#dumb reader
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³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟐/𝟐)
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK!Ari, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, manipulation, blood, murder (not in detail), side character(s) death (it had to be done). implied: stalking. dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, condescending!Ari, DD/LG undertones, manhandling, alcohol, weed (edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), non-con/dub-con: aphrodisiacs & stealthing, unprotected sex (p in v), daddy kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, mating press, dirty talk, rough sex, spit kink, dacryphilia, degradation, heavy dumbification, size kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampie.
𝗪/𝗖 | 9.71K
𝗔/𝗡 | thank you everyone for being patient with me, we all know pacing is my enemy and I can’t write anything short ever. mean daddy!ari makes an appearance here, so do a few of his fellow frat bros. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Am I stupid?”
“Huh?”
“My friends say I’m not the sharpest… that’s why Ari treated me that way.”
Bryce opens his mouth to answer, but quickly rethinks his blunt: “yes, you are.”
In a way, your friends were right. It was rare for you to be out of that dreamland of yours. You were a little stupid—okay, maybe a lot stupid, but that surely wasn’t a bad thing. Everyone knew about Ari’s domineering attitude, and how he babied you and treated you like his property.
Bryce is only frustrated because he didn’t get to you first. Now that you’re single, free from your overbearing six-foot-ten ex-boyfriend, he can take his chance.
“I think you have a particular way of figuring things out, but that isn’t bad. It’s just you.” He gently pinches your cheek, and you smile shyly, “There’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. Nothing at all.”
Through the eye mesh, Ari watches you giggle and sip from the new solo cup. You’re practically snuggled into Langley’s arms, giving him that dumb-spaced-out look as you listen to whatever shit he has to say. His fist tightens around the aluminum handle when Bryce’s fingers trace up your cheek, drifting to your shiny forehead.
“You’re burning up.” He can barely read his lips through the dim red lights.
You blink slowly and nod before your head falls back. A hot feeling builds in his stomach, either rage or desire, as your thighs clench and you subtly rock against the couch. The hem of your dress rides up your flesh, exposing the delicate white nylon begging to be torn—sliced to shreds.
It was a shame, you being so woefully ignorant to leave your drink unattended while you and Bryce danced and mingled. You were lucky Ari was there to watch it—and slip in some crushed pills. A part of him was disappointed that when you returned and drank it all, not thinking about the creeps who would take advantage of you.
Better him than anyone else.
That’s what he found sickeningly comforting until Bryce brought you some more brownies directly after and shoved them into your pretty mouth. Anyone could smell the desperation radiating off of your body, and judging by the way Bryce was licking his lips, he was seconds away from devouring you on the damn couch in front of everyone.
If only Bryce knew that you wouldn’t need anything else after those pills. The brownie was overkill, but Ari did love it when you were just a needy, whiny, dumb whore.
Despite being dumped over text, Ari couldn’t escape you. You were plastered on his bedroom walls, from framed pictures to love letters you’ve written him—with all your spelling and grammar errors. Your scent was ingrained in his pillows and sheets, regardless of how many times he’s washed them. Dashes of pastel and lace were in every drawer and cranny, from your flimsy panties to itty bitty skirts that always showed your ass.
You haven’t asked for any of your belongings back, and he wouldn’t tell you what he’s done with your favourite lacy underwear. He wants you to wear them without a clue that they’ve been covered in his seed while he rewatched the tape of you in one of your tiny cotton shorts, the crotch pulled to the side as he fucked your ass for the first time.
He bets Bryce had no clue you were an anal slut.
Over the booming bass and loud chatter, Ari can almost hear Bryce’s revolting thoughts—your friend has waited too long for this golden opportunity and it’s fucking soaked and needy, only inches away from him.
Moments drag on and Bryce stands to leave, telling you to wait while he gets you cold water. Ari watches him waltz into the kitchen and check the fridge but comes up empty. On the way out, he swipes a brownie and goes to the garage.
Ari follows after him, being masked and unrecognizable, he’s able to blend in with the bustling mob. He lingers around corners and spots the strobe lights don’t hit, the pitch-black robe morphs him into just another tall impending shadow. With a casual pace, his eyes remain locked on the younger man drunkenly humming to himself as he stumbles through the halls that were getting less crowded.
He was making this far too easy.
A loud crash sounds through the empty hallway, bouncing off the panelled walls and expensive paintings.
“Aw shit.” Bryce curses and crouches to assess the damage, the china is scattered across the carpet, bits and pieces of the priceless artifact owned by the spoiled brat and party host. “Fucking shit.”
He looks up at the hooded, looming figure by the door clad in a dark robe with tattered sleeves. A stark white mask contrasts with the black eyes, nose, and dramatically wide-opened mouth—as if it were screaming or crying.
“Hey, uh, don’t tell Ransom about that. I still owe him for the other vase I broke.” He tries to laugh off the nerves. He makes quick work of covering his ass and kicks the shards under the couch. “God knows he’ll never let me over again if he knew it was me.”
Ari locks the door after him, slowly slipping off his mask because he’d rather have his face be the last thing the shithead sees.
“I don’t think he’ll care.”
Bryce’s frame stiffens and he stares forward at the window, instantly making out the long hair and pale skin. Even a few feet behind, Ari is still strikingly bigger than him.
“He’s a good friend of mine, we both see things like that as disposable.” Ari steps forward, crushing the ceramic fragments under his heavy boots, “albeit, it would be impossible to replace the original. Nothing could amount to the first, it could look the same, feel the same—but if given the choice, only a fool would choose the fake.”
“What a drawn-out way to say you’re jealous.” He quirks a brow, “I knew you’d be an obsessed freak, just let her go, man. She’s about to get something—someone who’s actually good for her.”
“She doesn’t know a damn thing, much less what’s good for her.”
The other man glowers, “does she know you talk about her like that?”
“Does she know you’re a pervert who’s taken pictures up her skirt?”
Bryce’s skin goes pale, all colour draining from his cheeks until the only noticeable hue is his blue eyes. He doesn’t move or even twitch, hoping the lack of movement would make him magically disappear.
“You’ve got pictures of my girl’s cunt.” Ari could rip him to shreds and not break a sweat. “And you’re calling me the freak?” Another step closer and more delicate shards crack under his weight. “A sicko like you must get off to that, huh? I wonder what the dean would think of that, you’re already on thin ice after that changing room incident. Fucking pervert.”
The younger man clenches his fists and grits his teeth but he doesn’t speak.
“You aren’t going to ask how I found out?” Ari tilts his head, waiting for a response but he gets nothing but long, ragged breaths. “My friend is fucking the dean’s secretary and she’s got loose lips,” He smirks and chuckles lowly, “in more ways than one.”
In terror, his gaze darts towards the back door between two towering bookshelves. The various lamposts surrounding the property call to him like a beacon, so close yet so far with the menacing shadow only mere feet away.
Do it. Ari has always loved a chase.
In a split second, Bryce takes off, bursting through the door with a leap and racing across the lawn.
Ari cracks his neck and slips on the mask again, his hood following suit. Under his robe, he grasps the cold handle of the knife and follows after him. His heavy footsteps halt when he grabs a sharp fragment of the shattered vase—options, options, which will he choose?
With the taste of revenge on his tongue, he contemplates. One will do the dirty work for you and the other will for himself, his pride and sanity. He couldn’t care less about those other victims when you were so disgustingly violated multiple times, and tonight could have been the worst of all. The difference between Bryce and him is that he’d do all those sick things to you because he loves you so much, and this fucking coward just wants to get his dick wet.
Ari picks up speed, easily following after the drunk, horrified man. They both disappear into the abyss of the night, deeper into the woods of the secluded property. One of them unknowingly races closer to inescapable doom.
A hand cradles your cheek, the touch was so comforting and familiar that you automatically lean into it.
“There you are, bunny.” A drawl pulls you from the shadows, “There’s my girl, are you okay?”
If that voice had a taste, it’d be warm caramel on a vanilla sundae, with rainbow sprinkles and a candied cherry on top.
When you come to, still heavy and disorientated, your blurry ex-boyfriend is knelt by your side. “Ari? Wh-What happened?” You’re sprawled on a bed like a ragdoll. Your legs are spread wide with one hanging off of the edge and the hem of your dress barely conceals your modesty.
The brunette hasn’t stopped caressing your cheek, his gentle motions a stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes, “Bryce slipped something into your drink.” He answers calmly as the aching in your head builds to a pounding.
It takes a few seconds for you to process his words. “N-No… He wouldn’t—he’d never.” Your heart sinks.
“He did. He told me himself before he got into his car and drove off.” Ari explains, “I guess he got scared when you passed out and decided to just leave you here. You’re lucky Steve found you and called me.”
Distraught and sick to your stomach, you try to stand but collapse back onto the mattress, your legs too weak and unstable to support your weight. “Feeling—ugh.”
Ari sweeps you into his arms, “Hey now, take it easy or you’ll hurt yourself. Deep breaths, you’re getting overwhelmed.” He cradles you like a princess, his little damsel in distress.
“My basket…”
Ari chuckles, even at a moment like this, your priorities haven’t changed. “I’ll find it later, baby. Just gotta calm you down right now.”
You almost cry at that. Whether it was the alcohol or the drugs, you feel as exposed and vulnerable as a wilting flower. Like a strong breeze could knock you over, you’re helpless to everything—the loud music, the bright lights and the many guests downstairs.
You feel small.
Tucking yourself into the crook of Ari’s shoulder, you inhale his cologne. The warm musk of cypress and cedarwood seeps into your senses, followed by the gentle undertones of patchouli. You dig your nose deeper, determined to soak up as much as you can before he goes away again—you missed him so much.
Your unfocused eyes dart around the bedroom, from the cream walls and dark furniture. The soft, expensive duvet is wrinkled from your weight and your heels lie forgotten on the floor. Slowly but surely, the lights and pounding become bearable, and you can finally hear yourself think.
Would Bryce do that to you?
If not, why would Ari say he did?
No, Ari never lied. Lying was deceitful and wrong, and Ari would never do that to you.
It seems too soon when Ari returns you to bed. You begrudgingly abandon your safe place and get a good look at him.
“You’re bleeding!” There were red splatters on his face to his neck, a bit even blending in with his dark beard. You quickly touch your own face and gasp when the same vermillion is on your fingers, “it’s still wet!”
Ari quickly cleans your face, a soft chuckle flowing past his pink lips. “It’s fake, bunny. Just touched up my costume before I found you.”
Your eyes fall to his attire, the black hooded cloth draped over his massive shoulders and mask atop his head, holding back his long hair. You tilt your head.
Ari sighs fondly and pulls down the mask, revealing the eerily expressive big eyes and elongated mouth. As haunting as it was, you couldn’t ever figure out if the expression was upset or terrified.
“Oh! I remember that mask.” You recall all the times he’s scared his friends with it. He messed with you a couple of times too.
“Why are you scared, bunny?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled under the guise, as he pinned you against the wall, “it’s just daddy, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
What followed was a night tangled in his bedsheets, the mask only coming off after you came all over his length twice. Ari wasn’t satisfied until he was soaked with your essence, he’d spend hours breaking you apart, only to put you back together with loving aftercare.
