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coryosbaby · 4 months

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—ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ‘ᴛɪʟʟ ɪ ᴘᴀꜱꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ !

(Luke Castellan x bimbo! Reader)

Content warning . Victory sex? Choking, size kink, dumbification, marking, Sub! Reader, Dom! Luke

“Baby!”

Luke’s excited voice echoes throughout your empty cabin. Your curious eyes look up at him, distracted by drawing on pink lipstick with a fine tipped brush. Your lovely boyfriend wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses you flat on the mouth.

“We won,” he says, grinning. “I took the flag.”

You smile excitedly, turning around to hug him.

“That’s so amazing, Luke!” You reply. “ I’m so happy for you!”

It’s true. Your lover may be the best fighter in camp, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get giddy everytime he wins (yet another) capture the flag game.

Not to mention he’s like, insanely hot afterwards. Taking note of him, he’s sweaty and flush with the thrill of battle, and you think this is his best look: when he’s claimed something for his own.

You guide him to your bed, checking him for any major cuts or bruises. He never has any, and that doesn’t change today. You drop to your knees regardless, and nuzzle your face against his thigh. It’s one of your favorite ways to show affection towards him at times like these, when he needs to calm down and let his body rest.

However, you can’t help but clench when his hand wraps around your hair and he pushes his hips towards you. He does it unknowingly, out of instinct, but that doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss to the crotch of his jeans.

He pauses, a smirk forming on his face.

“Need something, baby?”

You nod, a small “mhm” leaving your lips.

His eyes are teasing as his fingers grasp your chin, directing you to look at him.

“Are you going to be good?” He asks, all serious and deep, and you smile up at him, doe eyes gleaming as you excitedly play with the zipper on his jeans.

“I’ll be so good, Luke. Promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

He thumbs over your bottom lip, watching your hands much tinier than his unzip his fly. You pull out his hard, aching cock, the tip pretty and pink. You watch a pearl of arousal slide down his shaft, watch as he looks down hungrily at you. Your mouth waters.

You kiss his cockhead, letting his stringy precum glaze your lips, before sticking out your tongue and gently licking him. He lets out a heavy breath, his hand falling into your hair.

“Fuck,” he groans, sighing. “Such a good little princess for me.”

You whine, beginning to guide him into the warm heat of your mouth. His smell, all sweaty and musky, makes your brain fuzzy. It’s disgusting really, how desperate you are for him after a tournament. Letting him fuck your throat after a game is almost tradition.

And he knows it, too, teases you as you take him all the way in the back of your throat and choke on him. He presses you further down and lets your nose rest against his pubic bone. Your eyes roll back.

“Mmm,” he groans. Tears leak out of your eyes and smear your mascara as your throat contracts. “ Does my dick taste good, baby? How’s it feel having the greatest swordsman in the entire camp fuckin’ your throat, huh? Y’like that?”

You can’t reply, and he knows that. But you let out a guttural moan, making Luke growl.

“Such a stupid little thing. I asked you a question, baby, I expect you to answer it.”

Your lips slide off of him with a loud pop, your lipstick smearing on the side of your cheek as you gasp for breath.

“Love it, Luke. Love your cock so so much, just wanna suck on it forever…”

He grins, then, lets out a little chuckle between his lips as he guides you back down on his cock.

“That’s better.”

You trace your tongue filthily along the vein on him, move your hand down to palm one of his balls. You’re almost dizzy with it as you suck him, and you think you can stay like this for the rest of your life with his hands in your hair and his cock down your throat.

Luke has a primal stare as he watches your lipstick coat his cock in pretty pink stains. His hips buck up, once, twice. He’s about to cum, so he pulls you off of him.

“Gorgeous girl,” he compliments softly, wiping your mouth with his thumb. Drool drips down your chin and neck. “Want you on your clothes off and you on your back, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You nod obediently. Your wobbly legs lift up and you begin to unzip your pink jacket, then your Bebe top underneath comes off with two perfectly manicured hands. You slide your skirt off, and unclip your bra. But before you can take off your heels, Luke tsks. Ever the gentleman (to you, at least), he puts your foot on his thigh and undoes the laces on them.

“Are these new?” He asks, genuinely curious, as if he isn’t about to fuck your pretty brains out.

You nod, heart racing as he smiles up at you.

“I like them,” he drawls, gently tickling your ankle. “They’re cute.”

“Cute?” You say, giggling. “My shoes are cute?”

“Of course they are. They’re stilletos.“

You smile at the fact that he’s remembering the type of shoe because of your many rants to him about clothes. You let him remove them for you before sliding your panties down your legs and crawling onto the bed. He gives your ass a teasing slap as you crawl over him to your fluffy pink pillows.

He towers over you, slipping his shirt off and revealing his bare torso. You almost blush like a school girl, and pinch one of this biceps.

“You’re getting so strong,” you say in awe, feeling the muscle underneath your hand. Luke laughs, kissing your jaw.

“Gotta get big to protect my girl, don’t I?”

You bite your lip, his words sending a throbbing sensation straight to your already dripping core. He pushes his jeans and underwear past his meaty thighs and hastily kicks them off before giving his cock a few heavy strokes. He brushes his tip up against your folds, teasing. You whine, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I need it,” you say against his ear, sugary and sweet. “I need you.”

And how can he resist that, when you’re so pretty and pliant underneath him? He groans, pressing himself into your tight entrance, his hands going to either side of your head as he splits you open. Your thighs spread of their own accord, inviting him in even further.

“Such a tight little slut,” he moans out, watching how your pussy lips practically choke his cock. Your back arches.

“All for you,” you whisper.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he punctuates each word in between thrusts, his pace increasing ferociously at the thought of owning you. “This little pussy? These tits? That fucking brain of yours, it’s all mine. Mine to toy with, mine to use… all of it.”

Your eyes roll back as he begins to mercilessly pound your pussy into the mattress. His big hand plays with your throat, then his fingers wrap around it and he squeezes. Your airflow is nearly cut off, and you gasp for breath as he presses harder. Your pussy gushes slick at the movement. Your lips press against the vein on his wrist, and you stick open mouthed kisses to the skin there. It isn’t long before you need to be let up; however, Luke’s grip on your neck doesn’t move. In fact, it tightens— you try to move it off, try to lift your head up to breathe, but Luke slams you back down into the pillows. Your hand grabs his much bigger one, a small, choked murmur of his name tumbling from your lips, begging, “Luke.. please”.

And that makes his hips stutter. He knows you want this, knows that this is something you’ve always liked. If he had actually hurt you, you would’ve said the safe word.

He shoots inside you with an animalistic growl, his cum coating your inner walls in thick white ropes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Your legs shake and squeeze his hips as he empties himself into you, your clit still throbbing hotly. Luke isn’t a non giving lover, and while his softening cock rests inside your cunt he reaches down and rubs slow, deliberate circles into your clit.

“Cmon,” he breathes out, watching your pussy spasm. “Cmon, baby, give it to me. Let me see you cream on my fucking cock.”

You whimper loudly, your orgasm hitting you so intensely you fear you may pass out. Your back arches up into Luke’s touch as he helps you ride out your high. When you come down, shaking and sticky with release, Luke’s fingers leave you and he wraps you into your arms. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you sigh happily when he pulls you on top of his spent body.

“Luke?” You ask him. Your fingers play with the hand shaped bruise forming on your throat.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#luke castellan #Luke Castellan x reader #Luke Castellan x fem! reader #Luke Castellan x bimbo! reader #Luke Castellan smut #Luke Castellan fanfic #Luke Castellan blurb #Percy Jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #Percy jackson fanfic #Percy Jackson series #luke Percy Jackson

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osachiyo · 6 months

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"Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to." | gojo satoru

⊹ pairing. . . gojo x fem!reader

⊹ cw. . . nsfw content (mdni), jealousy, biting, marking, face-slapping, hair pulling, oral (m receiving), light masochism, dom!reader, 1.5k words etc

not proofread so don’t come at me if there’s errors and I hope u enjoy !

⊹ event details & m.list

"woa− baby, feelin' feisty, are we?" satoru laughed as you shoved him against the wall as soon as you entered your apartment. "what was that? she was clearly flirting with you, 'toru!" you grit your teeth, trapping him further as you pressed yourself against him. now, he could easily get out of your hold and pin you around instead but− he wanted to see what you'd do− how far you'd go.

"ooh your muscles are s'big, mister!" you mocked in an obnoxious tone, rolling your eyes at the memory of the annoying lady who was very obviously feeling your husband up at the store. satoru only snickered, about to wrap an arm around your waist when you slapped it away− pinning it against the wall next to him. "no. you can't touch me," you scoffed, smirking at the way his face fell. "but babyyyy− what'd i do, huuh?" he whined, gasping when you unbuckle his belt and let his pants fall down his muscular legs. you quickly grabbed the belt and started to tie his wrists together− now, he could easily break out of your pathetic attempt at keeping him still− but even he couldn't deny how his cock strained against his underwear at the fiery look in your eyes. you looked like you wanted to ruin him and god did it make him stifle a groan.

it felt like hours since you've been edging him now− to him at least. you two had moved to the bed, with him being tied to the bedpost— you had all the power. his cock was throbbing in need, precum melting on your tongue as you suckle on it before taking him fully in your mouth− a nasty mixture of your saliva and his pre dripping down your chin and hands in stringy webs and it was fuckin' filthy. but god did it make his thighs clench when you looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours− smirking devilishly before spitting on his cock and running your tongue up and down his slit. your hands were massaging his balls− which were swollen and tight from the need to just fucking cum. but you wouldn't dare not having some fun before actually letting him cum. he was drooling at his point, hips bucking up to meet your welcoming mouth as his eyes shut closed. fuck, this was absolute torture but why was he enjoying this so much? the way your pretty nails raked down his strong thighs to the way your gentle lips swallowed his cock− staining the sensitive flesh with your lipstick.

"god, satoru. you look like a mess already," you giggled, kissing the tip of his cock affectionately before taking him in your mouth again. he laughed− the sound breaking into a garbled moan as you dip your head further down to lick at his balls. as much as you liked satoru like this− at your mercy while you gave him the best head of his life− you couldn't deny the ache between your own legs, now getting too much for you to bear.

satoru groaned as you finally got your mouth off his cock− which was still throbbing with the need to cum. he watched as you sat across from him, legs spread and putting your soaked pussy on full view for him. and he felt borderline feral as you dipped a finger inside your folds before pulling them out− showing your boyfriend the sticky substance left on your digits. "mm, look at how wet you've made me 'toru," you slurred, needy eyes peering up at him as your glossy lips curved up. he only have a strained smirk in return, the sweat dripping down his body making him look almost ethereal. "shiit− baby, you're fuckin' soaked f'me, eh?" he gloated, piercing blue eyes holding nothing but mischief as he eyed your form. "why don't'cha lemme eat that sweet pussy of yours, hm? clean up the mess between your thighs?" satoru could almost feel his cock throb at the mere thought of tasting your cunt− licking his soft lips as if that would make you give in.

you only grinned in response, fingers circling that pretty little clit as you pretended to think about his offer. "hmm, don't know 'toru.." you hummed, tapping the pads of your fingers on your clit one, two, three times before crawling to your boyfriend. "want a taste, pretty boy?" holding your fingers up to his mouth, you giggled as he stuck his tongue out− lips twitching upwards to reveal a wolfish grin. he hummed when you finally stuck your fingers in his mouth− his eyes closing from the taste of your sweet cunt melting on his tongue. "can't get enough of that pretty pussy, sweet girl," he groaned, cock twitching from your taste. "though," he continued, pretty eyes staring up at your own, "you're anything but sweet right now, baby."

satoru was fighting the unbelievable urge to just snap out of his restraints− drool gathering in his mouth as his jaw clenched. you were straddling him now, circling the tip of his aching cock against your slit, coating him in your essence. "wanna go inside, baby? wanna feel this pussy 'round you?" you snickered− fingers tangling themselves in his hair before tugging hard. he moaned at the pain, hips bucking up to almost slip inside of you but alas, he failed. it was a pathetic sight, really− the gojo satoru underneath you, at your mercy.

once you finally, finally sunk down on his awaiting cunt, pussy engulfing him so fucking nicely he could practically see stars− and you barely even started. satoru's head would've been rolling back if it weren't for the tight grip you had on his snowy hair− lips parting in a silent moan as you started to bounce on his dick. his crystalline eyes travelled between your own to your bouncing breasts− fuck, did you look beautiful.

your hands moved from his hair to his muscular back and shoulders− nails digging into the smooth flesh as you bit down on his neck, making him suck in a breath, the pain felt so fucking good. holy shit, did you turn him into a fucking masochist?

all thoughts left his head when you clamped down on him, pussy sucking him in so damn greedily as you moaned his name. one of your hands flew from his back to cup and play with your breasts− eyes shutting closed as you bite on your bottom lip. you looked like a goddess to him right now− jumping on dick never looked so graceful, but you somehow managed to leave him stunned every time.

and in the heat of the moment, he thrusted up into you without thinking— making you gasp and moan loudly as your hips come to a halt. satoru only let out a frustrated groan at this, grumbling for you to keep going and— ‘slap!’ his eyes widened upon feeling a hot sting on the right cheek.

did you just fucking slap him?

“you forgetting who’s in charge here, satoru?” you spit, hooking your fingers under his jaw. “sorry, fuck— sorry, baby” he moaned,nails digging into the palms of his hands as you grind your hips.

“yeah? why don’t I mark you as mine, huh?” you groaned, lashes fluttering as you felt him twitch inside you.

“fuuck! yeah— yes, shit— please,” he felt himself drooling as you raked your nails down even deeper on his back— a little further and you’d draw blood, he thinks. “oh fuck yeah— mark me, mark me so everyone knows who the fuck I belong to!—“

you resumed your bouncing, ass slapping against his pelvis as you whimpered. your thighs were starting to hurt— you knew you couldn’t last much longer and you had to make him cum. now.

and as if right on cue— “shitshitshit—!!” satoru’s head fell back against the bed frame, cursing loudly as you still your movements, feeling his warm release filling you up.

panting, you slowly got up from his lap, hearing satoru hiss at the loss of warmth. “god, satoru. didn’t know you could be such a submissive lit—!” your eyes widened at the sound of leather ripping, whipping your head around to see your boyfriend rolling his shoulders.

he smirked at you, eyes turning from a crystal blue to a much darker colour. “you had your fun baby, and I must admit, you did better than I thought you would,” he started walking towards you with confident steps as if he didn’t get ridden to oblivion just a few minutes ago.

the next thing you knew, he had you pinned against the bed this time— thick fingers dipping between your legs to prod at your soaked cunt. “and I can’t have my girl not having the same amount of pleasure I had,” he continued, snickering at the lewd squelching sounds coming from between your legs. “toru, it’s fine I—“ “nuh-uh, sweetheart. you’ve played your game, and now it’s my turn.”

