#uh anyways music is from. cough. uh. fuck. um
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B/c I mentioned it earlier but there’s only one song
Only a little inspired by omori
#I felt like this basically all day idk what happened#I haven’t been this tired in months probably#uh anyways music is from. cough. uh. fuck. um#circus. that’s digital. ughhnm#look the ost fucking slaps Gooseworx is like great at music stuff it fits all of their animations#I’m not saying check them out b/c I know they worked on (throws up) uh. cough cough. uhg#I don’t even wanna say it#uh anyways yup funny silly#please don’t unfollow me
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Um, yeah, I don't really have a specific character in mind (so you can ignore this if u want to!), but how would some characters react to a male reader who listens to muggle music, but like- metal?? yk
this is the kind of shit i wanna see in my inbox hell fucking yeah
❕i’ll be honest, my vibe has always been more punk/pop punk/metalcore/hard rock 🤷♂️ i did my best buttttt these are all just songs from my playlist so- (i adore my slytherin babygirls but they’ll always be second to my lord and savior glenn danzig)❕
also accidentally wrote gn reader again so that’s pretty girlypop
requests open
i’ve never actually written one of these like, group headcanons for a whole bunch of people, but i keep seeing other people doing it so we’re trying it out ig. do we like it? yes? no?
slytherin boys: gn! muggleborn! reader’s music taste is rather…unexpected
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
mattheo: die, die my darling — misfits
i’m of the opinion that mattheo would fucking LOVE the misfits (once you introduce him)
he walks into your dorm to ask you a quick question, and you’re just dancing around in your room screaming the lyrics to:
“DIE DIE DIE MY DARLING, DONT UTTER A SINGLE WORD”
“DIE DIE, DIE MY DARLING, JUST SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH”
he’s like 🧍♂️😦😍
and that’s when he falls in love with you
jk, unless????
you show him the misfits’ entire discography, and bitch about jerry only (as u should)
he takes a bit too much of a liking to helena 🤨
yk, the song that goes “if i cut off your arms, and i cut off your legs, would you still love me, anyway? if you’re bound and you’re gagged, draped and displayed, would you still love me, anyway?”
🤨🤨🤨
interesting, mattheo. interesting. not concerning in the slightest.
he adores them and you guys listen to their music together when you study <33
y’all start running around screaming I AINT NO GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH
your teachers love it <3
theodore: nazi punks fuck off — dead kennedys
y’all were showering together
(is that really like a sexy thing? i sure as fuck don’t know 🖤🩶🤍💜)
you started singing to yourself and babygirl was like 😳☺️
he loves ur voice <3
even when you’re singing “nazi punks, nazi punks, nazi punks FUCK OFF”
(cause like……yk…….he’s a wizard nazi himself 😬👍)
awkwarddddd
he always lets you put on your music
to be honest, he doesn’t really care about the lyrics, he just loves that you love it
(*cough* simp *cough*)
draco: possessed by satan — gorgoroth
you’d just come back from winter break and had brought one of your holiday presents back with you: a new record player and a shitload of vinyls
you set it up in your dorm and asked your roomie, draco, if he’d mind if you played something
he'd never admit it, but he was wildly curious what muggle music sounded like
so of course, you blessed him with the sweet sweet sounds of gorgoroth 😌🥰
(aww, nostalgia <3)
he just looked at you like 😨
you then proceeded to educate him on gaahl beating the shit out of someone (a l l e g e d l y) and threatening to drink his blood
he’s now even more concerned
(do you or do you not tell him about the gogoroth concert ft. alive ‘crucified’ actors & impaled sheep heads vs. the country of poland?)
((idk babe that’s for you to decide))
blaise: boogie woogie wu — insane clown posse
i feel like blaise is chill enough to give any music a shot before deciding if he likes it or not
you weren’t that close, just acquaintances, but one day you just offered up your other headphone to him in the middle of a really boring class
oh, he’s in love
🎵😍😍🎶
you make him a playlist of songs you think he’d love, and he lowkey almost starts crying and that’s how he asks you out on your first date
(is it terrible to think that this might be your wedding’s first dance song?)
((NOW MURDERRRR))
(((UH OH, HERE COME THE PO-PO TOO MUCH MURDER)))
enzo: custer — slipknot
it’s your ringtone for someone 😌
like ur mom, or something? idfk
“incoming call from: birthgiver” 🎵CUT CUT CUT ME UP AND FUCK FUCK FUCK ME UP🎶
enz:🧍♂️
he doesn’t even know how to react
he’s only a bit terrified
he’ll listen to a few other songs you play for him, but will make you play the weird sisters afterwards
tom: reincarnate — motionless in white
he’s bitching about how much muggles suck and muggle music is trash blah blah blah
and ur like “oh really? wanna bet?”
you whip out your phone and start blasting your playlist
he would absolutely eat that shit up
it’s cheaper than therapy ig 🤷♂️
he hates being wrong about anything ever so he’ll never admit out loud that he likes it, but he will just show up at your dorm at like eleven pm like:
“do you have any more uh……song recommendations or something…..uhhhh” 🧍♂️
babygirl 💞
#harry potter#fuck jkr#hp#hp x male reader#x male reader#gay#x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#hp x gn reader#mattheo riddle x reader#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x male reader#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#gn reader#mattheo riddle x male reader#mattheo riddle#blaise zabini x reader#blaise zabini#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#draco malfoy#enzo berkshire x reader#hp x enby reader#enzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#theo nott
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jjba thursday: part 4 ep 7-9
im just so tired from having meetings. my schedule is lighter on thursdays (which is the reason why I have jjba thursday) but now everyone is just like "oh you're free thursday? lets have our meeting then :)" like UGH yes im free but I still have a life!!! and that life is watching jjba and posting my reactions on tumblr.com!!!!
anyway. angst time over jjba time now
episode 7 - Toshikazu Hazamada (Show Off)
um. ok
wait this con artist guy is gonna be a recurring character,,,
of course he's a finance bro.
"something evil's taking over our town!" *cough cough*
oooh he's mysterious and lurking and shadowy *kicking my feet*
quick! shoot the fake one!
lol get neck chopped koichi oh MY GOD THATS SUCH A FUNNY IMAGE
ok reverb calm down w the heavy breathing
who is she?
nooo jotaro you're too autistic to realize that's not the real josuke on the phone!!
lol get bricked in the head con artist guy
oh no,,,, he's an incel.... :(
junko????
"its like watching a dying cricket on a death march" damn
wait a minute.... do people ship josuke and koichi?? actually im completely unaware of any jjba ships. what are the jjba ships? other than like. idk avdol and joseph?? y'all remember that one episode where they were magnetized to each other and in attempt to separate ended up in very .... compromising positions in public? what was that about.
yeah what is that stand. I know its reverb and it's a cicada but um.
ruh roh!
I dont think stabbing a pen thru someone's skull is blunt force trauma,,, or even works???? its a pen
biker gang to the rescue!
episode 8 - Yukako Yamagishi Falls in Love, Part 1
"stand users are inadvertently drawn to each other" oh you mean plot convenience?
"everyone is suspect" goddamn this show just can't get enough of this fear mongering politic huh
why does billion bro walk like that. and why is billion bro kinda like, my new favorite character?
EDM REMIX INTRO YOOOOOOO
so she likes short kings,,,,
josuke,,, dont get jealous............. :)
what the fuck is happening
wait. were you tossing and turning all night, or were you knitting a whole sweater personalized for koichi last night? somethings not adding up! lol
is this a trope im unaware of or is she actually so character
wait is the trope.... yandere..........
oh no,,,, she's not a girl's girl........ :(
oh wow
what is with koichi catching all these stray characters that are... yknow,,,,,,,,
what is happening. this is the plan?
yeah obviously the plan backfired. because now she's saying "I can fix him"
hahahahaha this is so silly multiple choice test about Prince's music
this isn't really "studying" while "eating breakfast"
????? ok
episode 9 - Yukako Yamagishi Falls in Love, Part 2
wow. you're really gonna end on that scene and then play the intro? wow. ok. um. wow
the pity angle is not gonna get you anywhere
she is. so many people on tumblr.com
I repeat: she is so many people on tumblr.com
seriously why does reverb have skateboard wheels
there's a payphone and the ocean nearby? that ... that narrows it down????
wowwwwwwwwww yknow koichi is really vindictive huh
yep ok yandere
reverb 2.0... why does it look like that
oh no.... now he has polnareff hair???
big shot (nows your time to be a)
you think its that house? the one thats wrapped in hair and has a pink aura?? no way billion bro...
oh she also has a complex about her hair! thats great.
what. what.
????
well then
ok. I uh, well. see you next week!
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AHH THE MEMORIES! (AN ASKTHERAYS FANFIC)
It was a Sunday morning, nothing out of the usual. Birds were chirping and the gentle breeze was blowing. Chucky had been washing the dishes for obvious reasons, (Cough, cough Bride of Chucky) while the kids were in the living room doing God knows what.
