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nadvs · 1 year ago

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cam girl (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.

You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.

You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.

“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”

You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.

You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.

“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.

“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.

You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.

After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.

You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.

Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.

This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.

Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.

“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”

figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.

figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?

You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.

“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”

You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.

v2bo: yes

dragon89: take it off

stonyon: play with your tits

You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.

Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.

You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.

figure8: you like to get your tits played with?

You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.

“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.

You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.

figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess

The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.

“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”

You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.

figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely

“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.

v2bo: deepthroat

You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.

dragon89: put it in your pussy

A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.

You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.

You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.

You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?

You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.

You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.

Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.

figure8 tipped you $1000.

You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.

“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”

figure8: i dont like to share

You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.

“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”

figure8: tap it against your mouth

“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.

figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock

You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.

“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.

figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty

You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.

“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.

figure8: not yet. keep sucking it

You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.

“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.

figure8: yeah. wanna see?

You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.

“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.

A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”

You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.

figure8: you could if you tried hard enough

You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.

figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck

“How am I doing?” you coo.

figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on

The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.

You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.

figure8: be slow with it

“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”

figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg

“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”

figure8: put your panties to the side

You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles and up and down, trembling.

figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?

“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.

figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera

You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.

“See how much you turn me on?” you say.

figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips

You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.

figure8: good girl. you listen so well

You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”

figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess

“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”

The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.

figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you

“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.

figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well

“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”

figure8: princess we’d make it fit

You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.

“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.

figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real

You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.

You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.

The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.

figure8: i just came so fucking hard

“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.

figure8: what’s ur favorite position?

“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”

figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess

“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.

figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me

The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.

“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.

figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only

The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.

You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.

“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”

figure8: don’t be late

The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.

You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.

Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.

The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.

{ read part two here }

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #mine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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savemaxsignature · 2 years ago

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#best real estate agency Brampton #Top real estate agency Brampton #Best Realtor for Buying a House in Peel Village #professional real estate agent in Bramalea

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goryhorroor · 1 month ago

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horror of 2025

here's the list (hoping i get every movie but mostly will be kinda focusing on the ones i'm either excited for or is super popular)

the wolfman - leigh whannell's take on the classic

final destination: bloodlines - tormented by recurring violent nightmares, stefanie returns home to break the cycle

black phone 2: sequel

sax xi: eleventh installment in the saw franchise

28 years later - it's been three decades since the rage virus escaped a laboratory and some groups have been able to live amongst the infected but when they leave the safety of their island they'll discover dark secrets

m3gan 2.0 - sequel

companion - after being invited to a weeekend trip at her new beau's lakeside estate, iris uncovers a terrible secret

they follow: sequel to it follows

frankenstein: guillermo's del toro's take on the original

the strangers: chapter 2 - sequel

the strangers: chapter 3 - end of a trilogy

scary movie: return to the horror spoof series

sinners - trying to leave their troubled lives behind, twin brothers return to their hometown to start again, only to discover that an even greater evil is waiting to welcome them back

untitled jordan peele film - plot tba

poohniverse: monsters assemble - a team of evil childhood cartoon characters i didn't know we needed but i guess we're getting one

vicious - a young woman must spent the night fighting for her existence as she slips down a disturbing rabbit hole contained inside a mysterious gift from a late-night visitor

blade - i mean i hope so but i'm not sure if we're actually getting it this year

the bride - in the 1930s, a lonely frankenstein travels to chicago to seek the aid of dr. euphronius in creating a companion for himself. they murder a young woman and the bride is born

scary stories to tell in the dark 2 - sequel

thanksgiving 2 - sequel

the auditors - nikki, grappling with post-job loss financial strain, inadvertently ignores the fine print of their MDPOPE purchase, and their descent into horror begins with the arrival of the auditors who subject them to torture

grind - a group of college students host a midnight grindhouse film festival. they discover a cursed arthouse horror movie called the creeping chaos. in screening the movie, they unleash absolute mayhem

you take can now - plot tba

scream 7 - plot tba

kraken - marine biologist johanne is doing research on a fish farm in vangshe, a rural community located by the fjord. when she encounters strange occurances along with two brutal deaths, she discovers that a mythical creature rests

the woman in the yard - a mysterious woman who repeatedly appears in a family's front yard, often giving chilling warnings, and leaving residents to question her identity, motive, and potential danger

i know what you did last summer - reboot of classic

fear street: prom queen - prom season at shadyside high is underway, but when an outsider is unexpectedly nominated to the court, and other girls start disappearing, the class of '88 is in for a hell of a prom night

until dawn - live action of the video game

let the evil go west - a railroad worker stumbles upon a fortune teller in distubring circumstances and horrifying visions drive him towards madness

the monkey - when twin brothers hal and bill discover their father's old monkey toy in the attic, a series of gruesome deaths start occurring around them

hell house llc: lineage - fifth installment

screamboat: a late night boat ride turns into a desperate fight for survival in new york city when a mouse becomes a monstrous reality (what the fuck)

body farm - the forester johann only wants to warn his ex-wife sophie of a forensic research facility, but when he gets to the site, fast-growing slime has infested the corpses of the dead and brings them to life

i know exactly how you die - when his slasher-fiction novel manifests in real life, rian burman has to finish his story without getting his protagonist killed

le fanu's carmilla - retelling of the book

devil's work - when a couple, traveling on their vacation, meet a desperate girl seeking for her missing sister, they encounter terror and up as hostages to a twisted family and their son

the seductress from hell - hollywood actress undergoes a horrific transformation after being pushed to the edge by her husband

hyde - modern take on the classic novella by robert louis stevenson

crawlers - in the year 2030, a zombie pandemic decimates the united states population. american surviors rush to mexico where a plateau is believed to be zombie free

the children of the woods - in january 1999, a group of five disappeared after they went into the woods of york, south carolina for a camping trip, their story is being told 25 years later (inspired by blair witch project)

the dreadful - in the backdrop of the war of roses, anne and her mother-in-law morwen who live in solidary, run into a man from their past

presence - a family moves into a suburban house and become convinced they're not alone

victorian psycho - winifred notty arrives at a remote gothic manor, and as she assimilates into life, staff members begin to disappear

heart eyes - when the heart eyes killer strikes seattle, a pair of co workers pulling overtime are mistaken for a couple by the couple-hunting killer. now they must spend their valetine's day running for their lives

peter pan's neverland nightmare - after her brother michael is abducted by "the boy who won't grow up," peter pan, wendy darling goes on a rescue mission

#there's more but im so tired so here's the list #horror #horror movies #the wolfman #frankenstein

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aviiarie · 4 months ago

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˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.

synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”

You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.

“Why is it priced so low, then?”

“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.

The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.

“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”

Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”

“Reputation?” You frowned.

“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”

-----

It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.

You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.

It was perfect, almost too perfect.

“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.

When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.

“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”

“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.

“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”

Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.

When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.

Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.

Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.

Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.

You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

-----

The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.

You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.

Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.

The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.

Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.

Crack.

The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.

“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.

In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.

-----

After that, the strangeness kept adding up.

Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.

Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.

One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.

The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.

That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.

It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.

The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.

The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.

“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.

You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”

There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”

You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”

The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”

Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.

“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”

“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”

“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”

“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”

The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.

“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.

“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”

The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.

Was it... loneliness?

It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.

“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

#☆ — ghost stories.#✒️ : avie's writing . ⊹ ˚ .#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #platonic lyney x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader

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koshkamartell · 8 months ago

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summary: one shot AU. It's a hot day and Joel Miller has been contracted to fix up your garden.

warnings: dark!Joel, pervy!Joel, voyeurism, masturbation, reader is feminine, innocent reader, fantasies of noncon PIV.

word count: 2,500

It was hot outside and the air conditioner in the truck wasn't working again. It always shit itself in the summer. He had the driver's seat window rolled all the way down with his elbow bent and resting on the window ledge, hand clutching the wheel. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up his thick tanned forearms. His other hand was nursing half a can of beer by the crotch of his grass stained jeans. Landscaping in this weather was thirsty work.

The truck rumbled slowly down the quiet street until it came to a stop outside a small white picket fence. The front yard was overgrown with thick green grass and tangles of weeds, the result of several months of neglect from the previous owners of the house.

Joel parked the truck infront of the gate and switched off the ignition. He stayed seated in the truck and took a moment to survey the exterior of the property. It was a small house, nothing fancy. It looked old and rundown, in desperate need of a coat of paint.

He finished the last dregs of his beer and tossed the can over his shoulder into the backseat. With a grumbling sigh Joel peeled himself off of the vinyl seat of the truck and got out of the vehicle. He sauntered up to the gate to enter the yard, almost ripping it off of its rusty hinges when he pushed it open.

Who the fuck lives here, he wondered.

The real estate agent who sold the house had booked him to do this job, so he really had no idea if anyone was going to be home while he cleaned up the yard. It didn't bother him though. He preferred to work alone without someone looking over his shoulder. He especially hated working a job for rich folks, the kind of people that eyed him with barely disguised disdain while he broke his back taking care of the lawns and shrubs that they couldn't be bothered maintaining themselves.

Joel lumbered through the mass of grass and made his way to the porch. There was evidence that someone had been here trying to clean up the place; a broom leaning against the brick wall by the door, a new looking welcome mat sitting at its feet, the porch swept clean of any debris.

He rapped on the door with his fist and stood back to wait to see if anyone was home. He waited a few moments but impatience was already setting in, exacerbated by the heat of the sun. He wanted to get the job over and done with already, to just call it quits for the day and fuck off to his favourite bar. It was too hot to deal with this shit.