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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donatellawritings · 2 months

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How would rafe react the first time you call him papi? I feel like it’d be a surprise because he’s never been called that before!!

already elaborated on this for sweetheart!reader so here is americana!reader bc she’s a cutie patootie <3

rafe cameron absolutely loved calling you pet names, and he had a laundry list of names he’d found himself calling you by: pretty girl, mama, baby, princess, angel, kid — the lists goes on and on. he reserved calling you by your full name for when he had to command your attention, it let you know whether or not he was upset with you. however, you’d been used to calling him by his first name, but there was a part of you that hated how not-romantic it came off, you wanted a pet name for him, because he was yours and you felt as though he should have one. i mean, sure, sometimes the name rafey fell from your lips, but you felt it was a lazy nickname and a bit too boyish for the man you call your lover.

you didn’t even realize that the new pet name for rafe had subconsciously slipped off of your tongue as you bent down to greet rafe with a chaste kiss to his pink lips, “hi papi,” you smiled, completely missing the way rafe’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sound of his new name. frankly, he didn’t know where the fuck that came from, but he wasn’t questioning it either, he thought it was hot. catching onto rafe’s silence, you slightly pouted, your head cocked to the side as you parted your sticky and glossed lips to speak, “did i- did i do something wrong?” you questioned, your doe eyes cutely widening with feverish panic as rafe ran his hand through his greasy curtain bangs with a breathy and flustered chuckle.

bringing his gaze to meet yours, rafe shifted his hips as he leaned back into the couch, “papi? that’s new,” he questioned, his flexed arms crossed over his chest as you blinked with realization.

“oh! yeah, do you like it? s’just that you’re older than me, so i feel kinda stupid calling you baby,” you reasoned aimlessly, walking towards rafe as you carefully straddled his lap, your denim skirt riding up the curve of your plush ass as rafe nodded with a smirk playing on his handsome face. with an exasperated sigh, you bite back a blushing smile as you catch rafe’s eyes staring at your mouth, “do you really like it?” you press, suddenly overwhelmed and feeling a bit too vulnerable due to the externally close proximity between you and rafe.

“i love it, princess — it sounds even better than daddy,” he teases, nudging your tummy with his ringed finger, before sliding his hand up to the base of your throat, wrapping his long fingers around your neck in a gentle hold, “s’that what you think i am? m’your daddy, huh pretty girl?” he coos in a mocking tone, his lips pulling into a subtle pout as you nod, licking over your swollen lips as rafe watches you with lowly hung eyes.

with a cheesy smile, you nodded, “rafey, come on,” you whined.

“tell me, mama — who takes care of you?” rafe cooed, his handing gripping your throat just a bit tighter.

with a shaky inhale, you watched as rafe unbuttoned his khakis with his free hand, your mouth watering as he reached his hand beneath the waistband of his boxer, “you,” you sighed, licking over your swollen lips.

“who keeps that pretty little smile on that pretty face?” rafe breathes out, pulling his hardened cock out, allowing it to slap against his tight stomach, his thick mushroom tip leaking with sticky pre-cum.

letting out a needy whine, you lift your hips, reaching your small hand down to pull your dainty crème colored lace thong to the side, “you do, papi,” you slowly sink down onto rafe’s length, a throaty moan leaving your parted and puffy lips as rafe filled you to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed right underneath the curve of your plush ass.

staring up at you through his stringy curtain bangs, rafe leans his head back against the couch, gently pushing his large hand against the hardened part of your tummy, smiling in pride as he felt the slight bulge of his tip, “fuck — y’know i’ll always be your papi, princess,” rafe slides his hand to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest as he slowly fucks his hips up into yours, “m’always gonna take care of my baby,” rafe groans into you ear, relishing in the sound of your squelching pussy as he maintains his disgustingly slow and deep pace, soaking in every sound of your pretty little moans as your nails dig into the side of his neck.

#asks #anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #americana!reader

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gojosprettyprincess · 13 days

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Tw- Anal, Degradation, Buttplug usage mentioned, literally pure filth. So sorry for any errors.

Thinking about mean men with literally no fucking word filter, even if it's something embarrassing or weird he doesn't give a fuck, he loves seeing the way your cheeks get red while he whispers the dirtiest and weirdest shit to you while he's pounding you stupid.

Letting him fuck your ass was probably the worse idea ever, he had you bent over with your back arched uncomfortablely, face down ass up with your cute stringy thong pulled to the side with his cock stuffed in your asshole, he couldn't resist pushing it all the way in to the hilt, not with the way your tiny hole is squeezing and clenching around him sooo tightly.

"Fuckk baby look at that tight little asshole sucking on my cock like a lollipop" he groans, eyes rolling back of his head as he continues bullying his thick cock into your poor hole, heavy cum filled balls slapping against your clit as your cunt flutters around nothing. You kept your head buried into the pillow in embarrassment not daring to move as your muffled moans filled the room.

"Such a good little anal slut f'me aren't ya baby?What a fucking tight greedy hole you got here princess, might have to let me use this one more often" he smirks obviously knowing you can't respond to him or at least won't because he knows exactly what he's tryna do, he knows how shy you are with these things so why not have a little fun?

He brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing sloppy slow circles on it while landing a harsh slap on your ass cheek, the sudden sensation making your body jolt unexpectedly while you cry into the pillow, his cock pistoling into your stretched hole recklessly as he felt his balls tighten, he starts picking up the pace, strong hands gripping onto your waist as he quickly changes position, planting his feet on the bed as he hammers his fat girth into your ass deeper and deeper

"Holy fuck I'm gonna cum, gonna let me stuff this dirty hole full of my cum yeah? Then maybe I'd even plug it up with that cute heart plug I got you so you can walk around with my cum dumped deep in your butthole with the plug stuffing it in like the filthy anal slut you are, without a single soul knowing, yeah? Bet you'd like that, whore".

You couldn't help but whimper to his filthy words, needy pussy dripping and leaky on the bed to that nasty thought, he felt his dick twitching inside of you as your cockhungry hole spasms around him, sucking him even more and threatening to milk the life out of him, he looked down at where the two of you were connected and the way your asshole swallows and welcomes his cock in was well enough for him to blow his load deep in your ass, hot ropes of cum feeding your greedy hungry hole as he continues fucking you through it, fucking his semen deeper and deeper inside of you to make sure it's well buried deep so he can plug it up and take you to a dinner date after :3

Toji, Sukuna, Gojo, Bakugou, Geto, Dabi, Kirishima, Aizen, Simon Ghost Riley + Whoever you want.

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inkykeiji · 6 months

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characters: haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual somnophilia, rough sex, implied poly relationship, minimal prep, lots of cum words: 1.4k

the haitani brothers have fallen into a bit of a habit as of late. a nasty habit, a naughty habit, and, to them, a natural habit.

or so they’ve told you.

it’s become a part of their morning and nightly routines, the perfect way to start and end their days—by fucking you awake, and fucking you to sleep.

they’ve got a sort of system going now, working in perfect sync just like they always do, falling into step with one another efficiently, effortlessly.

as to be expected.

despite his aversion to waking up, ran has taken the morning shift. he’s careful with it, cautious with it, rousing you slow and soft and sweet as he sinks his cock into you, breathing out an airy little sigh against the nape of your neck as he watches your cunt stretch and strain around his girth, as he finally bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix and hips pressed flush to your ass, balls nudging you gently.

his favourite part will always be the way your face scrunches oh-so-cutely, features warped in pain—brow crinkled and nose crumpled—the moment he grinds himself into the sensitive mound of tissue, lazy and languid yet somehow still powerful and purposeful. his hips move in precise little gyrations, rubbing quick circles into your cervix until those stringy whines are oozing from your lips and soaking into your pillow, cheek still half-buried in the flesh.

those precious little sounds evolve into pitchy mewls and high moans, stammered by each hitch of your breath with each rub of his cock, climbing in volume and frequency as a dense pressure collects in the pit of your stomach, steadily pulling you further and further into consciousness.

ran presses his forehead to the crown of your head, rests it there and lets his eyes slip shut as he works into you, works to wake you up, gradual and gentle with shallow little thrusts, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging and rolling over that swollen spot buried deep within you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he relentlessly abuses with each and every sunrise, that spot that has you trembling and clenching and crying out his name as your cunt gushes slick all over him—so much, too much, and god, baby, you always make such a mess—sticky and slippery as it streams down his shaft and coats his thighs.

and it’s only after this, after he’s sure your orgasm has smashed through your unconsciousness and left you wide awake with pleasant mush for brains, that he will really fuck you just the way he likes to; swift, smooth strokes of his cock as his hips jackhammer that sometimes have you convulsing on him for a second time as he spills himself into you, a gasp of your name beautiful and breathless on his tongue.

it’s rare that ran will actually get up with you, usually falling back asleep a mere moment or two after he’s filled you with his cum, but him being awake was never the goal. as long as it has you rolling out of bed on wobbly legs and with dollops of ivory rolling down your inner thighs, he has succeeded.

resultantly, rindou has taken the night shift, though he doesn’t always come directly to bed even after he’s got your cream slathered all over his cock and your cunt stuffed full of his cum.

rindou isn’t really sure why his brother bothers with dressing you in such pretty little silk slips and lacy babydolls every evening, especially when he knows rindou’s just going to ruin them, stain them with cum or tear through them with overeager, too-strong fingers, but he lets ran have his fun with you anyway, waiting patiently as ran plays dolly.

but once you’re finally ready, teeth brushed and face washed and body outfitted in the cutest nightie money can buy (sans panties, of course), ran hands you off to his baby brother, often paired with an insouciant remark about being a little gentler this time—advice rindou never heeds, advice rindou accepts with equal apathy.

because as much as ran spews out those nonchalant reprimands and requests, they both love seeing you covered in rindou—all four of his fingers and his thumb, collaring your neck or cuffing your wrist or painted across your ass; all thirty-two of his teeth, engraved into your inner thighs or stamped right over your heart, deep and dark and congealed with blood.

besides, rindou argues, he has to be rough with you, has to fuck you hard and fast and so fucking ruthless—how else is he supposed to tire you out and get you to sleep?

he has to give you an orgasm so absolutely earth shattering that you need to pass out, to slip into full unconsciousness, to piece your world back together. he has to fuck you until your muscles are heavy and your bones have liquified under the immense pleasure, body turned to pliable putty so he can twist and curl and knot you into whatever position he pleases.

he has to fuck you until your words are nothing more that spit-soaked whines smeared across the sheets, until your lids are weighted with exhaustion and your lashes are bloated with tears, unable to stay open as your irises roll and reveal white, until your fingers go slack, cotton no longer tangled around your knuckles, grip loose and weak.

and then he has to fuck you some more, just for good measure, of course, sculpted muscles in his thighs flexing beneath smooth skin as his hips pound and plunge with such force the entire bedframe shudders, jostling your whole body up the mattress, your arms shaking as they try to keep you steady and still while pushing back against his snapping thrusts, his abs rippling with each thrust, his chest swelling with ragged breaths and hoarse groans.

it’s when your tongue is sloppy and your words are messy and melty and mangled together in a single matted stream that rindou knows you’re close—to cumming and to passing out—brain gone so adorably stupid with lust, only capable of stitching together a weeped out patchwork of rin-rin-rin; yes-yes-yes.

the head of his cock is assaulting that spot in perfect rhythm with your cute little chants, that spot that feels so good, rin, s’good, that spot he and his brother continually stain their names into in ivory and cream.

you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when your orgasm hits with all the intensity of a freight train, sending you tumbling over that cliff with a cracked gasp of his name, body gone rigid for a moment as pleasure seizes your form, little sparks of electricity zipping through your veins, blood left bubbling in their wake.

then you’re mollifying, sinking into the bed as his desire melts you to nothing, malleable in his palms as he molds you into whatever he needs.

a calm, deep slumber has already enveloped you by the time his cock is pulsing, pumping you full of thick cum—so much cum, too much cum, always, seeping out from around his shaft to roll down your ass and his thighs in fat beads of pearl, streaking your skin with shimmering streams of translucence.

it’s so pretty, he’s breathing as he watches it with voracious pupils outlined in a thin ring of violet. you’re so pretty when you’re coated in him; his seed, his tongue, his touch, his teeth, stained across the canvas of your body.

and even though he knows you won’t remember it by the time the sun is rising and his brother is fucking his cock into you, rindou takes his time to clean you up—to wash your skin and smooth down your pretty nightgown and swathe you in fluffy comforters, petting sweaty hair back from your forehead and temples, sealing his actions with chaste kisses.

they’re not much, but he hopes they make up for some of the pain and soreness he’s stained into your body tonight—a soft, tender, silent thank you.

he isn’t as good at it all as ran is, isn’t as thorough and meticulous and careful, but he does it nonetheless, because he enjoys it, because you deserve it, because he likes to take a moment or two just to admire you, on his own, alone, in the dead of the night.

an angel. his angel. their angel. pretty and precious and perfect in every way.

they couldn’t ask for anything better.

#haitani ran x reader #haitani ran smut #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani brothers smut #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten smut #haitani ran x you #haitani rindou x you

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gildedkrone · 8 months

Note

Jealous Ghost? Pre-relationship? A touch of angst? Maybe more angst? And I guess a dash of Comfort to soothe the soul of the faint hearted??

Does she know I'm tattooed onto your heart?🔞

This fic contains cheating trope. I do not condone cheating; the relationships in the fic are purely fictional. Exercise care in real life.

Relationships: Ghost x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: He seeks love and pleasure with another—you. Master List | Part 2

Skin slapping and wet noises. They are addictive as ever, and the man beneath you is breathless and panting. His skin is dripping with sweat and his mouth is on yours. You taste notes of bourbon and gets mouth fucked by the eager tongue. Pleasure is a time stopper, and you are it's keeper and watcher.

You've never had complaints about your ass, and you weren't going to get one now.