"DAD!"
"Yeah?"
"Who made the first move?"
"....."
Everything went silent. He felt three pairs of those infamous blue eyes staring him down. OH SHIT. He thought to himself. He looked behind him. Glen, Glenda, and Lottie were all there. Just staring unblinkingly. He cut off the water.
"Um, well, uh."
He took a deep breath.
"You three better not give me shit about this but, it was your mother."
"When did it happen? Where did it happen"
"WHAT THE HELL IS WITH ALL THESE DAMN QUESTIONS?"
"We just wanna know"
"IF I TELL YOU! Will you three get off me back?!"
They all nodded in agreement.
"Ok, ok. CHRIST! It was the day I had to move away, and that day just so happens to be the day of a school dance. I REALLY wanted to ask your mom, but I was too much of a wuss. But then, my opportunity came! She was talking about how she wanted to go but didn't have anyone to go with. So, she said her last resort would probably be Eddie. And in my head, I was like HELL NO. And I told her."
"I'M NOT GONNA LET YOU GO WITH THAT PIECE OF SHIT! I'll take you! And she actually said yes. Not the more "Romantic" way but hey it worked!"
"HAHAHA!"
"Get to the kiss! I WANNA KNOW"
"Yeah!"
Little did the four of them know that Tiffany was giggling and listening to their whole conversation from the other room.
"LIKE I WAS SAYING BEFORE I WAS RUDELY INTERRUPTED!" All three of them rolled their eyes. "I snuck out of the house when my foster was out. This was after I killed my dad, by the way. I went in my best outfit and straight-up walked there. The school was only 5-10 minutes away, so I was fine. When I got there, they were playing loud ass music that hurt my ears and I just felt straight-up uncomfortable. Until I saw your mom. God, she was beautiful. She wore a stunning red velvet dress, with earrings and a necklace."
Chucky began to get lost in the memory. Smiling and staring out into nothingness. With his eyes twinkling. Tiffany always said you could tell how he was feeling just by looking into his sparkling blue eyes.
"Dad? You, ok?"
"Hm? Yeah. I'm Fine! Um oh right. Anyways she walked over, and I couldn't stop staring at her. And I told her you to look great Tiff. I still remember how she would always grab my cheek and squeeze it. I took her hand, and we danced the night away both of us realizing, it would probably be the last night together for a while. To finish it off we both to a picture together and had it printed. Tiff got to keep it since they took a while to develop, and you had to pick it up at the school a week later. We went to my house since nobody was there, and just looked at each other. We both knew what was gonna happen tomorrow."
THE OTHER ROOM
Tiffany felt tears start to form in her eyes. She didn't know HER husband would remember all that. He always seemed to never give a damn about anything. A warm smile spread across her face. She ran to the dress to grab her secret box hidden in a corner. It was full of old photos of the two of them. And yes, she did still the photo from oh so long ago. She looked at what was then her best friend. He looked so adorably handsome. His hair was actually short and well maintained. She laughed she knew she was never going to ask Eddie. She knew how jealous he could get. So, all she had to do was mentioned the possibility, and boom! He maned the fuck up and asked her.
BACK TO CHUCKY AND THE KIDS!
"So, we sat on my bed and talked. Tiff gave me her house phone number. AND NO Glenda texting wasn't a thing back then! You actually had to make a call to someone, from a telephone with a cable."
Glenda rolled her eyes and closed her mouth.
"I'm gonna miss you Tiff, I told her and holy shit that pained me to say. I didn't want to leave. I couldn't leave her. Then she just stared at me. Not making a sound. And then scooted closer to me and shut me up by kissing me."
All three of the kids just stared mouths gaping open. Revealing, the twin's razor blades for teeth.
"So, I kissed her back. MIND YOU THIS WAS IN 7TH OR 8TH GRADE SO DON'T GET ANY IDEAS!" He was especially eyeing Glenda and Lottie. Mostly Glenda. " I remember our fingers coming together and one of my hands cupping the side of her face. Then we hugged each other tightly not wanting to let the other go."
He remembered. Then cut himself off.
"SO, YEAH! THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED!"
"WOW!"
"SO that's how it happened"
"Are you two like Jack and Rose from the Titanic?"
"WHAA- No! And If a Situation like that did happen. There wouldn't even be any room for me on that damn door. Your mom ass would've been hoggin it."
"Oh my god! Dad XD"
"HAHAHAHAHAH!!"
"Wait then how did you get back together? And how did you get the Nickname Chucky?"
"THAT'S A STORY FOR ANOTHER TIME! NOW Pull a Michael Jackson and BEAT IT!"
Shortly after, Tiffany came out of the room and kissed Chucky passionately on the lips, and whispered in his ear. "Wanna Play?"
To say his face went red would be a gross understatement. It was the color of his hair but times ten. They both ran into the room giggling and locked the door.
#chucky x tiffany#LOTTIE#glen and glenda#asktherays#chucky#chuckyxtiffany#tiffany valentine#raysforever
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ayo!! congrats on 666 <33 I'm not sure if its much of a request but I love how you wrote the demon kids personalities! I was wondering what kids of personalities you would see the other brothers kids having? Hypothetically of course (unless 👀)
BRO- I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while! Fan kids are fun to think about, what can I say? Now, these kids aren’t canon to the Awfully Familiar series, the HOL is crowded enough as is… but I hope you enjoy anyways!
(I’m giving all the kids names just so no one gets confused with which kid is whose)
Levi’s Kid
Uh let’s use probability to figure out how rare children of our snek boy are. The Otaku left the house (unlikely), spoke to a human being (very unlikely), did the devil’s tango with them (impossible)
I’m kidding, but seriously what the fuck why did this human exchange student look so much like Levi? Was that a tail? Hehehe… what a weird practical joke…
(I’m calling this MC Percy. Three guesses as to why)
Okay, onto the kiddo’s personality. I’m picturing them being REALLY hyped and REALLY enthusiastic about their hobbies and isn’t afraid to yammer about them. They’re good at what they do and they’re damn proud of it! They turn their envy into *~inspiration~* and get better at the things they enjoy doing!
In all fairness to Levi, it’s a bit easier for his kid because Percy isn’t literally being eaten alive and consumed by this sin every waking moment of his life… perks of being half human! :D
Percy loves swimming, and the ocean, and fish, and they brought a shark back from the beach- wait hang on a second-
It’s not uncommon for Levi to be hardcore gaming while Percy swims around in the fish tank.
The pair of them have a very good relationship, Percy is kind of Levi’s hero with how eager they are to get better at the things they love doing and how they almost never self pity spiral. The one issue is… ugh… Percy is a 🤢…. Sorry. Percy’s a 🤢 🤢-
They’re A FUCKING NORMIE. THEY DON’T LIKE ANIME!
Other than that, the two get along swimmingly. (Ba dum tisssss)
Percy’s reaction to Levi’s cool military titles is basically “WOAH! YOU HAVE BOATS?! CAN I GO ON ONE?!” And Levi would be a monster to decline.
Percy wore a pirate hat despite Levi telling them numerous times that they were a part of the navy, they CATCH pirates. Which are apparently still a big problem in the Devildom…
Also, Percy and Lotan absolutely adore each other. It makes Levi very happy
Satan’s Kid
Satan’s a pretty charming guy, and it’s canon that he’s amazing at seductive speech craft so it’s no surprise that he was able to seduce a human.
You know what is a surprise? The fact that Satan, the smart one, didn’t think to use protection! Like- DUDE I EXPECTED BETTER FROM YOU.
Whatever, anyway, when this kid slammed onto the floor of the assembly hall no one had time to react when the kid suddenly grew horns… and fangs… and a tail… OH FUCK THE KID WAS GOING THROUGH THEIR FIRST TRANSFORMATION WHAT THE FUCK-
(For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to call this kid Lyssa, mainly because of the meaning of the name)
The first thing Lyssa did was launch themselves straight at the first person they saw, and I ask you to guess exactly who sits in the middle seat of the assembly hall. That’s right… Satan… yay…
This kid nearly clawed his face off in the span of two seconds and it took Lucifer and Beel working together to drag them off of him and then Asmo had to step in to use his powers to calm them down. Well. That was eventful.
So Lyssa has a volcanic temper and they’re honestly really bitter and upset at everything, which is something that’s supposed to come in adult life, not so early. So what’s up with this kid? Well, when you’re born with a burning rage deep inside you that can be set off at even the slightest inconvenience and because of that everyone around you immediately assumes you’re dangerous or crazy can really do some damage to a kid.
