one of you caught feelings for the other. What you didn’t know what that he felt the same way about you, as you did him. Yeah, Eddie would flirt with you but he was always the charming type. He was like that with almost everybody. Sure he called you cute pet names, but you just thought it was because of how close you two were. Just something best friends did, right?

“Eddie, first of all, you weren’t a scout, and second of all, even if I did have anything like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave it out in the open for just anybody to see.”

“Just anybody?” He said with pretend jealously, “who else has a key to get into your place?”

“You’re the only one, but with that big mouth of yours I’m sure if you did find something, everyone in this town would know about it by morning.”

Eddie gasp. “You’ve wounded me, princess. Truly, you have. I’m glad you think so highly of me to believe I’d stoop so low as to share such personal information with the common folk of this kingdom.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he can be and decided to play into his little game. “If you live to see the morning light, I shall see you then for our annual weekend festivities, but for now I must say goodbye, Sir Munson, for this ass will not wash itself, unfortunately.”

Eddie let out a loud hearty laugh at that statement. “Alright, I guess I’ll let you go take care of that. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eddie, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning…Right. He’d be coming back over early in the morning so you guys could fix breakfast together to start the day just like you always did. Eddie couldn’t help but get nervous thinking about how far into the future that was. It was 11pm now and he usually comes by around 9am. Ten hours. Anything could happen in that amount of time. What if you found the camcorder? What would you say? What would you do? Would you never speak to him again? He knew he’d never be able to sleep with those questions floating around his mind. So he laid there in bed, wide awake. Ten hours, he reminded to himself, all he had to do was wait ten hours.

******

Somehow, Eddie managed to get around 4 hours of sleep that night. He was never one to willingly get up this early, especially on the weekend but for you he’d do just about anything. He got out of bed and took a quick shower to help wake him up some more. Throwing on his usually attire, he makes his way out the door and to his van, deciding against a morning coffee knowing you’d fix some once he got there.

Eddie pulled up to your apartment once again and slowly made his way over to the door. Before he could reach for his key, you opened the door and greeted him in a very enthusiastic manner.

“Good morning, sunshine! Are you ready to get this party started?”

“Y/n, please, you know I can’t get excited about the day without coffee first.”

“I swear, sometimes it’s like I’m best friends with someone’s southern grandpa. My own little personal peepaw.” You joked but it only made him send a glare over to you. He really wasn’t a morning person at all. “I’ve already got a fresh pot of coffee waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“You truly are the best…I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says as he walks by you towards the kitchen to pour himself a cup.

You closed the door and followed behind him making your way to the fridge. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.. so..” you said as you opened it, “what do you want for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? We could just have cereal if you want that instead.”

“Could we have French toast again?” Eddie asks walking up towards you, coffee in hand. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the last time we had it.”

Your back was to Eddie so you hadn’t realized just how close he had gotten. As you turn to face him so you could answer his question, you accidentally bump into him causing him to spill some of his coffee down your shirt.

“Son of a bitch!” You yelled while trying to hurry and pinch your shirt so the coffee wouldn’t burn you.

“Sweetheart, I- I am so sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no, it’s okay” you put your other hand on his shoulder to try and stop him from panicking, “it was my fault anyway I bumped into you. Don’t worry about it, really, it’s not a big deal. And to answer your question, yes we can have French toast again, but we need to get eggs first.”

“Uh- y-yeah sure. I can run and get them real quick.”

“That’s fine with me. While you go do that, I’ll go get a shower and change out of these clothes.” You said as you headed off to the bathroom.

Suddenly Eddie didn’t feel as bad as he did before about the coffee. It was like the universe itself was helping him with his mission. This was it, his one chance. Once he heard you start the shower, he hurries into your room. Making his way over to the camcorder hidden away, he turns it on and presses the record button. “Jesus H. Christ please let this work” he mutters to himself. With that he leaves to make his way to the grocery store and tries to keep his mind busy, thinking of anything other than what’s happening back at the apartment.

Eddie comes back with the eggs and your morning routine is back on track. You fix breakfast together like always and just spend the day hanging out. You didn’t do much during these sleepovers, but you both still enjoyed the quality time together. By the end of the night, you found yourselves cuddled up on the couch watching a few movies you had on hand. You had fallen asleep on Eddie, your back to his chest. He somehow manages to get out from under you without waking you, and he carries you into your room. Laying you down on the bed, he covers you up with the blanket and makes sure you’re still in a deep sleep before he walks over to the shelf with your stuffed animals. He reaches over and turns the camcorder off and forms a mental note to himself to make sure he’s up before you are so he can somehow sneak it back out to his van. Eddie climbs into the bed to lay next to you. Sharing the bed is something you always did even as children growing up so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. While in a deep sleep, you turn over to face Eddie and snuggle right up to him. He wishes you two could stay like this forever and not just on Saturdays when you have sleepovers.

*****

The next day you both wake up closer to noon rather than super early like before. Of course Eddie didn’t wake up earlier than you, who does he think he is? He’s thankful that you get up and head to the bathroom and as soon as the door closes, Eddie jumps up to grab his camcorder, practically running to his van and back in hopes of not getting caught. When he comes back in, he jumps at the sight of you standing there across the room from him.

“Whatcha doin’ big boy?” You say standing in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of water.

“I-uh- went for a smoke.”

“With your cigarettes on the table the whole time?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. He was starting to freak out. He had to come up with something quick.

“Not that kind of smoke, princess.”

“Ah, gotcha.” You finished your drink and turned to set the glass in the sink before returning your attention back to Eddie. “So, do you wanna go get something to eat? Lunch at the diner maybe? I’m starving.”

Eddie couldn’t let you in his van knowing what was sitting in the passenger seat. He didn’t have time to hide it in the back again and he knew you’d race and beat him to the van if he agrees to go out.

“Uh, no not this time. I- I actually have to leave.”

“Leave? Why?”

“Wayne needs me. Yeah, uh he’s got this thing he’s been working on and he told me the other day that he would need my help today with it so um, I should get going.”

With a confused look on your face you stare at him suspiciously. The longer you take to say something the more he feels like he’s going to have a heart attack right here in the middle of your apartment. Finally, after what feels like forever to him, you say something.

“Yeah, sure, okay.. um, well I guess I’ll see you around then? Call me tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, of course I will.”

Eddie leaves your place in a hurry and speeds back home. He can’t believe he just did that. The thrill of it all. He gets home and rushes inside. Going straight to his room and setting up the tape to play, he sits on his bed with his back to the headboard. He was already semi hard on the drive home, just thinking about what was waiting for him on that tape.

