#they really do just keep making her pink and mean
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HEARTSTRINGS. - p2
p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3
pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader
summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him.
warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, use of nickname (ma literally once as a joke)
a/n: HIIII short update but keeping u guys fed love u always <33
wednesday.
i hummed to myself and smiled as i made my way down the stairs. today was going to be a good day. i decided i should wake up each day with a positive outlook, because if i don't, then days won't be as bright, and-
"mornin, y/n."
my movements stopped as i looked over to the couch in the living room, occupied by nate, and chris.
my eyes met chris' as i stared at him and blinked a few times.
nate turned his head from the game they were playing on the tv and smiled warmly at me. "oh, hey."
i collected myself in my comfy robe and tried to mask my look of disgust, but it was hard. "what's he doing here?"
"no need for hostility, ma, just spending time with my best friend." chris motioned to nate, who smacked the everliving shit out of his arm.
"dude, don't call my sister that, it's weird."
i stared at the two, my cheeks a soft tint of pink as i shook my head. "right. so that means i have to-"
"get used to seein me, yup."
everyone's heads turned to the front door as it opened, and my dad walked in.
"hey guys. oh, hey chris." he said enthusiastically.
i watched in disbelief as they just allowed chris there. like he lived there.
i scoffed before grabbing a banana and making my way back to my room. there goes my positive outlook on today.
my dad was beginning to go to sleep, and nate was in his room. i had been in my room most of the day, not exactly wanting to run into chris, or my brother who would definitely give me a talk about chris. it just didn't interest me, i didn't want to see him.
maybe it was the bad first impression. i don't think there's actually much wrong with chris. maybe he's good at guitar. maybe he's good at whatever game him and nate were playing downstairs this morning.
i quickly shook my head as i slipped out of bed and made my way out of my room. i needed a drink. or something to eat. or fresh air. something to get my mind off of chris.
upon leaving my room, i was met with a larger figure passing by the front of my room. my eyes followed him and i noticed he was approaching nate's room. but he was taller than nate.
"oh, you're still up?"
i swear.
"you're still here?" i fired back, and chris threw his hands up in defense.
"what's your problem with me? did i do something to upset you?"
i stared at him, a look of annoyance on my face. not really, i wanted to say. your face is so punchable, i wanted to say. your hair is so cool, i wanted to say. i just can't stop thinking about you, i wanted to say.
"whatever." i mumbled as i passed him and entered the kitchen.
"come on, y/n. you can't hate me that much." chris whisper-yelled in response, attempting not to be loud as everyone else was beginning to fall asleep. "and to answer your question, i'm here because nate invited me to stay tonight and write lyrics. he was tired though, so he went to bed."
"mmhm." i responded blandly, opening the refrigerator, which lit up my face in the darkness of the kitchen.
"nate told me you sing a bit?"
i turned to chris and narrowed my eyes. "i dabble. but you'd catch me dead before catching me singing for your band." i mumbled, pointing my pointer finger at chris with one hand and a tub of orange juice in my other hand.
chris clutched his chest as he stared at me, a clear look of hurt on his face. "harsh much. no need for the sass, i deal with it enough at home."
i shut the refrigerator and looked at him as i got two cups out, setting them on the counter. "at home?"
"yeah," chris started, as he watched me pour the orange juice into the two cups, "i have two brothers. i'm a triplet actually."
"eugh, there's more of you?"
chris stared at me, dumbfounded. "they're nothing like me, believe it or not." he mumbled, but something about his tone made me realize he was serious, but almost in a way that was sentimental to him. i could tell he looks up to his brothers.
"you three close?" i questioned as i put away the orange juice and began sipping at my cup.
"absolutely. never really done much without them." he smiled softly at the thought of his two brothers. "their names are matt and nick."
i nodded as i listened to him. "i see. before nate, i didn't really have siblings. i just lived with my mom in florida." i chuckled, setting my cup down gently.
chris nodded. "see, i just can't even begin to imagine a life without siblings." he gently picked up the cup i poured for him, and motioned it up as a soft 'cheers' and smiled. "thank you, by the way," he mumbled before he took a sip out of the cup.
i smiled warmly and nodded. "and i can hardly imagine a life with siblings. but nate is so kind, i look forward to getting closer to him."
chris nodded as he leaned against the counter and stared out the kitchen window, humming to himself in response. "nathan is my best friend. truly. i can go to him about anything." he turned to me and smiled. "i think you'll love having him around. he's a reliable friend, i can't imagine how he would be as a brother. he didn't even let me call you a harmless nickname earlier."
"harmless is kind of.." i trailed off and smiled softly at chris. we looked at each other before i sat up and hummed. "anyways. i'm going to go back to my room. you have fun writing lyrics?" i smiled at chris.
chris nodded as he looked at me, finishing his cup and sitting up. "yeah. i'll be in nate's room." he smiled. "i'll come to you if i get lonely?"
"in your dreams." i quickly responded, sitting up as i made my way to the stairs. chris followed behind me and chuckled softly.
"too late for that, y/n."
p1 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p3
comment to be added to taglist!!
taglist;; @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x reader#nathan doe#nate doe
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PINK VS. PINK, GO!
All propaganda under the cut
Miles Edgeworth
The case in which his father died is the root of all the tragedy in the first 3 games. He even thinks he killed his father at first which is very sad and he has lasting trauma from the incident (his father died in an elevator during an earthquake. edgeworth is shown to panic and shut down during earthquakes or something similar like airplane turbulence and he avoids taking the elevator whenever possible)
Miles Edgeworth is the most repressed individual you'll ever meet. He is a chess player and everytime he has a chess board he puts the red pieces (him) cornering a blue piece (HIS RIVAL/THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE). He told the aforementioned rival his ex girlfriend died by telling him "her metabolic processes are concern of only historians". He dresses like a victorian child. He is a steel samurai fan. Almost christmas means it wasn't christmas
Sakuya Sakuma
OUGH okay hello I’m gonna yell about my little guy here. Obviously he’s an orphan; parents died when he was really small, passed around to different family members, and BOY does it affect him. He’s not colossally depressed or anything but it does give him abandonment issues, a general sense of loneliness, and a latent fear that if he’s too sad or angry then he’ll get sent to live somewhere else. Even after he joins his live-in theater company, though he does start moving past it there. Despite all that, he always strives to be kind and caring and cheerful, yes in part because he felt like he had to be but also because he just generally is. He’s so very loved in the place he’s at to the point that a number of grown adults (he starts the series at 17!) openly admit that they look up to him. TRULY one of the characters ever I’m so incredibly normal about him
ok so i havent been caught up in years so forgive me if i get the details wrong but he's just a ball of sunshine despite all he's gone thru (multiple foster homes, never really feeling like he belonged anywhere). like he literally put his everything into acting because it was the only place he could go that wasn't back to a foster home (the company has dorms for the actors), to the point where he was doing "solo" shows (he had a bird as a supporting actor) just to bring in enough people to keep the acting company from shutting down completely. also it's the way that he FINALLY found a place to call home and people to call family and he was SO DESPERATE to hold onto that when his fellow troupe members threaten to leave (at least once for each of them for a minimum of 5, but only one at a time. u would think they would catch on at some point and not do that). also the sleepover cg in act 1 makes me feel like crying like they're finally on the same page and ready to work together and they look so comfortable and vulnerable with each other and it just AUGHH because they only did that after sakuya decided to sleep on the stage on his own and got caught by another troupe member who dragged in the rest of them too like hello?? crying
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Notes on the JWCT Trailer
This will include spoilers and also my possible theories for events that will happen in the show so if you don't want to read that then keep scrolling.
Why is future Brooklynn always shoving her face into cameras?? Fits her character, I guess. In all serious, I love her new design even if it's only for a few seconds, the hair suits her face really well.
ALSO SHE'S DEAD????? I mean I had a feeling that if it were to be one of the campers it be her, but to have it confirmed is insane.
I secretly believe she's not dead and I might make another post about that. Unless we actually see her die I won't believe it.
Darius is never going to escape this guilt and the pressure of being responsible for the lives of others, is he? Give my baby a break.
Also I'm so used to referring to the campers as my babies but now they're grown ass adults that are significantly older than me, like what?
I'm excited to see what's actually going to be on Dark Jurassic bc we know people are tracking dinosaurs but I want to know all of the crazy conspiracies.
Why are they after the campers? That's my biggest question. I truly can't wait to see who's hunting them and why.
AHHH the rest of the campers are 100% confirmed. It was kind of obvious after the leaks and the show description but actually seeing them is making me feel some kind of way.
YASAMMY. As for if Sammy and yaz are still together, that's what I'm interested in. The way Ben was talking, it seems like everyone is separated, which would include Sammy and Yaz. It's possible that they could be physically together but I feel like that it would also make it way more easier to track everyone down if two of the three people were already with each other. This doesn't necessarily mean that they're now separated, they could always just be doing long distance or whatever. My theory is that Yaz and Sammy broke up at one point--Why? I don't know--just to make the separation/isolation between the campers more drastic but then that classic thing will happen where the two characters part of a larger group have broken up but are forced to regroup with everyone else, and therefore each other, and it's awkward at first, especially with the close proximity but then they begin to rekindle their relationship and make amends. Sometimes that ends with one of them dying at the end but praying that won't happen. If they're not together then this is the only alternative I'll take. Sammy and Yaz do seem to be very cutesy in the later scenes so it doesn't seem tooo out of reach.
The scene where Ben's van is driving along a road is giving major Texas vibes -> Sammy?? My guess is that she's the first they go to find.
I love Sammy's new design; her outfit just feels like her and the pink hair ends are everything I need. An homage to Brooklynn maybe? We all know Sammy was her biggest fan.