So who oh who is Lyssa going to blame for this…? Hmmm… who is responsible for the anger? *Side eyes Satan*
“Wow, this kid is blaming me for passing down my wrath even though I couldn’t control giving it to them and if I had the choice I would have made sure they wouldn’t have to live with it and they’re mad at me for subjecting them to existence itself… wow this feels so bad :( who would treat someone like this..?” “*Dad sigh*”
The two of them do eventually get along. It’s actually Satan who extends the olive branch and offers to help them control their anger. As the two spend time together, Lyssa’s intense hatred slowly subsides.
So… what’s Lyssa going to do now? They’ve spent so much of their life being defined by their anger… who the fuck are they????? U-uh… cats! Cats! Lyssa likes cats! Is liking cats a personality? No? Okay… um… Music! Music is relaxing! Lyssa likes music! Um… um… ooo- look at that! They like space! And stars!
You knew what they don’t like? School. Lyssa doesn’t like learning in a controlled environment where they’re being told what to learn. Leave them alone so they can go read about space.
Beelzebub’s kid(s)
*munch* *munch* *chew* *chomp* huh, *chomp* why does the takeout- I mean the human look so much like him…? They’re his kid..? *choke* *cough* *cough* …Huh. Want some chips?
Surprisingly chill first meeting. Well, Beel and the kid were chill, everyone else was freaking the fuck out.
I’m calling this kid Pepper. Why? Fucking guess.
Pepper themselves is just… chill. They’re sort of like a capybara, their vibes are just so immaculate that everyone wants to hang out around them.
Unlike Beel, Pepper’s penchant for food mainly comes from “food is good.” instead of “my body is literally eating itself alive every second of the day and I need to be eating something at almost all times in order to stave off a rampage.” Beel is very happy that his kid doesn’t have to live with food constantly on the brain.
All was well until three days into the exchange program when Pepper asked at the dinner table “so when are we bringing my twin down here?”
…twin genes man… twin genes…
Second kid, I’m calling them Cane. (CANE PEPPER, GET IT?! GET IT?!) this kid is less like a capybara and more like a honey badger. They don’t give a shit.
Here’s the thing though… they’re identical twins.
Cane is basically Beel but smaller. They follow Beel to the gym and usually get stopped at the door. “Kids aren’t allowed in the gym.” Ha, the rules don’t apply to Cane, they just cross their arms and raise their eyebrows and whoever is stopping them just steps aside. Don’t fuck with the honey badger kid.
Pepper and Cane are super close though, but don’t ask if they have a telepathic link or something, Cane will fuck you up and Pepper won’t be able to stop them. (I know a pair of identical twins, and the amount of times they’ve been asked if they can read each other’s minds is enough to make anyone homicidal)
Belphegor’s kid
*squints* how’d this happen..?
Whatever. When Belphie’s kid woke up on the floor of the assembly hall everyone took one look at this kid and collectively went “shitballs”
Belphie was in the attic and his kid was wandering around the house like they ran the place! What the fuuuuuuuuck was Lucifer supposed to do with this????
Anyway, meet Arien.
Arien, how does one describe this little hellspawn? Well, one would call them the brood of Lucifer or the spawn of Satan but that would be false because this manipulative evil devil-child that crawled straight out of a teacher’s nightmares is BELPHIE’S kid. And it fucking SHOWS.
This kid won the demon/human genetic lottery and they’re going to make it everyone’s problem. Basically, they’re sin is sloth, but unlike Belphie, Arien’s is more voluntary, if that makes sense. They sleep and slack off because they like not doing work, not because they’re always tired. They have this sort of lazy relaxed facade that vanishes the second it’s not needed, it’s honestly kind of terrifying.
They quickly learn that if they just pretend to be having troubles with being constantly tired, the rest of the house will go easy on them if they miss their chores and schoolwork.
Jeez Louise when this kid met Belphie…
They both just stared at each other for a solid five minutes before anyone said anything. Belphie somewhat nervously started up his “oh woe is me get me out of here :(“ charade, and the kid played along for a few weeks, until of course, they got suspicious.
You remember how Belphie guilt spiralled with L!MC? Yeah imagine that but 40 times worse, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
But yeah, blah blah blah Arien breaks Belphie out, they don’t die, family’s back together, happily ever after. But not quite. Arien’s “oh no I’m sorry I’m sleepy…” charade was found out and boy howdy was everyone pissed.
Surprisingly, it was Belphie who gave Arien the wake up thwack, but Arien called Belphie out on his laziness so Belphie was forced to become a better example.
The way they fixed Ari’s behaviour? Extra chores, extra schoolwork, extra everything, and the boys did nothing to help. Basically, “this is how we felt! Deal with it!”
It worked… thankfully.
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#Obey me fankids#obey me! headcanons#Obey me Headcanons#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me Satan#Obey me MC
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The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom (part 3 - FINALE) | Andy Barber x reader
(part 1) (part 2)
summary: andy knows how to take what he wants, and he wants you.
word count: 5.6k
warnings: SMUT, subtle dubcon elements, loss of virginity, infidelity (obviously), wedding ring kink (shocking!!! jk),
a/n: wow, after all this time I FINALLY finished this series. sorry it took so long. I still have an alternate ending that I want to write... but I wanted to go ahead and get this out first. thank you everyone for your patience! I kind of expect this to flop despite being the most requested thing ever, but idgaf.
“Honestly? I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends.”
For the second time that day, you choked.
“Wh— are you okay?” Jacob gasped, running over to you as you coughed up water.
Your attempt to respond was useless as you could only sputter and cough, trying to communicate that you were fine with a casual wave, but only managing to flail your arm wildly.
“Was it something I said?” he pressed.
“No, I just—” you wheezed, but interrupted yourself with another coughing fit as your eyes watered from the lack of air.
He slapped your back to try to help you along but it wasn’t very effective, just adding one new source of pain to your predicament. I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends, that was what he’d said. What does that even mean? Did he mean it like “I always had this fear, for no good reason,” or did he mean it like “I was always afraid of this, and now it’s come true”?
The way Jacob was looking at you— kind, concerned, patient— it didn’t seem like he suspected you of anything. He probably would’ve led with that if he knew something, right?
When your airways finally cleared and you were able to start catching your breath, you finished getting ready for bed quickly and hopped into bed. You couldn’t handle any long conversations with Jacob, though you tolerated some cuddling before you fell asleep.
You dreamt that night that you were drowning. Andy was holding you, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he pulled you to shore. Or was he pulling you under? Either way, you figured you’d had enough water in your lungs for one day.
~
You probably should’ve let them win at Scrabble… you just couldn’t help yourself.
“I have…” Jacob trailed off as he counted in his head, “177 points.”
“209,” Laurie announced, reaching over to rub Jacob on the shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, honey.”
“384,” Andy grinned, setting down his pen and pad triumphantly and looking to you for your score.
“Um,” you stalled, almost embarrassed to say now. “I got, uh, 559.”
Laurie and Jacob erupted into sputters of confusion, demanding that you recount your points as if they hadn’t all seen you play ‘quixotic’ on a triple word space.
“Good game,” Andy murmured with a soft smirk as he stood up and left the table. You smiled back at him quickly, the other two too busy recounting the numbers on your pad to even notice.
So, that was the end of board games for the night. Jacob suggested a movie but you just knew that would just be you and him cuddling under one blanket… while Laurie and Andy cuddled under another. You weren’t sure you could take that. Instead, you decided to read your book outside— even though you figured Laurie was disappointed you didn’t want to do anything more social. Complimenting her beautifully landscaped backyard eased the blow, though.
It was hard to get comfortable on the patio couch, not because of the couch itself but because you knew it wouldn’t be long until somebody bothered you. When you heard the door open, you were a little disappointed to see Jacob approaching you.
“Hey,” he smiled, sliding in next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you.
“Hey,” you greeted in reply, slightly flat in your affect as you immediately dove back into your book.
“You’re feeling okay, right? We could go for a drive if you need some space,” he offered, rubbing your shoulder gently.
“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled. “You know me, I like my peace and quiet when I can get it.”
“You… like them, don’t you?” He must’ve sensed that you didn’t understand what he was referring to at first. “My family, I mean.”
“Oh! Yeah, that’s not the issue, really. I know we’re going back home tomorrow but I still need to decompress a little bit. I’ll be more social tonight, promise.”
When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you’d anticipated. It reminded you of when you two met, at a party where the music was so loud that you’d had to stand about this close to be able to carry a conversation. Well, technically that wasn’t the first time you met, because you had him in one of your classes that semester, but it was the first time you’d talked. He was fun, he was new, he was friendly. I can’t stay long, I’ve got a test in the morning, you’d yelled your explanation. You’re gonna ace it anyway, he had dismissed at the time, so you should stay and have fun! You deserve to have fun.
Maybe that was what had made you attracted to him: you couldn’t think of anyone else who had been so worried about what you deserved. But now, Andy was added to that list. You hated to imagine that Jacob had inherited that nature from his father. Is he treating you right? Andy has asked you that night, and you really weren’t sure even now what the answer was. He certainly wasn’t treating you poorly, but was that enough?