After a few minutes, he could hear your bedroom door open on the video. It took you a second to come into the frame but when you did, Eddie thought he had died and went to heaven. There you were, in nothing but a towel, water still dripping from your hair and making its way down your body. He starts to palm himself over his jeans making him hiss at the physical touch he so craved.

“Shit.. oh fuck…”

Things had just started and he was already a whimpering mess. A small wet patch forming on his jeans just from what little bit he saw of you. He couldn’t take it any longer, needing to feel more he took his jeans and boxers off. His cock springing up to his stomach as he groaned, finally feeling some relief. He spit in his hand and started stroking himself, gathering up his precum from the head as he watched you walk around your room looking for new clothes to wear.

Once you found an outfit, you laid it on the bed and began to dry yourself off. Your back was to the camcorder as you removed your towel. Your bare ass was on display for Eddie now and he tries his best not the cum at the sight of it.

“Oh god, baby, fuck you’re so beautiful.”

Every once in a while he catches a glimpse of some side boob but he grows impatient wanting to see more. Speeding up his fist, he becomes a blabbering mess as he tries to find his release.

“Shit, oh my god look at you. Just look at you. You’re so god damn beautiful. Fuck, you’re being so good for me, baby. Letting me see you like this? Sticking that ass out for me? God you’re so fucking good. So, so, good.”

He stops for a second to spit some more on his cock and then resumes the same pace he had before. At this point of the video, you had dried off and discarded your towel, but was still standing there fully nude for him.

Throwing his head back, he started to beg even more. “Oh fuck, princess, I’m getting so close. So fucking close.. please turn around for me baby. Please please please, I need to see you. All of you.”

Eddie knew you couldn’t hear him, but that didn’t stop him from saying it. He looks back up at the screen and suddenly, as if you had actually heard him, you turn your head slightly over your shoulder and he swears you were looking straight into the lens of the camcorder. Before he could process what was happening, you spoke.

“Be patient, Eddie, you’re not the only one who gets to have fun with this.”

Eddie instantly froze, hand not moving but still holding his cock. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? No, there’s no way you actually said that.

You turned around and Eddie let out a moan. Seeing you fully nude, your cunt on display right in front of him. He wanted to cum so bad. He needed to cum.

You start to feel yourself up looking directly at him. He starts to jerk himself off again at the sight of it all.

“Oh, you’re so dirty. Such a filthy little slut for me. I take back what I said about you being good. You are bad, very bad, sweetheart.”

Eddie could feel himself inching closer to his orgasm with every pump of his fist, his breathing gets heavy as he chases his release.

“Fuck, oh fuck, just like that baby, keep playing with those pretty tits of yours. Shit, oh- oh my god I’m gonna cum baby, I’m gonna fucking cum. You gonna let me cum all over those tits, hm? Ohhhh shit.”

Just as he’s about to cum he hears a noise come from the video causing him to pause what he’s doing yet again. The sound of your front door opening and suddenly a voice. His voice.

“Princess? I got the eggs! I’m gonna get started on breakfast, okay?”

You call out to him, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be out in a minute!”

You made your way closer to the camcorder and looked directly into it. At this point Eddie knew for sure he had been caught and wasn’t just imagining things.

“Looks like you just cockblocked yourself.. let’s see if you’ll have the guts to finally make a move in person. If not, I guess we’ll just have to wait until next weekend, yeah?”

You turn to go put your clothes on before quickly turning back. “Oh and by the way, next time you want to sneak and record someone, make sure there isn’t a big red light coming from the camera.” And with that you winked and started getting dressed.

Eddie sat there for a second, mouth hanging open in disbelief before quickly putting a pair of sweats on and grabbing his keys. He’ll be damned if he waits a whole week before making a move now after that stunt you just pulled.

******

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[enden-k]

remembering about trans!haitham headcanon, do you have any ideas you could share about it? (if that doesn't bother you) maybe about if his grandmother ever knew it, or if kaveh even knew alhaitham before the transition. maybe kaveh knows haitham's deadname? maybe kaveh actually helped haitham in his journey to affirm his gender? thinking about this makes me excited to do a fanfic about this AAAAAAAA-

ofc, i have quite a few (transhaitham just means a lot to me hhhsjdjk)

i like to imagine that his grandma knew and her love, care and support remained unchanged; all she wanted is for him to be content and comfortable, teaching him all that. she def helped him here and there; like seeing how he was bothered by his longer hair so she proposed to cut it short and seeing how his eyes lit up in his usual neutral face when he saw his reflection was prob one of her fav memories of little haitham. not only getting rid of the bothersome weight and heat of annoying hair but also seeing how he looked more boyish pleased him a lot (not that short hair = strictly masculine etc. you know what i mean there)

(dysphoria is not "required" or smth every trans person experience(d), saying this right away (and also as a note to anyone actually unaware of this) - he def didnt experience it, just felt sometimes a bit bothered by some stuff) he just simply knew who he is and wanted to find more comfort with himself by aligning his physical appearance more with his feeling and identity (by transitioning)

(idk if i explain it well in english what i want to say. also def projected there)

so, kaveh and haitham def knew each other in the early stages; when haithams grandma passed away, he attempted to cut his own hair (usually his grandma did) and it turned out cutely shaggy and sloppy (not that it bothered him much, as long as it doesnt look too awful to him) kaveh couldnt take it tho and in a quiet homoerotic charged moment took it on himself to do it right and save it. haitham already went by his name there but if someone knows of his deadname other than his grandma back then, its def only kaveh as his closest friend

years after their falling out, when they meet again in the tavern it nearly had kavehs eyes bulging out when he recognized the person seating down next to him as haitham - so much broader and bulkier than he used to be (back then he was already working out a little just to stay fit and healthy and gain more muscle, but still much slimmer in early stages of t. but now? def could snap kaveh in half and he wouldnt mind at all), his voice deep but still that same aggravatingly confident tone---

(i just love the image of kaveh always being so attracted to haitham and haitham alone, always loving him in every way, for being himself just like haitham loving him in every way, always and without a break despite their falling out)

this is turning more into me being sappy about them than transhaitham thoughts LMFAO SORRY anyway i think kaveh helped haitham a lot with things like cutting his hair properly short or picking clothes (mostly bc he liked dressing haitham since he deems his tastes as awful) or showing him how to shave when he first grew facial hair, all that kinda stuff

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, cute, kinda spicy towards the end but it mostly fluff and cuteness and amy kinda worshiping r, period piece, wlw established relationship

warning(s): hint of smut/spicy, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.1k

note: A little Amy March appreciation post. I just... I guess the Bridgerton hype is getting to me and with that comes the Amy hype back again. Hope you all enjoy this one, it's kinda based off of titanic (if you couldn't tell). I love you, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

“What are you doing?” you whispered right into her ear, causing Amy to jump on the spot a little. 