Also the clip of her seems to be like a fair or something which makes sense but it also looks like a couple of things are knocked over like a pole and a bucket. Also she's taking up a defensive stand. Could there have been like a county fair that was attacked by dinosaurs? That's what I'm thinking.
Kenji's design is cool. I don't have much to say about it but it feels like him enough. My boy is also getting active, I see. Is that his coping mechanism? Such a stark contrast to the lazy boy we once knew.
Yaz's new design I like. She's my favorite so I feel like I might me most critical about her design. Her hair is super cute but it's also taking a bit to get used to because in one clip she reminded me of Marinette from Miraculous Ladybug and I can't unsee it but it looks great in her first clip. I love the bangs. I'm curious about the background in that clip, I wish we got to see more of it. It looks sort of like a metal fence so could she be in Texas with Sammy. Later, I'm going to propose a theory that might oppose this idea though.
The next scene with the mysterious man is interesting. Is he one of the guy hunting them? The phone also seems to pink which does't seem like a color he would have. You want to know who would have a pink phone?? BROOKLYNN. I saw a theory by @snaileo which I like, that it's Brooklynn's phone which seems plausible. Perhaps it could be directly after Brooklynn's been attacked and sent that video to the others (Ben?) to warn them. So now the campers would know they're being hunted or whatever which could be the potential "problem" the guy is talking about. Just an idea.
I can't fucking wait until May 24th
The next scene definitely has to take place on Sammy's ranch. It's got that Texas terrain and there's also those pasture fence things and Sammy's in the scene. (And Bumpy too??? FUCKING YESSS). She also kind of moves in front of Ben and Darius like, "who the fuck is coming to my ranch??" Maybe I'm just overanalyzing that but we do know Sammy gets defensive over her ranch. Ben and Darius probably went to her first by the looks of it as Kenji and Yaz aren't pictured. Anyways, I'm so excited to see this place that Sammy committed corporate espionage for.
The scene with Ben in the kitchen place area talking about the raptors has a bunch of boxes in the background. I'm thinking this might still be Darius' cabin but the walls and general atmosphere seem a lot lighter. It could just be because it's day in that scene. Whoever's place it is, the boxes likely either mean that somebody's just moved in or that whoever lives there is prepared to leave at a moment's notice which is why I think it's Darius' cabin. At the same time, the door that's seen for a split second on 0.25 (yes that's the speed I'm watching it at, they're lucky I can't go slower) doesn't seem like a door that would belong in his cabin. It kind of reminds me of an RV. I do have to go and re-watch the teaser trailer to remind myself of what his cabin looks like. But if it's not Darius' place then who could it be? It could be Kenji's place because he looks all comfortable on the bed but then again, it's Kenji, he'll make himself comfortable anywhere. Maybe it's where Ben is staying. I'm probably looking way too deeply into this location but I need to know every detail until the show comes out.
The next scene obviously takes place in Sammy's house/ranch. One, she's there. Two, the overall home has that western/southern vibe to it, like with that swinging door thing. Three, if you look closely enough, there's a sign that says, "love hard, ranch harder," which, honestly that's definitely something that would be in Sammy's house. Four, if you still need proof, the thing she knocks over is a pitch fork thing which is very farmer-y. Also that door that she runs out of? That is a southern-door if I've ever seen one. Im jk but also I'm not. I wonder if this is happening before or after Ben and Darius arrive there. I want to say it's after because of the, "they found us," that precedes the scene but if so, where are they in that moment? An idea I have is that this scene happens first, and as she's running, she stumbles upon those two which is where we have that other scene where the car is driving up which could be the people who are handling/using the raptors. I could be completely wrong, though.
I cannot read maps for the fucking life of me. Does anybody know what it's of? I wonder where, when, and how Sammy acquired that map from Brooklynn because it could likely mean that Brooklynn had more contact with people before she "died." I just really want to find out the mystery surrounding her death/disappearance. What does the note say, hmm?
I ran out of space so I have to make a Pt.2 lmao
#jurassic world chaos theory#jurassic world camp cretaceous#jwcc#jwct#jwct spoilers#ben pincus#darius bowman#brooklynn jwcc#(what's brooklynn's last name will we never know?)#kenji kon#sammy gutierrez#yasmina fadoula#yasammy#i'm spiraling#can you tell#somebody sedate me#analysis#looking way to deeply into stuff
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⊹ ᳝ ࣪ a work out with jj.
cw. cheeky!girlfriend!jj, mean!jj, established relationship, reader is a weakling & whining, slight public indecency, allusions to sex but it's not quite smut
wc. 566
“i don't wanna do this anymore, jj” you complain. standing to the side of your girlfriend as she runs on the treadmill, far abandoning whatever task she had put you to.
“you're the one who said you wanted my help, babe.” jj breaths. not even so much as giving you a glance to fully acknowledge you.
so, you take a moment to gawk at her in all her sweaty glory. the light sage green workout two piece makes her look a little too good, her muscles glisten as she paces on the treadmill, pretty face concentrated on counting and her breaths.
“you gonna answer me? or are you going to keep staring?”
you frown. “you're so mean to me.”
she finally stops. “i’m not mean.”
it wasn't the response you were hoping for, but it's a very jj typical one. she begins to slow the pace of the treadmill until she's walking.
“you are. i did ask for your help, but i was expecting you to work me through it. not go off and do your own thing.” you confess.
the treadmill fully stops and jj finally turns to you, looking you up and down. you're wearing an identical two piece to her, except it's a baby pink. back before you decided jj was now on your bad side, she cutely suggested that the two of you match while getting ready in the morning.
“staring isn't nice.”
jj laughs. “you're cute when you're upset.”
she’s off the treadmill now and heading toward machines. turning behind her to look at you still standing next to the treadmill she was once on.
“you coming, or not?”
you quickly scramble to catch up to her haste pace.
“why are we here again?” you question. staring down the lat pulldown machine.
“how many reps did you do?”
you bite your lip, you didn't have to speak for her to already know you half assed your time on this machine.
“c’mon get on it.” she sighs.
you don't fight her, and work your way onto the seat, making yourself comfortable. jj reaches over you to set the weight. you become light headed at the soft smell of her, even from all the sweating she's done. you'll have to ask spencer if pheromones really do attract people.
“3 reps of 10” she says. taking a spot behind you. and pulling the bar down for you to grab easier.
you look behind at her. “you'll stay here the whole time?”
“the whole time, babe.”
and so you do your 3 reps of 10, with minimal complaining.
“good job. not very hard, hm?”
“it was actually, very.” you remark. you once again cause jj to laugh, because you can just never let her win.
it's unexpected when you feel a hand the the nape of your neck, causing you to look up. met with a towering jj. she leans down to capture your lips in a kiss.
it's an awkward position, but it still leaves you breathless.
“what was that fo-”
you gasp the feeling of jj’s hands grazing over your breast, the feeling of your nipples becoming aroused is now prominent.
“y’know, i guess i was being a little mean. leaving you to do my own workout. but, other than you're whining, you've done so well on your workout today, babe. what do you say about going home, so i can treat you?
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when were y'all gonna tell me about persephone, the poodle webkinz who runs a shop that's pretty much exclusively for rich people-
i need to make it clear that the irony here is not lost on me LOL
what's even better is the comment section which is a mixed bag of praise and "fuck you persephone for hating poor people" criticisms and again, thE IRONY SHOULD NOT BE LOST ON US HERE-
this has literally nothing to do with LO and yet it makes me laugh so fucking hard to see a whole ass other niche and specific fandom embroiled in criticism regarding a pink depiction of persephone who they deem to be a snobby diva
d-
do you think-
do you think this is what rachel's been referencing the whole time when she keeps having the male characters in LO brag about persephone's pedigree-
#never expected the antiLO community to have a crossover episode with the webkinz community fr#i support you webkinz persephone haters#you may have won the battle but the war wages on#btw in case anyone can't see the obvious here this is a shitpost purely for gags#like this literally has zero to do with lore olympus so please don't take an ounce of it seriously#i know i shouldn't have to say that but i just know i'm gonna get messages in my inbox over this LOL#it's hilarious that persephone is a lightning rod for snobby diva girl characterizations like this#they really do just keep making her pink and mean#this is officially the dumbest thing i've ever posted fr#out of everything i'm going to hell for this is up there as the worst LMAO
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ADULT STORE
↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader
"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."
1.5k words
Pt. 2
Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!
Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)
Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈
Playme : wanna know what it's like?
The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.
The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.
"Yo."
Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.
He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.
"Ah, h-hello..."
He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.
"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.
"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."
Yeah, that's what I thought.
He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.
"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"
His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.
"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."
Aw, of course.
"M'kay... then let me assist you."
He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.
"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"
"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.
I know exactly what she needs...
"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."
His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.
Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.
"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"
Aw, she's flustered.
"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."
Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.
"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."
There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.
He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.
"This one's got ten functions—"
"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."
"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."
The two of you share a long look, then laugh.
"But it really is an excellent product."
"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.
"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."
I could make her squirt.
He's running his eyes up and down your body.
"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.
"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."
He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.
"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.
A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.
Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...
He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.
"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.
You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.
He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.
"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.
"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.
He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.
"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."
"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."
Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.
His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."
After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.
He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.
He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.
"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."
He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.
"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?
"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"
"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"
He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.
Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...
"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.
He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.
She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.
You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.
"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.
You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.
"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."
"Fuck, okay."
And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.
"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.
Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.
His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.
This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.
"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"
He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.
Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.
"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."
And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.
Please cum on my face. Please please please.
"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"
You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.
He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.
"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"
Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#smut#mdni#geto#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto x reader smut#geto x fem reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk geto#suguru x reader#suguru smut#suguru#x reader#female reader#fem reader
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Embarrassing
You waited on your knees, wearing nothing but your pink panties when I walked into your room.