Back in reality (and not in your whizzing, anxiety-ridden thoughts), Jacob leaned in and kissed you softly. The kiss was just like him: patient, gentle, but also somehow energetic. It was… nice. Comfortable. Feeling a surge of boldness, you set your book aside and leaned into him, pushing the kiss a little deeper.
He let out a tiny little noise, nearly a moan, as your tongues began to slide together. His hand reached up to cradle the back of your head— you remembered that he did that a lot when you were making out, but all those times felt so foreign now. Your hands reached up to rub against his chest through his t-shirt; that dark maroon one he wore all the time, so much that it was forming a few holes at the hem. His hand slid down to your back and—
“Am I interrupting something?” Andy’s voice tore you both from the moment and from each other’s arms.
“Dad!” Jacob protested, sounding particularly immature with the way his voice rose to a shrill yelp of shock.
“I was just coming out here to let you know that your mother wants your help with dinner,” Andy explained, “but I wasn’t going to let an opportunity to embarrass you like that go by.”
“You never do,” Jacob sighed, giving you a quick kiss to the cheek as a goodbye as he stood up and walked inside. You felt Andy’s eyes on you as you looked to the ground awkwardly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. A few seconds after the door was shut, he spoke again.
“I couldn’t let you two get too hot and heavy, and besmirch this innocent patio couch.”
“You’d better not be mad at me for kissing my boyfriend,” you frowned as you stood up. “That’s the most normal thing that’s happened all weekend.”
“I’m not,” he assured, beginning to step closer to you. “Jealous? Slightly. Not that I see him as competition or anything.”
“Uh, you probably should,” you disagreed, raising your eyebrow in a mix of confusion and challenge.
“Honey, I saw you kissing. It was nothing to write home about,” he laughed. “He doesn’t seem to realize that, since he brought you here. Can’t blame him—-” he stepped closer to you and ever-so-delicately brushed his fingers against your arm— “but you know you can do better. You know nobody can make you feel like I do.”
“Andy,” you murmured, trying to step back as you glanced to the window by the backdoor, through which the both of you were clearly visible to anyone who sat in the living room. It was empty now, but it was too close for comfort. “Someone could see…”
“They’re in the kitchen, don’t worry,” he soothed, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek and neck, “nobody’s gonna see us, angel, s’just you and me…”
You didn’t want to, but you melted into his touch anyway. Just those little circles that his fingers drew on your back made your entire body erupt in shivers. “Andy,” you found yourself whispering as if you needed to remember who was doing this to you.
“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered against your ear.
Your breath caught in your throat.
“Are you scared?” he teased. “Afraid my cock’ll split you in half?”
Embarrassed, you nodded.
He grinned, pulling back from your neck to force you into a deep, dominating kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to his shoulders, eagerly allowing his tongue access as it pressed into yours. A little moan escaped you, causing him to pull your body even closer. You had worried that kissing the two of them in a row like this would lead to an inevitable comparison, which would be beyond disgusting. But nope, this kiss made you forget that you’d kissed Jacob at all. Not that that exactly stopped it from being disgusting.
You knew if you didn’t stop yourself now, you wouldn’t be able to soon… and you really needed this kiss to end before you two got caught. Pushing on his chest, you pulled back with a sigh.
“We shouldn’t—” you began.
“No, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod. Still, you missed his touch now that it was gone. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later. It’s just hard to keep putting on a happy face when all I want is to grab you and bend you over the table and—”
“Oh god, you can’t talk like that,” you laughed nervously. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, I swear.”
“Haven’t I already?” he smirked.
You nodded, because he was completely right. With a quick wave, you opened the door to step into the house. He called your name, getting your attention as you turned around. In his hand, arm outstretched, was your book. “Almost forgot this,” he smiled.
“Right, thanks,” you nodded, taking it and going back inside.
~
You spent the rest of the day reaching new heights of anxiousness. Shaking your leg, chewing your lip, scratching your wrist— how could you relax after what Andy had said, how could you act casual? You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the obvious opportunity to arise and for Andy to be inevitable like he always was.
You weren’t sure how he did it, but he did. He got Laurie and Jacob to leave you two alone in the house. With his influential career, he was probably used to getting what he wanted, but you hadn’t anticipated that he was so good at the hard work it took to get those things.
He got you, though. Not that that took all too much hard work.
“Enjoy the movie you guys!” you told them as they were making their way out the door. Jacob leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and softly asked one last time if you wanted to come.
He pulled your shirt up over your head, and you hadn’t even gotten it all the way off before he undid your bra with a quick motion. You hated to think about Jacob in that moment, but those few times you’d fooled around with him to this extreme, that part of the process had taken quite a bit longer.
When your breasts were free his hands latched onto them instantly; the rough pads of his fingers felt good against the sensitive skin, and his hands were so damn big. You felt your back arching into his touch.
“Can’t wait to get my mouth on these,” he purred, “but I need to see all of you first.”
You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you back onto the bed. He took off your socks first, which made you feel a little hot for some reason, and then reached down to pull at your shorts. You lifted your hips to make it easier, looking up at him and gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.
As he tossed your shorts and underwear aside, you suddenly felt very naked compared to his clothedness. Probably because you were completely naked and he was completely clothed. He smiled down at you before grabbing your ankles and resting them on his shoulders, starting to kiss up your leg slowly while never breaking eye contact.
You whined impatiently. “Andy, please, need you…”
“Shh,” he soothed, “we’ve got time baby, I finally got you all to myself and I’m gonna savor it.”
His lips moved up your calf and thigh, but irritatingly skipped anywhere salacious to get straight to your hips and belly. “Hnng, Andy—”
You choked on your words when he licked over your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. It instantly hardened between his lips and he smiled. “Baby, you’re so sensitive,” he cooed against your skin as he kissed his way to the other and did the same.
Your hips bucked up and made contact with his clothed thigh; you let out a high-pitched moan and did it again, rubbing yourself against his suit pants. The rough material sent shocks of pleasure through you as Andy smiled and left little love bites along your neck.
"Look at you, such a needy little girl," he tsked. "Rubbing your cunt on me like a whore. You're gonna make a mess, baby."
"'m sorry I just— oh, fuck," you sighed, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud.
"It's only fair," he shrugged. "I don't mind spending the rest of the night with your come on my slacks. So long as you spend it with my come still in your cunt."
You gasped, trying to imagine how you would hide that from Laurie and Jacob…
But you couldn’t keep on that train of thought for very long as he started to kiss down your stomach again.
“Please, Andy, need— fuck, I need you to— um, taste me, please,” you whimpered.
“Hmm, beg a little more,” he smirked.
It was a long line of nonsense after that; some barely-intelligible string of ‘please’ and ‘Andy’ with a little flair of embarrassing whining. He laughed a little before he finally did what you’d asked, latching his lips onto your swollen clit. Your back arched instantly as your hands clenched at the comforter beneath you.
It wasn’t at all like you’d imagined it would be— it was so warm, and he alternated between surrounding you with his mouth and teasing you with the tip of his tongue. You let out a long, deep moan when his tongue slipped inside you, twisting and massaging your walls so perfectly. Your hands carded through his hair, accidentally tightening and pulling when he licked right over your clit. He didn’t seem to mind, though, just moaning against you and doing it again and again and again until your legs were quivering.
Just as you were about to tell him that you were close, he instantly pulled away to speak. “I can tell you’re close,” he purred as if he’d read your mind.
“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, but he continued to sit up and started to open his belt.
“It’s not time to come yet, honey. It’s gonna feel so much better when you come while I’m inside you— for both of us,” he grinned.
As his sweater was discarded and his trousers were pushed down, you bit your lip. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to seeing his cock, especially when it had leaked enough pre-cum to leave a wet patch on his boxer briefs.
He was on you the second he’d finished stripping, caging in your body with his, growling as he started to kiss your neck. You whined and arched your back, your heart racing as you tried to cope with the fact that this was happening, this was really happening. It was surreal, or maybe it was more than real— you were going to lose your virginity. To Andy fucking Barber.
“I think you’re ready for me, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, his hips moving forward to press his cock against your inner thigh. You nodded as you swallowed thickly, gasping as he reached down and started to rub his swollen head through your folds.
“Please…” you sighed, even as your chest tightened with distant fear.
You had wondered if what he'd said about his marriage to Laurie being sexless was true. It certainly would be a convenient lie to garner your sympathy and make him look better. But you had no doubts it was the truth when he pushed his cock into you; he moaned like a man who had dreamed of this moment for years, who had been so deprived of affection for so long.
It hurt less than you’d expected, although it was certainly overwhelming.
“Oh fuck, Andy,” you moaned,
“Say my name again, baby,” he demanded with a groan.
“Andy!” you repeated, a little louder right as the tip of his cock hit so deep inside you that it hurt— and for some reason, you wanted him to do it again.