Joel was about to turn around and just get started on cutting the grass when the front door creaked open. He didn't know who he was expecting to greet him, but he definitely wasn't expecting you. You, dressed in a summery white dress that stopped just above your knees, the soft skin of your bare legs and feet on display. Your hair was loose and wisps clung to your sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat shimmered on the swell of your cleavage. You smiled at him as you greeted him with a courteous hello, your voice sweet and airy and going straight to his cock. He had to make a conscious effort to avert his eyes from wandering all over your curves. He looked down at his feet and shuffled a little on the spot.

Joel put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Afternoon, ma'am. I'm here to do your yard. Treylore Real Estate contacted me a few days ago."

"Yes, ofcourse," you chirped. "I just bought the place and they hadn't organised a gardener beforehand. But that's okay, I'm still moving my stuff in."

Joel nodded once. "I'll get started now, let ya know when I finish up."

"Sure. What's your name?" You asked.

Joel glanced up at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Usually clients didn't give a shit about his name or introducing themselves. But ofcourse you weren't like the others. He could see that straight away.

"Joel." He murmured.

"Nice to meet you, Joel." You smiled brightly and introduced yourself.

You apologised for not shaking his hand, holding up your own hands to show your palms smudged with black grease, explaining that you were tinkering with the air conditioner inside.

Not only did you look like an angel, but you had the name of one, too. Fucking gorgeous.

"Alright then," Joel mumbled gruffly, nodding once more before turning around to go get the lawn mower from his truck.

He hoped that you wouldn't stay outside, that you'd retreat back into the house and not distract him. How the hell was he going to concentrate on mowing the lawn and doing his job with you around?

When Joel returned to the yard with the mower and his gardening gloves, he was relieved to see you had disappeared back inside and shut the front door. Thank fuck for that. Joel fired up the mower and got to work.

He got half way done cutting the grass and weeds when you came waltzing out again, your dress swishing around your thighs, carrying a tall glass of lemonade with ice cubes that clinked against the glass as you moved. Joel was crouched down tugging a nuisance weed from the ground when you approached him. His thick forearms flexed in the sun and sweat was beaded along his forehead. He didn't notice your presence until you came to stand a foot away from him. You were still barefooted.

"Hi again," you said. "It's so hot out here, I thought you might like something cool."

Joel craned his neck to peer up at you, eyebrow cocked. Not only were you polite, but now you were offering him a drink? This was a first.

"It's lemonade," you clarified shyly. "Home-made."

Joel's eyes slowly trailed down your body and stopped when he saw your thighs were level with his face. Oh, what he would give to have them wrapped around his head right now.

Joel slowly ascended from the ground, knees cracking, and stood straight and tall beside you. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his dirty hands on it, then wiped the sweat from his brow with it. He stuffed it back in his jeans and accepted the glass from your outstretched hand.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am." Joel said, staring down at you.

The condensation on the glass felt soothing on his calloused fingers. He finished the drink in two big gulps. It was sticky and sweet and instantly refreshing. He handed you back the glass.

"You're welcome."

Joel watched you scamper away back into the house, admiring the shape of your ass. He clenched his jaw and brushed his palm over the the bulge of his half hard cock.

Why were you being so friendly? Were you purposely teasing him or something? Why else would you be prancing around in a sweet little dress infront of him, offering him your name and a cold drink?

Joel had to shake his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the job and not think about your thighs and pretty face. He needed the money too, so it was important that he do a damn good job with your garden.

He started up the mower again and continued on with the landscaping.

Joel busted his ass to get the lawn manicured and the garden weeded. After he was sure that he had sufficiently completed the tasks, Joel then loaded the mower and his equipment back into the truck.

His shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably, his body drenched with sweat. He just wanted to get in his truck and drive off but he knew he had to be courteous and say goodbye to you.

Joel trudged up to the door to knock but saw that it was already open. He rapt a knuckle on the wood and took a tentative step over the threshold.

"Ma'am?" He called out. "I'm finished out here now."

There came no response from inside the house. Joel waited for a little bit before calling out once again.

"Hello?"

He knew he shouldn't be entering your home but for some reason he couldn't stop himself. He was being pulled into your space by some invisible compulsion.

What if you had fallen asleep and he had just left? Anyone with bad intentions could just come walking through your door. What kind of gentleman would he be to let that happen?

Joel sauntered to the small living room and took a glance to see if you were there, but all he found were stacks of taped up cardboard boxes and a dusty couch. He wandered into your kitchen but there was no sign of you there, either - just more boxes and a cutting board surrounded by lemons and half a jug of lemonade.

Where the hell were you?

Joel didn't bother to call out to you as he drifted throughout the house. There was something thrilling about being in your home without knowing exactly where you were, as if he were hunting you down. His heart beat picked up in his chest when he heard faint sounds coming from down the hallway.

Joel crept closer to the noise and recognised where it was coming from almost immediately. You were in the bathroom, the sound of spraying water echoing from behind door that you had left ajar. You were humming, a soft and sweet muffled sound from your throat.

Fuck, you were showering.

The mere thought of you naked made Joel's cock began to thicken in his jeans. He swallowed thickly and came to a pause outside the bathroom door.

He shouldn't be here. He's invading your privacy and being a fucking creep. A better man would leave a note or some shit, or would atleast wait for you to finish and come outside. But Joel is not a good man. He cannot stop himself; and truthfully, he doesn't want to.

Joel peered through the crack in the door and had to stifle the moan crawling up his throat when he saw your naked body behind the shower glass. You had your eyes closed and your head tilted back as the water cascaded down your round breasts and over your soft stomach, down to the mound of your beautiful pussy.

Joel's tongue darted out to lick at his plush bottom lip as his eyes roamed hungrily over your curves. He cannot remember the last time he had a woman as stunning as you are - and here you are now, naked before him like it's his own personal strip show.

His hand subconsciously started to palm the bulge in pants. Maybe you did this on purpose. Maybe you left both doors open as an unspoken invitation for him to come and join you. For all he knows, you are a massive slut who is begging for his attention.

Fuck it.

Joel hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans before pulling his hard cock out from his underwear, the head already leaking with his precum. You continued to hum and enjoy the feeling of the water streaming over your naked form while Joel closed his fist around his throbbing length.

Oh yeah, you're a nasty fucking slut, alright. You probably get off on teasing guys like him all the time. You probably act all innocent and sweet and then beg to get fucked like a cheap whore.

Joel began to stroke himself, staring intently at the plush slopes of your body and the way your hands trailed over your skin. You turned around, your back facing him, and he inhaled deeply at the sight of your perfect ass. He jerked his cock faster, the squelching and smacking of his actions drowned out by the roar of the shower water hitting the tiles.

Joel imagines himself sneaking up behind you right now. He would quickly wrap his arm around your chest and clamp his hand over your mouth. You would squeal in shock and instinctively writh in panic but he'd make sure you couldn't get away, no matter how much you wriggled.

"Sssh, darlin', ain't gonna hurt you now," he would coo into the shell of your ear.

He would waste no time sinking his fat dick into you and drilling you mercilessly against the shower wall. You would cry under his heavy palm but eventually surrender, unable to do anything but get railed while pinned by his strong frame.

Your pussy would feel so fucking tight and warm, there's no way he would pull out. No, he would shoot his load so deep inside you that you'd be dripping for fucking days afterward.

The thought is too much for Joel; he finds himself cumming quicker than expected. His climax hits him with an intense ferocity that makes him hunch against the door frame and grunt like an animal. His cum shoots out over his knuckles in warm bursts, droplets falling to the ground while some splatters against the bathroom door.

His chest rises and falls with his ragged breaths. His hand gradually comes to a stop once the high of his orgasm fades. Holy shit, he can't remember the last time he came so hard like that.

When the shower comes to an abrupt stop and Joel sees you have turned off the taps, he quickly composes himself. You squeeze the excess water from your hair and turn to reach for a towel. Joel stuffs his softening cock back into his pants and turns on his heel, quickly making his escape before you catch sight of him.

He zips himself up as he stalks out your cottage, his heart hammering in his chest from the thrill of his secret depraved act. Joel once again nearly rips the gate off its hinges as he pushes through it before hopping into his truck. He starts the engine, uncaring of the burn of the hot steering wheel on his calloused palms or the stifling air inside his vehicle.

The tires squeal as Joel pulls a sharp uturn and speeds off down the street. He glances in the revision mirror at the sight of your cottage disappearing behind him. When he's turned the corner his body relaxes a little more into his seat. His cum hasn't quite dried yet, and he absent-mindedly wipes the back of his hand on his thigh.

When Joel finally gets back to his home and slinks through the door he no longer feels like getting drunk by himself and falling asleep in his armchair. Instead, he finds himself craving your home made lemonade and the sweetly sour taste swimming over his tongue.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic

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fluidjj · 4 months ago

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💀𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓓𝓪𝔂 1👻 |

👻𝒲𝒽𝑜 𝒴𝒶 𝒢𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁?👻

Female Bottom Reader (slightly dom) x Ghost Morph

🎮𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓱𝓮��𝓼 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻🎮

Synopsis: Reader finds themselves buying and moving into a suspiciously cheap house. Little does she know is the Ghost she’ll be sharing her new space with.

Kinks: Ghost sex, paranormal, partially invisible sex, belly bulge, size difference, scientific words and dirty words to refer to certain body parts, p in v, no condom, whiny male, creampie, begging male, humping, temperature play-ish, virgin Morph.

a/n: First day of Kinktober! Way longer than I meant it to be lol, will work on that. Next post will be Alex!

Word count: 3.8k

💀𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 ‘24 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽👻 MDNI 18+

The house you moved into seemed to raise eyebrows not just amongst your family but the community you were now a part of. Just months ago you were given the news of a promotion, having to move across the country for your new position where this beautiful Victorian home had quickly caught your eye. It was just you but it had more than enough rooms for a growing family in the future or at least a place to host family and friends for the holidays. The down payment was suspiciously cheap, the addition being the fact that no one seemed to jump at the chance from the online advertisement. You had to double-check just to make sure that the website was legit. It was a steal, with more pros than cons, though the big con was the remote location, miles from the nearest town and perched atop a hill with way more land than you knew what to do with.