I ignored you and looked around at all the pink. Pink walls. Pink bedspread. Pink furniture. Even Pink stuffies.
I open the drawer to your Pink night stand. I smiled seeing all the toys. A Pink skinny vibrator. A light up butt plug. A bumble bee. And a set of Pink furry handcuffs. Underneath all that was your journal.
I pulled the pink vibator from the drawer and walked over to you. I run my fingers into your hair and kiss you. I lift by the hair, pulling your butt from your heels.
I rub your pussy through your panties. They are already soaked. I smile and turn the vibrator on before working it in your pussy slowly. You gasp at first but relax into its gentle vibration.
I use your panties to keep it in there. You pant a little as I pull the handcuffs from the drawer. Your eyes widen for a moment and then soften. You put your hands behind your back.
I lock them in place and return to the drawer. I pull your journal and flip through it.
Your eyes bulge and you begin to protest. Your face beet red.
I stand in front of you and pull out my throbbing cock.
I want you to suck my cock while I read your journal.
You resist at first, but were defenseless. You take me in your mouth and begin to suck.
I make sure I turn each page loudly to remind you of what I'm doing.
I get to the time you lost your virginity. I read every word out loud and slowly. You sucked a little faster as I read.
You must have felt so ashamed afterward. You know you were supposed to save yourself for true love. What were you thinking?
You suck harder.
I read out loud how you were obsessed with the boy in your class, but he ignored you.
What? Were you too shy? Not pretty enough? Not slutty enough? Just think of the things that beautiful boy could have done to you.
You suck faster.
I read about the first time you got high and that pervert wouldn't take his hands off you. And how you finally gave in.
Really? You gave in? You let that perv fuck you? It's embarrassing how weak you were. You probably felt that shame for a long time. Didn't you?
You slow down and pull away, but I guide your mouth back on my cock. You eagerly take it.
I read about that night where you were really drunk and got fucked by a stranger in the backseat of that car.
That must have been the night you truly became a slut. I mean. That could have been anyone. And you just gave it up without trying to resist. You're such a dirty little slut.
You take me all the way down in your throat. You hold it there, literally trying to choke back tears.
I read about that time you kissed a girl and ate her pussy while getting fucked from behind.
Oh, see now, that's my good girl. I'm so proud of you. I like when you are fun like that.
You ease up but still choke back tears.
Then I read about your latest entry. How you met me. How you like when I call you a good girl, or my Pretty girl, or my Pretty Little slut.
I read how you like the way I look at you, especially when you're dressed up. The way I make you feel when I'm dominating you. The way I love when you please me. How I treat you like a princess and a fuckdoll.
I stop reading and pull your hair back so you can look at me.
I smile down at you while I cum in your mouth.
That's my good little girl. I'm proud to have you.
I take you in my arms and set you on your bed. I lie next to you. Hold you and tell you everything is alright. You are safe and secure.
#bimboization#bimbo hypnosis#bimbo doll#bimbo girl#bimbo training#bimbo babe#bimboification#bimbolife#bambisleep#bambi sleep#aztops#dumbification#dumb wh0re#dumbing down#dominated slave#bimbo dreams#bimbo toy#aztopshypno
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The Doll House | M.List & Intro
doll!enha (hyung line) x fem!reader
warnings: smut (mdni), dolls, mentions of possession and demons, specific warnings on individual chapters
synopsis: when you're strapped for cash and an opportunity arises to help you out, you're stuck in a mansion with 4 human-like dolls who do anything but sit still.
taglist: closed!!
a/n: hi! so this was actually inspired by this ask and originally i was thinking of making it a long one-shot but then i was like, what if each hyung line member got their own chapter? so here we are! below is an introduction into the fic so make sure you read it before going into the chapters! they should be released every 1-2 weeks but i still have to write them so it's tbd right now.
warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging.
wc: 7.7k
read here
synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible
warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements obvs
wc: 8.9k
read here
synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return
warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk!
wc: 10.3k
release date: 7th May
synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be.
warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m&f.rec), throat fucking, rough, kinda dom!hee, doggy, choking, pet names (baby, angel), mentions of demons, revelations and conclusion
wc: tbd
release date: 14th May (subject to change)
synopsis: with only 2 weeks left, you have formed a bond with each of the dolls, well, all of them except heeseung. as you snoop around his room to find out more about him, he gives you all the answers you're looking for and more
“How long for how much?”
"Two months, 5k, just cleaning some woman's house," Mia responds, placing the newspaper in front of you with a dramatic flourish, the ad circled in pink glitter pen.
Taking the paper from her, you wrinkle your brow and examine the advertisement with scepticism and intrigue, "Isn't it strange that she's advertising in the newspaper? Who even reads these anymore?" Upon closer inspection, you sneer and return it to Mia, your fingertips leaving light smudges on the paper, "And she didn't even put her name, just 'Ms. Kim'."
This whole situation feels odd. What employer doesn’t post an ad on the internet like a normal person?
"She's probably ancient, Y/N. Old folks aren't exactly tech-savvy," Mia offers, attempting to rationalise the oddity.
Despite your reservations, the need for employment weighs heavily. Losing your job last month has left little time for finding a new one, and the bills certainly haven't stopped coming. £5000 for two months' work is an enticing offer, especially considering your previous job paid a fraction of that for an entire month's work.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you contemplate the offer. The uncertainty gnaws at you, but the allure of some financial stability is hard to ignore. Mia watches you, her expression a mixture of concern and anticipation as she awaits you to make up your mind. She could use the money too, giving her some extra cash to pay for her birthday trip in a couple of months.
"You know what?" you finally say, breaking the heavy silence that hangs between you. "Let's give it a shot. It's just two months, right? And we could really use the money."
Mia's face lights up with a grin, her enthusiasm infectious, "That's the spirit! Besides, how bad could it be? It's just cleaning."
You nod in agreement, though a lingering sense of unease tugs at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch you can't scratch. Pushing it aside, you focus on the prospect of income and the relief it would bring.
"Alright then," you say, mustering up a smile despite the nagging doubts that linger in the back of your mind. "Let's do it. But if anything feels off, we bail, deal?"
Mia nods enthusiastically, already dialling Ms. Kim’s number on her phone, her eagerness palpable as she eagerly anticipates the adventure that lies ahead.
_____
The drive to Ms. Kim's house feels never-ending, with each mile leaving the city behind and the surroundings blurring into an everlasting blur of trees and road. You check the satnav, hoping for a break from the monotony, only to see that, tragically, it still shows an hour left on the journey.
The scenery outside appears stuck in time, with the trees going past in a repeated rhythm that does little to break the spell of boredom. You peek at Mia, who sits next to you in the driver's seat, her expression conveying a similar mix of frustration and resignation.
The radio drones on in the background, a pitiful attempt to break the quiet that hangs thick in the air. You reach over and fumble with the dial, hoping to find a distraction, but each station either plays static or music you've heard a thousand times before.
“You seriously need to get a better car, Y/N. I told you we should have taken mine,” she snips at you, the journey clearly getting to her. You had run out of conversation in the first hour, discussing your non-existent love life and jobs that you have applied for. Since nothing was going on in your life, there wasn’t much to talk about.
“We said we would take mine so she would feel pity and give us more money,” you grumble, sinking into your seat in protest. If this woman has enough money to spend on random girls cleaning her house, she could have some more to throw at you as charity; you’ll take anything at this point.
The drive continues until finally, you pull up to Ms. Kim’s house. But calling it a house feels like a gross understatement; it's a mansion, a sprawling castle that looms larger than life before you.
A long gravel path stretches out before you, leading up to the imposing sand-coloured building. The mansion seems to bask in its own magnificence, the rustic feel and unkept garden only add a sense of eeriness to your wonder.
You exchange a glance with Mia, both of you momentarily speechless. This is not what you expected when you answered the ad in the newspaper. You expected it to be big, obviously, she wasn't going to give out 5k for a studio apartment, but this is on another level of anything you could have imagined.
Mia locks the car door, unsure whether to approach the large double doors. She outstretches her hand for you to take, seeking your comfort as she takes the first steps. You both look like you’re back in your first year of high school, scared that as soon as you step foot in the place, it will swallow you whole.
“We’re supposed to clean this every day?” you ask in disbelief.
Shaking her head, Mia tries to convey a sense of confidence in her voice yet it fails, “Surely not, the travel alone is too much for someone to do every day.”
With hesitant steps, you both make your way to the entrance, your finger reaching out to press the doorbell which rings a faint familiar tune, one you’ve heard plenty yet could never place the name. For a moment, there is only silence, and you begin to wonder if anyone is home. But then, with a creak that seems to reverberate through the very foundations of the mansion, the door slowly swings open, revealing a dimly lit interior shrouded in shadow.
A woman stands in front of you, her elegant clothes and neatly styled hair give her the appearance of a 90s supermodel. She doesn't resemble the idea you had of Ms. Kim. "Y/N and Mia?" she inquires, her voice smooth and melodious, a twinkle of delight in her eyes as she tilts her head with a smile.
You share a puzzled look with Mia. This woman could not possibly be Ms. Kim. For starters, she seems way too young to be the owner of this castle; she had to be just slightly older than yourself and you can barely afford to buy a loaf of bread. The advertisement plainly said that Ms. Kim was looking for help, hinting that she was an elderly homeowner in need of assistance. Second, the decision to advertise in a newspaper rather than somewhere like Indeed does not fit the image of a 20-something.
Your mind races with questions, but before you can express your reservations, the woman motions for you to follow her into the mansion. With a shared look, you and Mia exchange a silent agreement, remembering that you promised to bail as soon as anything got weird.
As you cross the threshold, the heavy wooden door slams behind you with a bang and you follow the mystery woman deeper into the mansion's maze halls, you can't help but feel like there's more to this situation than meets the eye.