“Fuck, you need to be quiet, or the neighbors’ll hear you,” he hissed as he pumped into you deeper and faster. “Can you do that or do I need to choke you to shut you up?”
You whimpered from fear at that idea and he laughed a little.
“Don’t act so innocent, baby, I know who you really are: you’re my dirty little slut.”
“No I’m—” you began to disagree. A quick slap to the face, not too hard but stinging nonetheless, shut you up.
“You know you are,” he hissed, “so say it.”
You could barely carry this conversation, his cock filling you so completely that you couldn’t think about anything else. “Andy, I—”
“Say it.”
You gulped but managed to pant between heavy breaths, “I’m… I’m your dirty little slut, Andy…”
He grinned and began to move faster, deeper, somehow. You clutched at his shoulders, kissing him and groaning into his mouth. When his hips slammed into yours, you moaned louder than maybe you ever had before. "You want it rough, honey?” he taunted. “Want me to fuck you hard?"
"Yes, please!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and desperate now.
He grabbed your hips and made good on his offer of brutality, and then some, making you nearly scream. He kissed you again, perhaps in an attempt to keep you quiet, although it didn’t work that well, as you mouth fell open with every cry. His teeth captured your lip as he growled above you, holding your hips up so the angle was perfect to send his cock right into the end of you, so deep— too deep, in the most perfect way.
His cock stroking against your walls was indescribable; each thrust made your entire body erupt in shivers. The stretch was difficult but you loved it, you loved the way his body pushed yours to its limits.
"Gonna come inside you, honey," he moaned, "gonna fill you up so good, gonna mark your body with my come and make you mine."
"Oh god, Andy, please," you sobbed.
"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he encouraged.
“Yes, so close—” you cut yourself off as you choked on nothing, you entire body beginning to tighten and seize up as pleasure spiralled higher and higher.
“Just like that, come on my cock,” he demanded, but you couldn’t do anything else even if you tried— the coil snapped as your vision went spotty. Just as you started to close your eyes, he held your neck and stared down at you. “Look at me when I make you come.”
You struggled to keep your eyes open with the intensity of sensation washing over you, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed. Those blue eyes pierced through you as you shivered underneath him, and with your walls constricting his cock just felt even thicker inside you. “Andy,” you whimpered, your fingers and toes erupting into pins and needles as you felt him flexing inside you— and he must have been coming in you in that moment, with the way he sighed and his thrusts pumped deeper yet more erratically.
Warmth spilled inside you as numbness decorated your extremities and fogginess clouded your mind. You lost focus as he collapsed beside you— even when he pulled out, you still felt full, due in part to his come inside you and in part to being ruined so thoroughly by him. Maybe you’d feel normal again tomorrow, or next week, but right now it was impossible to forget that you were fucked, in every sense of the word, by Andy Barber.
He pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck slowly, his breathing slowly returning to a stable pace as his chest pressed against your back. He was mumbling something about how you were his girl, how you did so good for him, but you were already drifting into sleep even though it was barely nine o’clock.
You woke up the next morning in the guest room with Jacob beside you, who informed you that he’d found you already asleep when he got back from the movie he’d gone to see with his mom.
You left just a few hours later, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Barber as Jacob pulled the car out of the driveway.
three months later...
The sun was just starting to set as you made your way home after your last class of the night. Campus was gorgeous at this time of day, but you weren’t really taking the time to notice it as you focused instead on how wonderful it would feel to kick your shoes off, slip off your bra and slide into bed. What you didn’t anticipate when you unlocked your dorm room’s door was to find Andy sitting on your bed as he waited for you. You shut the door quickly so none of the girls mulling about the hall would see him.
He looked so out of place in your dorm. He was so… adult, and yes, everyone there was an adult, but he was a whole new level of adulthood compared to the other residents of the honors dorm.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you reminded him.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” he questioned casually.
“Because your son is on the other side of the hall,” you explained, unamused. “What if he sees you here? What if he sees your car in the garage?”
“You worry too much. I don’t give a fuck if my son lives nearby, if I wanna visit my girlfriend then I’m gonna do it.”
He’d never used that word for you before— or at least, not in front of you. It made you feel nervous, glancing to the floor as he stepped closer towards you. "I think I'm too young to be your girlfriend,” you decided.
"Perfect age for a mistress, though."
You stammered as you tried to balance the way that word made you feel sick with the way it made you feel aroused. He lifted your chin with a finger, his other hand pulling you closer at the waist. "Are you trying to act innocent, honey?” he smirked. “Do you think I didn't realize that it turns you on?"
"Wh-what turns me on?"
"The sneaking around. The secrets, the lies; the fact that it's wrong, forbidden, taboo. It's why you haven't broken up with my son yet and it's why you stare at my ring all the time— yes, I noticed."
You frowned, crossing your arms impatiently. “I haven’t broken up with Jacob because my relationship with him makes a great cover for my relationship with you… I’m doing that for us. And do you think I like the ring? I hate that stupid chunk of silver, seeing it on your hand makes me so livid because it just reminds me that I don’t have you all to myself and—”
“Baby, you know I’m all yours,” he purred, kissing down your neck as your back began to arch. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with him.”
You were amazed that he could refer to his own son with such disdain, but then again, you knew how jealous he could get.
“If you’re mine then take the ring off,” you suggested between panting breaths.
“If you’re mine then take it off for me,” he countered. His left hand was travelling up your neck and you grabbed it by the wrist. He pulled back to look at you as you brought his fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of them before sucking on his ring finger, deeper and deeper, until it was poking down your throat and the ring was at your lips. Lubricating it with your spit and spinning it with your tongue, you used your teeth to pull the ring slowly off of his finger. He gasped a little as you opened your mouth and displayed it for him on your tongue, before spitting it out and across the room; it made a tiny little clinking noise as it hit your floor.
“Fuck,” he growled, the sound deep in his throat and dripping with desperation.
It felt like his hand never left your neck that night, like he was trying to claim you in every way he could all at once. He was so possessive over you, ironically. It was hard not to feel like your whole life was waiting. Waiting for the semester to end so the next one could begin. Waiting to graduate and get a job and finally begin your real adult life. Waiting for the marks Andy left on your skin to fade so you didn’t have to wear a turtleneck in June.
Waiting for Jacob to find out, like he inevitably would.
Waiting for Andy to leave Laurie, or at least do something to make it seem like this was going somewhere.
The thing about Andy was that he had this magical ability to make you stop worrying, in a way nobody and nothing else could. When you were apart, reality would set in again and you’d decide you needed to confront him the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even that you needed him to commit to you, specifically, you just needed to know what was going on— because how could he stay married through all this? He needed to leave her, not for you but for himself. You would get yourself all worked up and then he’d show up and soothe you until you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. When you were together, the future didn’t matter anymore, and neither did everything that was wrong about what you were doing.
It was like living in a dream, a really strange dream. You were drowning in him, just like you’d known you would, but you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop the secret dates when you gave your friends and boyfriend some excuse about having to study, the rendezvous in the back of his car, the midnight phone calls where he was whispering so his wife wouldn’t hear.
You figured that after all this time of being a good girl— the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl you’d take home to mom— you deserved to let go. You deserved to have fun.
#andy barber x reader#andy barber smut#andy barber x y/n#andy barber x you#I FUCKING FINISHED IT#stay tuned for the alternate ending
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First is a pop and a scratch; there is a breath of quiet, long and deep. Then there is a heartbeat, drumming steady, growing louder and more urgent as the seconds tick by.
His fingers are nimble and practiced--graceful, even--despite the scars and calluses layered over one another, despite the pinky finger that was broken and healed months ago and which no longer moves quite the way it was meant to. They are beautiful hands. Steady, firm. Castiel has seen them stitch wounds and field strip guns and dissect vegetables for dinner, all with the same precise efficiency that they now apply to the task at hand.
He exhales through his nose; the heartbeat blends itself into a brief, confusing jumble of noises that resolve into a jarring wail and then melt, almost improbably, into the first lazy guitar chord of the album, which ripples its way down his spine like a physical thing. If pressed to describe the sensation, he would call it warm and liquid and highly gratifying. Tingly, even. It makes him shudder and sigh out loud.
Nobody asks, but he says so anyway. Dean laughs at him. “You are, like...you are really fucking high, huh, sweetheart?”
He licks the glue on the rolling paper and twists his handiwork just a bit tighter, presenting it to Castiel with the corner of his mouth ticked up. His eyes are very red. “You sure you wanna smoke another one?”
“I was under the impression that being ‘really fucking high’ was the sole purpose of this endeavour, Dean,” Castiel tells him coolly. He makes a broad, dismissive gesture, discovering as he does so that there’s still a chocolate chip cookie in his hand.