“Do not do that, Y/n,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I apologise,” you said, chuckling as you kissed her temple. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just trying to find something to paint.”

“What are your options so far?”

“Well, this bowl of fruits,” she pointed to her left. “Or that one,” she pointed to her right.

“Again?” you asked, scoffing and raising your brow at her. 

“I guess I could paint that vessel with the yellow flowers, they are nice, aren’t they?” she said, lost in her thoughts.

“You know, the other day, Aunt March showed me some French painting…”

“Did she now?” she said, gathering her things to paint the flowers, only half listening to your words.

“Yes, they were quite… interesting,” you said, mischief filing your voice.

“How so?”

“Well… they were lovely women, beautiful really…”

“Yes?” Amy was paying attention to you, she was trying at least, but her brain chose to focus more on the flowers in front of her. 

“And they were… um… naked.”

Amy stood still for a second at your words, but then continued on as if it was nothing. Because in reality it wasn’t, the French had a thing for the human body, so what? It annoyed her, just a little, that you saw other women naked. But as long as her body was the only one you would touch, then she could do peace with it.

“They were fascinating, breathtaking even. Imagine being immortalised that beautifully.”

“Mmmh,” Amy agreed. 

“I would love for someone to do that for me…” you said, enough with the playing around and getting to the point.

And then you had Amy’s whole attention. “Are you saying that you would stand, naked, in front of a man, just so he could paint you? That you would gladly expose your body?” she said sternly.

“No! God, no,” you scoffed. “You would paint me.”

You smile as you watch her cheeks turning red. It was no surprise really, you had lost count of all the times you and Amy had seen the other naked, did things while at it. But despite Amy’s strong personality, deep down she was as shy as a baby deer.

She cleared her throat. “I think I have heard wrong, it was as if you wanted me to paint you—.”

“Like a French model,” you finished for her. “Yes, you heard correctly.”

“Naked?”

“Yes, that was the whole point of this conversation,” you chuckled, as you stepped closer to her and took away the paint brushes from her hands to warm them with your own. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Ames,” you peck the back of her hands. “I just thought… I was not really thinking, actually. You said you were looking for something to paint, and the pictures Aunt March showed me just came to my mind. But if you do not wish to—.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” she interumped you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your lips.

“How do you want me then?”

“You remember the pictures, right? Just do as you please, but… um… naked,” she winked at you, turning around to find her paintings, a new canvas and her favourite paint brushes. 

You took the opportunity, as she wasn't looking, to undress yourself. As you peeled off piece by piece off your body, you felt the temperature in the room shift and realised it was a bit cold. But as you settled in your position and Amy finally looked at you, you felt your whole body burning with fire. 

“Is this okay?” you shyly asked. 

Her eyes trailed down your body, taking in every curve, your soft skin, your chest. She could even tell how hard and heavy your breathing had gotten, which caused a shiver to run down her spine. It was silly, really. She would wake up to your naked body as many mornings as she could, but seeing you in that perfect golden light, exposed for her eyes only, took her breath away.

“Perfect,” she managed to word out somehow. 

She took a deep breath, and let her mind thrift away, only one thought remained in her mind and that was you. She allowed herself to be taken away by her light brush strokes, she let herself capture the intensity in your eyes, the softness of your body, the sun kissing your skin. 

She was extremely immersed in the painting, that she felt as if it wasn't you who she was painting anymore. Sure, you were naked, the piece would tend to have some sexual appeal, but Amy felt as if she was painting something —someone— too pure to ever be turned into just a mere object of lust. She was sure she was painting the vivid image of an angel, and she couldn't believe that she had gotten so lucky to love and be loved by this angel.

“Almost done,” she muttered after what felt like ages, but really it was the fastest she had ever worked on a piece. There were still some more details to add, some lighting to be fixed, some shadows that looked odd. But she didn’t need you to keep on posing, to keep on being naked in the cold room. 

“Is it finished?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Not yet,” she chuckled. “I’ll keep on working on it later, I don’t need you to stand still.”

“I like being still if I have your eyes on me,” you grinned at her.

“I like it as well, but I can’t have you catching a cold,” she said, as she wrapped you around some warm coat she had lying around for the cold days.

“Thank you, for doing this,” you said, pecking her lips. 

“I have you to thank, my muse.”

“Oh, so now I am your muse,” you playfully scoffed, your arms snaking around her shoulder while hers found your waist.

“You always have been,” she muttered as she left a kiss in the corner of your jaw. “I just guess it’s now official,” she chuckled, her uneven breath sending chills up your spine.

“Is that so?” you giggled. “Then, please do tell me more about it,” you said, throwing your head back giving her access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I don’t feel like talking right now,” she bit your skin. 

“What do you feel like doing?” you were already breathless.

“Well…” she said as her hands drifted away to the belt securing your coat.

“Oh, I see,” you laugh, bringing her lips to yours. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[https-alberich]

CW: Discriptions of gore. Bullying. Reader discretion is advised.

Notes: Guys my yandere sim(?) is going to begin soon!! Check it out on @killingfor-you.

“Think fast bitch.” A venomous voice dripped nothing but liquid malice as the bully cornered you after school. “Shoulder. Don’t make me say it again.” He said dryly, watching as you nervously undid a few buttons of your uniform, exposing your shoulder to the delinquent.

He grinned, dragging his tongue over the tips of his teeth. “Good bitch.” You knew better than to refuse him. The consequences that came after denying him what he wanted were far worse then what he usually had in store for you.

He knew you didn’t care for your own health, and while that did give him a twinge of sympathy, hurting you, playing around with you - the delinquent had a social reputation to uphold. 

The feeling of a cigarette being put out on our skin made you wince but you knew better than to voice your annoyance. You didn’t want him to grow even more angry at you, it was obvious that he needed to vent out some emotions and whenever he did, he would slink over to you and make your life a living hell. The boy in question growled, grabbing your shoulder - making you wince - before shoving you aside. “See ya later bitch.” He hissed, smirking. 

Like he knew he wasn’t done with you.

And even if him tormenting you was sometimes literal hell on earth, you knew in some sick twisted fucked up way, he wouldn’t hurt hurt you. He just… expressed his love for you in strange ways.

–

Abel winced as you fretted over him, wiping his nose of blood - that continued to spill despite your best efforts - as you carefully pressed an ice pack to his busted and bleeding lip.