“My name is Kim Soonyeol, Ms. Kim is probably how you know me. I am so happy you answered my ad so promptly! I was scared no one would answer it,” she explains.
Walking through the large hallways, you notice one thing that seems to be a prominent feature.
Dolls.
Lots and lots of creepy, old-timey porcelain dolls. They line the shelves, perched on antique furniture, and seem to stare at you with unblinking eyes as you pass by. Their features are fixed, ranging from serene to sinister, each contributing to the feeling of discomfort in the air.
Mia's grip on your hand tightens, and you can feel the tension radiating from her as she whispers, "Do you think they all have cameras in their eyes?" Her words send a chill down your spine, and you can't help but entertain the unsettling thought.
The woman leading you through the mansion seems unbothered by the presence of the dolls, her demeanour calm and composed as she gestures for you to follow. But you can't shake the feeling that there's something deeply wrong about this place.
"I am going away on some business for 2 months," she begins, her voice echoing through the cavernous halls, "and I need you to clean this entire house from top to bottom as well as a few...other errands."
Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Soonyeol is ominous in her explanations, not delving any further into these ‘errands’. It's strange to you, why can’t her house stay stagnant for a month or two?
“There are a lot of rooms, Ms. Kim,” you comment, hoping she might open up and explain anything about this castle and why the fuck it is filled to the brim with porcelain dolls. It’s not exactly a young person’s hobby to collect these things - unless they’re haunted, then you know you need to take a sharp turn for the exit.
She smiles fondly, “Yes, each bedroom is designated to a precious doll of mine,” she offers as an explanation but fails to give any clarity.
“She is fucking crazy,” your friend whispers to you, her hand now gripping your arm as she walks slightly behind you, letting you take the lead in case of danger.
As Soonyeol gestures towards a room at the end of the corridor, she announces, "And this is your room. I've made sure I at least cleaned this before I left," punctuating her statement with a chuckle. With a flourish, she opens the door, revealing a space that dwarfs your flat and the corner shop it sits above.
But your confusion quickly turns to apprehension as Soonyeol's words sink in. "Wait, what do you mean 'our room'?" you interject, trying to mask the rising unease in your voice. "Isn't this just a cleaning job?"
Soonyeol's expression shifts, her eyes widening with a hint of anger as she leans back and places a hand on her chest. "Wasn't I clear in the ad that you would be housesitting?" she retorts, her tone laced with irritation. "I cannot leave my babies here on their own. They can't fend for themselves."
A chill runs down your spine as her words sink in.,"Babies?" you repeat, your mind reeling at the implications of her statement, "What do you mean by that?"
But before you can press for answers, Soonyeol is already ushering you and Mia out of the guest bedroom and into another part of the mansion. As you step into the dining room, you're met with a sight that you can't quite put into words.
Four figures sit at the dining table, their faces with different expressions and their bodies unmoving. At first glance, they appear to be ordinary people, but then it hits you like a bolt of lightning - they're not real. They're dolls, human-like dolls arranged as if they were waiting for a meal that would never come.
A shiver runs down your spine as you exchange a horrified glance with Mia. The realisation sinks in like a stone in the pit of your stomach - this woman is not just eccentric, she's fucking unhinged. And as you stand in that surreal dining room, surrounded by figures that seem to stare back at you with empty eyes, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread settle over you like a suffocating fog.
Despite Mia’s step back, you move forward, looking at them in detail. They are exquisitely done, each of them with their own unique features and life-like skin. You knew dolls like this existed but not to this level of detail. They must be worth thousands of pounds, easily in the double digits.
“If you cannot stay then I will have to look for someone else,” she starts to dismiss you much to Mia’s relief; she is already mentally back in the car and screeching out.
As Soonyeol's words hang in the air, the weight of her ultimatum settling heavily on your shoulders, Mia visibly relaxes, relief evident in her demeanour. She's already mentally back in the car, ready to screech out of this bizarre situation.
But your attention is drawn to one particular doll seated at the dining table. His eyes, although lifeless, seem to pull you in with an inexplicable allure. He's striking, meticulously detailed with dark cherry-red hair, wide lips, and a figure that exudes an almost ethereal charm, even in his simple white t-shirt. His eyes, though small, are framed by long lashes that only add to his beauty.
Before you realise what you're doing, your mouth begins to speak, surprising both you and Mia. "I can stay, sure," you hear yourself say, the words tumbling out with a sense of inevitability.
"What?" Mia's incredulous voice snaps you back to reality, her eyes wide with disbelief as she pleads with you to reconsider, "You can't up and move your life for 2 months!" she warns in a hushed tone, her concern palpable.
“I don’t exactly have anything to go back to,” you shrug, knowing that all that awaits you back in the city is unopened bills and mouldy cheese. Mia has much more to lose, a job and boyfriend aren’t exactly something you can just upchuck.
"You go home, and I'll do it," you suggest, a plan forming in your mind as you speak, "You can visit on your days off and help me out. I'll make sure you get half the money."
Mia doesn't look entirely convinced, but the thought of such a large sum of money for minimal work seems to appeal to her pragmatic side, "Will you be okay?" she asks, genuine concern etched into her features.
You consider the question carefully, a strange sense of reassurance emanating from the dolls behind you, despite their unsettling presence, "I will be. If anything happens, I'll come straight home," you assure her, your voice steadier than you feel.
Reluctantly, Mia agrees, nodding her head as she steps to the side to speak with Soonyeol and gather more information about the job. Left alone with the dolls, you can't help but steal one last glance at the cherry-red-haired figure that caught your eye earlier. But something is different this time - the smirk on his lips and the narrowed gaze in his eyes seem almost... knowing.
Was he doing that before?
#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#heeseung smut#sunghoon smut#jake smut#jay smut#masterlist#aj writes#i am excited!#; the doll house
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also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy
“Shoes?” Amanda asks.
“Yeah, babe.”
“No thanks.”
You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.”
“I’ll have socks.”
You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes.
“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?”
“Why?”
“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?”
“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists.
“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon.
She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout.
Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.
You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.”
“‘Xactly,” Amy says.
“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.”
“No shoes,” Amy says.
“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.”
“Why?”
“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?”
In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck.
You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.”
“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.”
And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!”
You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then.
“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.”
“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”
Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing.
“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it.
“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough.
“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs.
“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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2. Rafe x innocent (and kinda naive/ airhead?) reader where reader and rafe are dating (still very new) and reader keeps reminding him she wants to wait longer (when they are making out/feeling each other up) and he keeps trying to go further, so he tells/manipulates her that it’s not normal for girls to not want to go further and something could be wrong, so he “checks” her (rubbing her clit and fingering her) and asking things like “does that feel good?” “Doesn’t that make you want more?” “Something probably is wrong if you want me to stop”, just so he can convince her to say she wants more (so then he fucks her).
-💎
ur asks have me going FERAL. your brain is so beautiful and it must be treasured and protected at all costs. i actually hate the way i wrote this but i was too far in to change it by the time i realised i didn’t like it😒😒 nevertheless, this is a long one guys so buckle up!! (1.5k words!!!😱😱)
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
you and rafe had only been dating for a few weeks, relationships were pretty much a whole new thing for you since your upbringing hadn’t really allowed it. you hadn’t had sex before, ever. and rafe wasn’t going to be patient for much longer, the furthest you two had went is making out, when it got heated you pulled back.. pushing him away and saying you didn’t feel well.
rafe was getting desperate, you didn’t even realise what you did to him. he was painfully hard most of the time since you were oblivious to how sexual you were being. such as bending over right infront of his face, showing him your cutesy pink panties or accidentally grinding against his cock when you squeezed past him in the kitchen. rafes frustration was at its peak and he couldn’t take it any longer.
rafe stretched his arm around your waist as you both lay in bed watching tv, biting his lip in thought before reaching out to grip your jaw gently, turning you to face him. he leant forward, catching your lips in a deep kiss, it didn’t take long knowing rafe before it got heated, as his tongue began battling your own for dominance you pulled away, taking deep breaths as you stared up at him with big innocent eyes.
“what’s wrong, pretty girl?” he muttered, lifting his thumb to wipe his drool from your mouth.
“n-nothing rafe, i just.. i don’t… i can’t go any further with you, i-i don’t think i’m ready for that.” rafe’s patience was out of the window by now, all rational thoughts evaporating as his cock grew harder, straining against his pants, desperate to be inside your sweet cunt.
“baby…” he sighed. “this isn’t normal.”
you stared at him with a confused expression, your eyebrows knitted. “i-i don’t understand, did i do something?”
he was quick to shut that thought down “no, no, no, my sweet girl, it’s more about what you didn’t do. see, other girls your age…they love being good for their daddy’s, and i just don’t think you are being good f’ me.” tears began to whell up in your eyes, his negative feedback not sitting right in your stomach. “daddy?” you questioned gently, your bottom lip wobbling.
“yeah, i’m your daddy, baby. and i think it’s about time you start calling me that. it’s true, no? i take care of you, i feed you, pay for your clothes, hell, i even take you to the bathroom. i may aswell be your daddy, so that’s what your gonna’ call me from now on, you got that?” he speaks softly, not wanting to discourage you or push you further away but needing to be firm enough so you understand. he’s testing the waters. seeing how easy it is to control your sweet mind in ways only a man like him could.
“i mean.. yeah, that-that makes sense i guess.”
a sly smile appears on his face, his thumb wiping a salty tear from your cheek “good girl.” he lifts your skirt with one hand, pushing into your panties and rubbing your clit, you gasp in surprise at the new sensation. “daddy! w-what are you doing?” you ask in shock.
rafe sighs “daddy needs to give you a check up baby, just to make sure nothin’s wrong. all i need to do is rub that sweet button of yours and fuck my fingers into your pretty pussy, mkay?” your cunt involuntarily clenches around nothing. “mkay, daddy.” you moan. rafes fingers stray from your clit to your entrance, his cock growing impeccably harder from the feel of your wetness, your pussy leaking around his hand.