“All right, all right, preaching to the choir here, buddy.” Dean fumbles for his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating the planes of his face as he tilts it down toward the cradle of his hands. There’s the syrupy-sharp tang of smoke on the air again after a moment; Castiel chews his cookie and watches in fascination as Dean parts his lips (just as beautiful as those hands--as every inch of him, really) to let it spill out between them in a languorous white plume, as lingering as revelation and as heady as desire. He coughs a little bit at the end of the exhale, chuckling at himself this time before he waves the joint in Castiel’s face. “Your turn. And quit bogarting those, I had a hard enough time hiding half the batch from Jack and Sam.”
Reluctantly, Castiel trades Dean for the plastic container and tries not to be too distracted by the way he dives into the cookies with gusto, shoving one into his mouth practically whole with a bone-deep hum of satisfaction. Castiel occupies himself with dropping back into the pillows as he takes a few careful drags, his eyes catching on the record cover that Dean had been using as a rolling surface, forgotten in his lap.
“Is this considered homosexual music?”
Dean chokes, clapping a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spray crumbs. Once he’s calmed himself enough to swallow, he reaches over to pluck the joint back and eyes Castiel warily. “Not really, I guess? Why would you ask that?”
“There’s a--a prism. On the cover. A rainbow. And when we went to Pride with Charlie you said that rainbows are often used by the ‘gay community’--”
“Not again with the fucking air quotes,” Dean interjects.
“...fine, gay community. You said that rainbows can a way for the gay community to acknowledge and recognize each other. Is this gay music?”
Dean belly-laughs at that, though not unkindly. “Nah, man,” he says, still grinning, “I’m pretty sure that Pink Floyd are pretty damn straight. Although, what do I know for sure? Sometimes it’s just some cool imagery.”
Castiel nods. He mulls this over as Dean smokes, his face warming when Dean crowds up into his personal space to share his breath with Castiel, lung to lung, so nearly mouth to mouth. Dean has told him on previous occasions that this is called “shotgunning”, but he’s not sure why; it clearly has no relation to either firearms or violence, but that hardly seems to matter when it brings Dean so close, the green of his eyes bright and intent with something that Castiel had once thought he’d never have a name for.
Dean sucks in more air, and then he’s kissing Castiel for real, soft and wet, luxuriating in it. This--this lights up Castiel’s nerves just as much as the music does, more, pleasure pooling and igniting wherever Dean’s body is in contact with his own, waves of it rolling and breaking through his whole nervous system. It’s overwhelming, especially in combination with the female vocalist reaching for some explosive notes, now, singing as if they’re being physically tugged from the center of her chest by an unseen hand.
Castiel thinks he might understand how that feels.
“Jesus,” Dean gasps, breaking away to flop down beside him, raking a hand through his own hair. He dissolves into giggles, and Castiel can’t help but laugh with him. “I am blitzed, man. This is embarrassing.”
“I’m the only other person here,” Castiel feels obligated to point out, nuzzling at his ear, “and I have literally seen your soul at its barest and at its lowest. Is this really what embarrasses you?”
“Shut up,” Dean says, muffled because he’s hiding his face in Castiel’s shoulder, blushing so hard that he might as well be glowing. Castiel can actually feel the warmth of it radiating through the cotton of his shirt; it makes him want.
“So this,” he says, hesitant, picking up the earlier thread of their conversation. “This--you only do it with me. Not with Sam. Not with Charlie or Jody--at least not like this. But these, um. These... meetings...aren’t about us, about what--what we do together?”
“Jesus,” Dean groans again, rolling his eyes, adding a heartfelt, “Christ.” He hauls himself up off the bed and strips off his shirt, gesturing at Castiel to do the same. “Take your damn clothes off already, man.” He seems to catch himself on how that sounds, because he pauses with one hand on the buckle of his belt before shaking his head, grinning at some private joke. “I mean, yeah, I guess it’s a little bit about that. But no, Cas, we don’t hang out smoking weed and listening to the classics because it’s some kind of agenda, because you and I are, uh...you know. Because rainbows,” he offers, very careful to look anywhere but directly at Cas.
Castiel tilts his head, listening, and when he doesn’t speak, Dean blusters on. “No, it’s ‘cause you’re stuck with me, you know? Stuck with us, stuck here, stuck human...I guess I just figure if you’ve gotta take the lumps of it, the sore backs and the seasonal colds and the, the shitty truck stop coffee of it all, you should have some of the good stuff, too. If I’m not the one to teach you the finer points of stoner rock, ok, who will? It’s not all bad here, and I just want to make sure you know that.”
Finished with his speech, Dean grabs awkwardly for another cookie, presumably to stop himself from rambling any further. Something light and fond unfurls itself inside Castiel; he reaches out to draw Dean down into his arms again. “I assure you, Dean,” he says gravely, “I am absolutely certain of it.” Dean offers him a bite, which he accepts with equal gravity.
All of their kisses are delicious, to be fair, but they are undeniably more delightful chased with chocolate.
“Anyway,” Dean says with his mouth full, “take your fucking pants off. You wanna talk gay music? It’s gonna be Night at the Opera next, and that’s really gonna bake your noodle.”
_________________
Read it here on AO3!
#suptober21#prompt: rainbows#Destiel fanfic#castiel/dean winchester#recreational marijuana use#silly fluff#dean introduces cas to the finer points of classic stoner rock ok#I don't make the rules#established relationship#faintly AU#but not really because#fuck canon gently with a rusty chainsaw#suptober#it's late!#but I'm writing and posting so who cares!!!!
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Unnecessary Feelings
The Host x gn!reader
ty anon for the request
A/N: BRO. Bro. Bro I. I am so proud of this one don’t even look at me. Also happy spooky month! Might do something with that, idk though. This is more of another character study with the Host, I’ll be honest. I still think it’s pretty cute, though. I didn’t read back through this, lmk about any mistakes. Enjoy!
Word Count: 2.4k
Unnecessary Feelings
Host isn’t particularly looking for a relationship, of any sort. Not necessarily. It would be nice, but it isn’t at the forefront of his mind. It’s not that important. Change is weird. He’s been in his same office, writing the same kind of stories, with the same kind of people. That’s fine. He likes that. He likes his novels, his protagonists, and his office.
He explained all of these things to Wilford and Darkiplier, but neither was having it. That’s how he ended up staying at the manor for a while, while his place was being “renovated”. He didn’t know how much he trusted Wilford to “renovate” correctly.
Wilford likes pink. A lot. Host doesn’t. He can't see it, but he knows it. Pink was loud. Pink smelled like raspberries and icing and cherry blossoms and shrimp. It sounded like fair music and joyful screaming and chalk scraping on the ground. It felt smooth and soft and squishy. It tasted like sugar, sugar, sugar, too much to be healthy. Pink made his brain hurt. He doesn’t like pink. Wilford likes pink. Wilford… Wilford fucking loves pink. And Wilford will say it’s pink, and Host will know it’s pink, and even though he can’t see it, he’ll be upset that it’s pink. He doesn’t like pink. He doesn’t know how to say it. So he doesn’t. And he copes.
He takes the opportunity to talk to the others staying at the manor, which was pretty much just Dr. Iplier and… you. Dr. Iplier was a… reasonable man. He was boring. Very boring, really. He directed every conversation to discuss your health or a weird patient he had recently, neither of which really interested the Host. He didn’t enjoy talking to Dr. Iplier too much.
You, however…
Were also kind of boring?
Well, you mostly just wandered around, reading, cleaning, sleeping, not doing much else. He didn’t initiate conversation and neither did you. If you sat next to him on the couch and he sat a little straighter and breathed a little faster, that was simply a coincidence. And the urge to talk to you about his novel for hours was simply boredom. And the desire to listen to you talk for hours was… it was none of your goddamn business is what it was. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t dislike you either. He felt nothing. You made him feel nothing. This didn’t mean anything.
Really.
It didn’t.
But, entirely too fast, Dark and Wil were done. Or rather, whoever they hired was done. Which was good. Host bid you two goodbye. Dr. Iplier told him to drink plenty of water but not too much, and you told him you’d keep an eye out for his newest novel. He felt like he should be blushing right now, he felt it in his face. Nobody commented, so he assumed he didn’t. He felt a thing happen in his chest as he looked at the two of you.
He didn’t like either of you, and if he kept telling himself that, maybe it would come true.
He received a new office. It was much cleaner and brighter, and he actually had room to think. There was an espresso machine in the corner atop a pink table, a “dandelion” yellow couch next to it, a pastel pink desk against the opposite wall, and a few “motivational” posters on the baby blue walls. At least from what he’d heard. Wilford did his best to explain the room. He appreciated that the walls were not, in fact, pink like he expected.
He had to walk around a few times, keep track of his steps, and get used to the new layout. It’s a good room. Clean. No nails sticking out of the floor, no rats scurrying around, no cobwebs, no holes, no nothing. Clean and quiet. Clean. And. Quiet.
…
He fucking hates the goddamn room.