"Fuck, so fuckin' greedy, whore."

Simon, he said his name was Simon, is balls deep in you. Your mind is all frazzled by good dick and you struggle to string your words together with any sense of coherence.

"Anything for you, Simon."

He is dark, mysterious with a gravitating pull and you wasted no time in stripping when he pushed you onto the bed in the cheap hotel. A military man, he certainly didn't enjoy wasting any time to get right into business. Pent up didn't cover how he was feeling, going by how feral his thrusts were and the power behind his hips.

The dick is good, but you can't help feel guilt.

Simon is married. To a woman.

You're not a woman. You're a cheap whore of a man willing to take anyone's dick for cash.

"Always wanted to do this. Fuckin' piece of shit father—" a sharp thrust "—always gave me shit for liking men."

His technique isn't perfect but there's a semblence of experience behind it; he must have experimented with other men before. There's a photo of a woman in his wallet when he flashed the wad of cash.

"You're doing so well, Simon." He preens under your praise and renews his vigour. It's the best you've ever had and you look foward to his messages the most.

It's so fucking good and pleasure is a bolt of lust emanating from your hips up in milky spurts of cum from your untouched dick. His hands leave imprints in your hips and he fills you up nicely with a long orgasm tapering off into a kiss.

The afterglow with Simon is always a treat. He runs a hand through your hair and lays an arm across your chest. Your breathing eventually returns to normal and you gaze at him. Hazel eyes, short hair and several scars on his cheeks.

You broach the subject with much care. "You have a wife, Simon."

"She's not you."

"Do you love her?"

His shoulders stiffened before they relaxed. "Don't think I do. 'M stuck in an arranged marriage and in hell."

"Still—"

"Didn't pay you for advice, lad."

You shut your mouth wisely at the tone in his voice. You once believed his wife must be a really lucky person to have him. To be with him and in his wallet. You don't think so anymore. Not when he is here with you in a hotel room and cuddling against your flank.

When his arm leaves your chest, stringy cum drips onto you and he disappears into the toilet for a shower. When you are done, he is back in his jacket and trousers with a simple mask on. He flips through his wallet and leaves the cash on the bedside table. Simon is more generous than other men, often leaving excessive amount of cash for your services.

He points to the cash. "'s for you. I'll message you if I want more."

"Anytime, Simon."

The door shuts behind him and you count the stacks he left behind. He left a huge tip again and you pocket the cash. It's wrong, but wrongness is subjective as hell and heaven are and when you are taking him so nicely, wrongness is a far flung concept with no precedence here. No strings attached was the motto of most sex workers but its a lie to say you didn't have any sort of preference for him.

He is divine and something wicked and desire is fire to see him more often. Be his little starlet, always shining for him with the lust in your eyes. You wouldn't live it down if you broke their marriage, but if he wasn't a willing partner to his wife, who would hold it against you for being his secret?

Not especially when he is more man than any other you've slept with.

Part 2

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #ghost fanfiction #cod x male reader

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luveline · 8 months

Note

hurt/comfort for hotch

maybe he’s been having a hard couple of days at work and says something rude to reader, that he doesn’t mean, he’s just frustrated. then they talk it outttt<3

ty for requesting ♡ fem!reader, 1k

"Did you get wholemeal bread for Jack's lunch?" Aaron asks.

You wince where you're sitting at the table, closing the book you're reading over your fingers. "No. I knew I forgot something, I just couldn't remember what," you lament. You'll have to get some before the grocery store closes at nine.

You check your watch, a little silver thing that cost too much of Aaron's money, and you're so focused on telling time you almost miss his biting remark.

"It's fine," he says bitterly. "I'll get it in the morning. I shouldn't have asked you."

Your first instinct is to react in a similar fashion. "Ah, but you ask so little of me."

He flinches at your tone. You hate to see it, and regret what you've said immediately, but it's not as if he were being particularly kind himself. A weird, stringy silence pulls between you, a tightrope waiting to buckle. The first to walk will be the first to fall; with the mood he's in, he'll bite. Tonight, you're miffed enough to bite back.

Pissed, you stand up, grabbing your coat where it's draped across the table.

Aaron holds out a hand. "Wait a second."

"I don't want a fight," you say honestly. "It doesn't matter. I'll go get bread and we can forget about it."

"I don't want to forget about it. I'm not being fair."

You let your arms hang, coat in a ball against your thighs. "Aaron…"

"It wasn't fair. Sorry."

It obviously wasn't fair. Everyone forgets things no matter how hard they try, but you recognise that Aaron just got back from a week away. He's stressed, exhausted, and things need to feel normal for him. He asked you for something and you let him down.

"It's a loaf of bread, Aaron," you murmur, defeated. "I didn't mean to forget."

"I know." He rubs his brows, melting the last of your defences as he hangs his head.

To love someone, you have to give in. There are times where you feel hurt and you have to forgive him before you're strictly ready to do so, because he's his own worst enemy in times like this. Though it's harder now, because you're not used to his derision. Disapproval, silent annoyance, sure.

You put your coat down.

"Since when are you sarcastic?" you ask gently, stepping into his space. You tilt your head a touch to the side, braceleting the crook of his elbow in a loving hand.

His eyes crease at the corners, short wrinkles stark, shadows beneath them. "I haven't been sleeping well, away from you both," he says.

You trace the surface of his rough cheek with your eyes before bringing a tentative hand to it, thumb catching against stubble as you smooth it toward his ear. He doesn't smell like anything he usually carries, no aftershave or cologne nor laundry detergent, and the shirt he wears isn't sharply collared. It's safe to say he hadn't planned to be away that long, and even though he's home, he's not home yet in his head. You don't know how else to prove it, stroking his face, cheek in your palm, your other hand climbing his arm to rest over the hill of his pec. His heart capers under your touch.

"I didn't mean it," he says.

"I know," you say. Aaron often makes you feel small in the best way, his height, his naturally protective instincts, he stands by your side and you trust him to take care of you. You don't have to look out for yourself when he's in arm's reach. You aren't tall, aren't half as imposing, but you can try to offer him the same comfort.

"You just need to relax. I get that it's not as easy to leave your work at the door as you want, but you… it's hard for me too. I need your help," you say.

He closes his eyes.

"Sorry," you say softly. "For forgetting. And for being sore about it. You don't put too much on me."

"No, I do. You're right, I ask for a lot."

"I have a lot to give, Hotchner," you murmur.

He nods and you really do forgive him, then. You know he's only tired. You don't have to take it personally.

"Would you hug me?" you ask.

Take care of him by letting him take care of you; he's visibly and heartbreakingly relieved to be asked, wrapping his arms around you. You love the way he hugs no matter how he's feeling, like you're something that needs a gentle hand.

"Don't hug me too long, Paula's closes in twenty minutes."

His fingers spread over the small of your back. "It doesn't even matter. Jack asked me for wholemeal bread and turkey and I wanted to get something right for once."

"With mustard?" you ask.

"He's a weird kid sometimes," Aaron says. He gets a bit of pep back, giving you a sway from one side to the other. "I'll get the bread in the morning, and I won't act like an ungrateful idiot when I do."

"I don't think ungrateful is the right word."

"But idiot's fine?" Aaron asks, his laugh warming your cheek. He kisses it twice in succession, hands roving up, and up, before lifting his head to tuck you neatly beneath his chin. "It's right."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask coyly.

"Alright," he says with a laugh, his chuckle vibrating in your arms where you've curled them behind his neck.

"You're not an idiot–"

"No, because now I know you don't mean it," he says. Finally, some light in his tone, that playful drawl that demarcates Hotchner-style flirtation.

"You're not!" you say, leaning back enough to kiss the dip under his jaw. "You're just moody," you mumble into his skin.

"And you're too good to me."

"No, I'm not," you say. "You're better than you think."

He pats your back gently. "You're biassed, honey."

You're super biassed. "Nope. Totally impartial."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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pupcuck · 2 months

Text

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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fear-is-truth · 3 months

Text

DANGEROUS GIRL

【𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆】: kai anderson x fem!reader

【𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘】: in the midst of kai’s escalating paranoia and anxiety, you’re the one keeping him sane.

【𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒】: 18+; mdni | blood, profanity, handjobs, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected p in v

【𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓】: 1.3k

【𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘】: anonymous

Once again, today's meeting was abruptly cut short, a now familiar occurrence. Kai had vanished into his parents bedroom shortly after. Most of his henchmen had already left, and the remaining few were lingering around. Winter and Beverly sat silently at the living room, like a pair of anxious ghosts.

You sliced through pieces of starfruit, the rhythmic swish of the knife against the cutting board was a counterpoint to the silence.

When suddenly, Kai, wild-eyed and disheveled, burst into the room. His stringy blue hair was a tangled mess, dark circles hung beneath his eyes like crescent moons. In that momentary lapse, a sharp sting jolted through you. You glanced down to see a thin line of red seeping from your finger onto the wooden board. Fuck.

He really should stop popping those fucking pills like candy, you thought in irritation, stemming the steady flow of blood with a dish towel and watching Kai pace around the dining room with manic energy.

“It's here somewhere, I can still fucking hear it..” he muttered tersely, checking behind the framed photos on the wall, under the couch.

“They've got it out for me!" His words were punctuated by a fist slamming into the wall.

“Who are you talking about?” You tried not to sound too exasperated.

“The feds! They’ve planted bugs, all around this fucking house! How can you not hear that?! You don’t hear that? How can you not hear that?”

You glanced over at Winter’s direction, who was staring silently at her brother with a mix of fear and uncertainty as if she was looking at a raving stranger on the street. Something between the Andersons seemed to have shattered in the wake of Kai's escalating paranoia, and you really couldn’t blame Winter for that.

Taking the responsibility on your shoulders, you swiftly approached him, gently grabbing his strained arms. Almost instantly, Kai relaxed at your touch. He craved intimacy; especially from you. His erratic breathing slowed, and for a split second, a small smile graced his lips in response to your tight-lipped one. With a deep breath, you guided him down the hall, leading him into the guest bedroom before closing the door behind you. You turned around to face him.

“Deep breath. You can figure it out Kai, like you always do. You're our leader and we need you, okay?” You cooed in what you hoped was a soothing, maternal tone. It worked wonders; as he didn't hesitate to lean in, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Need me to help?” You asked gently.

“Fuck, you serious?”

“Oh yes,”

•••

His usual attire of hoodies and button-downs hid the broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, which was just a goddamn travesty. Your thumbs traced the subtle outline of his hipbones before disappearing underneath the army green shirt, snaking upwards over toned abs and muscular chest, each curve committed to muscle memory. Fingers gliding back down to the waistband of his jeans, pausing for just a second.

Hell, you hadn't even known you could find a man's hipbones attractive, you thought idly as you pulled down his boxers.

His breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around his cock. You begin rubbing against his slit, the blood from your hand acting as a lubricant. Your other hand slipped down to fondle with his balls and squeezed gently, drawing out a strained moan from him. You watched as his cock slowly rose upright from your mere touch, an impressive length in the palm of your hands.

Deciding it was enough, you knelt before him, lowering your mouth to his crotch and relaxing your jaw to accommodate his shaft. Kai slid inside you eagerly, the salty flavour of his pre-cum mingled with the metallic taste of your blood made you shiver in anticipation. Tongue started moving flat alongside the prominent veins that pulsated under your attention.

“Yeah... oh fuck, yeah just like that, nghmm..."

Kai tilted back his head with a groan. He was always loud in the bedroom, unabashedly so. You appreciated the lack of pretence on his part. If your pussy was the one place his cock was most familiar, then your throat definitely came in a close second. You surged forward slowly for him to push deeper. His tip probing the back of your throat, the brunette tufts of his pubic hair tickling your nose.

“Thaaat’s it. Attagirl,” he panted, gripping a fistful of your hair to the point it hurt, grinding your face against his pelvis. You felt him stiffen, before he yanked your head backward, pulling out of you so suddenly that you let out a small gasp. Strings of saliva connecting you to him as he looked down at you expectantly,

“Turn around,” Kai ordered, loosening his grip on your hair. You stared up at him. You swore that you were about to orgasm from the pulsating ache between your thighs alone.

“Turn. Around.” He repeated impatiently, crouching down to your eye level.

“We can’t. The others are still outside,”

Your half-hearted protest was met with strong hands grabbing your upper arms on both sides roughly to force you to turn around. His large palms cupped your breasts over your bra and found your nipples; already traitorously hard and awaiting for his attention. Then he shoved both cups up to allow better access.

“Winter and Bev will hear-”

You never got to finish your sentence, as he chose that exact moment to tweak your nipple, kneading the soft flesh of your breast with rough hands. A breathy moan escaped your lips, and you surrendered; knowing that when he began to yank down your jeans, there was no point in trying to fight back.

Kai shoved your upper body down against the floor, so that your ass was up in the air. The air-conditioned chill hit your exposed cunt, making you clench around nothing. He didn’t leave you waiting for long, though. You soon felt all of him against you, rubbing his tip tantalisingly against your slick entrance.

Never had you imagined yourself willingly allowing a man to take you in such a vulgar fashion - bent on your knees, him pounding relentlessly into you from behind. You had been embarrassed the first time, resentful at the second, and furious at yourself on the third time for enjoying it.

Obscene noises filled the bedroom- laboured panting, the wet slap of flesh on flesh, the occasional moan of Kai’s name exiting your lips.

There was no way the others couldn’t hear what was going on. Kai fucked into you fast and hard, and you cried out at the glorious sensation of him filling you, making you feel complete in ways you never imagined possible.

This was what it felt like when he didn’t hold back. Taking you with no mercy.

You liked him best like this.

It wouldn’t take long for you to come, not the way he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. Kai drove into you one last time with a strained shout, burying himself to the hilt. You weren’t sure exactly when your orgasm ended and where his began. Just that it was so powerful that it made your vision go white and turned your bones into jelly. The vice-like grip on your hips slackened, and you could feel his cock continuing to twitch and spasm as he thrust lazily inside you, grinding his cum as deep as it could go.

He planted a gentle kiss on the spot below your ear. Kai was always like that, opting for you not to see his face after you both came—those fleeting moments of vulnerability were entirely his own, shielded even from you. After a good, hard fuck, Kai would award you with a kiss, or even better, an “I love you” before seamlessly slipping back on his mask of cold indifference.