Even the real estate agent assigned to the house seemed eager to give it away, pushy and overly friendly as if to keep you from changing your mind. Not a single negative thing came from their lips about the house or the previous owners. The only real thing that was considered to be negative was how outdated the home was, a cellar that looked straight out of an old movie, the electrical, plumbing and appliances would need to be worked on but it wasn’t anything to worry about.

A cheap home with a large square footage, more rooms and bathrooms than you knew what to do with, everyone was telling you it was a bad idea. But, standing here in your new living room, all their worries and concerns went out the window. It was beautiful, although dusty, a lot of the furniture seemed to be intact. Just small reminders of the era that the house came from. With a heavy sigh, you pulled off the plastic covering from the couch and plopped down. You’d done all the moving on your own, always known to be self-sufficient, you knew you could rely on yourself and get things done the way you liked. You may have been a bit over your head, especially with carrying boxes throughout the house to rest them in the corresponding rooms. With the ache in your limbs, you seriously doubted you’d be unpacking today.

With all your things unloaded from the moving truck, you allowed yourself a moment to relax. All the lights were on in the house but they were dim and yellow, giving the peeling wallpaper an eerie look. You were slowly growing accustomed to the house, the silence and periodic creaking from the old house settling. Something about it was calming, your eyes fluttering shut before you could stop yourself.

Unbeknownst to you the lights flickered, powering off briefly before they hummed back to life. A cold chill settled in the living room, goosebumps rising on your covered skin. The long-sleeved shirt and jeans you wore for the autumn season did nothing to shield you from the uncalled for chill. Shadows danced on the walls, stretching into oblong and elongated shapes. The chill seeped into your bones as a presence joined you at your side, clinging to your very being.

A hand reached out hesitantly, ghosting over the warmth of your cheek, eyes admiring the rise and fall of your breaths. It was only when you felt the chill on your neck that you woke, eyes fluttering sleepily. Moving all those boxes had taken a lot out of you and you stood in hopes of heading to bed. It was only then you remembered that you hadn’t unpacked your room, boxes of clothes pushed to the corner but your bed was at least intact. You walked out of the room, a wall of warmth greeting you as you left the living room behind. It was like you had been in a walk-in fridge, but in your tired brain, it was just something else to add on to the work that needed to be done.

You clicked off the lights one by one, crossing back over to the now warm living room. The house was dark, moonlight seeping in from the slit in the heavy curtains and that’s when you saw it, a glimmer of something as it moved away from the light. You may have excused it as a trick of the light if it didn’t vaguely make up the shape of a body. “Who’s there?” You called out into the room, the chill slowly returning. Your voice was soft, weak from disuse, not as firm as you’d like it to be when questioning a potential home invader.

The silence stretched as you stood there, trembling from the cold and the fear of there being someone in your house. Maybe it was a squatter? You had been confident in the state of the home since your last tour and didn’t think there was anything that needed looking for. You regret that decision now, peering into the dark to see if you saw any other signs of movement. The dark was staring back at you. Maybe you really were just tired…The fear began to dissipate but the chill remained, and slowly and hesitantly you turned to head to the staircase, suspiciously eyeing the curtains.

You climbed the staircase to the second floor, the chill following you into the hallway. The floorboards creaked under your weight as you pushed open the door. It squeaked eerily, swinging freely on its hinges. A breath caught in your thought when you saw the figure again, standing in the center of your bedroom. You hadn’t gotten the chance to close the curtains, the moonlight flooding into the room and illuminating it in a white light. The figure was there, tall but their features were indiscernible. It was as if you were peering into a rippling reflection, the longer you looked, the more distorted the features were. One thing was for certain that whoever this was…whatever this was, it wasn’t human. It was standing there and yet it was transparent, you could see your bed behind it.

“I can see you…” Instead of running your feet felt like they were planted in place, eyes wide as you took in your discovery. The idea of sleeping was gone completely as the figure shifted, surprised to be called out. “Who are you?” You quickly followed up, arms coming to hold your figure from the persisting cold. Silence stretched on again and you watched as the figure moved, a slow hesitant shuffle.

The closer it got, the more recognizable its features were. It was a man, easily towering over you with angular features and the softest brown eyes. His hair was cropped short, the sides shaved into a fade with tight coils of black curls on his head. Your blinking and your breathing became rapid, was he going to do something to you? What did he want from you?

“You can see me?” His voice was like a distant echo, deep and seemingly bouncing off the walls in the room. He sounded like he was in disbelief, the same disbelief you felt at the sight of him. He didn’t even seem tangible, like your hand would pass right through him if you tried to touch him. You had the juvenile thought that you must’ve been speaking to a ghost…? But, ghosts aren't real, right?

You gave a slow nod of your head in response, swallowing thickly as his expression changed from one of disbelief to excitement. His smile stretched wide, dimples dimpling his cheeks and his features stretching joyously.

“You’re the first person to ever see me.” His excitement was heard clearly in his voice and it was almost contagious, if it weren’t for the fact that a random man was standing in your bedroom.

“How’d you get in here? Who are you?” You repeated, your tone coming off more urgent. Several times you asked and it felt like he was dancing around your questions.

“I…” He started but paused, his brows pinching in confusion as he tried to recall his name. It was such a simple question, something everyone would know about themselves but he didn’t have an answer. “I’m…not sure. I don’t remember. I woke up here one day and haven’t been able to leave.” His tone shifted, noticeably more sad.

All the signs were pointing to this guy being a ghost, transparent, not remembering his name or where he’d come from. You would’ve thought he was crazy if it weren’t for the fact that you were seeing him with your own eyes. You gave a slow nod, he must’ve been disoriented and all alone…”That’s okay…” You found yourself saying, finally able to pick up your feet and move deeper into your bedroom.

You told him your name, wanting to turn on the light but unsure if he’d disappear when you did. “How are you…transparent?” You didn’t know how else to sugarcoat it, or if he even knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t really know, I’ve looked like this since I woke up. But, I can touch things.” He turned, looking around the room for an example. The room wasn’t as set up as the rest of the house, you had opted to toss the older furniture for your own more salvageable things. “Is it okay if..?” He trailed off, hand outstretched towards you but not moving any closer.

You nodded, curious yourself as his hand came down to touch your shoulder. It didn’t pass through as you expected, sitting heavy and cold on your shoulder. It was the same chill you’d felt in your dreams, seeping down to your bones.

“You…you’re warm…” The ghost murmured, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Ever since he saw you enter the home he’d been smitten. From your first tour all those months ago, to you finally moving in. Seeing you sleeping on the couch he couldn’t resist a small touch. The feeling of your skin beneath his hand warmed his fingers more than he thought possible. Since waking up he’d never felt anything like it. All the previous homeowners had run when he tried to make himself known, just wanting to help from the situation he found himself in. Alone, afraid and invisible. But you were different, you could see him and speak to him.

“And you feel cold.” The chill that seemed to randomly take over the house made sense now, it was him roaming from room to room, watching you as you unpacked your boxes into the house. It should have made you nervous, the idea of constantly being watched, but it became clear that he was in need of some kind of help. “I could feel your presence all this time.” You admitted to him with your own revelation, biting your bottom lip in nervousness.

His lips twitched in a smile but his hand remained on your shoulder, his fingers flexing as the warmth settled. Silence settled again, and all he did was look over you, mainly your face as he took in your warmth. “Can I um…” He was unsure of how to ask, wanting to feel more of your warmth against him.

You were nodding before he could finish, assuming that he wanted to share your warmth. A part of you did want to help him, he seemed so lost, and in need of some kind of companionship. You reached out hesitantly, taking his free hand, and still you expected to go right through him. His hand was solid, just as the other one was on your shoulder. With a gentle squeeze, you led him over to the bed. The idea of turning on the lights was forgotten. With the moonlight you could see him perfectly, still a little ripply but manageable when you were close.

You let go of his hand briefly, sitting on your bed and scooting back until your back hit the headboard. You pat the space next to you, not as unnerved as you should be to cuddle a stranger, but the way you saw it, you guys were roommates from now on. It was like an icebreaker of sorts. You watched as he carefully climbed onto the bed with you and instead of settling next to you like you offered, he was crawling between your thighs.

To be so close to you like this was exciting, your warmth jumping to him like it was his own. It felt like he could wiggle his fingers and toes freely with less frigidity. He had no doubts that if he were to hold you closer, that the warmth would ease his whole body. He’d feel normal again.

The ghost kneeled between your thighs, carefully laying himself down overtop you. You smelled so nice…his eyes closing as he came to rest his head against your chest, his arms winding around your midsection. His weight came down to rest against you, heavy but comforting. You hadn’t expected such a reaction from him but you supposed you would do the same if you hadn’t had contact with anyone else in who knew how long.

It was quiet between you, comforting as you relished in each other's company. The exhaustion was returning, a burn behind your eyelids and the arms of another person was lulling you to sleep. Your breathing was just beginning to slow when you felt something poking against your upper inner thigh. It roused you along with the ghost’s quiet murmuring by your ear.

“I’m sorry…” He spoke quietly, his nose brushing along the length of your neck. You were blinking yourself awake when he ground his hips down against you causing whatever was pressing against you to shift.

“Sorry..?” You mumbled tiredly, hands moving to rub at your eyes and wake yourself up a little. You didn’t want to fall asleep on him without saying something, and you were close to doing just that so you could roll over and finally rest your tired limbs.

He didn’t respond for a while, starting to find a tempo with his hips. He sighed deeply through his nose, his growing bulge being strategically rubbed against the crotch of your pants. His movements were jerking your body gently, enough to lull you back to sleep if he wasn’t answering your question. “You just smell so nice…and you feel so warm. I couldn’t stop it…” He murmured. “I’m sorry…” He repeated, his lips brushing against your neck.