Your eyes were determined and careful to avoid hurting Abel any further. 

He looked confused and slightly annoyed at your worrying, despite telling you multiple times that he really didn’t need you poking around at his face with a bottle of medical alcohol in your hands.

He would’ve been grateful if he wasn’t so fucking confused. Why were so lenient when it came to him tossing you around like his personal plaything, but the minute he comes over with the slight amount of blood on his face, you’re fretting over his well being, making sure he’s okay.

Abel grunted, pushing you away. “I fucking told you- I’m fine! You don’t have to treat me like a little kid- I swear-” He sighed, exasperated. “You gotta fucking fight back one day or you;re gonna get yourself killed.” He whispered, looking slightly worried as he met your eyes.

You frowned, this sort of vulnerability was rare in Abel, your boyfriend was tough, and unforgiving. And mean, and annoying and now he was… being nice..?

“I get that you don’t care about yourself but fuck- you can’t just anyone treat you the way I do- fuck- you shouldn’t let me treat you the way I do!” He shook his head, conttinuing his monologuing, “The world isn’t full of sunshines and rainbows-” He exhaled. “The asshole I beat up after school. Do you remember him? From Biology.”

He gripped his bedsheets in a tight fist, his breathing coming out heavy, like the mere memory of the sound of his fist connecting with the other student’s face was making him angry again. “The cunt had the fucking adacity to put his filthy fucking hands on my bitch! Do you understand how fucking pissed I am I-” He gripped at his hair and groaned, glaring at you when you pulled his hand away from his black locks. “Fuck… just…. If anyone’s giving you shit. Lemme know.” He grumbled, defeated, as he pushed the medical kit aside.

“I need a fucking smoke.” He groaned, getting up, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “C’mon.” He nodded to his balcony. “I need to stop fuckin’ thinkin’ for thirty minutes.” Abel shook his head and sighed.

Taglist: @mono273

[kitmoas]

in which prey becomes muse

Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: **18+** **Minors DNI** **SMUT** dark and demonic themes, death, possession, knife, stomach bulge, stalker stuff, slight "magic" things

If I missed anything let me know

Author's Note: I once am again sorry this is late, life man. BUT it is here and part of a nice little trick r treat vibe. so here's part 1 of the double feature for good ole Friday the 13th. Once again I apologize if it's rough. I am still MONTHS out of practice when it comes to writing, so I'm trying my hardest to get back into the swing of things and remember how to put my thoughts into good words. So bare with me.

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Even now, up against the wall with her knife pressed against the thin stretch of skin above your rapidly beating heart, you can’t help but admire the way that the sunlight bounces off the golden handle or how the intensity in her dark blue eyes swirls in storms. The way she stands, the soft smirk pulling at her lips and the slight slouch of her shoulders, almost makes you feel relaxed. The warmth of her body is intoxicating as it shields you from the wind soaring through the air. 

You had seen her so many times in your travels around the small town, across the road or in the diner. She was pretty much the talk of the town since she got here, everyone gossiping about the city girl who escaped to an old town. Something about her was so enticing, so enthralling; and though you knew you wouldn’t survive the encounter, you just had to take the chance as it was given to you. She was the definition of a heartbreaker, even from the way she carried herself on a day to day basis. 

Falling into the trap that she set was easy. It was almost foolproof even before you realized what was happening. You wanted to be seen by her so badly that you didn’t realize that you were the reason that she even ended up in the dead-end broken down area. The young girl already had a bit of a history, and though you didn’t know what this meant you could tell she had traveled to many places and seen the world more than anyone you grew up with. 

Despite your predicament, you wanted to know more—the mystery of the girl who not only knew who you were but was risking arrest to be near you. This should have scared you, and maybe deep down it did, but on the surface it just excited you. Your mouth had opened many times, jaw dropping and lips moving silently, as you tried to say something or ask any of your gnawing questions but you were stopped each and every single time. 

There’s something in her eyes as you stare up at her, an almost unnatural glimmer. “Can your little mind not make up any words?” she husked, her voice raspy and deep as if she hadn’t spoken in months. 

It's a simple first sentence, and you can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or taunting you, but you can’t help the blush that rises up your neck. Scrambling to find an answer in your mind, you just shake your head pathetically. Heart dropping as you see her smirk fall from her face, her lips falling into an annoyed straight line. The disappointment radiates in the cold air, chilling you to the bone and making you crave the heat that once emitted from the brunette. 

“I suppose this isn’t much of a setback. I didn’t track you for this long just to hear you speak. I heard you’re quite the annoying one.” She watches you blink slowly, a squeak tumbling from your lips when she pushes your body back against the wall with the tip of her blade. “Isn’t that what Ms. Adovyn said? It was quite difficult to tell through all the screaming, but she had a lot to say about you and that was years ago.” The smug look twitches back across her face, stretching it entirely too far as she watches realization settle into your eyes. 

Ms. Adovyn was your high school teacher, some arts class you took freshman year, who passed away just a year ago. It had shook the entire town after they found her body mutilated in her own secure home and not a single suspect to be named. Slowly you try to pull yourself from this haze of infatuation that you have found yourself in to try to put things together. There was no way that all the random unsolved murders and disappearances in the town were all linked to this girl. She was barely older than you and some of them went as far back as your childhood. The neighbor who used to babysit you was found skinned when you were just seven years old, but it was left an unsolved crime with zero traces of fingerprints or struggle. 

A soft giggle from the girl looming over you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gasp as you look into her eyes. Pure black with a pulsing cobalt light within, almost hypnotizing you as you struggle to pull your focus from her. “What? Don’t tell me my secret is already out?” Her hand moves, dragging the knife down your chest towards the neckline of your shirt. It leaves a thin, stinging red line, a few small crimson bubbles forming. 

You shake your head slowly, confusion flooding your system as you try to fight whatever you can feel brewing in your stomach. Unsure of what she means by secret, you start to become hyper aware of where every single part of the girl is. Her hand is firm against your hip, thumb softly rubbing at the bone she finds there—too softly for how hard her nails dig into you. Her thigh rubs harshly against you so that she keeps you almost glued to the dingy brick wall. The fingers that have a claw grip on the glimmering handle dangle carelessly down your shirt. 

Her face slowly turns up from where she was watching your body squirm to pout up at you. “Aww c’mon. I thought you would fight me more than this. Or are you so stupid to even realize what is happening?” The soft hair on the top of her head falls down in front of her eyes, making her look like an innocent puppy as she tilts it in questioning. “I thought after I waited for you for so long you would at least make this fun.” Growling under her breath as she leans in to nip at your collar, she bares her teeth at you as she pulls away. “Maybe you would come with a bit of a bite?” 