You treasured moments like these, cradling them to your chest like a string of delicate, lustrous pearls that, despite often feeling like barbed wire digging into your heart, whispered a silent truth – he loved you, as much as he was capable of loving, anyway.

•••

“Speaking about bugs.. does that mean that you think there’s a mole in the cult?” You asked moments later, refastening your jeans and tucking in your blouse.

“Do you have someone specific in mind?”

Kai frowned slightly at the question, considered, then shook his head slowly,

“Not yet,” he admitted, already heading towards the door. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“You’re still bleeding for fucks sake.. Let’s do something about your hand first,”

【𝐀/𝐍】: thanks for reading!! english is not my first language, i apologise for the grammatical/spelling errors. i really tried.

taglist: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @loveletter-inblood @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @stveharringtn @nickrhodeslittledarling @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend

+ comment or send an ask to be on my taglist!

#american horror story #kai anderson #ahs cult #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #ahs #kai anderson smut #ahs kai #ahs season 7

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1d1195 · 1 month

Text

Ding - Round 1

I had this little idea. The meeting came to me in a dream, no word of lie. Classic little trope, I know. I'm hoping to work in some smuttier things down the line. Hope I do it justice and you like it 💕 Erring on the side of caution; probably not suitable for Ramadan

You'll be able to read the rest here eventually: Ding

~3.8k words

As she did the wind took her door not much, nor hard but enough to bump into the car beside her.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes, still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It was cold and rainy all day long. It made her want to curl up in a ball with a good book on her sofa and not get up for hours and hours. The kind of day where she wished she wasn’t an adult, and she was back home. Back when her dad would make her hot chocolate, they would watch old movies, and he would give insider information into all the hubbub that happened behind the scenes. How the actors interacted and when the props failed or something of that nature.

Her father was a great film critic. But he always said “even ‘bad’ movies have good.” She had seen tons of movies. Summers during school were filled with at least one movie a night. Sick days were made for marathoning series. When they weren’t watching movies, he was taking her to baseball games, teaching her how to cook—“the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, honey”—and making sure that she knew how to be spoiled by any man that deigned to enter her life. She was handy around the house and fiercely independent.

As much as she enjoyed cooking with her dad, baking was her real passion. She loved the science of baking: how butter affected cookies, temperature changed the consistency of cakes, and nothing made her happier than playing with baking powder and baking soda to change the rise of her pastries.

It led her to this spot. This little bakery. School for business and plenty of classes on cooking and baking. At the age of twenty-seven she was extremely lucky; for the last three years her business had been so successful. It was in local and state magazines about a hot spot for tourists and one of those shops that everyone just loved.

She wished her dad could see it but knew he would be proud of her regardless.

A strong gust of wind pulled her from her thoughts. There was a late-night closing report she needed to go over—a favor to her regular closer who needed to get home to her little baby. But really, A Pinch of Sprinkles was her baby and she loved to be in the little shop that smelled like the cupcakes she loved making.

She zipped her coat up, pulling her hood over her hair. It was hardly any further than a 40-yard dash to her little bakery door but in a steady rain like this, she thought not even her rubber boots would be enough to keep her dry for the short little sprint she would have in just a moment. She thought of her dad again, who would have run around to her door and held an umbrella over her head before getting out in the rain. With a deep, sad sigh, she braced herself, opened her door and reached for her umbrella and purse on the passenger seat.

As she did the wind took her door. It wasn't much, nor hard to create real havoc, but enough to bump into the car beside her. “Fuck,” she hissed getting out quickly, her belongings be damned her hair getting wet and stringy almost immediately. She slammed her door shut, turned to the car beside her, and made eye contact with the person in the driver’s seat. Her lips parted slightly, heart hammering in her chest. There was hardly anything more than a bit of a ding on the the stranger's car but the unmoving gaze that returned from the front seat intimidated her immensely.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It felt like thunder was inside her chest, the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. An intimidating man, his hair not quite buzzed off but not quite much more than an inch or two long, deep, soulful eyes. His gaze didn’t drop from hers. It was like he was having a staring contest.

“I... am... so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified. It wasn’t that she was terrified of men. But in a dark parking lot and someone who looked so intimidating... well it was a modern-day-female nightmare.

The man smiled and suddenly he was no longer intimidating. Dare she say, he was even cute. The left half of his mouth quirked up and he glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel, tapped a quick rhythm on it, and turned back to her. “S’okay,” he shrugged, rolling the window back up. He stepped out into the rain in the same motion, rain not bothering him as it began to soak his hair and slid down his face. The man was gorgeous. A walking ad for raincoats and umbrellas. He meandered over to where she stood. Her heart still pounded now for an entirely new reason. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reached for the blemish on his car. “See, jus’ a ding,” he rubbed his fingers over the little indent a few times before turning back to meet her gaze again.

His grin was adorable.

The air came out of her in a whoosh loud enough to rival the one that took her door right into his car. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” she promised.

He chuckled. “S’fine, love,” he assured her. “S’jus’ a ding,” he repeated with a shrug.

By now she was drenched. It wasn’t a downpouring, but the steadiness of the raindrops won out. Without any regard to how she was stood still between the two cars—soaking the inside of her seat as well—he leaned in, grabbed her purse, umbrella and closed the door behind him. Honestly, it didn’t even cross her mind that he was going to rob her. That alone should have raised about ten alarm bells in her head. Instead, for whatever reason, she felt safe.

He handed her own bag to her. It felt so strange. Like she didn’t know what to do with it. He paid no mind to her uneasiness. Without any acknowledgment of their weird meeting and their even weirder interaction thus far, he opened the umbrella and held it over the pair of them to keep a little dryer—even though they were both already soaked.

“Let’s go,” he put a hand on her lower back to usher her out from between the cars.

Reality and her brain finally restarted in her head. “Excuse me? Go where?”

He shrugged. “Well... y’did ding m’car. Assumed y’could at least come with me.”

“Come with you where?” She repeated incredulously.

“Oh right, sorry. D’you have plans? A date?”

“Well...no...”

“Great,” he tiled his head in gesture toward their current path, the opposite direction of her bakery.

“Can you tell me where it is you want me to go?” But she was already following the gentle touch on her back to keep her moving in his current direction. She should have felt unsafe. This was unnatural. How could she not be scared?

He pointed at the municipal building—it was old and pretty. Pretty typical for a little tourist area. Lights caught the raindrops that fell to the ground that hung from ancient looking black iron sconces. Steps up to the main doors were cobblestone and probably brand new as they were replaced over the years. Back in the day it was probably home to many rousing mini-city debates. It was hard to imagine back then it would ever become the bustling little tourist center it was at present. “Y’ever been in?” He asked.

She shook her head. It was like he was a truth serum wrapped in a hot body. There was nothing to explain her reasoning to answering him. “Not since I was little. My dad took me to a magic show here.”

“Well, s’not quite as magical, but s’a fight tonight.”

“A fight?”

“Boxing.”

“Boxing?” She repeated.

“M’not trying t’be rude, are y’hard of hearing?”

“What? No,” she shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “Why?”

“Y’keep repeating everything I say,” his ever-present half-smile was mocking her.

She scowled at him, shook her head again, and halted them in the middle of the rainy sidewalk. “Please stop walking. I’m so confused,” she put her hands on her temples. Why was she even following him? She didn’t need to be with him right now. She could have walked the other direction just as easily and told him to take a hike.

“Mmm... I’d rather not, I’ve got t’get ready,” he explained inching further along the path with the umbrella in his hand still. “M’on the first card.”

“Let’s try this again,” she stood her ground. Deciding now that if he were a serial killer, it would be too late but at least she could have the satisfaction of trying. “I don’t know your name and contrary to my current actions I'm actually very wary of strangers. But I own the bakery right over there in the main square. I was going to run the closing report. I’ll wait there until your fight is over,” she suggested--where she at least had security cameras set up and would have proof of a stranger murdering her with a baking sheet. “You can come get my insurance info then,” she spun quickly away from him, and started back toward the direction of the bakery; he could keep the umbrella.

“Your bakery?” He asked, following her a few paces back.

“Yes. A Pinch of Sprinkles. It’s right over there,” she gestured to the main bustling little square.

“You own the bakery: A Pinch of Sprinkles?”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

He snorted at her and smirked once more. “Alright,” he sighed holding his hands up in surrender. “M’Harry. M’in a boxing match tonight. M’normally in there by now getting ready. But this really pretty girl dinged m’car,” his smile was so boyish for someone who scared the lights out of her only minutes before. “And y’did kind of promise t’come with me as payment,” he looked at her knowingly.

“I did not promise that,” her tone was defensive. “I said I would pay for the dent to be fixed.”

“I know y’did. S’very nice of you. S’not what I want. This is how I want you t’pay me.”

“By coming to watch your fight?”

He nodded eagerly. But she saw his eyes scanning her. He was still holding her umbrella while she continued to get soaked. Her dad would have a conniption at the sight of a stranger holding her umbrella and not keeping her dry. But it didn’t bother her. If anything, she kind of liked it if only because it gave her a chance to look at how adorable he was holding her flowery umbrella when she knew the embodiment of intimidation was going to punch someone at three-minute intervals.

Harry stepped closer, bringing her back under the umbrella. “Look... If y’really need t’go to your bakery, then no, of course m’not going t’stop you. But if it can wait, then s’how y’can repay me,” he shrugged. They were huddled close together under the umbrella. Her hair was a wet stringy mess. She knew very little about boxing. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky and The Eye of the Tiger. That was about the extent of her knowledge. Boxing wasn’t one of the major sports her dad imparted his wisdom about to her.

“You want me to go to your fight as payment for your car dent?”

“Are y’going t’jus’ keep saying the same thing as me but as a question all night?” She knew she was repeating herself again. She pursed her lips to refrain from asking another question. “C’mon, Cupcake... m’really starting t’run late here,” he pointed to his wrist with an imaginary watch.

Cupcake.

What was she getting herself into?

She took a deep breath trying to calm the bit of nerves. “I’m not really a go with the flow kind of girl. I have a lot of questions.”

He smiled sweetly. Nodded like he expected such an answer, like he knew her already. “M’sure you do,” he agreed. “But... I really need t’go in. Like right now. Louis is going t’kill me if I don’t appear in front of him four minutes ago. When the fight’s over, I’ll walk y’to A Pinch of Sprinkles. We’ll run y’closing report and I’ll answer every question y’have.”

It took every bit of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from repeating him again. We. “There’s also the whole... I don’t know you at all, thing,” she reminded him stepping out from the umbrella again. “Seems like a bad idea on my part.”

It was almost moot though. Even she heard the way her voice sounded like she was caving as she said it. He stepped closer again. “You’re right. S’good instincts that I admire y’have,” he held his phone out to her, the screen catching a few drops of rain. “S’my niece,” he told her of the baby on the lit screen. She was only a few months old based on the picture. “She’s got me wrapped around m’finger and she’s barely old enough t’even see me and know m’holding her. Least that’s what m’sister Gemma says,” he shrugged. The adoration, the love in his voice made her stomach flip. It was unbelievably adorable this scary man was in love with a little baby. His voice was so sweet, it made her feel at ease. “I grew up with Mum and Gemma,” he looked her squarely in the eye. “I know m’about t’go in there and punch another grown man, but m’not dangerous. Especially not towards a girl who parked in a dark parking lot who owns a bakery with a sprinkles pun," her heart softened. “I know y’have questions, Cupcake. But I really need t’go in there,” he was growing the slightest bit impatient. “Louis is gonna send Niall out looking for me and then m’screwed. I need y’decision either way.”

It was perhaps her dumbest idea ever. Even stupider than when she tried to make peanut butter cookies without peanut butter to make them allergy friendly. “Are you going to win?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Think so. Especially if you’re there as m’good luck charm," he winked.

When she thought about this in the future or when she ended up on a true crime TV episode, it would be this moment that thousands and millions of people would say "how could she be so stupid?"

But she started for the building ahead of him, anyway. He fell into step beside her holding the umbrella over her again. “Probably not a good idea to put stock into me when I just dented your car.”

“S’jus’ a ding, Cupcake,” he smiled. “Something t’remember y’by.”

She couldn’t believe how quick and flirtatious he was. He knew all the right things to say and wasn’t even the least bit nervous it seemed. When he went into the ring or something she would have to Google his name and see if she accidentally made a fool of herself talking to a professional boxer. “You’re something else.”

They entered the building from a back door guarded by a man who gave Harry a nod as he ushered the sweet girl inside. “You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” A blonde man with an Irish accent asked, running his hand through his hair right as the guard at the door pulled the door shut from the outside. “I was just about to go see what happened this time,” he started back down the hall, deeper into the building. “He’s losing his mind,” he warned.

Harry shrugged. “Met a girl,” he smiled back at her. “She owns the bakery. She’s gonna be my good luck charm”

“Oh, you’re the reason for my freshman fifteen,” the blond man wiggled his eyebrows at her as he turned to her as well.

“Cupcake, this is Niall, he’ll keep an eye on you,” he assured her.

“Cupcake, hmm?” Niall chuckled. “Louis’ gonna kill you,” he skipped ahead of Harry. “Found him!”

“Harold you better have been held at gunpoint!” The shout was nearly hysterical as they approached the open room.

“He was just talking to Cupcake,” Niall was nearly giggling. Louis, she presumed, wasn’t the least bit amused. His face was hard. His blue eyes cold, his jaw as sharp as his words.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he ordered.

Harry rolled his eyes and winked in her direction. “Hold this for me?” He asked, handing her his phone. The picture of the little babe illuminated the screen and a message from Mum was previewed on the screen so she couldn’t help but read, “Good luck honey bunny!” With about ten four-leaf clover emojis and just as many hearts. It warmed her heart so much to see the message on this scary man’s phone. She had doubts now that he was going to murder her later. A murderer wouldn’t have a supportive mom like that, right? Or a picture of their niece as their phone background? “See y’in a bit, Cupcake,” he gave her arm a squeeze and leaned her umbrella beside the door leading into the next room.

Niall was sipping a beer from a clear cup. “Y’ready, Cupcake?”

She snorted, sticking his phone into her purse alongside hers and nodded. “Sure. M’gonna have a lot of questions.”

He laughed. “Well, I have a lot of questions for you,” he promised pushing a set of double doors and into a thrumming, crowded arena.

It was definitely not a magic show.

Blinking, Niall put a gentle hand on her back and leaned toward her ear so she could hear better. “How do you know Harry?”