“d-daddy, feels s’ good.” you whimper as he pushes his fingers into your hole, your walls clenching instinctively around his thick digits. “yeah? you like that? you like it when daddy fingers your sweet pussy?” he groan into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
he picks up his pace, fingering you roughly until the knot in your stomach begins to tighten, you grab at his wrist, pushing him away, which doesn’t really do much since your strength is no match for his own. “daddy! stop, i-i think i’m gonna’ pee.” you whine, embarrassment flooding through your veins. your cheeks flushed from the humiliation.
he lets out a small laugh, his famous smirk still painted across his face “no baby, your not gonna’ pee.. your gonna’ cum. your gonna’ cum with my fingers deep inside your cunt. ask me. ask daddy for permission.” he growls, a flip switching inside his brain. “p-please daddy, make me cum, please can i cum? please please please.” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you try desperately to hold back.
“cum.”
he growls, watching as your legs begin to shake, your pussy sucking his fingers further into your cunt. you cry out as your body spasms, a thick creamy fluid leaking out of you and into rafes palm. “that’s it, let it all out. dirty fuckin’ girl. creaming all over your daddy’s fingers.”
your breathing begins to slow as you come down from your orgasm although rafe keeps his fingers deep inside your pussy, catching you in a deep kiss. he takes your hand in his own and leads it down towards his cock, making you instantly recoil. rafe lets out a mixed groan of annoyance and sigh of disappointment under his breath. you look towards the bed, feeling guilty as ever. he turns you to face him again, his pretty blues simmering in darkness. “listen. pretty baby, i was trying to be nice earlier but… i think there is something wrong with you. all the other girls your age wanna’ fuck daddy, so why don’t you? i’ve been so patient with you sweets but, the clock’s tickin’.”
rafes fingers begin to fuck into you once again at a rapid pace, your whimpers and cries filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. “see? doesn’t that feel good? doesn’t that make you want more?” you nod your head, dazed with pleasure. not even fully understanding his questions. “good girl.” he mutters before taking his cock out of his pants, before you even realise whats happening, rafe had removed his fingers and crawled on top of you, pushing the mushroom tip of his swollen fat cock against your entrance.
your eyes burst open in shock at the feeling “wait, wait, wait, da-DADDY! Oh fuck!” you practically screamed as rafe bottomed out in your pussy with a single thrust. essentially, popping your cherry. his hand is quick to cover your mouth as he glares down at you from above. his sanity is long gone by now, the crazed look on his face scaring you into submission.
“shut the fuck up. i-i’m done playing games now. your gonna’ shut your pretty little mouth and-and daddy’s gonna’ fuck your cunt until he cums deep inside you, okay?” you didn’t respond seeming as his hand was covering your mouth.
he lifted his palm from your mouth before quickly striking you across the face, you cried out as your skin began to fluster due to the impact of his hit. he swiftly gripped your jaw making you look him in the eyes once more “you-you fuckin’ answer me when i’m talkin’ to you. you nod your fuckin’ head when daddy asks you a question.” this time you were quick to nod your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed a “y-yes daddy.”
if anything they just seemed to turn rafe on even more. “good… good girl.” he groaned before pummelling his cock further into your cunt, he began thrusting at a rapid pace, fucking you so hard the headboard began to bash against the wall. your screams of pleasure probably being heard for miles. “ohhhh shit, you see that, you fuckin’ slut?” he pointed your face towards where your cunt and his cock connected, a pool of pink cream surrounding the base of his cock, a mixture of blood and cum. you were too far gone to talk at this point, moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips as you simply nodded your head, your eyes rolling back.
“fuck i can’t believe you tried to hide this shit from me, tried to hide how much of a greedy fuckin’ cock slut you are. it’s okay though baby, daddy loves when you turn into a desperate little whore. gonna’ have you writhing on this fat cock every day of the week from now on.”
#💎anon#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#dark rafe cameron x reader#dark! rafe cameron#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron prompt
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Stick Around
Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader
Masterlist
Summary: You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, cheating/infidelity (not by a main character I promise) mild swearing, excessive use of italics
|Age 20|
“You can’t seriously still be reading that stuff,” Oscar says.
You peer at him over the top of your magazine.
“What stuff?” You ask, playing innocent.
“Your horoscope,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Haven’t you outgrown that yet?”
You shrug, directing your gaze back to the page in front of you. Today, you should avoid the color pink and embrace your skepticism. Oscar’s doing enough of the last part for the both of you. You could gain a great deal of information from social interactions. That’s helpful- you’ve been in search of some gossip. Your soulmate is just a click away- wait, no, that’s an ad. You huff and set the magazine down on the table. Oscar nods in agreement.
“I just think maybe it’s better to live your life without worrying about what the stars say,” Oscar says, waving his hands around in a way that you think is supposed to represent the stars. “Just, like… do what you want to do.”
“I do,” you mutter dryly. “Doesn’t hurt to have some advice, though.”
The two of you have always been like this. Oscar is a skeptic, you’re a believer. He calls it being easy to brainwash, says it in a teasing way that makes you glare at him every time. He’s taken it as his responsibility to keep you from falling for things. You’ve told him time and time again that you’re fine on your own. You just like the idea of predestiny, that what’s going to happen was always meant to.
Oscar is just worried you’ll join the first cult you cross paths with.
|Age 5|
It’s the day after you turn 5 when you first hear the word soulmate. Sol-meight. You sound it out through your lips, sticky with jam from your breakfast. Your best friend at the time, a girl whose name you’ve long since forgotten, had said it.
“S’when you’re meant to be,” she explains, in that all knowing tone that only little kids who know nothing at all seem to have. “Like, my mum and dad say they’re soulmates.”
Oscar, who’s sitting next to you, scoffs. “Everyone’s parents say that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
He’s taller than you, even sitting down, hair cut short after one of his sisters stuck gum in it a few days ago. His cheeks are rosy red, and there’s cream cheese on his nose. Years later, Oscar’s face will be one of the first ones you ever remember meeting. Right now, he’s just the boy in your class whose mother knows your mother, and because of that, he’s the boy who rides to school with you in the backseat. He’s not the worst, you guess. He’s… okay. Sort of just… always there.
“Is too!” Your friend says, shaking her head, pigtails bouncing. “Mum says there’s signs.”
“What kinda signs?” You ask, and Oscar turns to look at you in disbelief.
She shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll ask later.”
She comes back to the breakfast table the next day with a magazine page, torn haphazardly and slightly crumpled. On it is a list of signs someone could be your soulmate. The two of you pore over the page at every available opportunity for at least a week, barely able to read all the words.
Your friend forgets about soulmates a month later and moves on to an obsession with Barbie dolls. You carry the magazine page with you for years after that, until it’s worn and falling apart. Then you copy down the list into a safer place, worried you’ll lose it forever. 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate, written with magic marker on pink construction paper and stowed away in your desk.
|Age 10|
“I hate olives,” you sneer, staring at the very last slice of pizza.
It’s a birthday party. You can’t for the life of you understand why there’s pizza with olives on it. Olives don’t belong on pizza- not much does, in your opinion. Just pepperoni, really. Maybe a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese, if you’re feeling fancy.
Katy, one of your classmates, is standing next to you. “I love olives. Here, I’ll pick them off for you and you can have the last slice.”
The pizza still tastes a bit like olives in the end, probably baked into the cheese, but it’s better than it would’ve been. Katy is your best friend after that. The two of you are inseparable from the moment you get to school until the moment you leave. You beg your mothers for sleepovers on the weekends, for day trips during holiday breaks. YouandKaty. Your names melt together until they become one.
Oscar still rides to school with you in the morning. Sometimes, Katy does too. Katy doesn’t like Oscar. She doesn’t like most boys, calls them gross. Since Katy thinks boys are gross, you do too.
“Be nice to Oscar,” your mother tells you one morning. “He’s not done anything to you.”
You’re in the backseat of the car, on the way to his house. “He’s a boy. Boys are gross.”
Your mother sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. She says your name sternly, and you shrink in your seat. When Oscar gets in, you say hello and force a smile.
Oscar’s the one who finds you crying on the playground. You thought you’d chosen a better hiding place, really- nobody had bugged you in your spot between the two large myrtle trees. But Oscar finds you anyways. You can’t even bring yourself to tell him to go away, too busy feeling sorry for yourself.
“Wha’s wrong?” He asks.
His cheeks are red- he’s likely been running around with the other boys. You shrug, pulling up another clump of grass and letting it fall from your fingers. Oscar sighs, scuffs his toe in the dirt.
“Katy doesn’t wanna be friends anymore,” you say, rubbing at your bare knee. “She says I’m not cool enough.”
Katy likes olives. You don’t. It’s on the soulmate list. You’re meant to be best friends.
Oscar’s quiet for a moment. Then- “That’s stupid. You’re like, the coolest person I know.”
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”
“M’serious,” he says. He holds his hand out to you. “Wanna come play cricket with the gross boys?”
You take his hand, wipe your tears with your other hand. “Yeah. I do.”
|Age 12|
“Are you and Dad soulmates?” You ask your mother one morning, before you even leave the house.
She’s standing at the counter, a piece of toast in her hand, half eaten. Her coffee is half drank, too.
She tilts her head at you. “What do you mean, love?”
“Like, when you met, did you just know he was the one? Did it feel meant to be?”
She laughs. “Oh, god no. We were polar opposites. Barely spoke to each other for the first year after we met.”