When her thigh forces its way in between your own, her muscle pressing upwards, it starts to make sense. The warmth bubbling in your stomach is starting to almost feel painful, and the longer you feel her calloused hand on you, the more it confuses you. Trying to understand your own bodily reactions, you allow that heat to start manifesting in a thing you can control—anger. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence in your vocal cords came from, nor the grit in your normally soft respectful voice. “What? Can’t get laid? You have to commit crimes for someone to fuck you?” 

The girl’s eyes almost become a beacon of light, the cobalt flashing brilliantly as she lets her head fall back shrieking in laughter—a loud, rambunctious sound that blends in with the howling wind. “Well there’s your personality. You just needed to get touched a bit? Is your poor pussy being neglected?” Sneering at you, she lets her head roll back to look at you again. Licking at her lips, she sharply grinds her thigh up into you as she raises her eyebrow in questioning. “Do you need someone to make you feel all warm and wet? Someone to make you understand just how your cunt should be handled?” 

Your mouth opens and closes as you stumble over your words, feeling someone’s hand touch between your legs for the first time with purpose. It wasn’t a surprise as to what she wanted, but you weren’t sure she would actually go through with it. She had kept you in the same spot for so long that your legs were tingling with exhaustion and your back was starting to ache. 

Craning your neck, you try to look down at where the shiny blade pressed into your lower torso. The need to deny her was strong, and the urge to grapple for the control you were so used to ran deep in your veins, but something stopped you. A warmth that was building slowly, the center of it was rooted in your stomach. You wanted to ignore it, but it was there from the beginning and it only burned faster the more she touched you. 

“Tell me, everytime I waited for you to see me, did you think of me that night? Every single time I made sure that you noticed me trailing you, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” Her hand moved softly along your thighs, nails scratching at the tender skin she finds as she speaks through gritted teeth. It’s almost like she’s forcing herself to take it slow. 

Shaking your head, you’re honest but you wanted to lie. How do you tell a beautiful girl that you just wanted the chance to speak to her, that you never once thought of her in a sexual way? There was no way that she would want someone so innocent that you had barely even touched yourself, right? Will she think you’re too much of a prude? Will she mock you for never allowing someone else to touch you? 

The girl snorts, pulling away slightly to stare you down. Her eyes watch you carefully, hand placement a bit lighter than before as if she is almost testing to see if you’ll move. “Oh, oh! I get it. The pretty girl is a virgin, aren’t you?” Nose wrinkling as the devious smirk stretches her mouth unnaturally. Her gaze turns predatory, darkening as her nails dig aggressively into your thigh. “You don’t even know how to say no, do you? The perfect little thing for me to completely corrupt and ruin.” Her voice echoes the longer she speaks, raising as she gets more and more excited. Almost like a little puppy, hearing all their favorite words, she even begins to bounce on her toes slightly. “They told me you were the ideal person, absolutely exquisite, and they were utterly correct. You had to have been sent to me from some higher power, and all I had to do was listen to them.” 

Blinking slowly, you weren’t even aware that you were being moved from the wall. The way she spoke was confusing, what did she mean by that? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the other girl’s change in demeanor. Twitching slightly, even letting the blade clatter to the dirty wet pavement below you, her body starts to contort. Muscles and bones stretching and cracking as she twists around. 

It’s her hand gripping your throat, clawing as she lets her nails dangerously dig into the veins she finds there. Cutting off your oxygen immediately when she somehow body slams you to the ground, pressing her entire weight on your neck. Her knee digs into your thigh and forces her way in between your legs. **Popping her head directly in front of your face, and though you already couldn’t breath the way her appearance changed, causes an unsettling chill to overwhelm your body.** Eyes sunken in, completely glowing cobalt, and every ounce of color drained from her skin leaving her gray and her veins almost filled with ink. 

Her hips grind down into yours, and her free hand gropes viciously at your breast. Stings of pain pulse through your body, and settle in your stomach as a low burn. Shame fills your brain as you realize what’s happening and how your body was reacting. “It’s okay, little girl, you were made for them and it’ll be me who gets to take you for them.” 

Slipping her hand down your body, her nails somehow scratch into your side harsh enough to cut the skin it finds. Fumbling around for a minute, her hand finally catches on the hem of your pants. Ripping the fabric almost completely her smile turns feral at the sight of your lacy underwear. Her thumb clumsily rubs against the thinnest of the fabric that covers your cunt before her head pops back up, eyes almost glowing. “Oh, how silly of me. Why would I not tell you my name? My name came from the person who gave me my blessing, Keket, but you can just call me Kate.” 

Your vision is blurry, twitching as you stare up at her. Back pulsing slightly from where the pebbles and dirt dig into, but it’s the way her fingers slip your panties to the side and swipe through your folds that makes focus difficult. The tip of her pointer pokes at your clit and it ignites something that you weren’t expecting. Arousal wasn’t something you felt often, and you didn’t even think that the warmth brewing in your body was that, but there was no denying the gush of wetness from her direct touch. 

Cackling the young girl’s face almost morphs as she notices the change, allowing her finger to rub small tight circles on your rapidly hardening clit. “Such an innocent little virgin, who’s cum and blood is worth so much to the الألوهية.” Her voice deepens as she speaks, leaning more heavily against your throat. “Your body is theirs to own but for now this pure tight pussy is mine to stretch.” 

Even though you wanted to ask what she was talking about, wanted to figure out who this girl was, you didn’t have the opportunity as she shoved two fingers into you in one go. The scream that tears through your teeth is muffled, barely there from the weight of her body against your neck. You can feel the pain throbbing from between your thighs and you’re pretty sure she tore something, but the moment her thumb comes up to caress your clit it’s almost like none of the pain matters. The warm arousal floods your system and begins to push out the pain. 

Her hand thrusts, vigorously, and it causes your body to move along the ground. You can feel the pavement and all the random things beneath you scratching at you, leaving bright searing burns. “God, you were born to take this and you’ll take more. Won’t you?” She’s leaning up over you now, a brief relief as she allows you to take gasping breaths. 

It takes a minute for the oxygen to spread throughout your body, and it does nothing but fan the flames within your tummy. Rough and tender, you take your time to inhale as you try to calm down. You wanted to gain control over the situation, but you knew that you were even rapidly losing authority over your own bodily functions. When her calloused fingers rub against a spot inside you, you can’t help your hips rutting up into her thrusts. It indirectly motivates her and she leans down some so that she spit on your clit. Playing for a moment, and stuffing the spit inside you, she practically growls as her body flops onto you. 