You lifted your head, realization settling from what he said and now it made sense as to what he was doing exactly. He did sound apologetic but the way he was desperately humping against you didn’t exactly reflect it. His grip tightened around you, his humping picking up its pace and rocking your body more noticeably.

“It’s…okay…” It was all you could think to say especially when he began to apply the right amount of pleasure against your clit. You figured you couldn’t be mad at him, he was a pent-up man and you were a little pent-up too…Homeownership wasn’t easy in the least and you hadn’t had much of a moment to yourself since starting the whole process.

The ghost’s breaths came out as pants, cool as it fanned over your skin. The cold persisted, more focused this time. Your back arched off briefly, nipples hardening and poking through the material of your shirt. “I’m not upset or anything…let’s just…” You let your words trail off as you reached to pull your shirt over your head, breasts bouncing free from the lack of a bra.

His face was flushed, mouth agape in surprise as you began to undress, hands working between your bodies to discard your pants next. He pulled back to give you space, the bulge in his pants more than obvious and just as desperate as he looked for attention. His next apology quickly died on his lips when your panties finally came into view. In the low lighting, he could see the wet patch where the material stuck to your vulva from your growing arousal.

“It’s okay baby, come here.” You spoke gently, as if he were a frightened animal. He certainly looked like it at the moment. The moon's rays shifted slightly, for a couple moments it passed through the ghost, shining down on your abdomen as if he wasn’t even there. Your hands reached out, helping him out of his clothes, which he eagerly helped you with.

Beneath his clothes, he was muscular, just enough to fit his large stature. His muscles were prominent but not unnecessarily so, a part of you wondered what he’d done while he was alive to keep in shape. His height and his body had barely clued you in to how big his length was. It bounced up briefly before it hung low from its weight. It was thick and veiny, matching his dark complexion in color. Precum had already started to bead at the tip, his length twitching a few times from the visuals of your own body.

The ghost shifted closer from your invitation, watching as you laid flat on the mattress, your head supported by your pillows. You were watching his face, hand reaching down to take hold of his thick and heavy length. It took some adjusting with the height difference but when he was close enough, you eagerly guided his drooling tip to your entrance. Just like the rest of him, his tip was cold as he pressed against your sopping entrance, squelching noisily from the applied pressure.

He took a breath, holding it in anticipation as you carefully guided him deeper. “Push your hips forward.” He was distracted, eyes glued to where you were connected, but his hips moved from pure instincts. He was seeking out your warmth, his tip finally pushing in up until the ridge of his mushroom tip. He moaned unabashedly, feeling the ways your walls clenched and sucked on him, trying to grow used to his size.

You watched as his eyes rolled back, spurts of precum painting your walls, and easily spilling past his tip and down your taint. With your dainty hand still holding onto him, you pulled his length towards you, guiding him to slide in deeper. You were taking your own quick inhales, his girth spreading you deliciously. Grool spilled over the ⅓ of him you had managed to work in thus far, his veins brushing against every spongy spot inside your walls.

“Oh, thank you…thank you.” He repeated, his hips starting to move on their own even in his haze of pleasure. For a moment it was without rhythm, the ghost working purely on what felt good, trying to get as deep into you as he possibly could. It was more than just the constriction of your walls, or your hungry pussy trying to suck him deeper. It was the warmth that shot out to his fingers and his toes, it spread throughout his very being.

You moved your hands to instead cup his cheeks, turning his face towards you. His expression was pleasure-stricken, his words coming out as delirious mumbles when he finally settled into a rhythm. His thick length bullying your walls open had your moans joining his, grool squelching loudly past his length. “There you go.” You murmured, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper with the pressure against his tailbone. “Just like that baby.” Your lips met his in a desperate kiss, his hips stuttering momentarily from the distraction.

His length felt heavy inside of you, the angle perfect to have him gliding along your front walls, a bulge pressing against your pelvis from his size. Your hips ground down eagerly, moaning against his lips as his pace quickened from the taste of your lips.

Your tits bounced against his chest enticingly from his eager pumps, nipples brushing against the cold of his skin. Your walls sucking his length just as desperately as your lips came to wrap around his tongue and suck on it. You cupped his cheek while the other came down to stroke your pulsing clit, your walls milking him harder.

“Think I’m gonna…” The ghost mumbled, leaning in to catch your lips again to quiet his desperate moans. He was chasing his own orgasm now, his cold hands desperately coming to grasp onto your thighs, pressing them down towards your chest, forcing his length into the base.

You grunted softly, his balls smacking loudly against his skin and his tip finding your g spot. You yelped as he pummeled the spot hard, your eyes fluttering closed from the dizzying pleasure. He held your body still beneath him, moans escaping from your throats, mingling together and making the air warm finally.

“Right there baby, keep going.” Your words were cut off between moans. It was now his mission to hold out before you, his length wet to the base, sticking to your skin briefly before he was pulling out and burying himself right back in. The moonlight had shifted slightly, the ghost's form flickering from the lack of light. If it weren’t for his cock stretching you out and his hands on your body you wouldn’t have known he was there.

Glancing down, your hole was lewdly spread around nothing and that excited you. An invisible lover spreading you open, making you moan louder than anyone else you’d been with even with his over-excited humping. Your fingers worked faster on your clit, your breathing quickening as your orgasm crashed into you. Your walls clenched down tightly, cum splashing over his length quickly, your hips bucking slightly, trying to alleviate the pressure on your g spot.

“Yes yes yes.” Invisible lips pressed down against your neck, his grip firm to keep you from squirming away from him. You were clenching down on him but simultaneously trying to push his length out from the force of your orgasm. It made him shudder from the warmth you were gracing him with, his thrusts slowly when his own orgasm came, flooding your walls with warm cum. He thrusted a few times, forcing his load deeper, the mess between you becoming creamy.

You let out a sigh, your body buzzing pleasantly, and when your eyes opened, his form was back, moonlight flooding back into your room like it had never felt. Your hand reached down, gently stroking over the twitching bulge that sat inside of you.

A comfortable silence settled, the ghost nuzzling into your neck affectionately, releasing your thighs to stroke your body tenderly. He murmured something against your neck to which you responded with a lazy hum, not having heard him.

“Can we uh…do that again..?” He murmured shyly, brown eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. With a subtle grind of his hips, you noticed he was still hard, throbbing, and desperate for another round. Not only did you have a ghost haunting your home, but a horny one at that.

#fluidjj #morpheus carter #dom reader #reader insert #female reader #x reader #fem reader #smut #original character #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #ghost #ghost morph

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jungshookz · 2 years ago

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y/n needs help with sunscreen and, uh, yoongi can definitely help out with that

➺ pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

➺ genre; ...:-)

➺ wordcount; 1.5k

»»————- ☀️ ————-««

“remind me again why we couldn’t just stay home today?” yoongi grunts, leaning back against the flimsy foldout chair and tilting his head back, squinting slightly as bright rays of white-hot sun seem to shoot directly into his eyes despite him wearing a pair of pretty solid sunglasses, “fucking hell, that’s bright. you need to do something about the sun. can’t you, like, fly up there and shove some clouds in front of it or something?”

god, he hates the outdoors

and he hates the heat

years of living on earth have really softened him because he would like nothing more than to go back home and blast the air-conditioner until the apartment becomes an icebox

“aw, don’t be like that. i, personally, love summer,” jimin sighs, crossing one ankle over the other as he basks in the warmth of the beautiful, golden ball of butter hanging in the sky, “and humans love going to the beach during the summer season! we need to do things that they like now that we live with them. you need to humanize yourself-“

“first of all, you love everything, and second of all, we aren’t humans,” yoongi grunts, reaching over to adjust the umbrella so that he’s covered by more shade, “you could literally sprout wings out of your back if you wanted to, and i could set someone on fire right now if i wanted to. and right now, this heat is making me want to set everyone on fire- oh my god, this shitty umbrella isn’t budging- how far did jungkook stick it into the sand?!“

“NOOOOOO!” both jimin and yoongi look over when they hear jungkook whining, yoongi letting out a laugh of genuine joy when he realises that jungkook’s sandcastle just got completely washed away by a rogue wave

HAH

“oh, no!” jimin gasps, sitting up straight in his seat as if the destruction of jungkook’s sandcastle is the worst possible thing to happen in the entire course of humanity, “oh, gosh… we should help him rebuild his castle, it’s the only right thing to do… i feel awful-“

“awful? that wave did him a favour.” yoongi snorts, “his sandcastle was an ugly little clump of sand, anyway- and if he was smart, he shouldn’t have built it so close to the water-“

“aw, did jungkook’s castle get wrecked?!” yoongi turns his head slightly upon hearing your voice and he isn’t surprised to see a popsicle (or what’s left of a popsicle) in your hand, “i told him not to build it so close to the water but he refused to listen to me. he said he wanted it to be close to the water so the crabs would be able to live in it if they wanted to.”

“yeah, i’m sure the crab real estate market is booming right now-“ yoongi rolls his eyes, “see, jimin? i’m not the only one around here who thinks that jungkook’s sandcastle location was stupid-”

“hey, i never said stupid-“ you drop to your knees on top of your beach towel next to yoongi as you slide the rest of the popsicle off the wooden stick and pop it into your mouth in one go, chomping down on the deliciously citrusy icy crystals, “i jusht said it wahs in a bad locashun-“

“yeah. a bad, stupid location-“

“well, i don’t know about you guys, but i’m gonna go help him!” jimin gets up from his seat, pulling his sunglasses down from the top of his head before shaking his head, “i feel bad, i can practically see the waves of disappointment radiating off of him and i just can’t help but-“

“yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re an angel-“ yoongi dismisses jimin with a flick of his wrist, his eyebrows raising slightly when he sees you peeling your top off to reveal the very cute bikini you have on underneath, “and i am the complete opposite, hello-“ he lowers his sunglasses onto the tip of his nose, shamelessly letting his eyes wander along the slope of your back and the curve of your perky bum as you get settled on your beach towel, “where’ve you been hiding this little number??”