You stare at her in surprise. “What changed?”
She sighs, wistfully, staring into her mug. “He asked me if I wanted an orange. I said yes. And when he handed it to me, he’d peeled it for me.”
You blink. “Because you hate peeling oranges.”
“I do,” she agrees. “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action. I think love is more about the choices we make and the things we remember about each other than whatever is written in the stars, honey.”
|Age 15|
There’s a boy on the football team- Ryan. Ryan has dark, curly hair and long, long eyelashes and this smile that makes your heart melt and your brain all fuzzy. Ryan doesn’t like olives, either, but he has a birthmark on the back of his right hand in the shape of a lopsided heart, and if you squint hard enough, you have one that matches on the back of your left arm. You stare at in the mirror for hours after he points it out, his hand on your arm.
You stare at your lips in the mirror for hours, too, after he kisses you for the first time. You think maybe you look different. You must. You’d never been kissed before, but Ryan hadn’t minded.
You go on group dates with him, because you’re nervous and your parents think you’re a bit too young to really be dating. You go to the mall, the movies, the diner down the street from the school. It’s your first taste of freedom.
Oscar asks you if you really like Ryan, like- “like like him?”, one day when you’re sitting in his backyard. Your mothers are inside, drinking wine. His sisters are in the pool, you’re laying out in the sun. Oscar sits under an umbrella and squints at the brightness of the world around him.
“Yeah,” you say, in the same tone you’d say duh or of course. “I think he’s my soulmate.”
“Why’s that?” Oscar asks tilting his head.
“We have matching birthmarks,” you say, again, in the same tone.
Oscar forms his mouth into a little o shape. You squint at him, pushing yourself to sit up.
“Why’re you so worried about it, anyways?”
“M’not,” Oscar says, crossing his leg over his knee. “S’just. He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”
He whispers the curse word so his sisters won’t hear. Oscar’s big into karting and racing right now, and the older boys at the tracks swear like sailors. There’s a swear jar stuffed to the brim sitting on the kitchen counter inside, right next to the half empty wine bottle.
Ryan is a bit of an arse, you’ll admit. To almost everyone.
“He’s nice to me,” you shrug. “He brought me flowers, yesterday. Isn’t that what matters?”
Oscar shrugs. He doesn’t ask about Ryan again.
Oscar is the one who brings you flowers when Ryan cheats on you and the other girl tells the whole school. He brings them to your bedroom door and you let him in. He sits with you, even as you cry, the door open the parentally required six inches. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t tell you he warned you. He just stays.
When Oscar moves to England, you wave goodbye with a smile. Then you lock yourself in your room and bawl your eyes out for a week straight, harder than you ever did about Ryan.
|Age 18|
Your university roommate, Emma, was born on the same day as you, at the exact same time. Down to the minute. You find it out on your second day of living together. It’s fate, kismet, meant to be. The stars and planets were aligned exactly the same way when you both took your first breaths.
Oscar laughs when you tell him, though he does admit that it’s a pretty cool coincidence. You’re chatting with him on the phone, telling him about your first week of university. You talk a lot, despite the distance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever.
You and Emma aren’t in any classes together- you have completely different majors. Despite this, you still become fast friends. You study together in your room and in the library, meet up for meals, and join a book club together. When Emma gets invited to her very first uni party, she brings you along with her. Your closets become shared.
You visit her family over the winter break for a week. She lives closer to the beach, and you love getting to soak up the sun with her and meet all the childhood friends you’ve heard stories about. Oscar comes home for his break and texts you, wondering when you’ll be back and if you’ll even have time for me, or are you too cool for me now?
You tackle him with a hug when you see him, standing at the kitchen counter in your house when you get there. He’s laughing and pushing you off of him, acting like he didn’t miss you just as much. You know he did. It’s written all over the smile on his face.
Emma visits your family later in the break, and that’s when you have your first fight.
“He’s definitely in love with you,” she insists from her spot on the air mattress on your floor.
She’s talking about Oscar, who she just met today. You’d brought her with to a barbecue at his family’s house. You’re regretting that choice. She’s spent all night afterwards pointing out all the signs that he’s in love with you- his hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes, the way he smiled at you.
“He’s not,” you say, cheeks burning hot. “He’s- we’re friends.”
“Friends, right. Guys and girls can’t be just friends,” she says.
“Yes, they can!” You say indignantly.
Emma ignores you, rolls over, and goes to sleep. She leaves for home the next day- not earlier than she was supposed to, but it feels weird anyways. When you get back to campus, things feel different. You never really talk about the fight, though there wasn’t much to talk about, anyways. It’s not like she’s mean to you- the two of you still hang out, still see each other often. But Emma makes new friends, and you do too, and you stop doing everything together. It’s alright, you suppose, it’s just…
You were supposed to be destined to be friends. But soulmates shouldn’t be this easy to let go of. It’s written in the stars, it’s shouldn’t fade away like this.
Months ago, you and Emma had talked about spending the holiday break somewhere far away- somewhere tropical, exotic, so grown up and chic. But it hasn’t come up lately, and then she mentions a trip she’s taking with some friends from her classes. You book a flight to England instead and see Oscar in his new home for the first time.
You have new roommates next year. None of them have the same birthdate as you. You think that’s okay.
|Age 21|
There’s a stain on your dress, someone’s wine or sangria or cranberry juice that they’d been too clumsy with. You suppose it could be yours- you’re really not sure. It’s your fault for wearing such a light color to a club like this.
It’s your birthday. You’ve been able to drink for a few years, but it’s still your birthday, and for once, Oscar is there for it. Or really, you’re there for it, there being England. You’re on yet another trip to visit him, money saved and scraped together from your job on your breaks from school. Oscar helped pay for the plane ticket as a birthday present, and your parents got you a new luggage set to take along.
Oscar’s disappeared- at the bar, you remember, closing out his tab. You check your phone- 2:22 am. It’s really time you should be headed home-
You’re jostled from behind, and moments later, you feel cool liquid deep down your back. You turn, and there’s a guy standing there, sandy blonde hair and a terrified look on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, British accent smoothing the words over. “I didn’t mean to-“
“S’okay,” you tell him, though you wrinkle your nose at the feeling of what was likely beer running down your back. “The dress was stained already.”
The man sighs. “It’s not okay- let me make it up to you. Can I buy you a drink?”
You frown. “I think I’m supposed to be leaving. My friend just went to pay.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” The guy’s eyes light up, then. “Wait, how about I take you on a date?”
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. 2:22, you remember. Angel numbers. You are in the right place at the right time.
“I’m only here for a couple more days,” you say, cautiously.
“I’m free tomorrow if you are,” he suggest. “Well, more like later today, but-“
“Yeah, okay!” You’d at brightly, and hopefully not too eagerly. “I’m free.”
He’s holding out his phone for you to put your number in when Oscar pops up. He looks between the two of you with raised brows. “Everything alright?”
“He’s taking me on a date later today,” you explain, tapping the last number. “Because he spilled beer on my dress. Can you check if I put my number in right? My fingers aren’t working right.”
Oscar laughs, leans forward, and nods. “That’s right.”
You don’t remember getting back to Oscar’s apartment. You barely even remember the guy from the bar until Oscar brings it up that morning, a teasing tone in his voice. Suddenly you’re checking your phone every minute, looking for a text from him. You name him Angel Boy, mentioning the angel numbers you’d seen just before you bumped into him. Oscar, well versed in your obsession with things that are just meant to be, rolls his eyes affectionately.
When the sun is trending towards the horizon and Angel Boy still hasn’t called or even texted you, your mood sours. You plant yourself on the couch, an episode of some stupid reality show playing. You’re not paying attention, only staring at your phone.
By the time 7:00 rolls around, you know it’s a lost cause. You can hear Oscar in the other room, shuffling around, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There’s got to be someone out there who’s actually meant to be yours, right? One of these times the signs will be right, and it’ll all work out. It’s just… you’re getting discouraged.
Oscar appears in front of you and slips your phone out of your hands. He shoves it into his own pocket. He hands you a jacket, one of his, and you stare up at him with wide eyes.
“I’m taking you out to dinner,” he says, as he reaches to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Just because he’s not going to text you, doesn’t mean you should just sit here all night.”
You could cry even harder at that, at the fact that Oscar cares enough to try and break you out of your moping. You don’t really want to go out, but he has this hopeful look on his face. Both of you don’t need to be sad today. So you stand up, pull the jacket over your arms, and take a deep breath. You walk out of the apartment, your arm linked with his.
The ramen bar you go to is probably better than anywhere the guy would’ve taken you, anyways. If you’re being honest, the company is better, too.
|Age 22|
Oscar flies you out to the Netherlands to see him race. You’d been at the Melbourne Grand Prix, of course, but he’d insisted he’d fly you out for at least one race in his first season- promised it years ago, when Formula One was just a dream on his bucket list. Zandvoort works well- it fits into your schedule, and the summer break starts right afterwards, so he’ll actually have time to spend with you.
In the days leading up to the race, he’s extremely busy and extremely apologetic about it. You reassure him that you understand, that you knew what you were getting into, knew he’d be busy. You wander around the paddock, say hi to Logan- who you know only slightly better than all the other drivers- and keep yourself entertained. You spend time with Oscar when you get the chance- between interviews and practices, stolen moments of privacy in his driver’s room. It’s nice, it really is, but it’s also… weird.
You’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about what your mother once said about soulmates and love. For all the soul searching you’ve done, all the stars you’ve tried to read, you’ve come up empty. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that maybe there’s just not anyone out there for you. Maybe you’re not meant to have a soulmate.
The thing about letting go of that pressure, though, is that it leaves space. Not a hole, not an emptiness, just… space. Room for other things to sneak in and make their home and grow. Somewhere along the lines- you don’t know when, maybe it’s been there all along- a seed had been planted. Now the roots are digging cracks in your heart, the leaves are shading out every other thought, and there are flowers blooming.