“You feel so tight around me, so fucking wet. I bet you’ll feel even better around my cock. Tight little slutty cunt letting just anyone take her virginity.” Her fingers move faster inside of you as she bites into your neck. The sharp nips dig into where your sensitive skin is already bruising from her hand, as her hips push her fingers even deeper into you. You can’t help the moan that slips through your lips, and the way you start grinding down into her. 

Letting your eyes slip closed, you finally allow yourself to try and enjoy what was happening. This was your first time and while it wasn’t how you envisioned it, Kate is a gorgeous woman and you were surprised she even wanted you. You’re still a bit confused by how she was talking but you knew that many people were into roleplay so maybe that’s what was happening. Her strength came as a shock and even her appearance seemed weird, but everyone wanted her and you got her. 

“If I was you, I would focus whore.” A harsh slap lands on your cheek, slamming the side of your face into the ground as she demands your attention. Her fingers had abandoned their post in between your legs and instead she was grinding her own hips there, a bulge prominent. It felt nice but you were confused as you tried to blink the stars from your vision. “Ready or not princess, I’m about to own you.” 

She barely finishes her sentence when she snaps her hips, and something is forced into you. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it filled you overwhelmingly. It rubbed against that spot inside of you that forces a whine from your throat, and for the first time you cling to her. Arms swing instantly so that your nails dig into her biceps. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you weren’t sure how to feel. You wanted her to do whatever she wanted, but you knew that was exactly what she wanted. 

Hips rutting into you, she lets her hands fall to your stomach to allow her thumbs to press into the bulge she finds there. “Do you see that little girl? You see my cock so deep inside your stupid little cunt? It’s leaking all over the place, even if most of it is blood.” She shrugs as she moves her hips, staring down at the way you stretch around her almost obsidian fog appendage. The bright red blood coats it and makes it seem as though it isn’t practically nothing, just a temporary blessing from the higher power to give an advantage to it’s chosen vessel. 

Her voice shoves you closer to the edge, rough and rumbly as she humps you like a dog. You wanted her to touch you more, something triggering in your brain to miss her touch. She leaves her hands where they are though, a knowing smirk spreading on your face when she sees you desperately starting to plead up at her. She knows the signs even if you don’t. 

You have already started to tighten around her cock, easy to push towards an orgasm as she manipulates your body however she wants. She knew that you would be simple, even wet while she was roughing you up with a knife against your throat. It never took much for someone so pure, and she knew that she had to act fast as well. Letting her hips rut into you at a speed that shouldn’t be able, but the spirits helped her along. 

“Do you want me to touch you? You want your stalker to touch you?” She hums, tilting her head as if she wasn’t even physically exerted. Her hair messy and moving all over the place as she forces herself into you more. “Does your little cunt need my touch to cum?” 

Nodding you let yourself succumb to her actions, the want to fall over the edge becoming too great now. The coil inside your stomach is almost searing hot and cracking. You didn’t want to give in, but you knew that she would never let you cum if you didn’t and for some reason you didn’t care. The more she shoved her cock into you the more delirious you got, your brain fuzzy and unfocused. 

“Beg. Babble like the little slut you are and beg your stalker to take your body. They want to hear you beg like the bitch you are.” Her words are punctuated with a sharp snap of her hips, forcing you unwillingly over the edge. 

Your vision completely fills with stars, blinding you as you scream. Kate hurriedly slams down into you, her body leaning fully on her arm that lays across her throat, to cover your mouth with her hand. She may be protected by the divine power, but she knew that suspicion could arise if people heard your screams and they were not one for attention. Pinching your nose closed she allows you to ride out your orgasm, body convulsing underneath her. 

Entirely surrounded by not only her warmth, but the boiling heat within your own stomach, you try to push as much oxygen out through the small cracks in her hold on you. It was painful but she’s still rutting into you and pushing the cum to start leaking out of you. A small puddle forming below you the longer that she thrusts into you, and your eyes roll back completely until they slip shut. 

Slowly Kate starts to pull out, leaning against your throat as she stares down at your red puffy cunt. It leaks cum and her own black almost molten cum. She hadn’t even realized that she was able to cum in you, solely focused on pushing you over the edge and keeping the blanket of security over the two of you. Blinking slowly she feels her body start to lighten, a sure sign that she did well and the authority was pleased. It all seemed to be going fine, her hand reaching down between your thighs to shove the wetness back into you, until a small crack echoed through the alley and her arm shifted downwards. 

Cautiously the young girl looks up at you, your lips blue and parted. “Fuck, I’m so sorry محبوب الجماهير! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I promise, I thought I did good.” Despite her panic, her body’s color drained and her eyes sunk into her head, the fog leaking out briskly as her jaw dropped open. 

The next day not a single piece of evidence was found, just chunks of your skin stuck to a completely clean knife in a small cloud of dense fog. 

The translates are roughly

--محبوب الجماهير! -- idol

--الألوهية--divine/divinity

(Shoutout to my girlfriend @themidnightcrimson--she edited the beginning part of this so if it got terrible at the end you now know why.)

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 9

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: From here on out you will see a few things pulled from the books. Especially moments where we have Garrick. Cause lets be honest we have some amazing moments from him where I can slot Ophelia into the scene. So there will be a mix of my stuff, and some dialogue from actual Fourth Wing with some tweaks to make it fit. We have some really good moments coming up, that I am so excited to show you guys to! As per usual requests are open for any one shot or scenarios you may want. And if you want to be on the tag list just let me know! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

All of our current squad make it up the gauntlet. And now we wait our turn for presentation. And of course Garrick is over seeing the squads before they walk in. He’d been at the top of the gauntlet when I’d climbed up, but he had been dealing with an issue of how Violet had gotten up the end of the gauntlet. I was actually impressed with her idea to use the rope and dagger. I knew Xaden had given her some guidance, but I knew he hadn't told her to do that. But it worked.

This was the closest I’d been to Garrick in a while as we all stood in a single line waiting to go in. Despite me somehow tying for first in Gauntlet time, we aren’t the first group to go in. Slowed down by Violets time. But at least we all made it.

Ahead of us is a clearing lined by dragons, lined up in their own formation. All close enough to pass judgement on us, as well as dispose of us quickly as we walk by.

”Let’s go Second Squad, you’re up next.” Garrick says sternly, beckoning us forward with a wave that makes the rebellion relic on his bared forearm gleam in the sunlight. “Into formation.”