You wonder if any of that has changed now—if he’s changed since then.
He goes towards the ensuite and switches on the tap. He wipes his face with his sleeve, cleaning away the red.
“You don’t have to take it off.” You hesitate. It was awkward to see him again, he was so nonchalant about it too. “The fake blood is a part of your costume. And you’ll need it if you leave.”
He snorts. “If I was leaving, I wouldn’t care. It makes you uneasy.” He meets your gaze through the reflection, “You never liked scary movies anyway.”
"Bunny, nothing is happening."
"I don't care!" You squeal, shaking in his arms with your face buried in his neck. Your eyes are squeezed shut and if you could, you'd cover your ears too but you refuse to part with your big, protective boyfriend. He was your unofficial bodyguard! "P-Please, turn it off! It's too scary!"
"You said you wanted to do something fun." Ari rubs your back under your shirt, gently dragging his nails down your spine. "Isn't this fun?"
"Not fun at all." You huff in frustration and fear, trying to ignore the creepy music flowing from the speakers, it paints the entire living room eerie and deeply unsettling. "Ari, please!"
"Stop being such a baby." He scolds, spanking your ass. "It isn't even gory."
You pull away with a pout, "not a baby..."
A slow, sinister smile crawls onto his lips. "No? Why are you crying like one then?"
"You're bein' mean..." You move to climb off his lap but he locks his built, firm arms around your waist. "I don't like it."
He ignores you and swoops forward, kissing from your forehead to your wet cheeks, across your nose and finally your lips. He makes obnoxious puckering noises, nibbling on your warm skin until your teary-eyed sulk faded into a sweet, giggly glow.
It never takes much to distract dumb little you.
"How about we get your mind off it, huh?"
"Are we gonna go upstairs?" You ask cluelessly as he lays you on the couch, bracing himself above you. "You said you'd help me with my math homework?"
"I know, baby, I know." Ari sighs softly, lowering his hips between your spread thighs. "You still don't understand? I just tutored you last week."
"I-I tried, but it's still too hard!" You sputtered, "I promise I did all the steps you put on the checklist, but I just—I can't, daddy."
He coos, "Don't worry, bunny. I'll dumb it down for you again."
Your eyes flutter shut when his hard length rubs against your core, and only then do you notice the sticky mess. You squirm, embarrassment flooding your body.
"You're so wet, baby, how long have your panties been soaked?" He asks, kissing from your jaw to your neck, his thick beard tickles your skin.
You moan quietly, "I d-don't know, daddy."
"Pfft, what do you know, ya little dummy." His voice lowers as he rocks subtly into you, his muscles flexing under his weight, "Just let me feel you, yeah? You've been grinding on me all fuckin' day."
You lazily blink up at the ceiling and don’t realize your hand is drifting between your thighs until his voice rings out, “how are you feeling?”
“Uhm—hot.” You immediately retreat and kick your legs in hopes of cooling down. “Like really hot, is that bad?”
He enters the bedroom again, clean and devilishly handsome, “Yeah, I think the drug is still active, it might get worse before it gets better. Did you have Jensen’s brownies too?”
“Oh… only a few. Should I go,” an odd tingling sensation flutters through your body as you sit up, you feel lightheaded, “to the hospital?”
“You could.” Ari considers, his blue eyes trailing from your crooked bunny ears to your pout, “But what if they ask what happened to you? You’ll have to tell them what he did.”
A dreadful weight fills your chest, sinking you deeper into the plush mattress. “...but he’s my friend.”
Ari clenches his jaw, “but lying is bad. Do you want to lie to all those people who are trying to help you? Do you want him to do that to someone else? Because I can guarantee he will if you don’t tell the truth.” He chides with a deep voice, “You know he used to snap pictures up your skirt? The drunk bastard showed me everything on his phone, the entire photo album of your cunt, like you were some cheap slut.”
Your heart shatters, cracking down the middle and bleeding on your trembling hands. The colour absorbs all light, abandoning you in nothingness and leaks onto your pretty dress, tainting you like a white dove in viscous oil.
No, no, no.
“Think about all of the people you’re putting in danger just because he’s your friend.”
“He wouldn’t do that to me.”
Ari cocks his head, “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No! I just—” you heave, blinking profusely, “he’s my friend. He’s nice to me… or was. I don’t know!”
“You should know by now that you aren’t the best at choosing friends.” Look at what they did to us.
You sniffle, wishing to be swallowed whole. Ari was right, your judgement was severely lacking and more often than not, it led you to a road of pain and loneliness.
Could it be that you’ve never had good intuition?
But you picked him, didn’t you? No, Ari picked you. He chose you above everyone else, time and time again.
And you let him go.
“I-I’m sorry, but he’s gonna hate me…” Your vision blurs as your eyes water, “I don’t—I don’t want him to hate me. Don’t want a-anyone to hate me.”
You thought Bryce was kind to you, but that was before tonight. It turns out, he was nothing but a creepy pervert. He violated you and acted like your friend. And stupidly naive little you didn’t notice a thing.
“You wanted him, didn’t you?” Ari crosses his arms. “You wore all those fuckin’ skirts for him? You wanna be photographed like a dumb whore?”
“Wha—No!”
“You did or you still do.” His expression hardens, a deep wrinkle settling between his dark eyebrows. “And everyone’s going to say it’s your fault too.”
You quickly shake your head, wispy no’s tumble from your mouth. That seemed like the only word you knew.
“Did you let him drug you because you wanted him to touch you? If you did, just admit it now.”
“I didn’t…” Your bottom lip wobbles, shiny tears prickling at your waterline, “Ari, please. I only…I didn’t think.” You choke out, “I only want you. It’s always been you.”
And just like that, the switch flips.
In the blink of an eye, he’s knelt next to you on the bed and is cupping your cheeks in his warm palms, “Hey, hey, no need for the tears. We could stay here until you calm down and can make the decision yourself.”
“Can’t.”
Ari’s chest vibrates with his deep growl. He fights every urge to taste those tears on your pretty cheeks. “Can’t what?”
“Can’t think—don’t wanna.” You blubber helplessly, all too overwhelmed with his accusations. “Don’t make me, please.”
“Oh, poor bunny.” He coos, thumbing your cheekbone dusted with glitter. The sparkles are washed away by your tears and make you look even more divine. “I know. I know you can’t think for yourself. That’s why you had me, right?”
You cry harder, beautifully needy and miserable, just how he liked you to be.
“Had me make all the choices for you, do all the thinking and all the work.” He hungrily licks his lips, watching the droplets seep into the corners of your mouth. “Because daddy always knows best. Ain’t that right, bunny?”
“Missed you, daddy.” You manage through hiccups and weakly clamber into his lap. You nuzzle his chest, holding one of his hands to your cheek to ground yourself.
Every part of Ari was your haven. Whenever you sought comfort, you found yourself in his presence, grasping for any piece of him you could reach and holding on with all your might. There wasn’t an instance when he didn’t provide that sweet security, especially now when your head is so muddled and lost.
If only you knew what those very hands did an hour ago.
“Daddy missed you too, princess.” Ari murmurs, massaging the back of your neck and feeling the tense muscles under your skin, “But you broke up with me, remember?”
“Didn’t wanna! My friends—they made me feel dumb for letting you treat me that way.”
“And, where are they now?”
You shrug, “Dunno, they left me a while ago.”
It’s terribly sad that you don’t know they’re already dealt with and their miserable lives were put to an end at the hands of three masked men. They were gone before he even touched Bryce.
All of them are burnt to a crisp, their bruised and battered bodies utterly unidentifiable. You’ll ask about them soon and he’ll play the concerned boyfriend as always, then return the next day to get rid of the remains.
Sometimes it feels like clockwork, except this time, he had the help of two close friends.
He wonders if you remember that stranger who kept you company when he was late for your cafe date one day. Tired and sweaty from practice, Ari waltzed in to find you in a friendly conversation with the other man. Laughing and chatting like you’ve known each other for years.
Lucky for him, the stranger was just another drifter. No family, no home, no friends—except for you, of course. Shortlived that friendship was.
It takes you a while to calm down but Ari never leaves your side. He rubs your back and hums softly, letting you soak his clothes with your tears. He’s painfully missed holding you like this, feeling the little trembles of your body against his and hearing each stuttering word fall from your lips.
You used to cry to him for everything. A late assignment or a failed test—tears, or the store ran out of your favourite comfort snacks—even more tears, perhaps the most you’ve ever cried was when you thought you lost Hazel, the stuffie he gave you.
What’s even more upsetting is when he found it in your friend’s dorm, along with the rest of his gifts to you.
Good riddance, your friends deserve everything that came to them. He hopes they burn in hell.
Eventually, he leaves to get some water for you. He wears his mask while passing through the still ongoing party, dodging drunk students as they screamed to whatever song was blasting through the speakers.
He retrieves a water bottle and some snacks before heading back to the bedroom. Upon reaching the second floor, he flips up the mask and spots a tall figure clad in brown, baggy clothes and leaning against the wall.
“How is she?”
“She’s still a bit shaken. I’m taking her back to the house later so she can sleep it off.”
Steve nods, fixing the worn, burlap mask atop his head. “Okay, do you want me to stay for some extra help? You walked here after all.”
“No, I’ll just call a taxi.” Ari slaps his shoulder, taking out the single key to unlock the door. He couldn’t let you get away as soon as he got you back. “You should head back home before some cheerleader rats you out to coach again.”
Aside from the obvious, their disguises are also because the coach had annoying rules that forbid partying before a big game. It wouldn’t be the first time they were scolded after someone reported them.
Mr. Nice Guy Steve had arrived at the party earlier and kept tabs on you like any good friend. He called Ari right away when you were getting close to Bryce. Unfortunately, sweet as he was, Steve was just like you. Dumb and dim, and painstakingly benign. He failed to notice Ari was already there, and so were Curtis and Bucky. All of them masked and with dark intentions.
It wasn’t like them to leave him out of things, but tonight it was vital he remained unaware.
“I hope she gets better soon. Bryce is a fucking asshole for doing that.” The solemn expression on Steve’s face transforms into determination, “You know I’ll always have your back.”
“I know.” Ari smiles, and a tinge of something more lurks in his eyes. “You’re my best guy, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I think you’ll be my best man too someday.”
The blond laughs and walks towards the stairs, his brown velvet suit complements the vintage-style decor. “Someday as in a few months?”
“Less than a few if I get lucky.”
Steve pulls the burlap mask down, concealing his features but Ari knows he’s wearing a crooked grin. “I don’t think you need luck. She needs you, I know it.”
Ari knows it too.
Beyond the door, you’re still sweating up a storm with your hand tucked between your legs, desperately rubbing yourself over your tights. The door opens and you hurriedly hide your wet fingers under the bed sheet, blinking up at the intruder with wide eyes.
“You okay, bunny?”
“Y-Yes, uh, are you?” Your chest rises and falls unsteadily.