For months, now, your heart has been jumping in your chest every time Oscar texts you. You can’t wipe the grin off your face when he calls. You’ve been following every race, waking up at odd hours to cheer him on, sending him selfies with the tv to prove it to him, to make sure he knows you’re watching. You feel a little crazy, because suddenly he’s all you can think about.
Maybe love is about choices. You start making them, start choosing him. The only question now is if he’ll choose you, too.
The whole weekend is chaos. Oscar crashes in practice, sending himself and your heart spinning. He’s okay, thank god- though his mother texts you frantically, asking if he’s really okay. Then the race itself is even more chaotic, between the rain and the crashes and all the stuff in between. Oscar ends up in the points, though not as high as he’d hoped to be. You cheer for him either way.
You stick around the paddock all the way through his debrief, even when he tries to say you can head back to the hotel without him. Eventually, you leave with him and Lando, his arm around your shoulders the whole way to the car that’s waiting. It’s nice. He’s warm. Lando is making small talk, trying to get to know his teammates best friend, the one Oscar never shuts up about. You feel your face grow hot and hope Oscar doesn’t notice.
In the hotel lobby, Oscar makes a stop at the complimentary snack bar. Lando says something about Kim, his trainer, getting after him, which Oscar ignores. The three of you ride up together in the elevator, with Lando demanding most of your attention as he begs for stories about Oscar as a kid. Oscar’s quiet- you wonder if the weekend is weighing on him more than he’d previously let on.
You say goodnight to Lando and then Oscar scans you into the hotel room. Two beds, a couch, and a balcony that the two of you had eaten breakfast on that morning. You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, flopping down onto your back.
Something lands on your stomach, softly. You look down, and your throat suddenly feels tight. It’s an orange. It’s a peeled orange. Oscar is standing at the window, pulling the curtains closed. His back is to you.
You blink, picking it up delicately. “You peeled it for me.”
“You hate peeling them,” he says. It’s very matter of fact. The same tone he’d use to say duh or of course.
You stare at his silhouette, the slope of his shoulders, the soft puff of his hair. You sit up, stomach turning. Suddenly, you need to be close to him. You stand up, orange in hand, pulling one of the pieces from it. You hold it lightly between your fingertips. Love is an action.
You hold it out to him. He takes it, smiles down at you.
“I love you, you know that?” You say, before you lose the courage.
“Yeah, I love you too,” he says, giving you a goofy look.
“No, like-“ you pause. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you should just-
But it’s too late, because a wave of understanding washes over his face. His eyes go wide, lips parting. His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, the orange slice still in his fingers.
“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. His face splits into a grin. “Jeez, took you long enough to catch up, didn’t it?”
When he drops the orange slice on the floor so he can grab your face and kiss you, you’re somehow still so startled that you also drop the rest of the orange. That’s okay, though. He’ll peel another one for you without you even having to ask. Stars light up behind your eyes at the feeling of his lips on yours, and you realize then that maybe soulmates are just the people who choose to stick around.
…..
Deep in your desk in your childhood home, there’s a piece of paper. It’s been unfolded and refolded a million times. At the top, the title says, 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate in messy, primary school handwriting. You pull it from your drawer and uncap the gel pen that sits in the cup on the desk.
At the bottom of the list, beneath your faded magic marker scrawl, you add:
#16: He peels your oranges.
#16: childhood best friend??
#16: YOU JUST KNOW
little bit of a different format for this one. as always, feel free to check out my other fics and tell me what you think!
#oscar piastri oneshot#oscar piastri x you#formula 1 fanfic#f1 oneshot#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#formula one fluff#formula 1 fluff#f1 fluff#soulmates#f1 soulmate fic#oscar piastri x reader#Spotify#honeywrites#Oscar piastri
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader
[3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before?
“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you.
You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”
There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.
“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”
“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”
The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly.
“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”
You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.
You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”
You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette.
Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown.
Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”
You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing.
“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”
“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”
“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”
Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend.
“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”
You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something.
You wondered if he’d find it.
“Not everyone?” You whispered.
“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”
Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be.
“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”
Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact.
The silence was too loud now.
“I could show you, if you wanted.”
Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes.
He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”
The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not.
“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”
You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air.
“Show me.”
You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour.
He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle.
He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls.
A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out.
You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him.
He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.
Dizzy. You felt dizzy.
“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer.
You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough.
“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?”
You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too.
“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”
“Wait.”
Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”
“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”
You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”
Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again.
I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason.
He simply pressed his lips to yours.
It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own.
He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar.
You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper.
After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”
“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”
You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—”
Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own.
He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning.
“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”
Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”
“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”
“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”
Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position.
“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”
‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”
You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”
Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin.
“Kiss me.”
So you did.
You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own.
It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise.
“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak.
“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”
He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else.
“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower.
You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you.
“Yeah?” Was all you asked.
“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”
You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours.
“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question.
Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control.
You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch.
You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder.
And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home.
You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed.
You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before.
Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.
And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.
“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington drabble
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Cold Nights
Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
Summary: Reader doesn't show up for morning training. Ghost doesn't know what to think.
Word Count: 794
Tw: fluff, angst, mentions of being sick, soldiers being scared of simon lol, ooc simon probably, he calls reader kid, i think that's it🤭
A/N: I'm sick and this came to my mind, I just want simon to take care of me okay???🥹🤧 this is super bad as usual. still hope you like it. pls remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome ✨💖
Masterlist✨
Ghost doesn't see her at the cafeteria, nor the training room. He's disgruntled. His eyes keep drifting apart from the soldiers in front of him, waiting for the next round of endless push ups he's gonna make them go through.
Why isn't she here?
His body feels restless, pacing back and forth.
Soap doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to another.
"Johnny," he calls him. "You're in charge."
"Lt.?" He quirks a brow, not understanding. That's so unlike him.
"Got things to do."
He storms out of the room, the walls rattle when he closes the doors.
It's a cold day. Just like the day before.
Days used to mean nothing to him.
Time.
Until she came along. Three years ago.
That woman... he sighs.
Was it something he said? Didn't they talk about it last night?
Everything was fine.
Or so he thought.
-
"We shouldn't be out here, kid." He mutters. It's freezing, he can see her trembling even beneath her hoodie. Well it was actually his. The hoodie completely swallowing her small form.
"I know, I know!" She laughs. Her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I just... it was too loud inside." That he can agree on. "Is it true?" She asks a few seconds later.
Simon stills. Choosing his next words carefully.
"What?"
"What Soap said." A heartbeat. "About us."
There's a silence that falls between them.
"Those were the words of a drunk man."
"Were they?" her smile is contagious. Damn her and her beautiful soul. "Would you come with me if I asked you to?"
He stares directly at her, trying to find any sign of doubt. He's always mesmerized by her gentle nature. That's something he never knew. Perhaps that's why he was so drawn to her. Longed to be wherever she was. Breathe the same air.
"I'd say that's highly inappropriate." He states. "And that you've had too many shots of whatever poor excuse of a whiskey Johnny made you drink."
"Price called it piss water." She shooks her head. "You're changing the subject!"
Simon chuckles. He really does.
"You've got such power over me no one else could ever have, kid."
And he's doomed.
-
He's trying so hard, going through the events of the night, trying to remember. What happened? Nothing out of line was said. She seemed content when they parted ways, right after he had kissed her good night outside her room. Simon saw the way her eyes lit up with a spark he never saw before. The longing stare. Remembers vividly how she had stopped him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down for another heated kiss.
He walks down the corridor with long strides. Hands balled into fists. He shouldn't be this mad. But that was the effect she had in him.
He tries to cool down. Ghost was scared too. What if she had changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with him? He was messing up his head at the mere thought.
He finally makes it to the room, knocking twice before her soft voice tells him he can come in.
Inside the room, all the curtains were closed, not a single ray of light made it inside apart from the lamp casting shadows around. Furrowing his brows he closes the door behind him with a low click.
"Kid?" He calls her. Immediately rolling on her side she welcomes him, red eyes, stuffy nose and looking disheveled.
"Sorry I missed training." She apologizes. Changing to a sitting position and waits for him to sit next to her.
"What's wrong?" He demands with a soft voice. She's still wearing his hoodie from last night. Rubbing her eyes she gives Simon a tired smile.
"I'm just really sick Simon." She answers, he can hear her hoarse voice now.
"Bloody hell, love." His hand goes straight to her face, caressing her cheek. "Did you go to the infirmary?" Closing her eyes, she rest her head against his hand.
"Mhm. Got some painkillers prescribed. Still feel horrible."
"Good, it'll take some time for you to feel better. You need to rest, okay?". The look he gave her leaves no room for discussion.
"Wasn't planning on leaving my bed you know?" He smiles ever so slightly. "Would you stay with me?" When he doesn't answer right away she adds: "never mind you'll catch whatever this bug is and i don't ..."
"Sweetheart," he interrupts her rambling. "Scoot over."
She looks at him wide-eyed.
"You... you don't," she stutters.
"No, I don't mind at all. If there's anything you need just tell me, copy?" She nods, staring at his blue eyes. "Told you we shouldn't have been outside last night."
"Even if it meant catching a cold, I'm glad we did, Simon."
#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod ghost#ghost x reader#call of duty ghost simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#john price#john price x reader#cod konig#cod mw22
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Black Fem! Cam Girl Reader in Mind
CW: Nanami has a voice kink, He’s a pervert, Uhhh, mutual masturbation, uhhhhh yeah pure slutty smut
Thinking about Nanami’s little dirty secret of him watching a specific cam girl almost every other night when he gets off work.