Garrick’s tone is all business, he’s in full leadership mode. It’s one of the first times I had seen it and it reminds me a lot of Xaden’s style of leadership. But Garrick is more mission first, niceties last. And currently his mission is to prepare us for presentation. It is also one of the first times I’ve seen him in full uniform, usually opting to forego his jacket around the grounds. Which I don’t blame him with how warm its been. But winter is starting to set in, and its definitely a fair bit colder up here. I notice the line of patches on his uniform, show casing his as the Flame Section leader, and an abundance of patches advertising his skill with multiple weapons. I wasn’t sure how many patches there were, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was only a small amount left he didn’t have. I notice daggers isn’t one of them.

We all get into formation as hot air rushes towards us again. Another cadet claimed. Garrick’s hazel eyes skim over our squad before landing on mine. “Hopefully Aetos has done his job.” His eyes flick to Violet at the mention of Dain. “So you know that it’s a straight walk down the meadow. I’d recommend staying at least seven feet apart -”

”In case one of us gets torched,” I hear Ridoc mutter a few places in front of me.

”Correct, Ridoc.” I can’t help but smirk at the slight sass in Garrick’s tone. “Cluster if you want, just know if a dragon finds disfavour with one of you, it’s likely to burn the whole lot to weed one out.” He warns us as he holds our gaze. “Also, remember you are not here to approach them, and if you do, you won’t be making it back to the dormitory tonight.”

”Can I ask a question?” A cadet whose name I can’t quite remember says from the front row.

Garrick nods, but I noticed the tick in his jaw. He’s annoyed. And honestly don’t blame him. I may not remember their name, but I know they annoy me. And have since day one.

”Third Squad, Tail Section of Fourth Wing already went through, and I talked to some of the cadets….”

”That’s not a question.” He states as he lifts his brows. I note another tick in his jaw as he places his hands on his hips. Definitely annoyed now.

”Right. It’s just that they said there’s a feathertail?”

“A f-feathertail?” Someone I think called Tynan sputters. “Who the hell would ever want to bond a feathertail?"

I feel most of our squad roll their eyes or shake their heads. I see Garrick restrain from doing the same.

”Professor Kaori never told us there would be a feathertail.” Sawyer says. “I know because I memorized every single dragon he showed us. All hundred of them.”

”Well, guess there’s a hundred and one now.” Garrick states sternly, clearly wanting to be rid of us and this job. “Relax, feathertails don’t bond. I can’t even remember the last time one has been seen outside the Vale. It’s probably just curious. You’re up. Stay on the path. You walk up, you wait for the entire squad, you walk back down. It really doesn’t get any easier than this from here on out, kids, so if you can’t follow these simple instructions, then you deserve whatever happens in there.”

Kids? We were barely three years younger than him. But with most of our squad not bearing rebellion marks, I could easily see why he would refer to us as kids. He turns and heads over to a path before the canyon wall where the dragons are perched. We follow, breaking away from the crowd of first years.

“They’re all yours.” Garrick says to the quadrants senior Wingleader. A woman I’ve only seen a few times in Battle Brief.

As Garrick turns to walk back, he locks eyes with me as his hand lightly brushes mine, setting my skin on fire where his touch lingers.

“Single file.” She says to us, drawing my eyes back to the front.

We all form a single line, I end up at the very back behind Rhiannon. With the final instructions of talk to each other, she steps aside revealing a dirt path that leads through the centre of the valley, and up ahead, sitting so perfectly still you would almost mistake them for statues are the dragons. We start to move, each of us leaving the suggested seven feet before following the cadet in front.

As I enter the valley the smell of sulphur is thick in the air, and I note multiple black patches on the path.

As instructed we talk amongst each other. But talk is a loose term. Its mostly bickering. Towards the end I nearly have a heart attack as two greens approach Violet. Then I remember the corset she told me about. The one made from the dragons of her sisters green dragon. They can probably smell it As we get towards the end, our squad is down to seven first years.

As we’re about to leave the area I feel something. An extra presence at the back of my mind. I turn around, trying to keep my eyes down as best I can as I look around. At the back amongst the trees I catch a glimpse of…. Was that white? No, dragons aren’t white. I know I saw white though. But I can’t have. Dragon’s aren’t white I tell myself again.

“Ophelia, you ok?” Violet calls from the exit.

I turn to see her looking at me, her eyes also scanning the area I was just looking at. Did she see it to?

“Yeah, just thought I saw something.” I say, trying to pass it off as casually I can.

She nods, seeming content with my answer. But the tall figure just inside the pathway stares at me as if they are not convinced. Garrick’s eyes are narrowed me in almost a glare. Luckily the next group walks up and I’m able to slip past him without him talking to me.

Part 10

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh

[it-happened-one-fic]

Overindulgence - Baizhu

Author Notes: Happy (belated) Valentine's Day Genshin fandom! I debated about whether or not to write a Valentine's fic or not before finally breaking down and deciding to do so. I actually had a fair bit of fun writing this one. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender Neutral reader/ Fluff/ implied romance/ sfw

Word Count: 1121

“What are those?” Even though I wasn’t facing him as I sat down the plate of chocolates I knew exactly what expression on Baizhu’s face. I'd easily known him long enough to know that and clearly picture it solely based on the tone he used.

It was the one that was usually reserved for particularly disobedient or poorly behaved patients. The frustrating ones who wouldn’t do as instructed and would automatically complain when the didn’t recover immediately despite not having done as they were told.

I was proved correct as I turned to look at the doctor with a smile that was perfectly at odds with his frown. But I was wholly unperturbed by the frown on his face as I gestured to the little chocolates on the plate, “Dark chocolate. I helped Qiqi make them.” 

I paused, tilting my head and letting my amusement creep into my voice as I finished, knowing my next words would seal the deal, “She wanted us to have them.”

I watched as Baizhu pursed his lips, unable to turn down the little girl’s gift despite his general distaste for candies.

He’d dealt too often with patients suffering from a stomachache or some other sweets-related ailment to be fond of such foods.

“Where did she get the idea of making chocolates,” His tone sounded weary, but I knew it had more to do with the situation than actual fatigue as I sat down next the table that now held the candies.

“Yaoyao was talking to her about the ways that Valentine’s day was celebrated. I think she decided she wanted to make something after their conversation but then didn’t really know what to do with all of it so she gave some of them to us. She’s giving the others to Yaoyao,” I explained calmly, wondering how long it would take for him to give in and just accept the chocolates.

After all, I wasn’t going to be the only one pushing him about this.