He nods, his gaze drifting over your sweaty skin and hard nipples. “They left with some guys just now.”
“...Without me?”
Ari shuts and locks the door behind him. A deep frown plays on his lips, “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t have a chance to tell them about you, I just saw them drive off.”
As expected, tears well up in your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Poor little you, your delicate soul probably couldn’t take anymore.
He sits next to you and wraps you in his arms, “I’m so sorry. It isn’t right of them to treat you this way. Like you’re garbage on the side of the road.”
While that was true and they were hypocrites for saying how badly Ari was treating you only to treat you even worse, that wasn’t why you were crying.
“They don’t deserve you, bunny, much less your pretty tears.”
“N-Not crying ‘cause of that.” You whine against his neck.
“Why then?” He asks although he already knows the answer.
You don’t speak and shamefully open your legs, refusing to meet his eyes. The fur of your dress rides up, revealing a soaked patch of your panties through the white nylon, and the wet spot on the bedsheet. “H-Help me, please?”
Every inhale brings your scent deep into his senses, snipping the final threads of self-control. “I don’t know, bunny. It isn’t right.”
“But I want you! I never wanted to break up, never wanted to leave you…” You sniffle, bringing his hand to your core. His long, thick fingers barely brush your tights, but having him this close is enough to send shivers down your spine. “My friends pressured me—and I still want you. Need you, daddy.”
He groans, letting you helplessly grind against his hand. “Yeah, baby? You want me to take care of you?” That glazed look in your eyes almost brings him to his knees. “I’ll help you, but on one condition.”
It was remarkable how you got this far while being so dim.
“Knew you’d like this. My bunny hates scary movies but gets soaked even when I’m wearing this—” In a daze, you stare at the black eyes, getting lost in the endlessness. The hand around your throat tightens, “There’s my little dummy—you get your tits touched and lose your fuckin’ mind.”
You should be scared or at least on edge with him mounted above you, broad shoulders blocking any source of light. His skin is already covered in your nail marks, from his neck to his lower stomach, just above the band of his jeans.
He massages your breast and pinches your nipple, “Are you gonna say something or just cry like a baby?” He tilts his head, dark shadows enhancing the ghostly expression of his mask.
You cup his monstrous bulge, tears leaking down your face. “Want you in my mouth, daddy.”
He grips your chin, digging his fingers into your cheeks until your lips pucker. “You want daddy’s cock or balls, bunny?”
“Ya kno’wha’….”
He smirks, his hand releases your tit and his rough fingers trail down your clothed slit, “I want you to say it. I know this mouth is more than just one of my holes.”
“Daw-dy,” You exhale shakily, “please, c-can I—ah!” You squeal when he rips a hole in the crotch of your tights, but he doesn’t go any further. His touch lingers on your inner thighs, inches away from your sticky, smeared arousal. “Will you—”
He shakes your head, making you squeak, “Spit it out, dummy.”
You weep, your jaw is getting sore from his harsh hold but you’d be lying if you said you hated it. “Let me suck on your balls, please. Need to taste them. Need them in my mouth, on my face—everywhere, daddy.”
He lifts the mask and hums thoughtfully as if he were pondering a philosophical question. With every slow blink, his eyes get a shade darker and darker, soon becoming a colour you’ve never seen before. A twinge of panic blooms in your stomach, and for a moment, you’re scared of him, of what he could do with you in this vulnerable position, in a full frat party where no one could hear you scream.
But he grins, his pink lips stretched in the sweetest smile that blossoms uncertainty into mindless hope.
Then, it’s all crushed. “No.”
“But—”
“I said to ask. I never promised I’d let you.” The mask covers his face again, but you know he’s still beaming. “You did dump me, don’t you remember? Or is your dumb baby brain too stupid right now?”
“I remember…”
“Yeah, should make you read that fuckin’ text right now.” His fingers press against your slit, immediately seeking your little button. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe before he’s rubbing the bundle with his thumb and pinning your hips down. “But judging by your face, I think my bunny is too dumb to read.”
“I can.” You force your eyes open, toes curling in pleasure. “I can, daddy. I-I can do it.”
“Do you think your little head can handle reading right now?” Ari quizzes slowly. If he weren’t immensely enjoying this, he’d pity you. “Poor baby, you just wanna me proud.” He ridicules, drawing out the last word as his voice goes high. “Stupid bunny just wants praise, how adorable.”
Someone hurt you badly, and a sick part of him wants to thank them for making you into the perfect little airhead for him.
He adds pressure as you weakly thrust upward. His other digits join too, fucking your tightness through your soaked panties as you moan quietly. A few slaps land on your cunt, and sopping noises fill the room over the bass. You’re a disgustingly creamy mess—and the weed brownies were such a glorious overkill.
You whimper, fruitlessly trying to remove the mask. “Off, daddy. Wanna kiss you, pretty please. Missed you so bad, need—” He slaps your pussy harder, “—need you.”
Oh, how could he deny you when you asked so nicely?
He rips the mask off and dips down, capturing your bitten lips. His tongue slides against yours as he groans heavily, “If you keep begging like that, you’re gonna regret it.”
“Pl—Please ruin me.” You ached for him. Every part of your mind, body and soul burned for any sliver of him but at the same time, you were overwhelmed by the slightest graze of his fingertips.
You blame the drug Bryce slipped in your drink.
“I’ll do a lot worse, and never let you leave me again.” He murmurs into your mouth, his facial hair rubbing against your tear-stained cheeks. Then, he stands to undress you entirely. Your dress and leg warmers fall to the floor, along with your torn tights and messy panties. He fixes your bunny ears before stripping off his pants, and soon enough, he’s standing fully nude. You don’t know if it was your time apart, but he looks bigger and stronger.
His skin stretched around his rippling muscles and coarse, dark hair mapped out all of your favourite spots. From his beefy chest and his tummy to the fat base of his throbbing length, and finally, his thick powerful thighs.
Wait, the tiniest voice in your head pleads as he slowly rolls down the condom. With the latex snug, he leers at you and jerks his cock slowly, his fingers meeting around the girth. You watch as the angry red head immediately fills the tip with pre-cum and your core throbs, awakening a hunger inside of you.
He kneels on the bed, “What’s wrong?”
“No–Nothin’...” You gulp and surge forward. “Need you, daddy. So bad.” You mutter against his lips, sucking his tongue messily. Saliva is exchanged and smears down your chin, following in the trails of drool and tears. Your makeup is beyond salvation but he thinks you’ve never looked more angelic.
Ari lies on his back and pulls you on his lap, your creamy folds enveloping his length. He rubs up and down your sides. “You know what to do, bunny.”
You obediently nod and rock against his cock, pouting at the latex barrier. You quickly shake that thought from your head, you’ve never had unprotected sex and you won’t start now.
You focus on rolling your hips, rubbing your swollen button against him as he slides along your soppy folds. The mushroom head pokes out every time you thrust back and his sack brushes your opening, getting covered in your arousal.
When your cream covers him from base to tip—and his firm lower stomach too which surprised you because you’ve never gotten that messy before—you lift onto your knees and gently grab him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, still too thick for your fingers to wrap around his width. You angle yourself and his tip circles your hole, catching on it before popping back out.
“Deep breath, bunny. Open up for me.” He coos softly, holding back from pulling you onto his cock and fucking you stupid.
You dumbly nod, biting your lip as you sink down again. The fat head breaches this time, feeding your needy hole. You slowly start bouncing, bracing yourself on his beefy chest and fucking yourself on his tip. Overstimulation prickles but you force yourself to ignore it.
“Take more, baby, you can do it. Stretch your little pussy for me. All the way down.” His deep growl contrasts with your high-pitched gasp. “Don’t you wanna feel me in your tummy?” He’s missed that initial resistance of your tightness, the way your hole would struggle to take him as if he hadn’t fucked you with his dick and a few fingers before.
Taking a deep breath, you sink further. A choked whimper escapes from behind your clenched teeth when he slides deeper. His protruding veins drag along your pulsating walls until his balls are flush against your ass. All air is shoved from your body, making room for his dick.
Ari groans, losing himself in your heat, “There’s my good girl. Daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, yeah? That’s why you’re crying like a little baby?”
“T-Too big, da—ddy.” You gasp, thighs tensing at his sides. Little exhales shake your frame, that drug wasn’t holding back.
You can’t ride him, not in this state of mind and he knows that. So, he helps you out. His fingers dig into your flesh, moving you back and forth on his cock. The bulbous tip hits your special spot insistently, and your clit grinds against his pubic bone, the dark tufts of hair sending tingles through your body.
“Look at that fuckin’ mess. Leaking all over me, that little fuckhole must’ve missed me, huh?” His eyes bounce between your face and the stickiness covering his skin, all coming from your weepy core. “Missed me so badly you can’t even think right now. Cockdrunk little bunny.”
You want to do more, but you don’t know what.
It’s a good thing Ari knows, he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows that your head is all jumbled right now and nothing makes sense. He also knows that you want to feel his warmth skin-to-skin, the weight of his bare cock against your throbbing walls.
You don’t know it, but you want it. You’ve always wanted it, and that’s why he’s broken or taken off the condom every other time you’ve had sex. This was no different, besides the hints blood still on his neck and arms, and the missing necklace from your throat. The same one that one of your stupid friends delivered to the frat house, along with a note scribbled in blue ink: ‘don’t contact her ever again.’
As if they ever knew what was good for you—as if they could protect you as he has.
Seeing your collarbones rid of any sign of him, he yanks you down by the back of your head, locking you close with his hand around your throat. “Speak up, dumb bunny. You’ve got a mouth for a reason, tell daddy what you want.”
“But, uh! I-I don’t know!” You lift off of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grind against his cock. Your slick smears to his abs and down to his balls, making a whole damn mess of his lap and the sheets underneath.
“Put me back in.”
You shake your head, a burning sensation zips through your system, “C-Can’t—don’t know what’s happening—daddy.” If you weren’t so gone, you’d be embarrassed about the rush of slick pouring from your cunt.
Ari huffs and easily lifts you off of him. Your body flops onto the mattress, the cool sheets soothing the heat momentarily, but the confusion is still high.
Why was this happening?
Bryce. It was Bryce. And this could’ve been with Bryce instead.
While you cry into the pillows, helplessly clenching your thighs, Ari slips off the condom. He crawls behind you, keeping you on your side while slipping his arm under your head and pressing his chest to your sweaty back. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck and he delicately lifts your leg, guiding himself to your hole and thrusting forward in one go.
You moan loudly and convulse, “O-Oh, wait—”
“Hush, sweetie, let daddy take care of you.”
You go slack when he presses balls deep, his heavy sack flush against your soppy hole as his length throbs within your walls. His skin tingles with desire and pride. It’s been too fucking long since he’s felt your bare skin against his.
“How does it feel? Is this better?”
“Mhm, so much better, daddy.” With a stupidly blissful smile, the heat inside you is finally bearable, you don’t know if it’s the position, or maybe you just missed him so much, but this is better than anything you could’ve dreamt of. “What did you do?”