“I don’t,” she shouted back to be heard over the crowd. There were people getting things set up, announcements being made, and the like. There were people cheering and she couldn’t believe how big the boxing ring looked. The only boxing ring she had ever seen was the one in Rocky. Moreover, the only thing she knew about that ring was that the audience in the movie was given a free chicken dinner for showing up to the arena and they dimmed the lights, so it looked like more people were there. “My car door hit his car.”

“You hit Clay?”

“Who’s Clay?”

“His car!”

“He named his car, Clay?”

“Like Cassius Clay?”

Again, she didn’t know much about boxing, but she realized immediately that Harry named his car after the greatest heavyweight boxer ever. Oh, Lord. What did you get yourself into? She thought to herself. “Er… yeah… I guess so.”

“And he didn’t...” Niall drifted off curiously. “Hmm,” it seemed he surmised something in his head but didn’t let her in on the secret. He gestured to a chair that was front and center of the corner of the ring for her to sit. He took the seat beside her and leaned close as she spoke to him again. “How do you know Harry?”

“We’ve been best friends since Uni,” he shrugged. “Been icing his bruises for years.”

She nodded. “I see. Are you recently graduated? You said freshmen fifteen?”

Niall laughed. It was contagious. Made her feel safe still. The whole last ten minutes were surreal. She really followed a stranger to a boxing match. She was sitting with his best friend asking questions about someone she hardly knew. “Just a joke, Cupcake. You are single handedly responsible for my recent weight gain since you moved into town. Well, you and that Irish soda bread you made last March. It tasted like home.”

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I was so nervous about it!”

Talking about sweet treats and breads and cupcakes was more her speed. “Oh, it was perfect, Cupcake. Rivaled my nan’s.”

Well, maybe Harry wasn’t so scary.

At least his friends were nice. Although... “Louis hates me, doesn’t he?” The thought of someone hating her, even though she didn't even know him made her sad.

Niall rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just so sick of Harry being late. Thinks because he’s undefeated on this circuit he can do whatever he wants.”

“Undefeated?” She was grateful Harry wasn’t there to hear her question repeating the same thing Niall said again.

“Not much of a boxer are you, Cupcake?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

He chuckled. “Harry’s very good. You’ll see.” Clearly. What did he need a good luck charm if he was already undefeated. She really needed to research him.

As if he heard his own name, he dropped into the seat across from her. It would be inside the ring between rounds but for now it allowed him to gaze at the pretty girl he met moments before. “Hi Cupcake,” his smile was sugary—and she knew sugar.

“Hi,” she murmured, willing her eyes to stay focused on his face and not his bare torso. A litany of tattoos painted his skin and a pair of vines dipped into the band of the shorts he wore. Everything was black. His shorts, his tattoos, his shoes, and his gloves. She could see tape going up half the length of his forearm keeping the bottom of his gloves in place.

“That’s a record for you getting ready. Must be your good luck charm,” Niall nudged her with his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you those soda breads were delicious?”

Harry kept his eyes on her and nodded. “Y’did.”

“Told you,” Niall assured her.

“Wouldn’t shut up ‘bout them,” Harry was unmoving, his body, his gaze. His phone was in her purse. He was looking at her like she was pretty, and she knew her makeup and hair was ruined by the rain. “M’a bigger fan of those raspberry filled cupcakes of yours,” he told her. “S’like heaven in a cupcake.”

“Harry, I swear to God!” Louis shouted.

Harry smiled ruefully, winked at her again and finally moved, heading back toward the sound of Louis’ voice. “Niall, don’t let her leave, yeah?”

Niall saluted him and she watched him leave again. She cleared her throat, turning in her seat toward the door, she exited to get to her ring-side seat. “Good luck, Harry,” she called, unsure if he would hear her over the building crowd.

Harry turned back right as he got to the door and winked again. “Thanks Cupcake,” he called back loud enough for everyone to hear that he was talking to her. Niall chuckled, shook his head, and put a friendly arm across the back of her chair.

He was kind enough to lean to her ear so that others wouldn’t hear the next thing he said because it made her blush and nearly melt to the floor right in front of Harry’s best friend and the very ring, he would be punching another grown man in just a few minutes. “Hope you like your boyfriends like your frosting, Cupcake. Because that man is already whipped for you.”

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #ding #⭐️

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coryosbaby · 5 months

Note

anal / rimming with coryo? skip if you don’t feel comfortable!

♡ Content Warning . 18+ mdni !! Switch but mainly sub coryo <3

— Coryo’s got his hands plastered at his sides, blonde curls sticking to his forehead in sticky strands. He’s so whiny, regardless of the dominance over you, as he watches you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Your tongue laves over the underside of his cock, tasting the stringy precum soaking his aching cockhead. He breathes out a heavy sigh, his head tilted back against the headboard.

“Feels so good,” he murmurs, licking his lips sweetly. “Feels so, so good, baby. Keep doing it juuust like that.”

You hum, and teasingly you pull your tongue away. He lets out a gasp of breath, his hand threading in your hair as he tries to shove you back down onto him. You grab his hand, quick to shove it down beside his lean hips. He chuckles, something low and dark, and heat creeps up your neck.

“What? You wanna try and be the one in charge this time? Go ahead, sweetheart, you won’t last a second.”

Your jaw clenches. Coryo knows you’ll throw him into subspace as quick as lightening. His challenge doesn’t go unnoticed to you, and you reach down to grasp his balls in your hand. His lashes flutter, a surprised gasp escaping him, as you move your mouth over them, too. You nuzzle your face into him, breathe in his scent with a deep sigh.

“You think I won’t make you beg, Coryo?” You murmur softly to him. “Cmon, beg.”

“N-Not that easy,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Try harder.”

“Hm.”

You bite your lip, leaving soft kisses on his inner thighs and his heavy sack. Your tongue moves lower, past the space behind his balls. Your hands grab his legs and pull him up, just a bit, to spread him out more. Your tongue presses in between his cheeks.

The boy suddenly whines, sweet and sultry, his mouth open into an o and his pale skin turning dusty pink.

“W-Wait—“ he stutters out, but you just grin. If he didn’t want this, he’d use the safe word. And as of right now, he isn’t.

“No, no. Have to try harder, right?”

“You’re so mean.” He says, pouting. His dominance has faded, as it always does. All it takes is one little swipe of your tongue against his hole to make him a whimpering, bratty mess.

“Oh? I am?”

You make a faux gesture of pulling away, but Coryo lets out a pathetic cry.

“No! No, please come back, mommy, ‘m sorry…”

And just like that, that name spilling past his lips, you know you’ve got him in your clutches.

You smile, your index finger trailing up in between his legs to touch that special place he’s reserved just for you. You tease his hole with your fingertip, not quite slipping it in yet because it isn’t wet enough— but you still have fun watching the boy squirm.

“Please, mommy,” he pleads. “Stick your fingers in me, please.”

Your fingers lave over his lips.

“Get them wet for me, sweet boy.”

He suckles the digit onto his pretty tongue, drooling all over them with ferocity and impatience. You pull them out and tease one over his hole again. You push in slowly, as to not hurt him, and you crook your finger just how he likes it. Watching his hole swallow your finger so greedily makes slick drip down your thighs.

“Oh,” he whines out, when you add another finger. “Baby. Baby baby baby…”

It’s all he can say, as you fingerfuck his tight little asshole with your mouth, whispering vulgar phrases against his ear. He groans when your head travels back down.

You pull out your fingers, much to his dismay, but not before you’re using your thumbs to pull his cheeks apart and expose his clenching hole. Your tongue lolls out, licking a long stripe up the skin there, and his legs shake.

“Mommy..” he cries, his hands burying themselves in your hair once again. You begin to prod at his hole with the warm, wet muscle, sliding in one finger beside your tongue so you can hit that special spot inside him that has him keening. Rubbing up against his rim, pushing your tongue back in— in and out, in and out. Coryo’s thighs practically wrap around your head like a girl, and you wonder how a powerful, usually dominant man can be reduced to such a whiny, needy slut.

His cock isn’t being touched, but it’s twitching against his stomach, red and flushed. He watches with fluttering lashes as pleasure courses through him and he cums, squirting weak ropes of spend all over his tummy.

And he’s so cute like that, cumming all over himself from just your tongue on his tight little hole <3 he just loses it whenever you touch him there.

#Coriolanus snow #bratty lxndry444 #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #sub! Coriolanus snow #bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #thg #thg fanfic #the hunger games #hunger games #Tom blyth

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radioactiveparker · 15 days

Text

The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader

Part Two - Low Tolerance For Dehydration

Chapter Summary - We begin to learn the truth about why these kids are the way they are. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / Kleptomania / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Drug References / Stereotyping / Angst

Word Count - 7.2k

(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)

(Part One)

-----

Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hawkins High Library.

10:30am.

~~~~~

After that rather thrilling event courtesy of Eddie Munson and Principal Higgins, the next two hours went on forever.

The grinding of gears, the hum of the electric motor, and the movement of the clock's hands invaded the silence. The second hand made a rapid clicking sound. You counted each one. At twenty-second intervals, the minute hand squeaked. The clock sounds became the percussion for a lullaby that almost lulled you to sleep.

Eddie remained seated next to you, spending the better part of an hour sulking that he had just wrecked the rest of his winter. The rest of the time, he spent scratching markings into the table with his car keys (which you immediately told him to stop out of annoyance. He ignored you, of course) and counting all the pictures he can see in the medullary rays of the wood. In his mind, he connected the lines and dots. Before his eyes, they formed the crude outline of a shapely woman with her legs rudely spread apart. He used the notebook paper to cover it up. He did not want to spend the next five and a half hours with a boner he couldn't get rid of. Especially one given to him by something as ridiculous as an imaginary table lady.

Steve was lazily picking off the fuzz of a tennis ball that he found in the lost and found box behind the front desk, piling it up in a small illuminous heap. The bald patches reminded him of principal Higgin's round, balding head. He picked at it harder, really digging his fingernails into the stringy felt like it had personally offended him.

Nancy was trying to write her paper. Normally, the undisturbed silence would be prime time to work on an essay, but she began staring off into space, her mind wondering. All she had managed to write was a title 'Who Am I?', her name, the date, and the time. Each time she would bring herself back to reality, she would check her watch, then erase the time and write the new one.

Robin was hunched over, hidden in her hair as she scribbled over her cherry red converse. She wrote whatever came to mind; her name, milk duds, a drawing of the top half of a naked woman, a copy of her fingerprint. She kept going until the red had almost disappeared.

You rested your head in your palms, eyes looking up as you counted the tiles on the ceiling. You got to thirty eight when Eddie nudged you. You opened your mouth to scold him for making you lose count, when he slid a sheet of paper over to you. He'd drawn a tic-tac-toe grid and placed an X in the centre square. You grabbed a pencil and drew a circle in the top right corner, deciding to keep him entertained before he starts causing more trouble. He smiled cutely when you slid the paper back to him.

The two of you played until both sides looked like a gingham tea towel. Much to your distaste, you lost 38 - 43. Eddie pulled tongues as the victor and you decided then to never play tic-tac-toe with Eddie again; you didn't want his head getting bigger than it already was.

The library door swung open and Principal Higgins stood with a scowling face.

"All right. Who has to go to the rest room?"

All hands shot up.

Higgins gave a single nod, signalling that everyone could get out of their seats. You groaned in relief when your spine cracked, though you still had pins and needles in your left foot and your butt was numb from sitting on it for too long. The Principal lead you all down the hall to the restrooms, where he unlocked them with a jingling of keys.

"Two minutes for the boys. Three minutes for the girls." He stared at his watch like he was already starting the count down.

"How come they get an extra minute?" Eddie complained, pointing at the group of girl who all had their arms crossed, looking at him like the answer was obvious.

"Try and remember your biology, Munson." Principal Higgins rolled his eyes, still staring at his watch.

"Oh, right. Does that mean Harrington gets another minute?"

Annoyed, Steve pushed through into the bathroom. Eddie followed behind, laughing manically.

The two of them rarely used the schools restroom, even for Eddie who was kind of a slob, they were too disgusting. Students only ever really used them to hide when skipping classes. The walls were covered in graffiti and a few of the tiles were cracked, and there was always something on the floor that made the bottom of their shoes sticky. They didn't even want to try to guess what it was. Steve stood in front of the urinal and unzipped his jeans. Eddie hopped onto the countertop and fished through his hair to retrieve the cigarette from behind his ear.

"You want one?"

Steve took a peek behind him. "Oh yeah, ten of 'em please. I need to prove I'm a man."

"Whatever man." That was the last time Eddie would offer Steve anything ever again.

He fumbled in his pocket, took out a lighter and lit his cigarette.

Meanwhile, the state of the girls bathroom wasn't much better. The floors were less sticky, but there was always tissue all over the place, and a funny smell in the air.

"Is this a drag, or what?" You looked at your tired eyes in the reflection and started complaining about them to the girls.

Nancy rummaged through her purse, pulling out perfume bottles, make-up, compacts, brushes; an incredible amount of things that she probably didn't need. Nancy very helpfully let you borrow the make-up out of her bag. You were looking as good as new in no time.

"You want one?" Robin pulled out a pack of spearmint gum and stuck one in her mouth.

You looked at her repulsed. "Robin, you can't eat in the bathroom. What if you get VD of the mouth or something!"

She paused like she hadn't thought about that. She quickly walked to the sink and washed her hands. She grabbed a paper towel to dry them and then used it to open the door. She held the door open with her foot, wadded up the paper towel and made a three pointer into the waste bin. A shot that even Steve would find impressive, even if she did surprise herself making it in the first place. She didn't show that though.

"You're into washing your hands, but you eat inches away from a live toilet?"

She gave you an offended glare her, and left the bathroom, letting the door close on you and Nancy. You turned to Nancy and gave her a look that said 'I'm not crazy for thinking that am I?'.

"I mean that was a little disgusting, but you could have worded it a bit nicer."

She walked out, leaving you wondering whose side she was on.

"I didn't mean to upset you." You called after Robin. "I was just reacting to something I thought was seriously weird. I mean, I'll listen if you needed some one to talk to about it."

Robin didn't give you the time of day, just rolled her eyes to herself. She didn't appreciate the way you worded your apology; like she was the one with the problem.

"Let's go. Shake it off!" Higgins called into the boys bathroom.

Even with the extra minute you were given, the girls still managed to be done before the boys. Eddie opened the door, smelling strongly of tobacco.

"Where's Harrington?"

"Drowned." Eddie said bluntly.

The Principal crossed to the door and peaked his head in. "Alright, Harrington, c'mon. Lets go!"

Steve made a few final adjustments to his hair, raking his fingers through it to position his chestnut curls perfectly on his head. Principal Higgins dragged him out before he could finish.