“i haven’t been hiding it anywhere, i just brought it out for the beach!” the corner of your mouth twitches in a smirk as you get comfortable on the soft, warm ground, folding your arms over each other and resting your cheek on top of them — the truth is you have been hiding this little number (it’s a slinky little two piece that matches the fiery orange of yoongi’s newly dyed hair) because you’ve been saving it for a nice beach day like this, “do you think you could help get my sunscreen from-“

“yes.” yoongi rips his sunglasses off his face and gets up from his seat immediately, leaning down to grab the bottle of sunscreen out of your bag, “god, yes, i can help-“ his mouth goes dry when you reach behind yourself to undo the string of your top and he turns to bite his fist because all he wants to do right now is thank satan for linking him up with you

he remembers he was gonna call in sick on that day, too, but thankfully he decided to get out of bed and actually go to work like the good, hardworking demon he is

it’s only a second later that you feel yoongi straddling you gently, crotch pressed against your bum and- “oh- god, yoongi, a little warning would’ve been nice-“ you laugh lightly when you feel a squirt of sunscreen shoot across your back, shutting your eyes as your muscles relax under yoongi’s familiar touch

“your ass looks so fucking good, baby-“ yoongi seems to be mesmerised and in his own little world as he rubs the sunscreen into your skin, letting his hands glide up and down your back in slow sweeps as he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, “i, like- god, i wanna fuck the shit outta you-“

“yoongi-“ your eyes pop open and you feel your face burn up immediately when yoongi suddenly grips your hips with both hands and forces you up a little

you turn your head to look back at him (which, in hindsight, perhaps only encouraged yoongi even more because he loves when you look back at him when he’s got you on your elbows and knees for him), flustered to see that yoongi’s eyes have gone dark and there’s a certain look of heat swirling around in them, “we are in public-“

“so? there’s an umbrella and we’re off to the side-“ yoongi’s hand slides up your greased-up back before it slinks into your hair, fingers wrapping around your hair before he gives you a gentle yank, “and you love when i fuck you in this position, you were certainly a big fan of it last night-“ he growls playfully, leaning down so he can press a kiss to the back of your ear

“you are shameless!” you can’t help but let out a laugh of disbelief as the logical voice in your head tells you that this is a highly inappropriate way to act on a public beach while the sprinkling of demon in you tells you that you should 100% just let yoongi yank your panties down on a public beach-

“i’m a demon, the fuck did you expect?” yoongi’s other hand grabs a fistful of your ass as he starts rocking against you, “you knew who i was when we got together, you literally summoned me-“

“y/n, jungkook needs your help with his castle!”

“shit- one second!“ you practically shove yoongi off and roll out from under him when you hear jimin’s sweet voice ring out, getting up onto your knees and reaching behind your back to fumble with the strings of your top, “you’re horrible, you know that?”

the last thing you’d want is for jimin to pop his head under the umbrella to see yoongi slutting you out because that would probably traumatise him

“you love it, don’t lie.” yoongi can’t help but chuckle to himself at how flustered you are (even after all this time together, your cheeks still get so pink as if you’re not used to him being so brazen with you all the time) as he plops himself back down on his chair, running a hand through his hair before he leans down to pick his sunglasses up off the floor

“you’re gonna have to help him dig the moat because apparently i didn’t do it as well as you-“

“coming!” you get up onto your feet, dusting the flecks of sand off your hands and looking around for your own sunglasses, “i’m coming, i’m coming-“

“well, not yet, but you will be once we get home.” yoongi coughs, flicking his finger towards you before your sunglasses suddenly float out of your bag and over to you

“you are horrible.” you snatch it midair before anyone notices before scrunching your nose at yoongi in a frown of disapproval

absolutely horrible!

🎙️ scold yoongi and y/n for public indecency (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!)

#demon!yoongi #demon!yoongi drabbles #yoongi drabbles #yoongi headcanons #yoongi one shots #yoongi drabble recs #yoongi fic recs #yoongi headcanon recs #yoongi one shot recs #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fics #yoongi smut recs #yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff recs

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lemoncrushh · 7 months ago

Text

The Lucky One

Summary: Harry is not too pleased when you run into your old high school crush at a restaurant.

Warnings: Smut, angst 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2069

A/N: Another one shot from my 2016 collection. Jealousy seemed to be a common theme back then lol. Also, both of their reactions are a bit dramatic, but just go with it ;).

You sat at the table across from Harry in the swanky restaurant. You'd been there a couple times before, but it didn't make you less nervous this time around. You tried your best to focus on your meal and not the room where no doubt other celebrities sat eating dinner. It wasn't necessarily that you felt unworthy to be seated near them, you were with Harry after all, and he always made you feel at ease. You just wanted to show them respect and not gawk.

Lifting your fork to your mouth, your eyes met Harry's and he gave you a slow grin. Chewing, you laid your fork down on your plate and grabbed your napkin, dabbing your mouth with it. You felt yourself blush at Harry's gaze.

"You're so pretty," he said.

"Thank you," you replied shyly, reaching for your glass of water.

It was then that something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. You turned your head to see a man walked towards the bathrooms, and although you could only see his back, he looked familiar. A little too familiar.

"What is it, love?" asked Harry, peeling your gaze away from the man momentarily.

"Oh," you gave a tight smile. "Nothing."

"You sure?" he pressed.

You nodded, grabbing another forkful of your food. But you were no longer hungry.

It couldn't have been him... could it?

Your question was answered two minutes later when the man returned from the hallway that led to the restrooms. He looked older, yet exactly the same as you remembered. His eyes met yours, and before you were able to shift your gaze, he walked over to your table.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed with a toothy grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi...um...Jacob," you pursed your lips and looked at Harry, then back at your old high school crush. "Having dinner."

"Well, obviously," Jacob rolled his eyes. "So do I get a hug?"

You were sure your cheeks were pink as you rose from your chair to embrace him.

"It's good to see you," said Jacob as you pulled back. "You look...wow...stunning."

You let out a small giggle that escaped your mouth as Jacob gave you the once over, his hand on your elbow. Suddenly you heard someone clear their throat and you silently cursed yourself.

"Harry," you turned to him, "This is-"

"Jacob," he interrupted, rising from his chair. "Yeah, I heard that part."

He held his hand out to shake Jacob's, his brows furrowed. "Harry Styles."

"Oh yeah," Jacob nodded as they shook hands. "Yeah, I know you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Have we met before?"

"No, I just meant.." Jacob waved his hand, "I know who you are."

"Ah."

You glared at Harry, sensing his disdain for the other man. Jacob shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back at you.

"So, what have you been up to?"

You heard Harry sigh as he sat back down, no longer wishing to be part of the conversation.

"Oh...busy with work, you know," you shrugged. "I work in public relations now."

"Awesome, how's that going?" Jacob inquired.

"Pretty good," you beamed. "That's how I met Harry."

You returned your gaze to Harry who gave a tight smile. When you looked back at Jacob, you could've sworn he was rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he said shortly.

"What about you?" you inquired, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"I'm in real estate management," replied Jacob. "I actually own this building, as well as a few other local restaurants."

"Wow, look at you!" you chuckled. "Always knew you'd make something of yourself."

"Thanks," he smiled, his eyes roaming down your body again. "Well, you look amazing."

You felt yourself blush again. "Thank you."

"You've definitely been taking care of yourself," he added. "You look even better than I remember."

"Please," you lightly slapped his arm. "I was a rail in high school. You didn't even look at me twice."

"Too bad for me, huh? Looks like I missed out," Jacob joked, making sure Harry understood. Harry gave a short fake laugh.

"Well, it was good seeing you, Jacob," you declared, ready for the uncomfortable conversation to end.

"Yeah, you too, sweetheart. Um..." he leaned into your ear, "Give me a call sometime."

Avoiding a verbal answer, you just gave a nod and a small wave, returning to your seat. Replacing the napkin in your lap, you reached for your water again. That was when you noticed Harry focused on the contents on his plate.

"Everything alright?" you asked softly.

"Yep," he sounded, nearly popping the p at the end.

"Harry..." you urged. You wanted him to look at you so you could read his face. But his body language said more than enough.

"What?" he asked, lifting his head.

"That was just-"

"Jacob," he said a little too loudly. "We established that early on."

You sighed. "I know I told you about him before. But I didn't want to be rude."

"No, you were definitely far from rude," he nodded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

You sat back. "Did you think I was flirting?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you saying?" you asked, crossing your arms.

Harry picked at his food for a bit before laying down his fork. "Nothing."

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

Harry smirked and shook his head. "No, love, I'm not."

"Well, good because..." You had no idea how to explain the insanity of Harry's being jealous of Jacob other than a gesture of your hand as you pointed to the area which Jacob had left and then back to Harry.

"It's just..." he began.

"It's just what?"

"It's just...I tell you how beautiful you are all the time. You say thank you softly or shy away like you don't believe me. But this bloke tells you, and you're practically jumping on him."

You felt your heart drop to your feet as you glared at him. Tossing your napkin onto the table, you stood up.

"Take me home," you demanded.

"Baby, I-"

"I wanna go home, Harry. Right now."

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Save it," you held up your hand, your body trembling as you tried to hold back the sobs. "Just take me home."

The car ride was silent except for the occasional sniffle as you looked out the window. Neither of you spoke a word until you reached your apartment.

"Baby, please, I'm sorry," Harry finally said, putting the car in park. "I didn't mean it."

You jerked your head around to look at him. "Yes you did."

"Why would you think that?"

"You wouldn't have said it otherwise. You were angry." You pushed open your car door and got out, walking to your door. Harry followed you.

"Maybe a little angry, yeah."

"And jealous," you added.

"No, I wasn't jealous."