He don’t even remember when he started watching her, he watches porn like any other man yes, but as far as joining sex calls or live streams or even only fans just wasn’t in his interest.
However he misclicked a twitter link once and since then he’s been a regular watching her.
She’s has a relatively smaller audience since she’s new , no more than 40-50 people and doesn’t get many comments, but quite a bit of donations from anonymous perverts that ask her to do things like play with herself with a specific sex toy she has lined up.
It was a marvel to behold to Nanami, her beautiful figure plastered on the screen when he clicks her live, her pretty full legs spread so wide they get out of the camera. He swears he heard her mention she has been in gymnastics.
Her skin complexion was also what captivated him, she looked fake almost. Not in a derogatory sense, but it was astonishing how someone as beautiful as her has less than 100 veiws despite being so new.
Every night he comes home, mentally drained, throwing his clothes from one area of the room to the next, he’ll worry about it in the morning. As for now, it’s almost 9pm which means his favorite girl is about to start the show.
It started off as something he swore to watch once, get off, and never go back to the site again.
That was until he became addicted to the way she cums.
Something about it.
The way her left thigh twitch and jiggles signalling she’s close, her fatty lower lip being chewed on while her voice gets higher in pitch, the way how her eyes squint, but fail to keep focus as they roll back.
She sounds so fucking sexy when she cums.
She is so whiney and needy she begins to overstimulate herself which really drives Nanami over the edge.
“So greedy…” Nanami thinks as his strong fist grips the base of his dick, “Fuck keep going.
She plays with her breast a lot too when she cums on her little fingers, rubbing her clit in circles, bucking her hips at the camera.
It never failed to make the tired blonde man cum in seconds.
It’s been almost a month of this and he tries not to think about it too much. Watching her for a moment, getting off then immediately shutting off the laptop to clean up and go to bed.
but tonight he wanted to go a little further.
He never comments, he never donates, but tonight there was something in the air, maybe it was the new lingerie she wore to show off, maybe it was the need of seeing more of her. Though it’s been a month, nanami began to stay after cumming, watching her reply and give thanks to donations. He once stayed an entire live and honestly it was most he ever came in his entire life.
She was just so cute. Her voice was so delicate and sweet despite the slutty acts she was doing.
“Fuck it.” He though, clicking and typing away.
“Mr. John Doe has donated $150.”
“Oh!” Her voice almost purred in his heard making him groan as he laid on the headboard of his bed. “Thank you Mr. Doe. That’s so kind of you!…um…as a thank you do you have any requests for me tonight?”
Nanami’s breath hitched a little, her big doe eyes looking at the screen of her chat, she insisted she’d do almost anything and for a moment Nanami was going to just tell her to do whatever she liked but…
her voice. He needed to hear it more.
“Mr. John Doe has Donated $250: Moan my name while you play with yourself, it’s Kento.”
Her eyes widened at the message for a second leaving Nanami to sigh in embarrassment, why would he do that of course she’s not—
“Kento…that’s a really cute name.” She giggled, taking off the top of her pink and black set revealing her breast to massage, “Mkay! Thank you again, Kento..”
It was like her voice had a spell on him, immediately he lowered the waist band of his grey sweats and pulled out his dick and lube from his nightstand.
She did as told, teasing herself with her fingers on her clit, Nanami watched carefully stroking the shaft of his dick at the same pace as her,
“Kentooooo..” She whined throwing her head back., “‘Wish you were here to do this for me…’need you so badly..”
“Fuck..” Nanami growled, he wish he was there, one of his fingers are twice the size of 2 of hers, he knew he could have her cum way faster, maybe even squirt all around his wrist and hand, but alas.
He’s stuck w his own sticky seed flowing down his knuckles and palm. He overstimulated himself to the point he felt a tear fall down the corner of his eye.
“Ken! Kento!” Her voice pitched, she’s close, “Kento yes!”
The chants of his name while she falls flat on her back leaving nothing but her drooling wet cunt on screen left Nanami speechless, his cheeks were pink and hot, his hair no longer properly parter but flowing over his eyes he couldn’t take it. He wish he knew her real name and not username to moan with her.
“Hah…” She breathed moving back towards the camera, she started sucking on her own wet sticky fingers, and that made Nanami’s cock twitch , she’s such a dirty girl. “Hope it was to your liking, Kento. Thank you for the donation!”
If only he could give her more than a few dollars and stupid requests.
Maybe.
Part 2 Here
#TimikosNanami#nanamin#nanami kento#nanami smut#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x y/n#nanami x black!reader#nanami x me#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#nanami headcanons
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Eddie, My Love!
eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series
Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words
Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.
“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.
His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”
“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”
“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”
Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.
Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”
~
Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.
Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.
But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.
He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —
“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.
“Come in,” he calls back.
Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”
Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”
Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”
“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.
~
Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.
His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.
Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.
You.
You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.
Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.
He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.
Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.
Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.
As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.
You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.
Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?
He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.
You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.
Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.
But nothing. The seconds tick by.
You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”
You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”
He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.
“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.
Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”
Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”
College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”
“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”
“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”
“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”
“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.
Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”
“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”
A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”
There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”
Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.
“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”
You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.
“Sure. That would be really fun.”
He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —
“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.
“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”
“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”
You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.
Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”
“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”
He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?
From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.
Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”
Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.
Okay, okay.
Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.
thank you for reading!! xoxo
Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader
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i need sejanus to cum inside me and coryo to eat it out of me bc he wants to taste sejanus so bad but hes too stubborn to ask to suck him off directly
Content warning . 18+, mdni
When Sejanus pulls out of your raw fucked cunt, cooing to you about how precious you are, Coryo’s mouth waters at the sight of the fresh puddle of cum pooling out of you. He can’t seem to explain it, really, but he begins to drool at the sight of the white, creamy fluid. He doesn’t say anything at first— can’t say anything. It would ruin him and Sejanus’ arrangement for sure. Besides, he doesn’t think the other male swings that way.
Until he sees the look on the boy’s face.
He looks smug, a small smirk playing on his lips as he bares those puppy dog eyes into Coryo’s own icy blue ones.
The blonde’s face turns a dusty pink, and he shyly averts his eyes. He tries not to stare at the other man’s softening cock hanging heavy between his muscle-ey thighs, tries not to think about how badly he wants it in his mouth. He feels his own wave of insecurity slicing through him. It would take away his pride to be owned by another man.
But Sejanus slowly but surely rests his hand on the other boy’s smaller back, and smiles.
“It’s okay, Coryo,” he assures him, and Coriolanus doesn’t know what he means by that until he elaborates. “Cmon, why don’t you use her tongue on her?”
You look up at him with pleading eyes, still a desperate cockslut waiting for any type of touch to your sweet, aching cunt.
And fuck it. Coryo’s not doing anything remotely gay, right? After all, he’s only eating pussy.
His tongue nips at his bottom lip, and he slowly crawls in between your spread thighs. Seeing you up close, he can take note that your pussy is swollen and wet, and not just from Sejanus’ cum.
Oh, god. Sejanus’ cum. It isn’t even close to emptying out, still a thick, steady stream coming out of your used hole. Coryo can’t take it anymore— his tongue licks a long, lucid stripe up your throbbing pussy. He groans, your taste and Sejanus’ driving him crazy. He begin to lap at you eagerly, like a puppy getting rewarded a tasty treat. He can hear Sejanus chuckle behind him, amused. He’s too busy satisfying his hunger to care about Sejanus’ fingers slowly trailing up his back. They curl around his golden blonde hair, push him harder, deeper. His tongue slips into your hole with ease, and he slurps up Sejanus’ spend with a hunger he didn’t know he had. As Sejanus guides him up and down, he notices that he’s speaking to him, now.
“I bet you’d like more of my cum, wouldn’t you?” He teases, nearly against the shell of the boys ear. “Cmon, Coryo. Admit it. Wouldn’t it feel so good, having me in your mouth?”
And Coriolanus can’t control himself— he whimpers. Fucking whimpers, as he takes your clit in between his teeth, the heady scent of you and Sejanus and everything between making his head feel fuzzy. Sejanus presses a kiss to his shoulder blade, then, and it’s strangely soft. Strangely comforting.
“We could do that, if you want,” the brunette continues, humming. “I could get you down on your knees, all cute and pretty. Could get Y/N to suck your cock, too…”
Coryo shoves a finger inside you, groaning, rubbing his dick up against the sheets. He gasps when he feels a hand slither underneath his body and palm his bulge. He pulls away from you, ignoring your whine of disappointment.
“Sejanus..” he warns, his eyes nervous. He looks down, sees the hand resting on his crotch. He shivers.
The other boy just smiles at him, squeezing the bulge in his hand. Coryo lets out a tiny moan, and desperately humps into it. Cum drips down his chin, lips, neck. Your knee bumps his, and he sees your pleading face. Sejanus’ hand moves up, towards his waistband. He slips it in, feels the engorged skin there. Coryo lets out the most guttural noise.
“Keep licking her,” Sejanus grunts, beginning to stroke him. “Keep licking her, or I’ll stop.”
#AAHAHHHA#going feral.#absolutely fucking insane#Sejanus plinth#Coriolanus snow#Sejanus plinth x reader#xreader#Coriolanus snow x reader#Sejanus plinth x fem! reader#Coriolanus snow x fem! reader#Sejanus plinth smut#Coriolanus snow smut#Coriolanus snow x reader x Sejanus plinth#Sejanus plinth x reader x coriolanus snow#Coriolanus snow x Sejanus plinth#Sejanus plinth x coriolanus snow#tbosas#the ballad of songs and snakes#the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic#thg#thg fanfic#Sejanus plinth fanfic#Coriolanus snow fanfic#the hunger games#hunger games#hunger games fanfic#tom blyth#Coriolanus snow blurb#Sejanus plinth blurb
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merry christmas !!