~~~~~

11:30am

~~~~~

You laid across three chairs as some sort of make shift bed and tucked your coat underneath your head for a pillow. You had planned to take a nap, but Nancy had decided to sharpen her pencil. The winding and grinding of the sharpener grated your ears. She knew she was making a lot of noise, but she couldn't seem to get a good point on her pencil. She took it out of the sharpener, blew the dust from the tip, and examined it before shoving it back in. She had three quarters left of her pencil.

Steve had a straight leg on the front table and reached over to touch his toes, stretching his hamstring. How he did it in those jeans was beyond you. His little grunts of effort and heavy breaths as he switched legs annoyed you almost as much as Nancy's sharpening. Robin was in her same seat, picking at her black, chipped nails in her lap and chewing her gum loudly out of spite. How you had gone from sitting in hours of silence, to a sudden ruckus when you wanted to sleep was just your luck.

Eddie had chosen to sit in front of you on the table, ripping out pages of textbooks from the history section.

Nancy winced at each tear. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Princess? I'm vandalising public property." He said it like it was obvious, loudly ripping another page to emphasise his point. "You get off on being stupid, or something?"

"You're such a waste."

Eddie placed the book gently on the table, giving it a few taps for good measure. He sat up straight, hands on his knees like a teachers pet. He nodded sarcastically in agreement. "You're absolutely right. It's wrong to destroy literature. It's such fun."

He jumped down off the desk, kicking up loose pages as he stalked over to his next victim: the card files. He pulls out the entire draw completely and lugged it back over to his spot on the desk. The unexpected slam of it on the table startled you, and you sat up with a huff. There was no way you were getting sleep any time soon.

Nancy scoffed as he began yanking the catalogue cards out and putting them back in a random order, creating a horrible mess for someone to sort out later. She continued to grind the sharpener.

"Big deal." You mocked her, she and the sharpener were really starting to get on your nerves. "It's not like there's anything better to do."

Eddie was impressed. He turned to you. "You grounded tonight?"

His question threw you off, but you knew there was definitely more to it. "No, why?"

He looked surprised that you weren't, but he didn't know that your parents weren't even aware you were here in the first place. "Reefer Rick is throwing a Halloween party down by Lover's Lake tonight. Wanna come?"

Apparently, all it took was a few games of tic-tac-toe to get into Eddie's good books. There was a part of you that wanted to go. It was another excuse to get away from your parents, but you didn't want to imagine the shit you would get from Carol if she found out you had gone to a party with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. Then Billy crept back into your mind. Your blood went cold at the thought. You knew he wasn't here, but you expected him to come charging through the doors any second now. You had to make sure he knew you weren't interested in Eddie. You didn't want another repeat of this morning.

"Why would I want to go to that crackhead's place? I'll probably catch a disease."

Eddie looked a little disappointed and a little offended that you had insulted his friend, but he hid it well. So why did you feel kind of bad?

You looked up at him with big eyes. "I mean, my mom doesn't like me going to parties anyway."

"What about your dad?"

"If I do what my mom doesn't want me to it's because my dad says it's okay. And if I do what my dad doesn't want me to it's because my mom says it's okay. It's like this whole big monster deal. It lasts forever and it's a total drag. It's like any minute: divorce." You hated talking about your parents, but I felt good to get off your chest. Carol and Tommy never cared to ask.

"Who do you like better?"

"Huh?"

"You like your old man better than your mom?"

"They're both screwed." You sighed. You didn't like where this conversation was headed anymore. Nancy had stopped sharpening her pencil and you could feel everyone listening in.

"If you had to pick?"

"I don't know. I mean, they must have loved each other at some point, but I guess I wasn't around for that part. So I don't think any of them really care about me either. They just use me as ammunition in their little wars."

"HA!" Your response had provoked a laugh from Robin. A laugh that let you know she thought you deserved it. She was more offended by that comment in the bathroom than you had thought.

"You're just feeling sorry for yourself." Steve added, shaking out his legs.

You didn't find it very fair that they were ganging up on you all of a sudden. "If I didn't, nobody else would."

"Oh, you're breaking my heart." But Steve didn't sound sincere at all. You weren't enjoying this side of Steve one bit. And it was all because of Billy.

"Do you get along with your parents?" Eddie sided with you.

"If I say, yes, I'm a real idiot, right?"

"I think you're an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, you'll be a liar, too."

"You know something, I've just about had it with you. If we weren't in school, man, I'd wail all over you. They'd have to pick you up with tweezers."

Eddie didn't seem fazed. Eddie got threats like this all the time, it wasn't anything he hadn't already heard before.

"I don't really get along with my parents." Nancy piped up, trying to get the boys attention away from each other so there wasn't a brawl in the middle of the library.

"Yeah right, you're every parent's wet dream."

"That's the problem." She paused, you saw her eyes glaze over then looked at you. "I don't think my parents ever loved each other either."

Everyone was silent, looking at her like they were waiting for her to burst into tears. She regretted bring it up.

"They must have married for some reason?" Steve asked. Whether it was because he was being nosey, or he was concerned for her, you couldn't tell.

"My mom was younger. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family."

"Screw that."

"Yeah, screw that."

"I could see you not liking them for making you wear those kind of clothes, but, shit, what else would you be doing if you weren't busy making yourself a better citizen?" Eddie clearly hadn't read the room.

"Why do you have to insult everybody?" Eddie was really pushing Steve's limits. You noticed it happened especially when it came to Nancy.

"I'm being honest, asshole. I'd expect you to know the difference." He said it like he had had a similar argument with Steve in the past.

Nancy raised her middle finger at him.

"Whoa, obscene gestures from such a pristine girl."

"I'm not that pristine." Nancy argued, though she regretted it almost immediately.

She cleared her throat and make her way back to her seat.

"Are you a virgin?" She caught Steve's eye, they shared a look, but Eddie missed it. "I'll bet you a million dollars that you are."

"Would you take that bet, Robin?"

"Not really."

"That's the last time I call you 'Robin', Buckley."

He continued. "Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?"

Nancy was getting upset. "Do you want me to puke?"

"Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?"

You squeezed your thighs together. His voice was deep and masculine, sending you off into an alluring day dream. You found yourself in the back seat of a car, a strong man towering over you, rough hands caressing your soft skin. He takes off your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the night, nipples hardening. He's groping them, kissing them, loving on them. Your moaning and he's trailing his lips lower. Your hands thread themselves in his brown, wavy hair. He's pulling your panties down with his teeth, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. And suddenly you were in the back of his van, pulling off his patched, demin jacket until he's leaning over you completely naked. He put his lips to your ear, whispering --

"Hey, why don't you leave her alone!" Steve breaks you out of your imagination.

"You gonna make me?"

"Yeah."

"You and whose army?"

"Just me and five of my fingers. I hit you. You hitting floor. Anytime you're ready."

Eddie realised that Steve was being serious, but doesn't believe he is quite capable of making good on his threat.

"Yeah? You want a black eye to go with that split lip? You couldn't fight Billy Hargrove, what makes you think you can beat me?"

Your chest tightened at his name and your eyes darted to the door. They stayed shut. It calmed you a little, but your heart was still beating against your ribcage. You placed a hand there in case it burst out. You wondered how Eddie knew about the fight at the party, you hadn't seen him there. But then again, word travels fast around Hawkins High. Your breathing became heavy. All this arguing was making you dizzy. You could do without a repeat of last Thursday.

"Try me."

"Eddie." You pleaded him not to retaliate, swallowing down your pride for a second of peace.

He looked at you, and suddenly Eddie was not in the mood to fight Steve. The fear in your eyes scared him a little. You were serious about them not fighting. But luckily for you, Eddie knew when to stop. Besides, there were ladies present, and he was a gentleman.

To some extent.

"Whatever man, I'm not getting into this with you."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" He paused. He wasn't going to tell Steve he did it for you. "'Cause I'd kill you. It's real simple, you'd die and your fucking parents would sue me and It'd be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother. So drop it."

"Chicken."

"You know, you should see a doctor. I think those steroids are frying your brain."

Steve just laughed him off, believing that he had scared Eddie into yielding and he was just giving one last dig to preserve his pride. Eddie looked a Nancy, but she was already staring at him.

"What is it that makes you act like such a fool?"

"I'm not getting enough vitamin B."

Steve fumed. He wanted his fist to connect with that smartass mouth of his. "Let's end this right now. You don't talk to her...you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?"

"I'm trying to help her." He said it like it was as plain as a pikestaff.

"Help me?" Nancy was insulted. "Why don't you work on yourself?"

"I did. I finished last Tuesday. Now I'm working on the rest of the world." He pointed at Steve, who looked about ready to swing. "I could help you, big boy."

"Spare me."

"I can help a lot of people, all they have to do is ask nicely."

"I'll kill you." Steve threatened with a clenched fist.

Eddie looked unmoved. He heard threats like that at least five times a day. "Well, I should just let you and everyone else who wants to kill me fight for the privilege."

There was a rumbling from beyond the library door. In a flurry of panic, everyone got themselves into position, acting like they hadn't moved an inch away from their seats. Eddie sat next to you again, accidently kicking your foot under the table. You kicked it back in annoyance. He did it again, only on purpose this time. 'What a child' you thought. You put your coat on the back of your chair and sat up straight, expecting Principal Higgins to come storming in.

Everybody visibly relaxed when Carl, the janitor, came rumbling in with his music playing quietly from his radio, dragging his cart behind him. He had a face you didn't quite know how to take; he looked friendly enough, but could turn at the snap of your fingers. He was skinny and stood at a height of 5"8, with a limp of a man who worked hard for his living. He smiled everyone, but the only one who seems the acknowledge him was Robin. She returned the smile and gave him a small wave, in hopes of being nice but not letting the others see. He went into the librarians office and grabbed the waste basket.

"Hey Sweetheart, your dad's here."

You gave him an unamused smile and kicked his shin under the desk once more.

Carl came out of the office and dumped the basket on his cart. He left his cart in the main library and walked down the pathway to grab another trash bin at the back of the room.

"Hey, Carl?"

Carl paused in surprise that any student here, with the exception of Robin, would talk to him. He turned around, but Eddie still remained facing the front, putting his back to him.

"How does one become a janitor."

Everyone supressed a giggle, even Steve despite his dislike for Eddie. Only Robin remained silent. She didn't find it very funny.

"You want to become a janitor?" Carl raised an eyebrow.

"No I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor because Steve here, is very interested in perusing a career in the custodial arts."

Steve stopped laughing at that. Carl scratched his head. He knew that they were making fun of him. But Carl wasn't one someone should mess with. He turned off his radio, pulled off his rubber gloves and shoved them in his back pocket.

"You guys think I'm just a lowly janitor. Some fucking untouchable peasant. Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for five years, I've learned a few things. I read your notes, I go through your letters. I listen to your conversations. I am the eyes and ears of this institution. I know where you are now and I know where you'll be in the future."

Everyone exchanged worried looks as Carl moved to tower in front of Eddie. "You got ten years, max. Drugs. Rundown trailer in West Texas. Whore wife takes the baby, you shoot a fatal dose. Probable? Maybe not. Possible? Think so."

He turned to you. "You get married to a guy with lots of material success. Corporate position. Big bucks. Black Jag. You have three kids, nobody gives a shit. You get divorced and have a big fuckin' heart attack at thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

Steve was next. "District sales manager for a golf club manufacturer. Shitty little compact company car, twenty-two five a year and a wife as big as a boxcar."

Finally, Nancy. "Six face-lifts and two boob jobs by forty and a husband with more girlfriends than anniversaries."

He stepped back and put on his gloves. The stunned reaction on everybody's faces made him smile. "But I'm just a janitor." He shrugged.

And with that, he grabbed his cart, wheeled it around and headed out. He paused at the door and looked at the clock.

"By the way, that thing's twenty minutes slow." He winked as he left and everybody groaned.