“Nothing you need to know about, bunny.” He rocks slowly, wet noises filling the room over the muffled bass.
He fucks you like that. Pounding you on your side, keeping you firmly against him as he tears your little cunt apart. His tip slams into your spot ruthlessly and he groans and grunts into your ear, whispering filthy things you can’t hear over the rush of blood in your head.
You can hardly breathe with his bicep locked around your throat. Drool drips down your chin as you gasp for air that’s no longer there. Your mind goes blank and sparks dance along the inside of your eyelids, painting a photo of him—your saviour and captor.
“Should’ve never left me, bunny. Could’ve been fucking you like this every day.” He digs his nails into your leg, messily kissing your jaw and you spasm in his hold. He growls when you tighten, milking him, “Fuck, just like that? I haven’t even touched your little button yet.”
You missed him so much that having this intimacy again heightens all of your senses. You can feel him so closely, the dull thump of his heart, his skin brushing against yours and his breath fanning across your neck.
You loved this man with every fiber of your being.
The gentle ghost of his lips against your cheek shatters you.
Your juices spurt out as your legs attempt to shut, but he forces you wide open. Fucking your cunt as you squirt, coating him in the most obscene way. You just lie there, helplessly taking whatever he has to offer, and all of your surroundings mash together, blending into one another.
“I think that’s a new record, bunny.” His voice is muddled. He gives your sensitive pussy a slap, he should’ve done this a long time ago.
Ari manhandles you like a doll, pulling you to the edge of the bed as his feet land on the floor. Your back collides with the bed and you’re immediately bent in half, with your legs on either side of your head and your arms sprawled over the pillows. His massive frame covers you almost completely and you want nothing more than to drag your hands all over his body, to feel him.
Your dazed eyes never leave him, but he knows you’re barely comprehending anything right now. He’d bet you’d let him fuck your ass without prep.
He loves when you look at him like that. Like he made the sun, stars and moon, and he could never do anything to hurt you—like you’d never leave him, but you did anyway.
Rage bubbles in his stomach and he roughly slaps your creamy cunt in quick succession, the sound echoing through the room as you weakly squirt again, this time it’s far less. Electricity burns through your veins, making you cry out and quiver, trying to escape his hard spanks.
He gets tired of your relentless whining and wiggling and finally lowers himself, inserting his bare length into your ruined, weepy pussy. He watches your hole stretch to accommodate his girth, “Look at us.”
You take a second too long to do what he wanted, so he forces your head up and that’s when you see it. He loves the look of surprise on your dumb face.
“A-Ari, what are you—you can’t!”
“Hush, bunny.” He bats away your hands, “I’m gonna come in you, and you’re gonna fuckin’ thank me for it.” He lowers himself, his beefy thighs flexing from the measured, steady motion. He wants to see your reaction when he presses deeper, “And you’re gonna tell me how much you love my cum, got it?”
He rises calmly, allowing you to see your eager cunt suck him in and coat every inch of his length in your cream. You don’t know how long he does that, the seconds feel like hours as he imprints every one of his protruding veins into your inner walls. Every time he drops down, the fat head rams into your sweet spot, shoving a choked gasp from your throat.
You can’t bring yourself to look away, even when he removes his hand. Drool seeps out of the corner of your lips as your gaze locks on his monstrous cock spearing into you at a brutally gentle pace. You shudder when his thighs tense under his hairy skin, lewdly wishing to sink your teeth into the flesh.
He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, in an almost scary way. Just a fucking mountain of meat and muscle, an impenetrable force that could crush you like nothing. You must look comically and pitifully small and lost under him, bent in half with your face covered in spit and tears.
The fat tip slips out with an indecent pop, he’s throbbing and hot, covered in your shared arousal. He rubs the head on your clit, dribbling pre-cum all over your sore button.
Your next words even shock yourself.
“Back inside—please, daddy.” You can’t do much in this position. You can only watch him leisurely trace his bulbous tip along your drippy petals, circling your hole. “Daddy—stop teasin’...”
“You want me bare, sweetie?” He asks, lazily dragging his balls over your folds. “You have to say it, or else I’m just gonna rub my balls all over your cunt and you’re gonna come like that.” He lifts easily despite being in a squatting position and stays there above you. Taunting you, making you sweat and whine.
You stare at the string of arousal between your puffy folds and his full sack. “Daddy, I—p-please, want—”
He spits on your cunt and pinches your clit meanly, “You can do better than that. I know you’re dumb, but you know how to speak.”
“Please fuck me—bare,” You sound utterly broken, “W-Want to feel your big cock in my little pussy, want you to pump me full. Make me your cumslut, please! Get—Get me pregnant, daddy.”
Ari spits on your core again and lowers, penetrating you in one thrust, and pinning you down with his weight. He forces your flailing hands to hold your legs in place, keeping you wide open for his carnal gaze. The number of times he’s dreamt of having you in a mating press, one would think he was fucking obsessed. And honestly, they wouldn’t be wrong.
Your eyes roll back and you get that exquisitely stupid look on your face. He smirks, “There, was that so fuckin’ hard? Such a dumb little whore begging me to fuck you bare, you remember how you didn’t even let me finish in you with a condom on?”
Not really, all of the times you’ve had sex, you were too fucked out to notice anything. This time was no different.
Ari builds speed, harshly pounding down into your hole and fisting the bed sheets. “Now look at you, cockdrunk—fuckin’ ballsdrunk too I bet.” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and all he can think about is gagging you on his sack.
Your response is a garbled yes daddy.
“I fucking knew it.” He drops to one knee and leans over you. His thrusts are harder at this angle and this proximity, he can see every useless thought leave your pretty head. “Little slut, you wanna be daddy’s cumdump, sweetie? You want me to fill you up and toss you aside, treat you like a stupid cumrag?”
You nod helplessly, choking out pathetic uh’s with every thrust. He’s so ruthless too, spitting on your cunt or tits, and easily overpowering your squirming body. His length forces out your juices and it leaks down your ass.
“Begging me to knock you up, and treat this little cunt like a cumdump. I thought you were supposed to be my good bunny?”
“A-Am, daddy…”
That earns you a glob of spit on your face. “I don’t like liars. Admit it, ya little crybaby. You just want daddy’s cum in your pussy.” He admires the fat tears pouring from your eyes, “If you could see yourself now, going fuckin’ stupid for cum.”
He’s so deep, his balls slap against your wetness as he rocks into you—stuffing you to the brim. You’ve never felt this full before. Your body begins to ache from this position, but you don’t want him to stop.
Hot streams of euphoria almost knock you unconscious, but Ari’s fingers jamming down your throat make your eyes shoot open. His chest is flushed and the red bleeds onto his face, his dark hair sticks to his sweaty forehead.
“Keep looking at me, baby. Want you to see when I breed this little pussy.”
Automatically, you suck on his digits and taste yourself. He drops forward, completely covering you and hooking your legs over his shoulders. If possible, his dick hits deeper, and for a moment you confuse his fingers in the back of your throat for the tip of his dick.
“Are you ever gonna leave daddy again?” He prys your mouth open, messily spitting on your tongue as you gag. “Poor girl fucked stupid already. All dumb on daddy’s dick, and crying like a fuckin’ baby. Not a single thought in that pretty head.” He pulls out your tongue and chuckles when it just hangs out, saliva smearing on the bottom half of your face, joining your pretty tears.
You’re just a useless little bunny, crying your little heart out on his dick as if you didn’t ask for it and he isn’t doing you a damn favour—without him, you’d be a wet, pitiful mess and probably getting pumped and dumped by some shithead.
Ari would demand you thank him, but he knows you’re too cockdrunk to speak. So, he rails your tight cunt, splitting you open on his girth, claiming his rightful property. He’s determined to fuck a baby into you.
Your senses go in overdrive when your swollen button is bullied by those same rough fingers. You cry out, trying to shove him away but he only gets meaner and pinches your bundle. You mewl and tremble beneath him, creamy and nearly shattered as he thrusts harder and deeper, hitting that rough patch with cruel precision.
“I fucking love you, bunny.” He grunts, eyes locked on your leaking juices that only make him more ravenous. His whole cock is covered in you, and he can feel your excessive arousal dripping down his balls. “Love you so much—you’re never gonna get away again. You hear me?” He grabs your face, still torturing your clit with his other hand. “I said do you fucking hear me?”
“Yes, daddy!” You sob brokenly, struggling to keep his devious glare, “I-I won’t, uh! Promise!”
When you clench tightly, he shudders and falls on top of you, crushing you to the rocking bed. “Fuck, that’s a good bunny.” He groans deeply, licking up your salty tears. “Daddy’s good little bunny, I fuckin’ love how stupid you are.” He bites into your throat, then soothes the spot with his tongue.
“Luh y-you too, daddy.”
With both of his feet firmly on the floor again, one of his hands grips your shoulder and the other lands above your head, his fingers securing your bunny ears to your head. He can’t look away from your glazed-over eyes, too beautifully ruined, and teary and twinkling. “You leave me again, and I’ll do much worst next time.”
If you weren’t all over the place, you’d wonder what he did this time.
He pulls you down to meet his thrusts, and you can offer nothing but weepy moans as your walls tighten, choking his dick, and bringing him closer to a blissful end. Your legs flail, the band in your tummy so close to snapping with every brutal pound of his hips.
“You wanna know something, dumb bunny?” He leans down, spitting on your cheek before smearing it into your skin. The single action has you spiralling. “This isn’t the first time I’ve filled you up.”
You can’t process his confession since your body loses control. Your juices squirt out forcefully and your walls contract, almost trying to push him out but he doesn’t falter and pumps harshly. Your sharp squeal wrecks your throat as you coat him in your orgasm, soaking his cock and balls, all the way down his thick thighs.
Ari presses your legs into the mattress, lowering his weight onto your convulsing frame. “F-Fuck, that’s it. Milk me, ya little dummy, make a stupid mess all over me. Show me how much you love me.” He hisses, his muscles tensing under his flushed skin. His cock pulses as his balls tighten, then finally, he teeters over. “Oh shit, fucking take my cum. I’m gonna fuckin’ breed this little pussy—” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls. Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around his girth.
You fade in and out of consciousness, eventually landing in an in-between. The numbness swallows you up from your limbs, slowly but surely reaching your quaking chest. You don’t know if you’re just breathing unevenly or full-on sobbing, but the wet feeling on your face suggests the latter.
Ari pants heavily, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks. He cradles your hot, sticky cheek and slips his thumb into your mouth. In this floaty headspace, you suckle on him lightly, feeling immediately grounded. “It’s okay, sweet bunny, go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
A brightness pulls you from that special place of dreams, and your surroundings trickle into your air-filled head.
First, you smell him. That familiar musk floods your nose in the best way, calming you like a lullaby. You could’ve fallen asleep again, but a faint conversation sparks your curiosity, so you flip over, still hugging a pillow and slowly open your eyes.
At the doorway, two men peer in with their arms crossed.
You wave sleepily, “G’morning guys…”
“Morning, bunny. You have a good sleep last night?”