"Harry, you sat there pouting at the table the entire time I was talking to Jacob."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"C'mon, let's go inside," you muttered, pulling your keys from your clutch.

"He was being nice, Harry," you insisted when you shut the door behind him, tossing your bag on the coffee table. "I hadn't seen him since high school. We were just catching up. It had nothing to do with you."

Harry gave you a strange look. "What do you mean it had nothing to do with me? I was sat right there!"

"Yes, and if you remember correctly, I talked about you and introduced you."

Harry scoffed. "He's a wanker."

You shook your head. "He's not that bad."

"How can you say that?" Harry asked incredulously. "After what you told me he did? Or maybe you embellished a bit."

"No," you said sheepishly, looking down at your hands.

"So, he did break your heart?"

You swallowed and nodded. "In a million pieces."

"And then acted like he didn't know you?"

"Yes, he did."

"And you still wanted to be friends with him?"

You sighed. "It was a long time ago, Harry. I was head over heels crazy in love with him, or so I thought. He didn't know I was alive until I practically threw myself at him. Then he tossed me aside and laughed. He thought it was funny. He didn't even remember my name the next time I saw him."

"He seemed to remember it tonight," Harry remarked.

You licked your lips. "Maybe that's why I acted like I did. He seemed different to me. I was willing to bury the hatchet. Even if for just a few minutes."

"I still hate the guy," muttered Harry.

"Fair enough," you said, stepping towards him. "But please don't be jealous. There's nothing to be jealous of."

"I told you, I'm not jealous."

You raised your hand to touch his chest. "I promise, I love it when you tell me I'm pretty. It's just sometimes it feels good to hear it from someone else."

Harry blinked, "I get that."

"But your opinion is all that matters," you insisted, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt his hands press against your hips before he covered your mouth with his.

"I'm sorry I upset you," Harry declared when your lips separated.

"I'm sorry I gave you any reason to doubt me," you conveyed. "Honestly, it's so ridiculous for you to be jealous...of anyone."

"I wasn't jealous," he argued.

"Not even a little?" you teased, pushing him back toward the bedroom.

Harry cocked a brow. "Oh, now you want me to be?"

"Not really," you giggled. "But a little healthy competition never hurt anyone."

You reached the bedroom as you began to unbutton Harry's shirt. After he slipped out of it and dropped it on the floor, he reached behind you for the zipper on your dress.

"Something tells me I'd win," he murmured as he pressed his lips to your neck, just below your ear.

"You've already won, baby," you breathed, your dress hitting the floor. "You've got it in the bag."

Harry chuckled against your skin as his hands slid down your back, grabbing your thong.

"Shit, I didn't know you were wearing this," he groaned, pushing it down.

Your clothes now a pile at your ankles, you stepped out of your shoes and moved towards the bed. You watched as Harry unbuckled his belt and removed his boots, jeans and underwear. When you beckoned him to the bed, he smirked and followed you, laying you back against the pillows.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Harry growled as he hovered over you. "I'm so lucky."

"No, Harry," you shook your head, taking his face in your hands. "I'm the lucky one."

Harry kissed you deeply then, his tongue tangling with yours. The passion ignited between you, and you shifted your body so that your legs were open and waiting. His hand on your thigh, Harry aimed at your center, entering you slowly.

You shut your eyes for just a second, reveling in the sensation his sex gave. You let out a slow, jagged breath as he pulled out gently, then thrust harder and deeper. Your fingers gripped the curls on the back of his head as your eyes focused on each other. His breath on your face, your bodies rocked at a slow rhythm. You watched his facial expressions as he moved faster, and you knew he was getting closer to the edge.

"Baby..." he moaned. "Feels so good."

"Yes."

"Fuck, I'm-" he swallowed. "I'm so close."

"Me too," you cried.

One more thrust, and he hit your most sensitive spot, an orgasm ripping through you. As your legs were shaking coming down, Harry reached his own as he called out your name. He laid on top of you as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around him as you combed back his hair with your fingertips.

"Told you," you whispered, your voice coming out raspy.

"Told me what?" Harry asked, his head still on your chest.

"That I'm the lucky one. And you have nothing to worry about. Because if there was any sort of competition for that? You'd win hands down."

Harry lifted his head to look at you, your favorite smile spreading across his face. He pressed a kiss to your lips, then one on your nose and your forehead.

"Have to say..." he grinned, "that's a relief."

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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deadwooddross · 7 hours ago

Note

Hi deadwooddross, I really like your sticker designs! you keep making ones I love and want! However, I don't use stickers often, because their starting-to-peel edges are Bad Touch Bad Feel for me. Do you have any suggestions for sticker placements that are fun and not surfaces touched often (ie water bottle, laptop cover, other commonly stickered items)?

ah yes the plight, i currently have one peeling off the back of my phone that's annoying me so, feel that i know at least one person who puts the stickers with their backings inside a clear phone case and swaps them out, pc towers are prime sticker real estate if you're not going for the minimal look, i put them on the insides of my sketchbook covers as well as the outside alternatively, go avant garde and decorate your toilet, that tank is free real estate. Or dont stick them at all and collect them in those little card sheets like pokemon cards

#if its got a flat surface thats not going anywhere any time soon that you like to look at #i say just stick it on that!#i do wanna get more into little prints tho so maybe the new question will be if you want sticky tack or tiny frames or nails #“thumb tacks exist dross” yeah well little nails are cuter #answers to questions #pspspsps

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unsoundedcomic · 4 months ago

Text

Whumptober 2024 - 06 - "Not Realising They're Injured"

The Sonorie winter palace was in Alauri Beach, a dreamy subtropical district hugging Cresce's southernmost border. Northern districts feared Alderode and ill-intentioned Sharteshanian encroachment; locals said Alauri Beach's only enemy was the sea. Here the country harvested salt and seafood, chocolate and jewel-hued alien fruit that, after nearly a decade sequestered there, Roger still couldn't identify by name. He'd adjusted to the food, the mosquitos, the heat, the downpours, but loneliness remained a constant bedfellow. Even when his hosts provided alternatives.

Roger didn't spare a glance to the unclothed boy dozing in the fine satin bed behind him. Instead, from a high window of pebbled cerulean glass, he watched the waves lick the white sand shore far below, and thought of Mallory's mouth; of Mallory's dark lips parting to reveal Mallory's shell white incisors; of his bottom teeth rising to lightly close upon Mallory's tongue and stop him grunting as he came in Roger's throat.

Roger liked that thought, smiled, and added it to the letter unwinding from his quill.

He hadn't tasted that mouth in so many years. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn't dreamed their fiery affair. He'd certainly taken to romanticizing it in these ridiculous letters they shared, filling perfumed pages with whole bouquets of florid prose. Prick like a pine trunk. Creamy emissions sprayed across tendinous thighs and round, rosy ass. Ember eyes red and snapping. Roger thought he'd become quite the poet. But poetry by necessity was perhaps not as sweet as the lazy verses he'd written when he was younger, when life was easier, and Mallory was at hand to inspire his pen.

Roger slapped at a mosquito. Black legs and his own blood smeared his palm. His neck stung.

The palace was gorgeous. His personal quarters well suited the Queen's third husband. Its high stucco walls were covered in the softest gauzy drapes, and those drapes were slashed by golden cords pymarically aglow with shifting sun shafts and dancing firefly particles. Even the fine Foi-Hellick estate had not been this lavish, this luxurious with pymaric accoutrements. Fountains of emerald water burbled in each corner. Fragile blue fawns passed between them, sipped, would bow their heads respectfully if Roger met their eye. They were only glamours of course but he'd never seen finer. The peacocks too, and the songbirds. They peeled themselves off the walls every half hour, strutted about, clucked, sang, then replaced themselves in their murals. They smelled like sandalwood and one of the exotic fruits he couldn't name. It was the most beautiful room he'd ever seen, much less lived in.

Yet Roger thought of Mallory's strutting, Mallory's singing, Mallory's smell.

"It's a spear in my heart," he wrote, "That these glamours are more real to me than you may ever be again. If we don't meet soon, I hope the next assassin finds me alone and unguarded. Every day without you is a curse."

Gods, his neck hurt. Roger touched the bite but it wasn't bleeding. Perhaps the mosquito'd had that poxy fever that his servants warned him of sometimes, and now he was infected. Well, he shouldn't write so carelessly of dying, he supposed. The gods loved to ironically strike men down. But that would be poetry too, wouldn't it? He'd die long before Sonorie's people found the efheby.

Wait.

Efheby?

Was Mallory already-

From his bed, the boy muzzily called: "Lord Foi-Hellick?" Roger's thoughts scattered. "Why don't you tell me what I can do for you?"

Roger dropped his pen, gave his head a little shake to further scatter the blood-sucking swarm. "There is… there is naught to be done for me," he answered, "Not here. Not in this country."

"Pretend we are not in this country then. We will be in whatever country my Lord commands."

Roger stood. He turned from the pretty cerulean window, from his view of the southern sea. "Can you speak Tainish?"

Like marketplace produce, the boy in his sheets was beautifully arrayed, one leg bent beneath him, his soft cock sleeping on the cushion of his thigh. He nodded, and when he flashed his teeth in a smile, maybe there were too many teeth. Maybe they were the wrong shape.

"Ssa, maenhilo alata," he answered in the language of Roger's fathers, in the same ancient cadence Mallory used, "It is fine. I will speak any tongue my Lord desires."

#unsounded #whumptober

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slytherin-princess-x · 2 months ago

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Slytherinmas day 3- Meeting the parents — Tom riddle

Summary: Tom wants his parents to know he’s serious about you so, why not pretend to be married??

Word count: 768

Title: A Marriage of Convenience

Plot Summary:

As I stood in the mirror, adjusting my tie, the reality of what we were about to do hit me like a cold wave. I had always been known for my ambition and cunning at Hogwarts, but this—this was an unexpected turn of events. Why did I let Y/N convince me that pretending to be married was the best way to introduce her to my parents?