~~~~~

12:30pm

~~~~~

Everybody was bored out of their skulls after the shock of Carl's speech had worn off. You took the time to think about what he had said. He had tried to put a downer on you, but the life he had predicted for you sounded like paradise, compared to now. Even if you did only have twenty years left to live. As crazy as it sounded, it gave you a bit of hope. There was a chance that you could work up the courage to leave Billy and meet someone nice, or at least wealthy. You had never given any thought about having kids, especially not with Billy, but now, maybe you could see yourself with a kid. You'd want a boy, and he'd look just like his father; Curly brown hair, big russet eyes, and a toothy smile. What would you name him? Would you name him after his father? Maybe Michael, or Christopher, James. Edward? You liked that name.

Your eyes flashed to the door as it opened. Principal Higgins strolled in with a frown of his face, even though no one had done anything to upset him yet.

Yet.

"Thirty minutes for lunch." He declared.

"Excuse me Sir, I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place to eat lunch."

"I don't care what you think, Harrington."

Steve sunk back into his seat.

"Uh, Dick?" Eddie cleared his throat. "Sorry, Richard. Will milk be made available to us? Someone like Steve could choke to death on a dry sandwich."

"I have a low tolerance for dehydration, Sir." Robin added.

"I've seen her dehydrated, Sir." Steve sat up again. "It's pretty gross."

You wondered if that was true, or if he was just playing along. The things he said about her, you wondered if they knew each other. Probably not, you brushed off the thought. They were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, there was no way they knew each other.

Principal Higgins scowled.

Eddie stood and raised his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal. "Relax, I'll get it."

"Ah,ah,ah. Grab some wood there, Munson. You think I was born yesterday? You don't fool me for one minute. I'm not having you roaming these halls."

Eddie plopped back into his seat with a defeated sigh. It was worth a shot.

"You." He pointed at Steve.

He eyed up the other students, skipping over Eddie as he decided who else was most suitable to leave. You sank into your seat. You did not fancy having some alone time with Steve. Steve stared directly at the Principal before darting his eyes to the right where Nancy was sat, signalling for him to pick her. She sat up to make herself more evident.

Higgins ignored them and pointed a finger at you. "And you. There's a soft drinks machine in the faculty lunch room."

You broke into a cold sweat. This was going to be the most awkward ten minutes of your life. Either Steve was just going to pretend you didn't exist, or he was going to absolutely grill you. You hoped for the former.

As you reluctantly got out of your seat, Steve held out a hand to the others for money. Nancy took out a change purse from her bag and handed him fifty cents. Robin does the same with the loose change in her jeans pocket. Eddie fished through his coat pockets. He found some assorted change, crumpled gum wrappers, some loose tobacco and a screw. He handed it all to Steve.

Steve made his way out, not even looking to see if you're following him. You do, of course, but you lagged behind him, not feeling particularly comfortable being alone with him. You counted your steps as you walked, fiddling with the delicate chain around your neck. It was a simple design: just your name written with gold, cursive lettering. But it was the only jewellery you never took off. Your parents had bought it for you when you had started cheerleading at eight years old. It was a reminder of when life was much more simple, when you believed that your parents actually loved each other, that they loved you.

A minute passed and you already couldn't stand the silence. You dreaded it, but you knew this would probably be the only opportunity you would get to hash out your grievances.

"Why do you hate me?" A forward start, but at least it's a start.

"You know why."

"Look, what Billy did wasn't my fault --"

"Of course it is. If you hadn't been there in the first place he wouldn't've showed up."

"Hey, I didn't even tell him I was going to that stupid party. He was there anyway. If you hadn't come over and butted into our argument, maybe you wouldn't have that split lip."

"My parties aren't stupid."

"Is that seriously all you took from that?"

"No..." He paused. After hearing your side of the story, he was beginning to feel like a fool. "What were you guys even arguing about?"

You sighed. "Billy and I had plans to go to this drive in movie theatre. I don't think he wanted to watch a movie though, I think he was just hoping to get lucky." The two of you had stopped walking. Steve looked at you intently, encouraging you to carry on. You shifted on your feet. "If I'm being completely honest I didn't really want to go, but then Carol asked me to go to your party and I took it as an excuse not to go with Billy. I knew he would be angry if I cancelled our plans last minute, so I told him I was sick. Biggest fucking mistake of my life."

"So you went to the party and Billy caught you out in your lie."

"Yeah. Turns out one of his friends had asked him to go but he'd declined 'cause we were going on a date. He accepted the offer once I'd cancelled our plans."

Steve started walking again. You followed next to him this time. "I know Billy is a bit of a shitbag, but why didn't you want to go on your date? I mean, it seemed like a good time."

There was no such thing as a 'good time' with Billy. He had his moments, sure, but he was as cranky as a wet hen. Time with him was like trying to swim with rocks on your back. He sucked all the fun out of everything until you started drowning. You didn't tell Steve that though.

"I just wasn't in the mood to be around him, is all." You brushed him off. "But he's bringing it up all the time, and were arguing all of the time. Even in school."

"Is that why you're here today?"

His question made you pause. He stopped a couple of steps ahead of you and turned around when he saw you weren't next to him anymore. You played it off like you were itching your leg and jogged up to him. The two of you made it to the teacher's lounge.

The first thing you noticed was that it was very brown. The floor and ceiling had the same white speckled tile that ran throughout the entire school, but everything else was just ... brown. Brown wallpaper, brown leather sofas, brown table, brown countertop. Even the fridge was brown. The vending machine was in the far corner.

"Why are you here?" You asked Steve, hoping he hadn't realised that you hadn't answered his question.

"Me? I'm here because my father and my coach don't want me to blow my ride." He started feeding the change into the machine. "They think my intensity's for shit. You see, I have a different set of standards. I get treated different because Coach thinks I'm a star. So does my old man. But you know what? I don't care. I'm not a star because I want to be a star, I'm a star because I got good legs and reflexes. I'm like a racehorse. That's about how involved I am in what's happening to me."

You nodded, but you had a suspicion that that wasn't the whole truth. "Yeah, so why are you really here?"

Steve was annoyed that he hadn't managed to persuade you. "Forget it."

You studied the set of lockers on the other side of the room. You walked over to them out of curiosity, trying your luck with one of the doors. To your surprise it opened.

Steve caught you out of the corner of his eye. "You really shouldn't be doing that."

Inside lay a set of keys attached to a green Hawkins High lanyard, a pack of cigarettes, a 'thank you teacher' mug, and a Prince's Purple Rain album on vinyl. Steve came up behind you, looking inside and letting the soda cans thunk loudly at the bottom of the vending machine.

"This is a teacher's stuff?" He asked surprised.

"Yeah. Does this mean that they're actually human?" You laughed together for the first time.

Daringly, you pocketed the pack of cigarettes in your cardigan pocket and took the record.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, put them back."

"C'mon Steve, when are you ever going into the teacher's lounge again? Besides, it'll give us something to do while were stuck in that god damned library."

You shut the locker door and brushed past him. You gathered up the soda cans, giving Steve his share to carry and made your way back to the library.

"It was pretty strange looking at teacher's personal shit, huh?" You said, examining the purple record sleeve.

Steve shrugged, he'd seen stranger things. "I went over to Coach's house for dinner once during the summer. It was really weird to see how he lives."

He paused, anticipating a question, but you just looked at him to carry on.

"His wife was fat. And one of his kids was in a wheelchair. It was kinda sad. He was a nice kid."

"If he invites you over to his house, why does he shit on you?"

"He and my old man are working to get me a scholarship. It's not an economic issue. Scholarships make the newspaper. They think I have a shot at a full ride. They think I deserve a Big Ten school."

You simply nodded and walked through the library doors. The others were gathered in the corner by the comfy chairs. Eddie was holding a book opened to a page displaying a man with elephantitus to the nuts like he was reading children a bedtime story.

"How do you suppose he rides a bike?"

The clattering of soda cans on the table drew their attention away. They all walked over to grab a can. Before the others could take one, Eddie reached out and shook one furiously.

You look at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. "That's going to spray all over you."

"Not necessarily."

He put the drink back with the others and moved the cans around so than no one would know which was was shook up.

"You're such a dingus." Robin bravely took a can first.

Everyone else followed before taking their seats and pulling out their lunches. You simply took out an apple, loosing your appetite after seeing a man with elephantitus to the nuts. You noticed Eddie didn't have any lunch as he surveyed everyone else's.

"Where's your lunch?"

"You're wearing it." He winked.

You curled your lip in disgust, but felt about as red as your apple.

"You're nauseating." Nancy complained, opening her lunch.

"Look who's talking. You don't care what you put in your mouth." He eyed Nancy's lunch like she had just shown him a plate full of snails. "What is that?"

"Sushi."

"Sushi?"

"Rice, raw fish, and seaweed."

"You wont accept a guys tongue in your mouth, but you'll eat that?"

She scoffed impatiently. "Can I eat?"

"I don't know, give it a try."

The room went silent as everybody watched Steve pull out his lunch from a large brown grocery bag; three sandwiches, a family-sized bag of chips, an apple, a banana, a bag of cookies and a carton of milk.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Robin asked in shock.

"No, I'm only going to eat half."

"What are you going to do with the other half?"

"Shoving it up Eddie's ass."

How charming. He reached for his can and everybody shrunk away, thinking it might explode. He cracked the tab.

Nothing happened.

Robin took out a sandwich covered in saran wrap. She unwrapped it and pulled the bread apart, starting to work on it like a mad scientist. She tossed the meat away, blindly whipping it to the side. It slapped on the wall and stuck there. She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a bag of chocolate M&M's. She tore the bag open and dumped all of it on the buttered bread. Out of her coat pocket she pulled out a little baggie filled with Captain crunch cereal and sprinkled it over the M&M's. She closed the mess of a sandwich and took a huge bite. She noticed that everyone was watching her.

"You are bizarre." Eddie thought Steve's lunch was bad.

She reached for her Pepsi to wash it all down. She put it to her mouth and popped it. The soda sprayed cleanly into her mouth.

After the fizz was gone, she smirked at Eddie. "Nice try, dingus."

"What do you have?" He turned to you, watching take a bite into your apple.

You handed your bag over to him, rather than speaking with a full mouth. He started pulling things out. He pulled out a sandwich, a thermos of soup, which he opened and give a big whiff, and a bottle of water.

"Well Sweetheart, this is a very nutritious lunch. All the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rodgers?"

Eddie stood so he was front and centre of the room, all eyes on him.

"This is my impression of life at our darling Sweetheart's house." He gestured to you and your face flushed.

"Hello, dear. I'm home from the coalmine." Eddie impersonated your father.

Eddie quickly played your mother. "Oh, hello, sweetie pie. Dinner's almost ready. I'm serving stuffing instead of potatoes."

"My favourite!"

His voice turned high and shrill, playing you. "Hi, Dad! Yippee, you're home! I danced in a skimpy skirt in front of hundreds of people today. I went to church and I wrote Grandma a letter. Now can I have a pen pal?"

"Dear, isn't our daughter swell?"

Quiet and motherly. "Yes Dear, isn't life swell?"

Eddie mimed your mother kissing your father, then father kissing mother, and then your father punching your mother in the face. Suddenly it was not so funny anymore.

Your eyes were wet. You hated how much that hurt. It wasn't his words that hurt you, it was how much you wished it were true.

You bravely stood up. "No, it's more like --"

"Dad? Is it okay if I shoot heroin?"

You lowered your voice, playing your father. You held an imaginary newspaper in your hands, not taking your eyes off it and pretending that you weren't paying attention. "If it'll make you happy, pumpkin."

You extended your fingers and blew on them, doing your mother and her fresh nail polish. "What are you talking about, Frank?! How's she going to wear her Sunday dress with holes in her arms? We are going to church aren't we?

"It's okay. Never mind. I won't be a junkie." You said sadly.

"Now, just wait a minute. If you want to be a junkie--"

"I'm not going to be the only woman at the congregation with a junkie daughter. Now what about church?" Your mother said.

"Go by yourself!" Said your father.

"With pleasure! I'm taking Y/N."

"Over my dead body!"

"I love her more than you do!"

"Go to hell!"

Everyone looks at you with a hint of sympathy. Even Eddie.

"Do you wish they'd get a divorce?" He asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'd have to live with one or the other. And I don't know which one is worse." You laughed, but there was no humour behind it.

"Whose next?" Eddie ask, like he didn't already know he was going to single out Steve. Eddie pointed at him. "You're next."

"Yeah, no thanks."

"You an orphan?"

"I don't need to dump on my parents. Especially when they're not here to defend themselves." Eddie gave him a look like he was being chicken.

"What about your family?" Steve asked Eddie. He wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine.

"Mine? Real simple, pal."

He climbed onto the table, really setting the stage and getting himself into character. His eyelids lowered and his body moved clumsily, like he was drunk. "Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn freeloading, son of a bitch, big mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk!"

He stands up straight, crossing his arms and raising the pitch of his voice. "You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful." His mother said.

"Shut up bitch!" He smacked the air, hitting his invisible mother. He yelled it so loud you were worried Higgins was about to storm through the door.

As his father, he threw a punch. Eddie dramatically dropped from the table and fell to the ground. He stood up, brushed himself off and took a bow. The show was over.

"Then they make me work to pay off the dentist for the teeth he busts."

"Is that for real?" Nancy looks like she's going to start crying for him.

"You wanna come over some time?"

She didn't want to believe that something like that could happen to anyone. Even someone as vexing as Eddie. Nancy decided then to never complain about her parents again.

"That's part of your image. I don't believe a word." Steve brushed him off. His re-enactment hadn't moved him at all.

You wondered if he was right. You had been so truthful about yours, you would feel ashamed if he had lied about his.

Eddie actually looked hurt. "You don't believe it, huh?"

He whipped off his red shirt and pulled up the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He shoved his arm in Steve's face, displaying a grotesque purple scar. Steve recoiled away from it, but Eddie forced him to look at it. You subtly tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan. You could feel the bruises of Billy's fingers purpling on your wrist.

"You believe that? It's about the size of a cigar." Eddie spoke through gritted teeth. "That's what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage."

Eddie was breathless with anger. His muscles were tensed up so tightly he thought he was going to give himself a full-body cramp. He needed something to calm himself down. Luckily, he knew just the thing.

~~~~~

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~~~~~

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#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #mini series #cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #the breakfast club #the breakfast club mini series #the breakfast club fanfic #stranger things x the breakfast club #enemies to lovers

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inkyajax · 1 year

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✩°｡⋆ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! ⋆｡°✩

anonymous wrote: can we have favorite ways and positions the genshin men you write for prefer to fuck reader? pretty please?

characters: ajax/tartaglia, kamisato ayato, thoma, alhaitham

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, reader is female and flexible, dom/sub power dynamics, marking in ajax’s (implied blood) and alhaitham’s, mentioned dacryphilia in thoma’s, very slight dubcon in alhaitham’s

words: 1.5k

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐱 | 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚 .°˖✧

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: a good old simple mating press, with his thighs framing your folded body, your own thighs sandwiched between your chests, ankles at your ears, toes spread apart, rhythmically curling and uncurling.

𝐰𝐡𝐲: he wants to be close but deep, so deep he’s in your tummy, so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking throat. a mating press gives him the best of both worlds—he can fuck you as deep as he possibly can, heavy balls slapping against your skin with each rapid, rabid slam of his hips, and he can kiss you, messy and slicked with stringy spit, teeth and tongue marring your jaw and neck and shoulders with the most brilliant bursts of supernovas—starstuff spilling out of webbed capillaries in blues and greys and purples to stain your skin with tiny galaxies—and gaping craters in the shape of his teeth, filling with thin lines of crimson. it’s his favourite when you hold yourself open for him, pressing your thighs further into your chest, fingers digging into your own flesh as you desperately try to please him, to obey him, to show him you can take it for him. he loves that sheer devotion you display for him, spreading yourself further and holding the position even as your arms begin to quiver and your fingers begin to ache, stubborn and determined to follow his orders, to give him what he needs, to prove yourself a winner, even as it all becomes too much for you—and he thinks that is incredibly hot. such a sight makes his heart fucking soar, beating hard and heavy against the ribs that cage it, respect and admiration and love for you, his strong baby, frothing warm and bubbly in his chest, rising up his throat and spilling out his mouth in breathy little whimpers of praise.