Who likes silence? Who enjoys that? Who wants to be stuck in a suffocatingly clean office with nothing but their thoughts for hours at a time? Homicidal people, that’s who.
Ignore the fact that he has homicidal tendencies and has almost killed/has killed several people, that doesn’t matter right now.
He can just sit and deal. He can take the office, try to coax the rats into coming back, buy some spiders, and write. No big deal.
Except what if he didn’t deal? What if he told them he hated it and couldn’t work in these conditions? What if he was forced to stay at the manor again? What if he could… talk… and interact with people? Without anything barring him from doing so?
He’s… not lonely.
He’s not lonely.
He’s not.
But if he stays in the manor again while Wilford talks about how he has no taste and Darkiplier decides to be in charge of the renovation now, that’s not his fault.
Bim, Eric, and you were staying at the manor when he had to. For the second time. Bim had a thing for rom-coms and dramedy movies, and Eric had started to pick that thing up. You and Host also watched the movies, but whether you actually liked them was beyond him. Usually, you made fun of them together. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear a lot of the ridiculous dialogue. He could drop two random people in a closed-off room together and they’d have more chemistry than half of these Hallmark Christmas Movie couples. You were very quiet during “To All The Boys I Loved Before”, however, so either you loved it or you hated it. He couldn’t really tell.
You two talked a little less than before, you being preoccupied with Eric. Host was fine with that. He could just… talk to you whenever you were done. But you apparently had a low social battery and trapped yourself in a room whenever you were done talking to Eric. That was fine. Host didn’t need to be happy anyways.
He may or may not have showed up at your door first thing in the morning sometimes to get the chance to talk to you. You didn’t know, so it was fine.
But Eric and Bim were smart. They picked up on the Host’s… “feelings” and desire to talk to you. If either were in a room with you and Host, they immediately left so that you could talk. It worked, and Host was happy, but he felt kind of bad.
No. No he didn’t. He felt no emotion towards anyone or anything. The suit he bought for Bim and the journal he bought for Eric meant absolutely nothing. It was a business transaction. You can’t prove anything.
Somehow quicker than before, the room was fixed. Again. And you, Eric, and Bim saw him off. Eric’s voice sounded wet and Bim sounded a little sad as well. You sounded… fine. But he had a suspicion that you knew you were going to see him again soon. And Host was not upset, of course not. And if he was thankful his eyes weren’t exactly working properly because otherwise he might have shed a few tears, it was completely unrelated. You can’t prove anything.
The new room was completely black and white. Black laptop and a white desk with a black chair. White walls and a black floor. A white couch against the wall. No espresso machine this time, which slightly disappointed the Host.
Darkiplier sounded proud when he explained the room. Host could see why, it sounded very pretty. Which he tried to say when he turned to Darkiplier. But his traitorous mouth instead said:
“Host asks if this room is meant for the Host or you?”
The Host was teleported back to the manor this time. Wilford was standing out in front, Host knew because he heard the man’s distinct yell of surprise. He also smelled gunsmoke and wine.
“Wilford.”
“Host. What are you doing here?”
“The Host asks what you are doing here?”
“... I asked you first.”
“The Host asked you second.”
“... business. You?”
“... business.”
“Ah… well, cheers.” Quick footsteps get quieter as Wilford runs away. Host stood for a moment, debating whether or not to apologize to Dark. Before he could decide, the door opened.
“Host?” You asked. Host instantly felt himself straighten up and ball his fists.
“Hello.” He said stiffly.
“Another renovation?” He heard the smile in your voice and forced himself not to smile back.
“Host assumes so.” He nodded.
“So…” You sighed.
“So?” He tilted his head.
“Are you coming in?” You asked. Host let himself smile as he walked into the manor.
He didn’t see you all too much for the rest of the week, and he was severely disappointed. There wasn’t really anybody staying there, just a few people visiting over a few days. Yancy, Illinois, and maybe Bing, if the sound of a skateboard at 3 in the morning was any clue. He was pretty much alone. And that was fine. He was usually alone. He was used to it. This was fine.
Maybe he should stop lying to himself so often.
All too soon, he was on his way back. Again. You were the only one to see him off this time.
“Well… um…” You started. The tension between you two was like a punch to the gut. You were perfectly fine before. What happened?
“Host bids you farewell,” He nodded politely and turned around. Maybe if he left quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much.
“Wait, Host!” You called. He froze. “I’m, uh… I’m coming with you.” He spun around to face you.
“Host… asks what you mean?”
“I wanna… see your office. I mean, if I’m… allowed to visit?” You said meekly. Host felt his heart quicken.
“The Host would love-like that,” He coughed as he corrected himself.
“Ok, good,” He could hear the smug smile in your voice. Damn him and his… feelings.
The commute to his thrice-new office was almost silent. Neither of you said anything. You most likely wanted to wait for the Host to start the conversation, but he didn’t want to bother you if you didn’t want to talk. It was a little awkward. But after a while, it became comfortable. He liked just being in your presence.
He thought that was what he would miss most about the manor.
You both stood outside of his office door when you arrived.
“Well… here we are.” You whispered. Host nodded solemnly. “Do you want to do the honors.” Host lifted his hand to the doorknob, feeling himself shake. He clutched the doorknob, not moving an inch. He could feel your eyes on him. You were worried. This was fine.
You could visit. But what if you didn’t want to? What if you saw his stories? What if you thought he was cruel? He was, but not to you. He would never be to you. He could stop. He could write different stories. He could write a romance! It would still affect people’s lives, but for the better? At least until the story ended and he had no control over it. What if you wanted him to stop? He couldn’t just stop. Would you give him an ultimatum? You wouldn’t… would you?
“Host--” You started. He whipped around to face you.
“The Host does not want to enter the room.” He said, voice wavering a little. He cleared his throat. Embarrassing.
“What? Ho-”
“The Host wants to talk to people. The Host… wants friends. The Host wants to stay with you and the others.” He grits out. God, this was pathetic. Was he begging?
“Host, open the door.” You sighed. The Host froze. What? Why were you… what?
Oh. So that was it. You were seeing him off… for the last time. You didn’t… you… didn’t like…
Right. Yeah. You were a polite person. He should’ve known.
“But…” He trailed off and faced the floor.
“Host, I really think you should open the door,” You said, the smile clear in your voice. His eyebrows furrowed. Well, you didn’t have to be so eager about it, Jesus.
The Host grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open with a crack against the wall.
“Jesus, man!” Bim’s distinct game show voice sounded from inside the room. Left front corner. “What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”
“I always thought he was a boxer-briefs man.” Dr. Iplier said from the opposite side.
“I can confirm that he is, in fact, a boxer-briefs man.” Google said from the same place as Dr. Iplier.
“I honestly would’ve thought commando.” Eric’s voice was muffled, as if he was facing away from everyone else.
What… What the fuck?
“What. The fuck.” He said loudly. You clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.
“Surprise! We’re invading your office. Please don’t resist.” He could, again, hear the smirk on your face. He almost wanted to be mad. Almost.
“What?” He turned to you. You let go of him and stepped in.
“We fixed your room! You got your bland-ass beige walls, your hardwood floor, cobwebs, dust, and I think there’s a rat somewhere in the walls…”
“His name is Remy!” Eric said happily.
“Sorry, Remy is somewhere in the walls.” Host didn’t move, still processing this whole situation.
“The Host… doesn’t understand…” He rubbed his temples.
“Well, you seemed… lonely. And we like spending time with you. So… we’re gonna spend time with you!” Bim explained.
“You don’t have to do things alone anymore. Just… call someone up and we’ll come hang out.” Dr. Iplier said.
“Only if you ask, though.” Eric added softly. Host didn’t move for a long while.
The others began to fidget, thinking they did something wrong. Eventually, he took a breath, and everyone else held theirs.
“Is… is the Host’s equipment still here?” He asked.
“Your writing stuff? Yeah, it’s on the desk.” You answered. Host went quiet again, thinking.
“Do… You guys want to help the Host write something?” He mumbled.
“Hell yeah we do!” You clapped your hands once. Host made his way over to his desk. All the others, including you, crowded around him as soon as he sat down, pushing each other to get a good look.
This was slightly claustrophobic and pretty uncomfortable…
…
It was perfect.
#the host x reader#the host x gn reader#the host x gender neutral reader#x reader#x you#the host markiplier#the host#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#markiplier alter egos x reader#the author markiplier
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pretty little liar
Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader
Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.
Genre: College!AU
Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing
Word Count: 4,867
A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️
The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.
You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.
And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.
“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”
Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”
You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”
She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”
“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”
He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.
Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.
“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”
“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”
Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”
With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”
Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”
You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”
Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”
Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”
“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”
Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.
The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.
And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.
Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.
For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?
Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.
You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.
Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…
If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.
Heh.
Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.
“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”
“Um…”
She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”
“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.
Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.
And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.