Despite my carefully curated exterior, my heart raced at the thought of facing my parents. They were not just any couple; they were powerful, influential, and had very high expectations for me. Especially regarding my relationships. I had always kept them at arm’s length, never bringing anyone home who could tarnish the Riddle legacy. But here I was, about to thrust Y/N into the very belly of the beast.

As she entered the room, clad in a sleek, black dress that accentuated her every feature, I felt a rush of emotions—admiration, affection, and dread. She exuded warmth and light, contrasting sharply with my cold, calculating demeanor.

“We have to pretend to be married,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Better get used to it.”

She smiled, a flash of mischief in her eyes. “I can do that. What’s the plan, Mr. Riddle?”

Her playful confidence lessened the burden itching at my heart. I outlined our scheme: We would introduce ourselves as a married couple during dinner at the grand Riddle estate, backed by a story I concocted about a whirlwind romance and a hastily arranged wedding. It was absurd, ludicrous even, but it was our best chance at convincing my parents that I was serious about her.

As we made our way to the estate, the anxiety began to creep back in. Y/N took my hand, her touch grounding me as we approached the imposing front doors. They swung open to reveal my mother, dressed impeccably as always, her sharp eyes scanning us with suspicion.

“Tom! And… Y/N. How lovely to see you both,” she greeted, barely masking her disdain. I could sense that she knew something was off, but as we exchanged pleasantries, Y/N effortlessly slipped into her role. She greeted my mother with a smile and an embrace that almost disarmed her.

Dinner was a spectacle of what my life could become—the Riddle family’s rich history lined the walls, and the atmosphere buzzed with an air of grandeur I often took for granted. Yet, as Y/N and I shared glances and subtle laughter, I found myself lost in her charm, fully engaged in a performance that felt oddly real.

“Tell us more about your life together,” my father inquired, his voice booming across the table.

In a split second, I was struck with the realization that he wouldn’t be satisfied with surface-level banter. Every question came with the intention of peeling back layers, exposing the truth beneath the facade. Y/N saved me with a story about our first encounter—an intricate tale filled with laughter and romance. Ad-libbing flawlessly, she painted a picture of our love that swept through the entire room.

As the night progressed, I found myself mesmerized by how she seamlessly became a part of my life, weaving her way into the fabric of my existence. My parents, enamored (or at least they appeared to be), began to warm up to her, exchanging approving glances. My heart strangely swelled with pride—I had never expected to feel this way, not about anyone, let alone under the guise of a fabricated marriage.

However, amid the feigned joy, a subtle underlying tension simmered within me. This charade couldn’t last; beneath the surface glimmer, I knew my parents were perceptive and liable to dig deeper into our supposed union.

As the evening drew to a close, Y/N and I found ourselves outside in the frosty air. The laughter of my parents faded into the background as the weight of reality set in. “What if they dig deeper?” I asked, turning to her with worry etched across my face.

She smiled, no hint of fear in her demeanor. “Then we adapt. We’re a team, remember?”

Her unwavering belief in us ignited a fire within me. Maybe this was more than just a ruse—maybe this was the beginning of redefining who we were, together. And as I took her hand once more, the night whispered promises of what could be, the warmth of her presence conquering the biting chill of doubt.

And as we made our way back into the estate, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead, I realized that this pretend marriage could very well lead to something far more profound—and perhaps, genuinely real.

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savemaxsignature · 2 years ago

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Best Realtor for Buying a House in Peel Village

#Best Realtor for Buying a House in Peel Village #experienced real estate agent in Peel Village #professional real estate agent in Peel Village

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 3 months ago

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Maggot’s Kiss Pt. 2

You must be dreaming. A bad dream, really. One where you’re out in the middle of the desert, hurtling down lengthy, desolate stretches of highway in a sardine can packed with oil and about fifteen sweaty pro-skaters. Bam looks for validation in all the wrong places, and you were one of those places.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Angst, Fluff)

3.3k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, Enemies to lovers, jealousy, crude language, very suggestive content, bullying, (small) implied age gap, injury, wound care, boners, smoking, make outs, bad sex, semi-public sex, insecurity, misogyny

An: Thank you for sending in requests! This is, in fact, the single fic I have worked on for the longest- over nine months! Hours of research and writing (and re-writing…) went into this, so I hope you all enjoy! :) I wanted to keep the door open for a Pt. 3, so please lmk if that’s something you’d like to see! As a note, the opening scene of this fic was largely inspired by my experiences using lidocaine after walking ~10 miles a day for a week- long story, but a fun one!

Your motel room looked like a military field hospital, sweaty, lifeless bodies draped over whatever pieces of furniture were closest when you walked in. What the X-Games doesn’t show you is the toll professional skating can take on your body, and given your usual medic couldn’t make the trip, the severely injured were given priority. Just about everybody had something wrong with them. You got off easy with just a blasted elbow, but that paled in comparison to the rotten luck Bam had up to this point. “Yeah, racked my nuts so bad yesterday- m’still pissin’ blood…”

This was, of course, in addition to several broken ribs and those sore thigh muscles you were slathering up in that minty, burn your eyes lidocaine jelly. Better than the rank, dense sweat that permitted every inch of peeling wallpaper and crusty carpet…Sitting there with one leg dangling over the arm of the chair, Bam looked like some king, waiting for a subject to come and kiss his ring, with the shitty lamp in the corner of the room casting this golden halo around his head. He watched you with half lidded eyes, letting out an occasional wince or hiss through his teeth as the gel stung in the angry little scratches on legs.

“Give it a break, dude. You’re gonna end up in a full body cast before the tour is done- I’m callin’ it.” Bam’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he let out a low groan, his head leaning back when your scabbed over palms worked out a knot in his pale thigh. There was a weird privacy this afforded you, what with how the rest of the team was passed out or distracted with their own injuries…Your face was inches away from those flannel boxers that sat dangerously low on Bam hips as he wilted in his seat and muttered, “Yeah, yeah- I’ll be fine, Nurse Y/N...”

The worst part of this wasn't the fact that Bam got a hard on while your face was inches from his crotch. It was how he was shamelessly flashing that tattoo and all that prime hip real estate, contours shiny with sweat. Fucking sinful- and he didn’t have a shread of shame about getting a boner in a room full of his half naked teammates. Slut. Glancing down to the tent in his boxers, you bitterly chuckled, not pretending you were some doting, caring mother figure, “Well, at least we know it still works...” Punctuating your sentence with a tight squeeze to a bundle of muscle, you savored the way Bam squirmed as he melted under your numb palms like ice cubes spat out onto the sidewalk.

His little facade crumpled in front of your face, but he still put up the ghost of resistance, “You are suh-such a sadistic bitch…” Sadistic implied you got pleasure from his pain, but there was more than that. The little, soft breaths he let out so as to not make the ache on his chest worse made you want to tug those ACE bandages on his torso to one side and dig your fingers into the tender, purple bits hidden under them.

You could listen to the engine groan, but that won’t pass the time when you need to be in the next state over by morning. Didn’t keep you warm either, as the tour bus you and the rest of Tony Hawk’s skate team were packed into sped down I-10, and at two am became a refrigerator in the desert night. But after a long day of skating in Ari-Fucking-Zona, there was no amount of noise that could wake those guys up. No amount of mattress creaking or stiffled moaning…

Luckily, you could come up with a few ideas to stay warm under the frigid den of night. This sort of writhing, slithering mass of limbs was stuffed into one bunk, with Bam latched on your neck as if he were Cleopatra’s asp. A little petulant about not being able to have sex in a bus with all your teammates present, he greedily palmed at you, wide hands slipping up the bottom of you tank top. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. Keeping your voice down, you asked incredulously, “What happened to, ‘no way in hell am I touchin’ you.’?” Thank god it was dark so that Bam didn’t see the shit eating grin on your face. But this was something that had been bothering you for a while- ever since that incident at the skatepark, you weren't sure what the two of you were. Friends? Dating? Something between that? Bam let out a low, vibrating groan against your neck, “Shut up…” before he resumed making swollen, fat hickeys on your neck.

No, you were not about to be demoted to Bam Margera’s road fleshlight. Grabbing a handful of his long, sweaty curls, you yanked him off of your carotid with a pop, leaving him to stare up at you with those big, shocked eyes. Bam was about to tell you that it's none of your business- that you should stop being so goddamn weird and critical about everything he does because he could just find another girl who’d be over the moon to be gettin’ all this, and if he did, he wouldn’t have to put up with all your bitchin’. Key word about to, because thevan made this horrible wheezing noise cutting off any sass he was about to give you. Judging from the sputtering coming from the engine and the sudden realization that you were slowing down, it seemed this was more serious than hitting an armadillo.

Despite the initial confusion, you did feel a tinge of satisfaction when Bam thwacked his head on the roof of the bunk trying to see what was going on, wincing and falling face-first into your tits. Flicking on the hazards, the driver eased the dying bus into the parking lot of a nearby rest stop. Surprisingly, the only person who was roused in this process was the team’s pseudo father, Tony, who had this little sensor in his head that went off whenever shit started going south. After he left to see if he could find a technician, you tried to give the tension between yourself and Bam a little room to breathe and stood outside the bus in your pajamas, only for him to follow you.

Wedging a cigarette between your teeth, silence hung heavy between the two of you- as heavy as the desert air could allow. Lips curling into that signature, plastic MTV star smirk, the tip of Bam’s cig glowed red under the white, fluorescent lights of the gas station as he took a drag. Everyone looks bad under those lights, you realized, because you could really see them- more bare than being naked. He just…watched you, studying your movements with odd intensity. Bam wanted a reaction, but you refused to give it to him, and that made him upset. Tossing his smoldering butt about an inch shy of your bare foot, all semblance of politeness fell away. Your lack of a reaction must’ve stirred something in Bam, because wordlessly, he retreated to the bus.