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 .°˖✧

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: missionary with each of your heels draped over his shoulders, his knees planted firmly on the ground or mattress, your ass and lower back resting on his strong thighs and his hands curled tightly around your hips, holding you still as he pounds into you. alternately, any variant of this (if you’re flexible enough), including your ankles being held behind your head, or your legs drawn to your chest, thighs pressed tight to your torso and knees nudging your chin, waist wrung to the side so your back stays flat to the ground but your hips are twisted sideways, ayato using one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh as leverage as he slams into you.

𝐰𝐡𝐲: ayato is all about meticulous control, and this bleeds heavily into his sex life, favouring this position because he enjoys the complete and total authority this it affords him; pace, depth, posture and pose; he can twist you into whatever little knot he wants to. he loves having the power to angle your hips any which way he pleases to procure his desired outcomes. this position serves as a physical manifestation of the power play/power imbalance inherent to his fucking, with his body fully sitting up and looming over your own, helpless and entirely at his mercy, only amplifying the reminder that he is the one in charge here. his favourite thing about this position is the view it affords him, your whole body a beautiful vista for him to soak in—every curve and crevice, bump and ridge, on full display for his eyes only. if he leans back, full weight resting on his heels, he can watch as his cock drives into your cunt, periwinkle eyes in almost awe by the way your sweet little hole stretches and strains and swallows him whole, mesmerized by the way each thrust of his hips causes your entire body to ripple, thighs and tummy and breasts purling and trembling with every pump; he can savour the way your pretty features morph with his movements; glassy eyes rolling in your skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, lips, licked raw and bitten swollen, pried open by a near continuous stream of fractured little moans, nose and forehead crunched in pleasure, tighter and tighter and tighter until you’re finally gushing all over his cock, raptured bliss smoothing out every crease and crumple.

✧˖°. 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 .°˖✧

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: cowgirl, with him sitting crosslegged and your legs wrapped around his waist, hooked at the ankles, clinging to his body, heels pressing into the cute lil dimples that cushion the base of his spine. you’re in his lap and, technically, at his mercy, and he can bounce you on his cock or instruct you in that gentle, syrupy voice to rock your hips, strong hands guiding your movements. alternately, when he’s feeling more adventurous than normal or you want to take the lead, cowgirl on a chair, with your feet planted firmly on either side of his hips on the seat, legs bent at the knees and caging either side of his torso, using the backrest and your feet as leverage to bounce as hard or as fast as you want to (he’s a service dom, remember? there has to be a favourite position where you get to do what you want, where his sole purpose is to give you whatever type of pleasure you desire).

𝐰𝐡𝐲: thoma wants to be as close as physically possible. he wants your chest pressed to his, hips pressed to his, forehead pressed to his, noses nudging with every slight movement, lips brushing yours the moment he speaks. he wants to be tasting your sweat in his mouth and your breath on his tongue, swallowing down every single sweet little sound you make, melting in his mouth like the softest candy floss, kept safe behind a row of sharp pearl. he wants to see every fleck of colour in your irises, make out every squiggle and swirl and shimmer in the galaxies surrounding your pupils, watch as a mist turns into a glaze turns into crystalline drops that cling to stubborn, spiky lashes. to thoma, it is all about enjoying the process. for the most part, he fucks slow and sensual and steady—unless, of course, you’re in the mood for something different. but if you’re leaving the decision up to him, he chooses to take it easy, fucking you at an almost leisurely pace until it becomes too much for either of you, until you’ve unintentionally edged yourselves to the point of trembling with need, sparks of desperate desire quivering through your blood—only then will he speed up, jackhammering into you as strong arms wrap around your body and crush you to his, keeping you still and using you as his favourite little toy until you’re soaking his cock and he’s pumping you full of copious amounts of thick cum.

✧˖°. 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 .°˖✧

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: doggy! with your knees spread wide—so wide the muscles of your inner thighs ache with the stretch, trembling ever so slightly beneath the strain—hips tugged up as high as they can go, lithe fingers wrapping around your hipbones and keeping you still and steady with a firm grip on your flesh, your head buried in the pillow, your chest pressed flat to the mattress. his knees and thighs are between your own, strong and steady, disabling them from closing even if they want to.

𝐰𝐡𝐲: he loves to see that gorgeous arch of your back, the way the vertebrae curve to meet him, to please him. similar to ayato, he also loves the sheer control and precision this position affords him, allowing him to tilt and twist your body at the core, to angle his hips just right so the head of his cock hits every single spot he’s aiming for, so the shaft of his cock drags against every single place he wants it to. this man fucks rough and hard and fast, and he needs a position that can handle his brutal thrusts while also giving him utmost control and authority. it’s easy for him to tangle a hand in the hair at the back of your scalp or to wrap a palm around the back of your neck and haul you up toward him, glistening back suddenly pressed against his sticky chest, his hands and lips free to roam wherever they please—to knead and paw at your tits, to reach down and rub quick little circles into your slick, swollen clit, to cup your cunt, fingers spread to accommodate his pounding cock and holding you open, grinding the heel of his palm into the little bud, hard and slow. such a posture permits his lips to voyage across your jaw, along the curve of your neck, over the ridges of your shoulder, tongue and teeth stamping pretty dents and nicks and bruises painted across your flesh in slow, detailed, almost methodical strokes; tiny impermanent masterpieces that’ll fade with the rise of the morning sun, but that he enjoys creating across his favourite canvas nonetheless.

it’s merely a bonus that this altered position allows you to touch him in some capacity as well—not enough to put you in charge or anything, but enough to have your soft palms running up his biceps, dainty fingers tracing the dips and curves of smooth defined muscle; enough to have your fingers tangling in the tufts of silver curling at the base of his skull, or fingers tightly twining together behind his neck as he rams into you, whole body jostling in his strong arms.

#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #kamisato ayato smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #kamisato ayato x reader #thoma x reader #thoma smut #weeeeee enjoy anon!!!

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rollinouttahere-writes · 10 months

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How about strawhats with a reader who didn’t realise they ate a devil fruit, and they and the crew only realise when either they discover their ability or they start to drown when they accidentally fall (or get thrown by an enemy) overboard? (Tried to leave the devil fruit ability either up to you, or have the ask in a way that you didn’t have to create a devil fruit 😅)

I finally found a way to work this old ask into a request! Sorry to whoever sent it in originally, I just could not come up with a plot for it until I got this one. Apologies for there being little to no yandere content here.

You Are What You Eat

Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.8k words

Loud growls echoed through the forest. Not the deafening roars of a predator about to rip you apart, no, but the rumbling of a deprived stomach demanding sustenance.

You really shouldn’t have taken off into the woods without grabbing a snack first, but you couldn’t help it. After days of being at sea, you were eager to explore the new island you’d stopped at. Robin said you all would need to split up to find the ruins she was looking for, so you took initiative and threw yourself into adventure the second the ship was close enough for you to be able to make the jump.

Thus far, you’d had no luck. You hadn’t even stumbled across an abandoned pathway or ancient tools. It’s hard to believe this island had ever been populated at some point. Maybe this wasn’t the right one?

At this point you weren’t even really looking for ruins, you just wanted something to eat. Unfortunately, this search was having similar results. Nothing. It appears all the fruit trees on this island are still in a flowering stage, and you didn’t know enough about foraging to be taking your chances on root vegetables in the ground. Restaurants were obviously out of the question, much to your chagrin.

There was some rustling in the tree above you. Your head snaps up to assess the situation, only for something to nail you right in the face. Your knees buckle and you fall on your ass, cradling your face after the blow.

Cracking open an eye, you try to find who just assaulted you, but you were definitely here alone. Looking at the ground, you discover what your assailant really was. A fruit.

Pain is forgotten instantly as you snatch up the strange looking fruit. It’s a light blue color and reminds you of a ball of yarn with the way the skin is textured. You have zero clue as to what kind of fruit it’s supposed to be, but as your stomach growls even louder, you can’t find it in you to care.

Using your shirt to wipe it off to the best of your ability, you take a bite as you get back on your feet. Your face scrunches up instantly. The taste… isn’t great, but it’s not the worst either. If you had to describe it you would say it tastes like an uncooked spaghetti squash. The real problem is the texture. It’s completely stringy on the inside, making you feel like you’re eating a wet clump of yarn.

But… beggars can’t be choosers. You’re starving, and you don’t want to let it go to waste either, so you power through it. As you’re choking down the last bite, a chill runs down your spine, making every nerve light up in a tingling sensation. Then, as quickly as the feeling began, it disappeared.

Weird. Whatever.

“(Y/N)! Where are you?!” Luffy’s voice cut through the thick woods.

Finally! You were starting to wonder how you’d gone so long without running into anyone else. Running towards the sound of his voice, you call back to him, “Over here!”

It’s not long before he comes into view, along with the rest of the crew. Luffy grins and runs to meet you halfway, “Why’d you run off so quick? I wanted to go with you!” He lifts you up into his arms and spins you around gleefully.

“Did you? Sorry, I thought we were all gonna split up,” you scratch at the back of your head and wonder if you misheard.

“We were, but then we found the ruins Robin was looking for straight away, so we’ve just been looking for you this whole time!”

Mortification washes over you immediately and you hang your head in shame, “You’ve got to be kidding me! I ran right past it, didn’t I?”

“You sure did! Pretty dumb, huh? Zoro didn’t even get as lost as you did!” Luffy set you down, smiling the whole time while he mocked you.

“Watch it!” You swatted at him, not that he particularly cared or even reacted to it.

“Now that you’re done being lost, we really need to get going before it gets any later,” Nami was tapping her foot impatiently, no doubt itching to find the treasure rumored to be hidden there.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Let’s go!” You wanted to move on from this blunder as quickly as possible, thank you very much. There were a few chuckles from the group as you marched on ahead, but they mercifully didn’t tease you about it anymore.

“Are you hungry? You ran off before I could hand you your lunch,” Sanji sidled up next to you, offering a sweet smile while extending the masterfully packed bento towards you. The cook shot a dirty look over his shoulder to your captain, “Don’t worry, I made sure that he couldn’t get his hands on it.”

You’re sure you missed a battle of epic proportions over your unclaimed lunch. Happily taking it into your own hands, you waste no time cracking it open and digging in as you walk, “Thank you, Sanji! You’re the best!” He puffed up in pride at your compliment, assuring you that it was no problem.

It wasn’t long into the trek when you all came upon a wide but shallow river. It wasn’t so deep that you would need to swim to cross it, but it would be enough to pose a problem for your devil fruit possessing companions.

This wasn’t a big deal, everyone knew the drill. Those that couldn’t get in the water would pair off with someone who could to carry them across. Robin was perched up on one of Franky’s shoulders, much to Sanji’s heartbreak. Luffy latched onto Zoro and was telling him to hurry up and get going so they could all see the ruins.

That just left Chopper, who hurried over to you with his arms up. You were his preferred method of transportation in situations like this. Stuffing your now empty lunch box into your bag, you scoop up the reindeer and place him on your shoulders.

Without any additional fanfare, everyone starts wading through the water. At its deepest, it comes up to your waist. Trudging through waist deep water does naturally take a bit of effort, but this felt much harder than usual. Exhausting even. Your head was swimming and you didn’t even realize you’d stopped until Chopper spoke up.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He leaned forward to try and see your face better, but you could hardly even register what he was saying to you, much less respond to it. Your silence must have bothered him, and he started to panic, “Guys wait! (Y/N) isn’t looking too good!”

That was the last thing you heard before collapsing into the rushing river. Logically, you knew you should be freaking out. You were underwater and had dropped Chopper in with you, you know you should be flying into action, but you weren’t. You felt listless. Like a puppet whose strings just got cut. The world around you was rapidly fading to black and you felt powerless to do anything about it.

Just before you could fully pass out, arms lock around your torso and wrench you out of the water. You coughed and gasped for breath. The relief of getting your head above water was palpable, but you still felt weak.

You were carried to the other side and gently sat down against a tree by a very concerned Sanji. His hands were clamped onto your upper arms and his eyes raked over your body looking for literally anything that could explain what just happened, “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Everyone else was crowding around you, too. Chopper wiggled his way to the front, fur still wet from his unplanned dive. Despite that, though, he was in doctor mode, “Give them some space, we need to figure out what happened!”

While he was checking your pulse and breathing, you found it in you to speak again, “I’m sorry about that, didn’t mean to drop you. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Were you already not feeling well? It’s not like you to just collapse like that.”

“I felt just fine until I got in the river. Did anyone else feel weird after getting in the water?” You asked. Maybe there was something in it that makes people sick?

Everyone shrugged off the question, saying that they all felt fine. Chopper wasn’t happy with the lack of any answer for why this happened. Making a quick decision, he stands up and announces that he’s going to take you back to the ship for now.

“No, I’m fine! Give me a minute, and I’ll be good to go, I swear!” You try to plead your case, but no one entertains it.

“You don’t need to force yourself to go on, I’ll help you and Chopper get back to the ship,” Sanji held out his hand to help you to your feet. Reluctantly, you accept the help and wait for him to pull.

He does, but you don’t move. Your hands are still joined together, but your arm is… oh god.

Several things happen at once. Sanji looks down and sees a bunch of blue strings connecting your now disembodied hand to the rest of your arm. Sanji screams at the sight, Chopper faints, Usopp is just straight up gone, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“What is wrong with your arm?!” Nami shrieks, looking about as nauseated as you felt.

“I don’t know!”

“Did you eat a devil fruit recently and not tell us?” Robin was the most outwardly calm, but was still visibly disturbed by the turn of events.

“No? How would that- Wait. Hang on. I might have,” everything suddenly clicks in your mind. The out of place fruit, the weird feeling you had after eating it, the water, and now this. You absolutely ate a devil fruit and didn’t even realize it.

“What do you mean ‘you might have’?” Everyone shouts in unison.

“Well, you see, it’s a funny story. You’re gonna laugh,” the unamused expressions on their faces told you otherwise. You continued, “While I was off on my own, I got really hungry. Then I got hit in the head by a weird fruit, so I decided to eat it.”

“You ate a random weird looking fruit and didn’t think that MAYBE you should mention that to us???” Nami looked like she wanted to throttle you right about now.

“... Yes?”

Nami exploded and started laying into you for your transgression, and you were helpless and just had to take it. Until you felt a weird tugging sensation from your arm. Looking over, you see Luffy experimentally poking his hand through your strings with a look of wonder on his face.

“Luffy, get out of there!” Sanji yells while trying to kick him away.

This devil fruit thing is going to take some getting used to.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #sanji #black leg sanji #nico robin #cat burglar nami #nami #humanoid606 #yandere one piece

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