“Yeah, I—” you yawn, “—love Ari’s bed. It’s so big and warm… nothing like mine.”
“That’s a good thing since you’ll be staying here a while.” Curtis gestures to the side of the room currently occupied by a few of your bags and some stuffies. “Ari had us pick up some stuff from your dorm.”
Your heart swells, you missed this so dearly.
You missed hanging out at their frat house every day, listening to them joke around and say the most vulgar things. Most of all, you missed having zero worries. Ari made everything as easy as possible for you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, regardless of what your controlling friends thought. A part of you only wishes you realized that sooner.
“Thank you.” You smile softly, “Did you two go to the party last night?”
Curtis waves dismissively, “Nah, we stayed in. You know coach and his dumb rules.”
You pout. “Yeah… Wish you could’ve came though, it was fun.” You try to recall the previous night, but only get glimpses of strobe lights, cute spooky goodies and getting fucked stupid. Your cheeks heat up, “Uhm… from what I remember anyway.”
“It’s alright, we had our own fun. Right, Buck?”
The brunet nods, almost too enthusiastically. “Most definitely. I look forward to having that much fun again.”
“I wanna have fun too!” You lazily blink at them, not even noticing your breast peeking out from under the covers. “Can I join next time?”
Bucky chuckles deeply, “I think you’d have to ask your daddy that question, bunny. We have big boy fun, nothing that your little head could handle.”
You give them your best pout and even clasp your hands under your chin.
“Nice try, sweetie, but we aren’t big softies like your boyfriend.” Curtis snorts playfully, “speaking of, he made you breakfast.”
On the surface of the bedside table is a full platter of pancakes, fruit and juice. You squirm all giddily, “Ah yay! He is a big softie, right? Just a jumble of all the nicest, sweetest, kindest things!”
How ironic of you to say that as Ari walks up the stairs, freshly showered with his hair still dripping on his shoulders. “You two are still here?” He asks.
“We’re just checking up on the little bunny. Making sure she’s not going anywhere.”
Ari quirks a brow, “As if she could walk after last night.”
The two of them know all too much about that. After all, Ari had them help clean the bedroom and bring you back home. You were knocked out cold the entire time and snoring. None the wiser to the men stripping the bedroom of all traces of anyone’s presence.
When they arrived at the frat house, you were clad in Ari’s shirt, bunny ears, and covered in cum, spit and tears.
They thought you’ve never looked better.
Bucky tuts, “you know, went through a lot of trouble for that little dummy in your bed. Isn’t just perfect how she doesn’t remember a damn thing?”
The two other men hum in agreement, studying your sleepy face as you blindly eat the pancakes, humming, swaying and never once opening your eyes.
“I’d do it again. Wouldn’t you?” Curtis asks.
Bucky is silent for a few moments, only staring at Ari with that sinister smirk on his lips. “In a heartbeat.”
“You sound awfully eager…”
“What can I say? I had fun—and your little bunny wants to join next time too.”
“Absolutely not— ” Ari is cut off by the front door downstairs slamming open.
Steve’s voice rings out, “I hope everyone’s awake! I just ransacked the farmers market and am in a baking mood, so music will be blasting all day!”
The three men sigh softly at the obnoxious pop song ratting the house. They glance between the stairs and you, who was still eating your breakfast—except now there were pieces of fruit and syrup on your face, and you’ve reclined on the bed, undoubtedly making a damn mess on Ari’s clean sheets.
“We’re just surrounded by idiots, huh?”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: once again, thank you very much for being patient with me !! i often find myself adding and moving parts while editing, so for me, editing can take a long while and sometimes a whole day. i don't write much of anything 'sneaky dark' if you get what i mean, so i hope you all enjoyed dark ghostface ex bf!ari !! he was fun to write !! I also wrote most of this fic while listening to brown noise, it helped me focus a lot.
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! here are the rest of my upcoming kinktober fics: ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
#sonnyskinktober2022#Ari Levinson#ari levinson fanfiction#dark!Ari Levinson#dark fic#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson fanfic#ari levinson x reader#soft dark ari levinson#soft dark!ari levinson#dark Ari Levinson#Ari Levinson smut#ari levinson x short!reader#ari levinson x innocent!reader#dumb reader#size difference#sonny’s stories#wish I may wish I might au#Ari Levinson x you#Chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#Chris evans x reader#Chris evans characters#Chris evans smut#tw dark fic#tw soft dark#ghostface au#ghostface ari levinson#red sea diving resort#ghostface!ari levinson
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Slashers with S/O who is slow
Micheal Myers
He loves you, he adores you, but you drive him crazy
Your very academically accomplished with your college grades always coming back shining
But you lack the ability think things through properly
That’s coming from the Michael Myers
You would annoy him with certain things like when the shampoo label said “increases volume” and you complained that you couldn’t hear shampoo so it was a stupid thing to put on the label
Michael physically face palmed at that
He doesn’t want to make you feel stupid but he grew up in an asylum and even he knows what it means
Overall he will roll his eyes at your slow mind but he doesn’t mean to be rude when he does it to you
Bo Sinclair
“Hey Bo what does fin-at-tit mean?”
“What?”
“Fin-at-tit?”
“(Y/n) that says finite”
He loves your slow mindedness
He can tease you about it all the time now
But If your genuinely frustrated with something he’ll try to calmly explain it
Key word-try
It will kinda feel like when your dad tries to help you with homework in your worst subject
The tears of frustration, the passive aggressive sighs, the trying not to yell but still yelling tone, everything
Overall just don’t go to him for help with something if he’s in a bad mood because he’ll make you stay at the table until you figure it out
Vincent Sinclair
He finds you absolutely adorable
In the most frustrating way
He loves you to the moon and back but sometimes even you can get on his nerves
He’ll 100% defend you from Bo’s mean comments but sometimes your obvious questions are too much for him
He will be a bit unknowing of what to do so when your getting on his nerves with your questions he hands you a brush, a ribbon and take his hair out of his low pony tail for you to braid in a last effort to distract you
“Vincent look at the moon”
He just nods, not having the heart to tell you that was a tortilla that Bo but on the skylight to provoke you
Thomas Hewitt
Thomas is one of the few slashers who will indulge in you slow minded behaviour
He’ll answer your questions to the best of his ability but sometimes there just impossible to answer
If you start to annoy him he’ll just calm himself down and continues to indulge you
He will defend you from his family and won’t let them insult your intelligence because he knows your smart your just not the best at communicating it with him
“Thomas do we get chocolate milk from brown cows?”
He just sighs and shakes his head
Good thing he loves you
Asa Emory
Red hot fury
Your stupid questions would make this man physically hurt
Even if your academically talented, he will always see you as lower on an intellectual scale
So he will treat you like a child
You should have seen his face when he found out you didn’t know how to tie laces
“Your gonna sit in here until you can tie these laces on these shoes ten times or no dinner”
He’s super strict with you because of your slowness
I do think he wouldn’t mask his annoyance at your questions so I think it would make you less comfortable to ask him
He does like that he can manipulate you more now though
Tiffany valentine
She would treat you like a child
Not particularly in a bad way, more in a loving way
It can feel a bit condescending at times because of how she uses pet names to sweeten the deal up
“Hey that star moved!”
“Of course it did sweet face”
She would never make you feel dumb for asking questions though
She wants to make you comfortable with talking to her
Baby firefly
She’d vibe with it honestly
You would be like dumb and dumber
“Have you ever thought about what a dog would say if it could talk”
“Wow…probably woof”
You both share one brain cell
It drives the firefly residence crazy because of how much you two do stupid things together
It also makes baby extremely hyper because now she has someone to share her nonsense thoughts with
Otis driftwood
This man has zero filters
He never minces his words, even for you
So when you ask stupid questions like
“Do I tell my mom that I’m adopted?”
He simply responds
“What the fuck? Are you dumb?”
He’s not trying to be mean he just doesn’t understand you
When your questions are too much for him, he just kisses you and distracts you with sex
#michael myers x reader#asa emory x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#bo sinclair x reader#michael myers#thomas hewitt#vincent sinclair x reader#asa emory#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#tiffany valentine#tiffany valentine x reader#gender neutral reader#slashers x reader#otis driftwood#otis driftwood x reader#baby firefly#baby firefly x. reader#slashers x dumb reader#dumb reader
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Alfred looking at the kids: You know those things will kill you right?
Jason pouring a pouring another glass of whiskey: Yeah that’s kinda the point
Roy smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process
Y/N: *nods while eating raw cookie dough upside down on the couch*
#inccorect quotes#alfred pennyworth#Jason Todd#roy harper#dumb reader#jason todd x reader#Roy Harper x reader#golden trio#gotham incorrect quotes#batfam#bat family#bat family x reader
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It's a long shot, but does anyone know where the Miguel o'hara x stupid!reader headcanons post is?
I never got the chance to finished reading it. That or it never existed and my mind just conjure it up.
Asking for a friend 👀👀
#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x moron#reader#atsv#headcanons#help a opossum out#dumb reader#stupid reader#one braincell#spiderman 2099
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“tsk. has nobody taught you how to eat?” sukuna scoffs, gnawing on a big of piece of meat whilst watching you eat your own meal next to him. the corners of your lips are very messy.
you can’t help it. the food the maids had prepared is too delicious to eat without gusto. you’re alone with sukuna so you don’t mind your table manners all that much. nor does he.
“right back at you, my lord.” you retort in a sassy tone. a hand reaches out to tug at your hair before firmly flicking your forehead. a reminder of your place.
sukuna yanks off a piece of meat from the bone with his sharp fangs. he glances down at you with an amused yet dangerous look, “get too bratty with me ‘n you’ll end up as my dinner next.”
you chuckle. you’re used to his threats by now, knowing he won’t go that far, though you don’t push your luck any further.
the unexpected feeling of a wet tongue sweeping off the sauce from your mouth makes you cringe. you notice how sukuna had formed a mouth on one of his hands and decided to just clean you up that way, “ew. get that away.”
“ew? you should be grateful for that, woman.” sukuna huffs, continuing to eat nonchalantly whilst you’re struggling to fight off his hand from your face. “i can also use somethin’ else to clean up y’r dirty mess.”
the king of curses grins menacingly as the huge tongue on his abdomen rolls out. you shiver at the mental image of that massive thing slobbering all over your face to get the sauce off.
“yeah no.. err, thank you. i’ll just get a napkin.”
#sttoru writes.#oki bye i needed to write this dumb thing down before i forgot about it#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff
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𝘊𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴/𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 :((.
𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰! 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳.
"𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢." 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. "𝘛-𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶..." 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴, "𝘚𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
𝘏𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶! 𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 :((.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵!
"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘢' 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢?"
"𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
"𝘎𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰! 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨!
"𝘊𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
"𝘊𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢."
𝗦𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻'𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀/𝗼 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗺𝗮! <𝟯𝟯
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost#cod x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#cod mw2#ghost cod#call of duty#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#totally would let him fuck me dumb :)#like man's so fine#UGH#he's so bbg too#simon riley#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x s/o#cod modern warfare
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satoru would be so obsessed with kissing you, trying to work on your laptop on the couch is no longer any without you being bombarded with pecks across your cheeks, nose and lips.