“Surely just one wouldn't hurt?” Changsheng’s tone was almost judgemental as she looked at the doctor and I didn’t even bother to hide my smile as he shot her a look. It wasn’t common for Baizhu to get annoyed with his serpent friend, but it seldom failed to be amusing when it did happen since it was almost always over something like this.

“Did you know that dark chocolate is a very good source of antioxidants?” Baizhu looked my way as soon as I spoke, a smile slipping onto his face at my words. But they were true, and he knew it.

“Yes, but if over-indulged in they can lead to a myriad of health issues,” His eyebrows lifted and crossed his slender arms as he responded. Automatically picking up on my change of tactics and not falling for it.

I nodded agreeably though, humming slightly as I picked up a candy and looked at it carefully. After just a bit of practice Qiqi had picked up on how to shape and powder the candies quickly. And though she wouldn’t remember doing so later, I really did feel like she’d enjoyed herself in her own quiet way, and I knew Yaoyao would be ecstatic to receive such a gift.

And even if he wasn’t admitting it, Baizhu was too. It was just that he tried very hard to follow the same diet he prescribed to so many of his patients.

“So can overdoing medicine and other foods.” I glanced over, meeting Baizhu’s stare before I held the little candy out to him with a smile, “Balance is important for health and life in general. I know you know that, Baizhu.”

I tilted my head as he sighed, seemingly accepting his defeat even as I continued, “One or two pieces aren’t going to hurt you.”

He was smiling at me in an almost rueful manner as he plucked the chocolate from my fingers, surrendering easily just like I’d known he would when I first came into the room. Baizhu could certainly be stubborn about matters pertaining to health, but he was also pretty bad to indulge both me and Qiqi and could be quite reasonable.

He smiled down at the chocolate, chuckling slightly and shaking his head, “I suppose you're right.” He popped the candy into his mouth, humming to himself and nodding as he quickly finished and looked my way, with a proud smile, “She did a good job.”

I felt my smile widen before I nodded, agreeing with him, “She picked up on how to make it very quickly, and I think she enjoyed herself too.”

I watched as his gaze softened and he nodded, smiling more to himself than anyone else now, “Good.”

Changsheng watched him before letting out a sigh and shaking her head before looking my way, “You know, the balance of things goes two ways.”

Both of us now looked at the snake whose eyes stayed on me as she continued, “Too little of something can be detrimental to one’s health too.”

I nodded slowly, agreeing with her, but wondering where she was going with this even as I popped a candy of my own into my mouth. We’d already been victorious in getting Baizhu to accept his chocolate.

“I guess you're like that for Baizhu. If you’re away too long then he becomes useless.” Changsheng’s nonchalant words had me sputtering as I barely managed to swallow the chocolate without choking.

I looked over, wide-eyed, at Baizhu who looked just as startled as I was, if a little mortified while Changsheng continued to gaze at me with a now smug expression.

“We don’t actually know if it goes the other way yet. It seems like it's impossible for him to overindulge in your presence, though he does get distracted some-”

“That’s QUITE enough Changsheng!” Baizhu interrupted hurriedly, causing the snake to look his way in an almost indignant manner. She didn’t get to snap back, though, since he continued in a scolding tone even though he himself was most definitely flustered, “You’re going to make them uncomfortable.”

Chengsheng let out an unimpressed hiss, sliding down from his shoulders and to the ground before making for the door. Only pausing to look back at us over her shoulder, “Suit yourself. But you’ll have to talk about it sooner or later, otherwise we’ll have to start conducting studies to see if there is such a thing as too much of Y/n for you.”

She slid out the door before he could say anything back while I sat, dumbfounded in the chair.

Silence fell heavy between us until Baizhu at last recovered, letting out an awkward cough and gesturing to the side with an uncharacteristically inelegant smile, “Tea?”

[solart13]

For an art request can you please draw one of your headcanons?

I’m not entirely sure if this would be considered a headcanon or not but I like the thought that Aizawa is more emotionally open around Mic and that he values him a lot.

[Long wall of text of my thoughts and opinions incoming]

Like, I understand the comedy aspect of Aizawa being somewhat of a dick towards Mic seeing as that is how their dynamic is often portrayed as in the show, i.e. Aizawa being annoyed/putting up with Mic’s shenanigans. Their relationship does get more expanded upon in the Hospital raid arc but even then, Aizawa being more of a fan-favourite because, among other things, he’s part of the main cast gets more fleshed out than Mic despite Oboro having been both of their friend. In the hospital after the raid, Aizawa shows a certain degree of dismissiveness of Mic’s feelings, which yes, I can understand may be because he didn’t want to talk about it and that was his way of coping, but remember that they are alone and it has been shown that he is often more open with his feelings and opinions when it’s just the two of them, not to mention that Mic is now his only surviving friend from back in their days at U.A. At least maybe show the audience Aizawa having some kind of emotional reaction to the fact that Midnight, a close friend of theirs, who has impacted his life a lot, ex. with sending in an application to U.A, has just died.

And like I said, I do understand and actually like the more teasing side of their relationship but what I don’t like is when it’s just Aizawa treating Mic poorly and Mic is depicted as the stupid comic relief when his character is a lot more nuanced.

As previously mentioned, however, Mic is just a side character which means the show and the creator won’t bother making him more complex than necessary (often to further Aizawa’s story) which means that the fanbase who don’t think too much about him as a character will just staple him as the comic relief (which I want to make clear is totally fine because we all have characters we focus on more than others, be it a comfort character or simply just caring for one character more than another).

What I don’t like is when it’s clear that someone favours Aizawa more than Mic in the Erasermic relationship and portrays Mic as “inferior” to Aizawa and bases his character off of his stereotypes (ex. being loud all the time and acting immature) and won’t look past that. Fortunately, I rarely stumble upon this sort of interpretation and I want to once again make it clear that it’s fine if you like one character more in a ship, my point is that I personally dislike when the other character in the relationship isn’t given at least some of that focus and is more like an accessory than anything.

For me with the Erasermic dynamic, I like when a clear balance is shown. I personally am a big fan of Mic and I like breaking his character down to its bare bones and giving him more depth than the source material does…so basically making my own headcanons about him lol. But I also like Aizawa a lot and I guess my guilty pleasure is portraying them in a healthy and equal companionship where Mic isn’t the only one who openly shows his appreciation.

So, uh, yeah. That was a lot lol. Apologies for the long wait, I had an exam a few days ago and finally had some free time to work on the request. I hope the drawing is sufficient and correlates to the wall of text above.

On another note, here’s an extra little headcanon of these two being two of the smartest characters in the show, yet not hesitating to egg each other on when it comes to dumb ideas (I drew this in like 5 seconds and barely put any effort into it lol)