Taking your chance to flee the scene, you slipped away into the Speedway to see how Tony was doing on that mechanic and maybe grab yourself a slushie. Leaning into the little cubicle the pay phone sat in with the kind of stress on his face you would expect to see from a doctor three hours into open heart surgery, he explained, “Well, they can get a guy out in a couple hours, but until then we’re kinda stuck here.” Outside, you caught a glance of Bam in the parking lot about three seconds away from hurling his board through a plate glass window. Still staring at you. Sighing, you took a step out of the shatter zone, ducking past a pamphlet stand and pocketing a few before you slipped out the door. You didn’t even get your slushie.

Call in the bomb squad, Tony. His eyes were hard and distant, like he was searching for something to break or someone to punch. “Hey, Bam! Whatch’a workin’ on over there?” You could tell he saw you on your way to talk him down from his little temper tantrum, because he suddenly got all cool after you called out to him. Instead of responding, he shot you a glare, ignoring your attempts at civility as he re-attempted that frontside 50-50 on the curb he just couldn’t seem to nail. You wanted to smack him upside the head and tell him to stop being such a little bitch. But you didn’t.

“Check this out, they got-“ fishing in your pocket, you drew out the first pamphlet you found and quickly skimmed it, feigning excitement, “they got paintball! C'mon- if we have a free day, we gotta do it.” Like a kid at the store who was promised candy if they stopped crying, Bam got silent. Paintball is fun. Chasing your teammates around is fun. And as it happens, hunting people down with the goal of inflicting nasty, paintball related injuries is very fun. As you watched the gears in Bam’s head spin, the animosity plastered across his face washed away into something more familiar. “Your ass is mine, Y/N.”

The place was a warzone. Literally- Warzone Paintball and Airsoft. Honestly, the last thing you wanted to do after a day skating at Planet Plywood was to roll around in the dust and mud, but you had already convinced Tony, and most of the guys were stoked about it. Key word, most. “Vegas is, like- an hour from here.” Tim complained, lacing up regulation standard combat boots next to you in the locker room. Yes, the single locker room, which nobody cared about you being in except you know who sneaking glances from the corner as you tugged on your camo gear. Walking out into paint spattered no man’s land, trash talk flew across the field from both sides (but mostly Bam’s side). Their demented leader himself even posed you a kind offer, “Hey, captain hardass! Y’want me t’hold your purse for you?” Turning to Tony, you mouthed something about getting the little one in the ribs.

Over the loudspeakers a buzzer went off, and the match had begun! Clacking noises from gunfire echoed off the walls, mingling with shouting and splattering paint. Diving behind a fake oil drum, neon colored rounds whizzed past your ears as you taken out a few men. This was Rambo. No, more like Stripes, because with great timing, you had to reload. “Shit- shit, fuck…” Fumbling with the second round, your nerves were not in any way aided by the advancing hoofbeats from the other side of the course. To your left, Mike Ellis rolled over a plywood crate and joined you, providing decent cover for you to regain your footing.

More than justice, you had your sights set on humbling that little Philly-trash twerp. Staying low, you ducked into a ditch just in time to hear from your side, “Oh, you are dead, fucker!“ There goes Tim, firing with abandon as he charged headlong into the heat of battle, only to be quickly gunned down by the opposition who all whooped and high-fived. Oh well, there goes that plan. Back to hunting Bam! Taking the hint, you decided to stay out of the line of fire, creeping along the far wall to check for openings.

Somehow, you couldn't take your head off a swivel despite the fact you were covered. Some primal, instinctual part of your brain told you not to let your guard down. Crouching behind a shipping container on one edge of the battlefield, that adrenaline thrumming through you was amplified by the sudden silence. The noise of war seemed a world away, and now all that was left was you and your gun. Or so you thought.

Suddenly, the cold, hard steel of a muzzle pressed against the back of your skull, the only part of your head the protective mask didn’t cover. You knew who it was. “Hey…” you put your hands up in a surrender you weren't sure was genuine or faux, “none’a that close range shit…” Blue eyes shining with mischief behind his mask, Bam cast a shadow over you, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body- his half shirtless body, courtesy of the un-air conditioned warehouse. There was an unmistakable, vindictive glee in his voice as he broke the silence, “Say uncle.” But you were not about to give Bam the satisfaction, so you kept your mouth shut. Wait a beat, two, three. Behind you, Tony called your name for backup, but you didn’t budge. Your gun was light. Jabbing you provocatively, Bam egged you on, “C'mon- say it!” He sounded significantly more serious now…and you still didn’t. With a click, you were hit with the sting of an intercepted round directly to your asscheek, making you jolt. “Ah! Fuck you, Margera!”

It's easy to let life on the road become moving wallpaper, like the blur of scenery outside van windows, so you measured your time touring in dinners. Tonight was some pseudo Italian restaurant just a step below Olive Garden. Not that it mattered- all you have to do is throw a couple Steak-Umm’s, Bac-O’s, or a wayward fan their way, and these men chow down like a pack of wild dogs. Plus you were happy for a break from your routine visits to the clown, the king, or the colonel.

But as you stared at Bam across the red and white gingham tablecloth, he looked…different. You couldn’t place it- something in the way his curls fell into his eyes made them lack the hardness they usually held when he met your gaze. Maybe this was some post-coital bliss he receives from causing problems? That would explain a lot, actually…Nonetheless, he was just Bam. Immature, dumb Bam, who was eating spaghetti at the same table you were eating spaghetti at. Wiping a bit of sauce off the corner of his mouth with a black painted fingernail, he continued animatedly telling some war story about his latest injury, “I ended up pulling, like- every muscle in my leg and I couldn’t skate for two weeks!”

As Bam went on to explain how he bought a ferrari to lift his spirits, you glanced over to the red frosted glass that sat in front of him and realized something: he was the only person not drinking. In fact, you’d never seen Bam drink. When his story hit a lull and the team got distracted by discussing whatever was on the itinerary for tomorrow, you leaned over towards him, “Hey, Bam. How old’re you again?” Confused as to why the hell you would bring that up, he raised an eyebrow as if you should know this, “I’m twenty one…?” You almost spat your drink out. He was just a baby! Standing next to the other guys on the team, he always looked so goddamn young, and now you know why.

“What, you a cougar’re some shit?” You rushed to defend yourself, because you hadn’t even thought of it like that, “No- no! How old do you th- don’t answer that.” He lost it at your reaction, that signature grin flashing across his face that you couldn’t help finding disarming in a sweet, boyish way. I’m every way, you should have the advantage in this conversation, yet Bam managed to reduce you to stumbling over your words and bring you back to the same banter the two of you had before this whole, ‘will they? won’t they?’ bullshit. Smug as ever, especially now that he had thrown down the gauntlet among a mess of marinara stained plates and half eaten breadsticks, Bam sat back in his seat.

But even though the way you looked at him changed, Bam could not change for the life of him. Yeah, you were in a pseudo-relationship, but obviously the rest of the team didn’t know that- they couldn’t know that, or else there was no way anybody would take you seriously. Oh, look at Y/N, fucking her way onto a skate team…Point is, there’s nothing you could do when he flirted with chicks at the bar, or when the hood women who lined the rail at the skate exhibitions made no effort to conceal what they wanted, because unlike Bam, you have a modicum of grace and decorum and you do not turn into a brooding teenager when your property is threatened.

On the tour bus, there was always a blackjack game running somewhere, some guys playing Pro Skater on one tv, watching dvds on another- and when that wasn’t happening, Mike Ellis was blasting DMX and trying to start impromptu wrestling matches. Conversely, Bam had his own ways of passing time. See, he got this idea in his head about figuring out how to fuck in a bunk because bus toilets are decidedly unsexy. He positioned you any which way he needed, “Alright…if you put your leg here, an’ I move like this…” Tangling your bodies together, Bam remained determined, “Yeah. Yeah- we could do this…”

For a moment, you wondered how long he’d been thinking this over, but your mind quickly wandered to someplace else…Those girls that frothed at the mouth when Bam breathed obviously didn’t know him like you and the rest of the team knew him. They didn’t know that the only reason the fact you shared bunks most nights was never questioned was that he couldn’t stand to be alone, whether that be in life or just for an evening (At least, that’s your theory). They didn’t know how when he looked around after he did something stupid, he wasn’t looking to see if someone got that on camera- he wanted to see if anyone was paying attention to him, laughing at him. They weren’t aware that his on tour fuckbuddy knew what it took to get him whining and squealing like a girl, which frankly wasn't a lot.

Keeping your voice down so as to only be heard by the young, afterglowy man clinging to your chest like the dirt from his last fall, you couldn’t fight a grin as you shook your head, “Don’t look at me like that…” You could just feel those expectant baby deer eyes boring holes into your head before you finally admitted, “It was fine!” And like a light switch, he fell. The look on Bam’s face was as if the paparazzi had just caught him outside a strip mall porn shop with ‘Anal Rampage’ tucked under his arm. “What? Wha’dyou mean, ‘fine’?” Bam would’ve rather you slapped him across the face and told him he was awful in bed. Despite his indignation and the shattered little look on his face, you just couldn’t bring yourself to take him seriously enough to lie that you were any more enthused at his performance than you actually were, “It’s alright- It was just…it was good.” You took pleasure in patronizing him, doing everything short of ruffling his hair and telling him ‘nice try, champ’.

Hurriedly, he launched into a rant, “Hey- it was cramped! This thing barely fits one person, and I pulled a muscle in my leg yesterday. Why don’t you try t’do better?” Fumbling in his flustered state, Bam neglected to keep his voice down so as to not alert the rest of the team, whisper yelling just audibly outside of the drawn curtain. But even though Tony and Mike and whoever else was listening, he felt no need to cover himself. In fact, he doubled down, “No, no- bullshit! I’ll show you just how good I am. This ain’t over!”

#jackass #bam margera #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #angst #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader

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