“satoru…”you warned, starting to get annoyed at all the typos you were making.
“jus’ give me five minutes baby, only five and I’ll leave you alone forever.”
you know a trap when you spot one.
last time he said that it ended up with him between your thighs with your clothes discarded on the floor, not to mention the amount of unfinished work you had left to catch up on.
you shook your head, muttering under your breath, “I can remember the last time those words came out of your mouth satoru.”
gojo simply smirks, “oh yeah? since you enjoyed it so much last time how about—“
“no satoru. I really need to finish this.”
“can I help you then?”
you let out a sigh, “unless you know some shit about biotechnology, then I don’t see why not.”
satoru streched put his arms, his shirt riding up a little, “don’t underestimate the brains of the stongest.”
“mhmm, remember when you thought people in Australia could predict the future just because they were 20 hours ahead?
“I didn’t know back then!”
“yeah, yeah excuses excuses.”
#as much as I make him ‘dumb’ I still love him your honor#angel writes#gojo satoru headcanons#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen#jjk
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🕺
#I never know if I should just drop the dumb twitter memes here as well or not#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#original by @/its_soup on twitter
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innocent!commoner reader who diligently gathers berries in the forest every day for the village children. innocent!commoner reader who happens to stumble upon a wounded soul along their customary route through the woods. innocent!commoner reader whose pure heart and selfless nature guides them to tend to him. innocent!commoner reader who prattles to the unconscious man every day when they check up on him. innocent!commoner reader who ought to be frightened of the monstrous being. innocent!commoner reader who should've just left him there. ˙◠˙
injured!minotaur who wakes up to the sight of a tiny human nestled at his hip, sleep. injured!minotaur who accidentally startles you awake with a pained rumble. injured!minotaur who thanks you begrudgingly for tending to his injuries. injured!minotaur who gradually becomes accustomed to your presence and your chatter as the days pass while he waits for a full recovery. injured!minotaur who finds your naivety cute. injured!minotaur who suddenly finds himself wanting to corrupt you in every possible way. injured!minotaur who mischievously tells you that the only way for him to get better is by using your body. injured!minotaur who forcefully removes your clothing despite your whiny protests. injured!minotaur who promises he'll be all better after using your tiny human hole. injured!minotaur who groans as you willingly part your legs for him, with wide, innocent, tear-filled eyes. "i-if you're sure it'll help." ˙ᵕ˙
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
#fantasy romance#monster lover#smut#writers on tumblr#writing#fantasy smut#monster romance#monster fucker#author#monster husband#monster kink#monsterfucking nsft#monsterfucking cw#tw monsterfucking#monster k!nk#k!nky thoughts#werewolf smut#minotaur#minotaur x human#monster imagine#monster headcanons#monster smut#erchitu#erchitu x reader#gender neutral reader#monster x human#dumb bunny#dubious consent#cnc k!nk#deunmiu dessie
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"You can do it, angel... There we go, so pretty all for me."
God those words ruined him every time you said them. His legs shook like a newborn fawn as you pumped your fingers in and out of his precious little pussy, occasionally spreading his wetness around.
"HNYAH-! [N-Name] please pl- MNGHHH!♡~ 's too MUCH!!" he cried over and over again, arching his back as you tended to him so sweetly. It was really too much, he's going to die! He swears on it! If you could just listen; oh god what are you doing now-
"[N-Name], [N-Name], [NAME]!~♡" he swore he could see stars once you started moving them faster, pressing right against that nice spot nestled deep inside him.
Slick dripped down his quivering thighs, pooling on the sheets below him as his hands scrambled to hold onto anything, anything at all.
"HNGAHHH!!!~♡" he fucking squeals when your fingers make him squirt, his release drenching his thighs and your hand. Oh the poor baby is shivering, eyes shut tight as his hands ball up into tight fists, gripping the sheets as if its the only thing keeping him alive.
"Pleashe- P-PleASEEE~" oh but you don't stop at his desperate little pleas, no. You keep going, thrusting your fingers deep into his little pussy as he wails and squirms, crying about how its just too much.
"Hush, baby. You got yourself here, this is your punishment." All he could do was sob and beg for your mercy.. But it didn't look you'd give in anytime soon... ♡
CHILDE, DR. RATIO, Dazai, Xiao, NIKOLAI, Neuvillette, Chuuya, Dottore, Pantalone, Kaveh, KAEYA, Muzan, Obanai, AVENTURINE, Zhongli, your favs...
#dom reader#sub character#sub childe#sub dr ratio#sub dazai#sub xiao#sub nikolai#sub chuuya#sub dottore#sub pantalone#sub kaveh#sub kaeya#sub and dom#dumb wh0re#gn reader#sub genshin#sub hsr#sub bsd#sub muzan#sub kny#sub aventurine#sub zhongli#sub obanai
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You can never tell Mammon you’re cold because he can’t act fucking normal for five minutes- rather then giving you his jacket he tries to zip you in with him, telling you to put your arms in the sleeves with his and that his body heat will keep you warmer anyway :)
#he’s so dumb#but I love him sm <3#(Lily if you see this it’s based on that conversation we had a few days ago lolol)#obey me!#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me fluff#soft stuff!#obey me#om!#obey me hcs#om! hcs#om! mammon#om! x reader#ro’s dumb stuff tag!#mams <333
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³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟏/𝟐)
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK themes and elements, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, manhandling, DD/LG undertones, stalking (implied), alcohol, drugs (weed, edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), daddy kink, size kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, dacryphilia, degradation, dumbification, p*ssy slapping, squirting.
𝗪/𝗖 | 4.55K
𝗔/𝗡 | welcome to my first kinktober fic ever !! i’m very excited for you all to meet mr obsessive ex ari, after all, he was just thot of last week. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Hey, I heard you were going to the Halloween party tonight… I just wanted to say have fun and be safe. You know how Drysdale’s parties can be—”
“You unblocked him?”
You jump, dropping your phone to the floor. At the doorway is your best friend, Wanda, with a black hat atop her soft auburn hair. She crosses her arms with a deep scowl, “Well? Are you going to explain yourself?”
You shrink under her harsh glare and nervously tug at the fur hem of your dress, “I got curious.”
She stomps towards you, embodying the grumpy, grouchy witch she’s dressed as. With a swift motion, she grabs your phone off the ground and tucks it into her purse. “Do not drunk text or call your ex.” She commands as if scolding a child. “You aren’t crawling back to that dickhead, even if I have to babysit you tonight.”
That was how plenty of people talked to you. Like you didn’t understand the simplest things and needed everything spelled out and demonstrated.
And, you won’t lie—sometimes that demeaning exchange was what you needed, but other times it just made you feel stupid.
This wasn’t the first time one of your friends has treated you this way, hell, you don’t remember when they treated you any other way. Ever since your breakup, they’ve kept you on a tight leash, snooping through your phone, keeping tabs on your whereabouts, and even passing you around like a baby who couldn’t take care of themself.
The breakup was their idea—an ultimatum, more like it, “it’s us or him. We take care of you, and he—he treats you like a pet or a fucking baby.”
You chose your closest friends over the guy who made your heart swell bigger than the moon. Even now, you still feel the ache in your chest, the gutting loss of someone you once loved and someone who made you happy.
You’re happier now, that’s what Natasha told you every day. You’re happier without him.
“I won’t!” You vow and reach for her bag, but she quickly steps away. “Wanda, please! I can hold my phone!”
“No, because now I know I can’t trust you when you’re sober!” She snaps, “It’s been what? A month?”
You wince at her volume, “Five weeks—almost six.”
She groans in frustration, “Ugh, c’mon! He was always breathing down your neck and he never let you go out with us unless he was there. How could we have proper fun with a scary giant like him?”
Ari was on the rugby team, a D1 player, whatever that meant, you assumed it meant he was one of the best. He was tall and brawny, just over 6’10” with broad shoulders and a thick chest that nearly burst through all his button-ups. His firm arms were bigger than your head and his hand dwarfed yours. He used to wrap his bicep around your neck and tug you into him to kiss your cheeks—one of his love languages was touch. And his thighs, you mourned all the times you napped on his lap, rubbing your cheek into the coarse hair of his muscular flesh.
He was so much bigger than most people on campus. His impenetrable presence towered over them. Oftentimes he’d manhandle you or carry you around. You thought it was cute when he had to duck through doorways sometimes.
The first time he ever came to your dorm room, he didn’t even try to climb to your bed on the upper bunk.
“You know, if we start dating, you’ll have to do some remodelling.” He smirked and tugged you to the edge of the mattress by your ankle, “Don’t you want me in your bed too, bunny?”
After a week of begging your roommate to rearrange the room, you both came to a compromise. Now, you were on the bottom bunk and she moved to the top.
“You could sit here now!” You presented your clean, made bed with your dozens of stuffies all neatly sitting atop the coral covers. “Watch your head but just in case, I put a little cushion too.”
Ari was popular and well-liked, he came from a good, wealthy family who hosted charity auctions and funded the college. His reputation was spotless, he was one of the top students, and he had many friends and admirers. If you two went out to dinner, it was guaranteed that someone would strike up a conversation. You didn’t care, you loved hearing Ari’s voice.
You also loved when he introduced you as his girlfriend, always kissing your hand after saying your name in that creamy voice of his.
“He isn’t scary… just intimidating.” You shyly countered, twiddling your fingers, “And he was there because I get nervous without him.”
“That’s exactly what we mean. You have to be your own person. Exist without needing someone to tell you what to do! Being so dependent on someone, much less some asshole like him, isn’t good for you.”
But Ari always knew what was good for you.
You were never the brightest star, always fumbling and forgetful, ditzy and daydreaming every second of the day. Your grades not only proved how easily you got distracted but also your lack of drive and self-discipline.
All your life you’ve flounced and fleeted, lived your days so blissfully ignorant to anything beyond the surface. That cluelessness made you vulnerable to any monster to sink their teeth into. It painted a self-portrait of your untouched, innocent soul, coloured like white chiffon.
“I didn’t mind…”
“You didn’t notice.” She corrects. “But he did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked that you were—” stupid, it goes unsaid, “—oblivious. It made you easy, hun. That’s why he so effortlessly controlled you.”
Your friends could try as they might, but it will never change the fact that Ari made you feel safe, secure and loved. And without him, you’re lying back on that heap of sticky disarray without a hint of how to take care of yourself.
“We’re trying to protect you, don’t you understand that?” Wanda coaxes, tilting your chin up with her knuckle. The corners of her red lips turn down to a frown, “We care about you, we want what’s best for you and you know that Ari is far from that.” She wipes your cheek, and only then do you notice you’re crying.
You heard the first breakup was the hardest, but you never expected it to be like this. You’re lost and alone. Abandoned in the middle of a bustling city, it was blinding, overcrowded and so loud that you had to cover your eyes and ears just for relief. You’re overwhelmed and disorientated, nothing made sense, no matter how hard you try to decipher it.
There was no direction without him.
You roughly wipe your nose and meet your reflection. Aside from the fresh tears and glossy pout, your skin glistened from the glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones—bunnies aren’t shimmery, Maria said, but you thought it was cute anyway. And you loved sparkles, that’s why Ari got you so much jewelry.
Jewelry that your friends got rid of. You grieve for the gold ‘A’ initial charm, either sitting in the city dump or in a hidden box that you’ll never find. They’re all gone, just like his hoodies and sweatpants, and your beloved Hazel, the softest stuffie you’ve ever owned. You miss his weighted body covered in beige fur, floppy ears and lifeless but sweet eyes.
“I had to reward you for doing so well on that test.” That was a stretch, you got a ‘C+’ but that was better than the ‘D-’ you got last time. Ari beamed proudly when you buried your nose in the stuffie, cutely kicking your feet in happiness. “You take care of him, bunny, he’s our little baby, okay?”
Ari pampered you, took you on dates and walked you to class every day. You thought he treated you like a princess, not a pet.
Ari wasn’t that bad. To you, he was never bad.
Wanda fixes your bunny ears and rubs your shoulders, a pitiful smile on her face. “C’mon, let’s fix your makeup before we go.”
“So, he treated you like a pet?” One of your friends asked.
“…He just made sure I was well taken care of.”
“Didn’t he just plop you in front of the television while he did his own thing?”
Yes, although his academic talents seemed natural, Ari was very serious about school and would spend hours at his desk, studying or perfecting assignments. Sometimes he even did your homework, “Dummy bunny, you just sit there while I take care of this, okay?”
You vaguely recall the times he would tell you to not make a peep until he spoke first, just to keep your glossy lips shut until he addressed you. To you, it was being respectful of his quiet time and letting him set boundaries. Your friends thought it was toxic and controlling.
“You’re a human being, not his pretty little pet to do whatever he says.”
The mansion is packed when you and your friends arrive fashionably late. The bunch of you are clad in costumes ranging from a bright red devil to a dead cheerleader to a dark and mysterious witch. Unfortunately, you stuck out like a sore thumb with your egg-filled basket, sheer dress, and white fluffy ears and matching tail. You were the only one not in classic Halloween attire.
You’re grateful Natasha suggested fake eggs instead of real ones. Although you wanted the joy of painting real Easter eggs, you’ve already dropped a few on the way to the party. You dreaded the mess and smell if they were real instead of just empty plastic.
You suppose they were right, you didn’t think things through all the time.
The whole property is decked out, from the jack o'lanterns on the porch and the ‘Enter If You Dare’ sign in the front yard. Inside the big house, strobe lights flashed across the room in red, blue and green, colouring the other guests in neon shades. The walls were covered in bat and spider decals, little white ghosts hung from the banisters, and fake spider webs occupied the ceiling corners.
It doesn’t take long for your friends to get the night started. After getting drinks from a frat boy dressed as an ice cream man, the group of you migrated to the energetic dance floor in the basement.
The music was louder and the lights were brighter, blinding you every time they found your eyes. As the colour sparks across the walls, inescapable memories flash through your brain.
The last time you were at a party, it was to celebrate another win by the rugby team and being the girlfriend of their best player, you had to dress for the role. You squeezed into your old cheer uniform and cheekily stitched each letter of ‘LEVINSON’ on the back. Oh, Ari loved when you wore his name. If he could, he’d have you clad in his jersey every damn day.
This wasn’t a party hosted by his fraternity, your friends made sure of that, but a few of his friends were in attendance. You’ve caught glimpses of their tall and burly figures but didn’t dare to say hello. It would be too awkward.
What if he’s here too?
One by one, your friends disappear and you're left in the middle of the dance floor with your basket half empty. The eggs were going to be impossible to find, so you didn’t try. After weaving through the sweaty, grinding bodies, you returned to the less packed kitchen.
With your ears still pounding, you squint at the bottles, reading each name and smelling a few. Eventually, you give up and dumbly mix whatever looks good. Judging books by their covers never got you far, but it got you something, and you wanted to have fun tonight. Party, dance, get drunk and have fun.
A shadow appears next to you, crowding you against the counter with its mass and height. When you turn around, a radiant smile explodes on your face. “Hey, Brian!”
“It’s Bryce.” The light-haired man corrects with a quirk of his lips. “Forget me already?”
Your eyes widen, “Oops, sorry! No, how could I forget the world’s best lab partner?” You set aside your cup and hug him tightly, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“I just got here, I had to pick up some brownies that Jensen made.” He nods to the spread of snacks and punch. Like the rest of the house, the table was Halloween-themed with eyeball cake pops, blood-red punch, and the cutest spooky cupcakes. The surface was also decorated with old lanterns, fake candles and skulls. “You want to try?”
You shy away. The last time you tried Jensen’s brownies, you jumped Ari’s bones right in front of his friends, the baker himself included! You hadn’t felt like that before, that needy, desperate and wet.
To this day, you’re still haunted by the memories of Ari slipping his hand up your tiny skirt and getting you off with just a few fingers. With his friends packed into the frat house living room, their eyes drawn to the sports game on the television, either ignoring or not noticing your quiet whimpers and the dull motions under the blanket on your lap.
“Dumb little bunny, are you gonna come in front of daddy’s friends?” He whispers against your ear, locking you tightly in his lap and stuffing your soppy core with two thick fingers, “I want you to make a stupid mess in your pretty panties, cream yourself like a pathetic baby so daddy could clean you up later.”
You shake your head, grasping his wrist under the blanket.
Ari cruelly takes that as a sign to speed up his pumps, rubbing your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. Your wetness smears down your slit, soaking your skimpy thong and the cushion of the couch. Between the pauses of the sports game, you can hear the horrifying sticky sounds from between your trembling thighs.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, bunny? Daddy’s just helping you out. Poor girl gets all wet with just a lil weed.”
You can still taste the chocolatey goodness. How shameful was it that you’d have another if he asked?
He kicks your legs apart and gets rougher, making you fall back onto his chest with a gasp, “Think I can fit another, baby? Or is your tight pussy still too little for me?”
“T-Too small, daddy—not gonna fit.” You shakily reply, knowing all too well how he has to force himself into your tight walls. The thought of his girth stuffing your core has a wave of arousal pooling around his thrusting fingers, and your stomach tightening.
He groans lowly, “Mhm, but you want me to try. Dumb little whore loves being filled to the brim, huh?” His ring finger slides alongside the other two, stretching your weepy hole as a burning sensation flows through you. “You love when I just pin you down and force you to take it. My bunny fuckin’ loves being used.” His bicep keeps you against his warm, muscled body, only reminding you how trapped you are, entirely helpless and vulnerable to his sinful actions.
He was right, you loved it.
A choked whine escapes your sealed lips, miraculously not catching the attention of the other guys. Your hips grind against his hand, practically riding his fingers as you topple over. You slap a hand over your mouth, silencing your moan as your juices spurt from your pussy.
“Good girl, that’s it, use daddy’s fingers.” He spears into you relentlessly, hitting that rough patch with his long fingers and rubbing your clit with his palm. The lewd noises grow in volume, he doesn’t give a shit if his friends notice—he wants them to. He wants them to know you’re his and only his. “Cream yourself, ya little dummy. Make a mess in front of all my friends—let ‘em know what a filthy slut you are for daddy.”
Your orgasm rushes down your leg, soaking his pants and the material of your leg warmers, and adds to the disgraceful puddle on the floor. Tears stream down your hot cheeks and your mind goes blank, drool dripping from your chin dumbly. Ari pulls away with a mean pinch to your clit and you spasm in his hold, uneven breaths shaking your frame.
He growls and slaps your cunt, unable to resist rubbing your puffy button. “Fuck, I should’ve had you try those brownies earlier, could’ve gave this greedy little cunt what it needs.”
It was safe to say if you wanted a brownie, you wouldn’t spend the night alone.
“I don’t know… It isn’t even midnight yet.”
“C’mon! It’s a new recipe, similar to his usual stuff but not as strong. You’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Bryce tugs you to the table with a firm grip on your hand. “I’ll get you a piece, do you like corners or middles?”
You don’t want to tell him about the problem from the last time. Who knows what he’d think of you?
Those worries didn’t only stem from embarrassment, but you grew up in a household where the topic of sex was forbidden. Everything you learnt was from your past boyfriends, mainly Ari since he was your first serious relationship. Openness about the subject was still difficult, regardless of the escapades you and your ex have shared.
“If you have one, I’ll have one too.” Bryce urges, tilting his head like a puppy. “That way neither of us will be alone. Does that seem like a fair bargain, m’lady?” He bows.
Your gaze drops to his thin white shirt, hanging on by two bottom buttons and tucked into the thick belt of his jeans. Sweat glistens on his pale, taut skin, highlighting the dips of his abs. Your grip on the Easter basket tightens as your eyes follow the trail of hair from his chest to his belly button.
Bryce takes advantage of your glazed expression and holds a square to your mouth, cooing softly, “Open up, little bunny.” You make a confused sound and he uses that opportunity to feed you the brownie and tilt your chin, making you take a big chunk of the laced treat. “There we go, a nice big bite for me.”
He’s so close you can count every freckle on his clean-shaven face. Bryce has always been pretty, but with his hair slightly longer and a gold crown atop his head, he’s even prettier.
“So well behaved. Does it taste good?”
You nod wordlessly, not realizing he’s feeding you the rest of the brownie until he turns back to the tray. The rich, chocolate flavour spreads along your tastebuds, it’s gooey and moist, almost making you forget about the other ingredient.
Bryce pops a whole square into his mouth and chews slowly. “Mhm, way better than his last batch.” He washes it down with a sip from a childishly cute monster-themed solo cup. “We should wait a bit before having more.”
“I’ve never had more than one.”
“Then you’re in for a night, bunny.” He flashes a charming smile, all too fitting for his costume. “You’ve got some chocolate, let me get it for you.” He pinches your chin between his fingers and licks his other thumb, then delicately wipes the corner of your lips, as a mother would to a child. The single action brings warmth to your cheeks that only grows hotter when Bryce sucks the same digit into his mouth, his white teeth digging into his knuckle. “Always such a messy girl, I remember how stained your lab coat was just after the first semester.”
“That class was so hard—I don’t think I learnt a thing!”
Of course you didn’t, what could fit in your head other than air?
He doesn’t say that obviously, but he knows it’s true. Everyone on campus knew you were just a ditzy, clueless airhead with an irresistibly sweet personality. Nothing up there but you were plenty to look at with all your sundresses, mini skirts and those fucking tight shirts that you never wore a bra underneath.
You didn’t even know you were collecting people’s hearts like trading cards.
“You look great!” He says instead, reaching out to touch your soft ears. “Give me a spin, sweetheart.”
You giggle and twirl around, showing off your puffy tail and almost tripping over yourself. “Thanks! My friends thought being the Easter bunny was dumb, but I’ve had this nightie forever and wanted to finally wear it—that’s why it’s a little small.” You whisper, gesturing to your breasts.
If you jumped too suddenly, they’d surely spill out and Bryce mmediately thinks of ways to make you hop like a real bunny. “It isn’t dumb, I think you’ve got the best costume here.”
You preen under his praise, smiling so dumbly that you don’t notice his eyes locking on your exposed cleavage. Usually, you’re wearing some fresh hickeys or marks from your boyfriend, all while he wears you on his arm like a shiny bracelet. Levinson knew he had the hottest piece of ass on campus, and he made sure everyone knew you were claimed, like a damn slab of meat.
Bryce hated him but he can’t be upset about that, because he’d treat you the same way.
“I like yours too. You’re the first and only prince I’ve seen all night.”
“Yeah? What’s your boyfriend dressed as?” He cuts to the chase, “I haven’t seen him yet, and you two are usually inseparable.” More like he never let you get more than three feet away.
Your shoulders go slack and if your ears were real, they’d surely do the same. “oh, we broke up…”
Bryce blinks in surprise, caught off guard. A rush of glee fills his body, but he hides it with faux concern, “What? When?” Just like that, your eyes start watering again—and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look when you cry. “Did he break your heart, baby?”
You gnaw on your bottom lip, swallowing the lump in your throat, “No, I-I dumped him.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.” He isn’t, not one bit. “Do you want to talk about it outside?”
Ari is fucking seething.
Boiling with rage to the point where steam nearly blows from his ears. Under his black hooded robe, his skin is set ablaze as he watches you stumble after the brunet. You’re facing down but his sharp gaze follows those white and pink ears.
He glances at his phone, the delivered sign right under the various text messages sent to you all night. He was checking up on you, making sure you were okay and not getting into trouble.
Just because you were broken up didn’t mean he could instantly stop caring about you—that’s what he told his friends who were still wondering why he was so hung up on you.
“You could get any other girl, man.” Steve rubs his back, the locker room emptier now that most of the team had left.
The rugby team won the game, no surprise there, but while the rest of the guys celebrate the victory, Ari can’t relax. He can barely sit still. The image of the empty seat of the very first row is burned on the inside of his eyelids, patronizing him.
“But, none of them are her.” Curtis dramatically sighs from down the aisle, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What? You think just because she was your girl, that I can’t find her hot?”
“The decent thing to do would be to not say it out loud, asshole.”
“Too bad it’s hard to forget a piece of ass like that.” Another unhelpful voice speaks up as a dripping wet brunet emerges from the showers, his long hair still soaked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like having her then losing her.”
“I didn’t lose her.” Ari huffs, tossing aside his phone so he didn’t have to look at the painful one-sided conversations.
“Well, you had her and now you don’t.” Curtis deadpanned. “Sounds like losing her to me.” Bucky finishes with a snort.
Steve, the only one with a heart, tells them to shut up. He hated seeing his childhood best friend so upset. “Have you tried going to her dorm?”
Every damn day. “She’s never there. Always out with her fuckin’ friends. Bunch of dumb sluts, all of them.”
“Your precious bunny included?”
Ari rolls his eyes. “She’s got no brains anyway.”
Bucky laughs, drying his hair with a towel. “You know, it wasn’t her choice. They all pushed her to dump you.” Oh, Ari knows that.
“So technically, she isn’t to blame.” Steve agrees, he tucks his blond hair into a baseball cap. “I knew she wouldn’t make that decision by herself.”
“‘cause she’s stupid?” Curtis smugly wonders, “Because we know that already.”
“No, because she loved him.”
Loved—that isn’t right. You still love him. You had to. You were his sweet girl, his dumb baby, his bunny. He couldn’t fathom you just being you. Someone entirely detached from him, free of his authority and influence.
That kind of independence was high over your head and you’d never reach it no matter how hard you tried. You could climb skyscrapers or trees that kiss the clouds, but it’ll never be enough. You needed him to lift you up and get you there, and fill up your empty little head with a false sense of self-rule.
You should be thankful for him and kiss the ground he walks on, not break his heart over text.
You’d be nothing without him in the same way he was nothing without you.
After you met him, your perceptions and ideas, desires and fears were no longer your own. He fixed the little puzzle in your head, he did all the thinking and decision-making since you clearly couldn’t do it by yourself.
He was electric and charismatic, and you were pure and gullible.
The itty bitty seedling in a field of mature, vibrant flowers. Everyone crowded over you, stealing the golden rays and fresh breeze—that was until Ari came along and tucked you into an ivory pot, and took you home.
He gave you everything you needed and then some, always putting your well-being above his own. He watered you, raised you towards the sun and made you into his slice of heaven. He made it so you couldn’t grow and flourish without him.
Then, you took his heart and stomped on it like a bug.
“She’s just an airhead who does whatever people tell her.” Curtis affirms, “Ain’t nothing up there but pixie dust and cotton candy.”
Ari can’t deny that. He knows all too well about your naive obedience to orders and your wide-eyed, credulous view of the world. You were always focusing on the bright side, always holding other people’s opinions above your own—that’s what made it so easy to drill the hunger for his acceptance into your head.
Bucky hums, “If anything, you’ve got to get even with her friends. If they’re out of the picture, who do you think she’ll run back to?”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe I think i'm in my sleazy daddy and airhead!reader era. i bet you aren't ready for ari fucking reader in mating press.
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! see you on oct. 6 for part two !!
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
#sonnyskinktober2022#Ari Levinson#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson x fem!reader#dark!Ari Levinson#soft dark!ari levinson#tw dark fic#tw soft dark#ari levinson x reader#dark ari levinson#ari levinson x innocent!reader#dark fic#ghostface ari levinson#ghostface!ari levinson#dumb reader#Ari Levinson au#Ari Levinson smut#Chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfiction#Chris evans#Chris evans smut#size difference#sonny’s stories#wish I may wish I might au#Ari Levinson x you#ghostface au#ari levinson x short!reader
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Just Friends
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.
Word Count: 3.6k+
Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).
The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.
You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together.
This is all Bucky’s fault.
Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.
It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you.
And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.
You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky.
But you can’t.
Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there.
In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether?
As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device.
Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night
You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else.
Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI
So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial.
Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you.
It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise.
If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.
“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.
You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.
“Send me your address.”
“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.
“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”
“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”
You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.
“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”
“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”
The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.
“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”
Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak.
Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep.
There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.
With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.
By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier.
Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.
You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.
“What exactly are you doing here?”
Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you.
Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.
“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”
Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.
“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”
“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”
The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.
“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”
“So?”
Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.
“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.
It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.
“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”
“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.
You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.
“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”
Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question.
“I’m here to finish what I started.”
He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.
In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.
“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.
“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”
He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.
“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”
You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.
“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat.
Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.
“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”
He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.
“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”
Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.
“Buck. Please.”
You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.
“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”
Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.
A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.
As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him.
Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you.
Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.
Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy.
With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.
“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.
Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost
#ummmmm hi? LOL#coming back from unannounced hiatuses with dumb fics is my brand now i guess#just dipping my toes back in a teeny bit#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan fanfic#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan
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(cw: light British slander)
"it's not funny, knock it." Hobie says holding your gaze. It was like scolding a child.
"yeah?" You mock, a faux accent deep in your throat, "S'not funny, 'Obie?"
"I hate you."
"I love you." You grin, He smiles and presses a kiss to your lips.
"doesn't feel like you hate me, luv."
He groans at your poor attempt to mock his accent and grumbles, "yeah well... I hate consistency anyhow."
#sailor says something dumb#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#spider punk#spider punk x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv
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ghost with a cute lil succubus gf :3
mdni! f!reader
simon loves having a succubus as his girlfriend. he loves when he's finally coming home from a mission and barely has the door closed before you're jumping into his arms— it's sweet and romantic at first, kissing him deep and slow and clinging to him, but it doesn't take very long to turn dirty. your legs are wrapped around his waist and it's just too easy to grind your soaked pussy against his growing hard-on, too easy to sink your nails (claws) into his shoulders and suck on and nip at his neck.
simon loves having a girlfriend with a long devil's tail topped with a heart and little horns poking out of the top of her head to match. he loves pulling your head back and rubbing around the bases of your horns, feeling you melt while he walks you both to the bedroom. you'll whine and beg for him to touch you more, more, more, and of course he obliges. simon lowers you to the bed and puts his hands and mouth everywhere. he sucks on your nipples while you're whimpering and (futilely) trying to push him down further. he leaves indents of his canines down your belly before he's kissing your thighs.
simon loves to get you desperate for him and especially loves how easy it is to do. it's basically your default setting around him— until he's rubbing the tip of his cock against your pussy. up and down from your hole to your clit and back, "y'think you deserve my cock? huh?" muttered while his free hand is keeping your hips from bucking up. you're nearly teary-eyed while you beg and plead until he shuts you up by finally pushing into you. you can take him, you're meant to take him, and still, by the time he's buried to the hilt inside of you, your eyes are rolling back and claws are leaving more scratches on him than he had gotten during his last deployment.
simon loves hearing your vocabulary reduced to whiney pleas and praise— "fu-ck- i missed your cock- missed it so much- ah-!"— and other mindless babbles. he loves how your capacity to speak noticeably diminishes with every new way he manhandles you; hunched over you with a hand on the headboard as leverage, then lifting your lower half to meet his hips as he kneels, then folding your thighs to your chest in a breeding press that makes you go nearly limp. "missed this cunt," he'll groan, "made just for me, right, princess?"
(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ likes, comments n reblogs are always appreciated!!
#— lilly writes! ♡#i don't super like this but i like the concept#forced this out of my dumb brain to try getting rid of the writer's block#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw3#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x female reader#reader insert
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“she’s my girlfriend,” “ah, my girlfriend got it for me, “my girlfriend recommended me this,” “oh actually, my girlfriend did this before,”
gojo satoru includes you in every possible conversation that he holds. the topics could be about the most boring stuff, but trust, that man will find a way to drop your name.
it happens subconsciously most of the time; that’s how deeply engraved your existence is in his brain. every single thing he does somehow reminds him of his girlfriend. satoru could be washing the dishes and he’ll still be able to think about you—probably about how your glossy lips looked when they were wrapped around the silver spoon he was now holding onto.
was it a bad habit? not that he thinks so. it just showed how strong his love for you was. although to others it may seem extremely bothersome or annoying. it’s partially understandable: all they want is to hold a normal chat, yet satoru always manages to ramble about how his girlfriend had done this or that. sometimes it’d actually be relevant to the topics being discussed, at other times he just drops your name because.. well, he simply can.
could it be considered pathetic to love someone that much? never to him. many of the people around satoru have noticed the changes he has gone through since meeting you; how he’ll turn into the quitest person alive just to be able to hear you speak more freely, how he’ll let you order him around which he usually dislikes, how he’ll ignore any important appointments simply for the sake of spending more time with you. the changes are there and they are definitely more than visible. both through his actions and words.
‘to be loved is to be changed,’ and apparently even the strongest cannot withstand the changes that the emotion called love brings along.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x you#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#this s so dumb uhhhhhh
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