“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.
“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”
“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”
It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”
You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”
He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”
“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”
“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”
Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”
You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.
Tequila’s kicking in…
Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”
Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”
This bitch.
Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”
Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.
And then he spoke.
“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”
That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”
His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”
Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”
Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”
Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”
“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.
You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?
Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.
Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.
The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.
It made you feel powerful.
You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.
“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.
He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.
You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.
With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.
“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”
“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.
Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.
He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.
Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.
Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”
“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.
You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.
A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.
When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.
“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”
The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.
All you could do was try to give as good as you got.
You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.
And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”
Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”
He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”
With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.
You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.
“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”
Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.
Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.
“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”
You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.
Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.
After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.
Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”
You fixed your dress. “Sure.”
“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”
Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”
He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”
It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”
“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”
“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”
Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”
That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”
He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”
You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”
Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”
You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”
The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.
#wayv ten#ten imagines#wayv smut#ten scenarios#ten x reader#ten smut#nct scenarios#ten oneshot#wayv imagines#woc reader#wayv ten imagines#ten lee#wayv au#nct au
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40 & 70 with gray? :)
40. "Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" & 70. “You know what? Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”
Masterlist
Whenever people found out who your best friend was- you knew they were trying to keep from laughing in your face. If he weren’t standing right next to you when you told people, sometimes they would think you were lying.
You’ve been friends with Grayson Dolan for more than a decade, knowing each other since elementary school. By high school, you drifted apart socially but you still hung out at each other’s houses, played video games, helped him with projects, even decided to go to the same college.
You handled Grayson’s popularity in high school well and he handled your lack of popularity well. All you prayed was college would be different.
It wasn’t.
Grayson decided to join Theta Xi, known to be the biggest pothead frat but also the best partiers. You told Grayson that maybe your friendship wasn’t going to work out, this was the sign. Grayson argued with you and spent weeks proving the frat would never change him.
Three years and a presidency later, he had changed. Yet for some reason, she stayed.
Well, she knew the reason, she’s been in love with him since the first time they kissed. It was on a rock in the forest behind his house, they were 16 and 17 and he had just learned no one had ever kissed her before.
After that, she knew she had to stay in his life even though she wasn’t his type at all and he had never given her any reason to believe he was interested in her as more than a friend.
Now, she’s cursing at the way she always get blindsided when it comes to Grayson. He talks her into the stupidest shit because he asks her in ways that she doesn’t realize what she’s getting into but by the time she finally realizes, it’s too late to back out.
Like right now, leaning against the counter in one of the kitchens. The frat house was split into four quads downstairs and two quads upstairs. Each quad has two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living space, which all lead out into the main, large room of the house where the main part of the party is happening.
She could still hear the music thumping beneath her feet, she was upstairs in the ‘off-limits’ quad. It was Grayson, Ethan, Ryan, and Mando’s rooms up here.
Grayson’s the president, E’s vp, Ryan’s in charge of everything grayson doesn’t want to deal with but his official title is treasurer, and Mando’s in charge of all things social media for the frat.
I’m in Ethan and Grayson’s kitchen, the cleanliness not surprising seeing as Ethans girlfriend pretty much lives with them at this point. I always try to clean up Grayson’s room and bathroom when I’m over, the OCD type A freak in me hates seeing his books everywhere, trash cans full of bottles, laundry piled in the corner.
It’s not like that most of the time though, that only happens on his bad weeks. Those are the weeks when he falls into this funk and only talks to me and Ethan. We all give him space because we know why it’s happening, they started right after their dad died.
Mr. Dolan dying was so hard on everyone. My family included. My dad wasn’t a very stand-up guy, and Mr. Dolan always made me feel welcome and was the kind of dad I always imagined my dad to be.
“Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" I jump at the deep voice, turning to see Grayson standing in the doorway, looking like an angel committing a sin by looking so hot.
He has on a pair of slacks and a loose, silk shirt, the pattern almost matching Ethans. The theme for the night was Coachella. Even if we were many states away and most of the people here couldn’t afford to even look at Coachella tickets.
I let him talk me into coming, wearing a knit triangle bralette top and off-white shorts Grayson picked out, I just realized my shorts match his pants perfectly.
I quirk my eyebrow at him and cross my arms, “I’m sorry, did I leave you to play beer pong?”
He smiles at me and I want to slap it off his face- or kiss it off- either is fine with me, “I’m sorry, angel. Just come back down and enjoy the rest of the party with me, I won’t ditch you again, I promise.”
Grayson’s always done his hardest to keep ever promise he’s told me, so I push off the counter, my entire hard-ass demeanor falling away and my normal, shy and reserved self takes it’s place. He grabs my hand and I try to ignore the pleasure I get from feeling his warmth on mine.
He pulls me towards the stairs and then we walk down together, me slightly behind him. He abruptly stops and I bump into him, cursing at him but he squeezes my hand, silently telling me to shut up.
I look over in time to see Dylan here, with McKenna. Dylan was my first boyfriend, though we’re only kissed and cuddled, I thought we were serious. Until I found out he had been sleeping with my dorm mate the entire time. That was freshman year, I should be over it. I am over it, but the look Grayson gives me tells me I don’t look as though I’m over it.
“C’mon.” Grayson pushes us through the crowd, keeping us out of the line of sight of my ex.
We duck into one of the quads and I realize too late- it’s the pot quad. The rooms filled with a thick haze, the slight soundproofing making the vibes much more calm and relaxing. There’s only a dozen or so people but I feel much better in here than out there. Even if I don’t smoke.
Someone passes Grayson a blunt and he takes a quick hit, “I feel like I should stay sober to make sure that asshole doesn’t even look at you,” I smile at Grayson’s protectiveness.
“I’m fine. It was a while ago, Gray. I’m over it,” I shrug. Maybe it would’ve hurt more if my heart didn’t belong to someone else.
I make a quick decision and go to take the blunt. Grayson pulls back, the weed out in the air where I can’t reach it, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He raises his brow and I scoff, rolling my eyes, “Give it to me, Grayson. I just want one hit.” He pulls back again when I try to reach out.
He just shakes his head and it feels like his patronizing a child, “this shits strong, angel. You can’t handle it.”
Something about the way he said it sends me back to a memory I forgot ever happened. After Dylan took me out for our five month, we went back to his place and we started making out. I tried to reach for his belt but he pulled away, telling me I wasn’t ready. Couldn’t handle it. That I was too immature and if I wanted it to be great, I should lose a little weight, because skinny girls have the best sex.
I snatch the blunt from Grayson, taking a hit before he can stop me. Fuck men. Fuck all men who think they know what I can and can’t handle. I think I inhaled to much because when I exhale I feel a heavy burn and a dry cough comes up my throat.
Grayson pats my back, “Angel-“
“Don’t.” I push his hand off me. Taking a deep breath, I see Grayson watching me closely. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it. What is wrong with you tonight?” He asks me and I roll my eyes.
“You know what?” He looks at me expectantly and I sigh, “Never-mind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”
He grabs my hand and takes me out of the small room, moving us through the crowd to the back porch- a large, glassed in room. There’s only a few people out here.
He grabs my arms, “what’s wrong, y/n? Is it Dylan? I’ll kick him out if you want. ”
I look up into his eyes, the sincerity there surprising me. Grayson’s always been so honest with me. It’s time I’m honest with him. I don’t know if weed works this fast or if it’s the beer I downed earlier but I decide to be honest with him, “No, it’s not Dylan. I wasn’t even that hurt when we broke up. That’s because- I uh- I like you, Gray. I’ve had a crush on you since eleventh grade. I want to be with you. I mean- with you with you. I want to wake up next to you and hold hands and kiss and hug and- I want you to love me as much as I love you.” I rant.
His hands fall off my arms and my eyes well up, knowing the thing I’ve always feared is about to happen. He’s rejecting me. “Y/n I- I care about you. So much. But I- this isn’t a good idea.”
His words break my heart and I keep my gaze on the ground, “Um- okay. Well, I’m gonna- I have to go.” I say, looking up at him and biting my lip to hold back tears.
I turn on my heel and practically run back into the main room, trying to get out of this house as quickly as possible, “Y/n! Come back! Wait!” I hear Grayson’s voice and the tears start to fall, I push through the crowd faster, when someone grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Y/n?” I look up at Dylan, standing with McKenna. His eyebrows furrow when he sees me crying.
“Let me go,” I state, trying to get my arm out of his tight grip.
“What’s wrong? Who-“ he stops when he sees someone behind me, “Of course it was you. You’re such an asshole. What did you do to her?” He demands and I finally get my arm away from him.
Turning to see Grayson with rage in his eyes. He never got over Dylan cheating on me, “I didn’t do anything to her. You’re the piece of shit who cheated on y/n. How dare you come into my house and accuse me of hurting my best friend?” Grayson spits and I grab his arm out of instinct as he lurches forward.
“Gray, stop.” I say, he looks away from Dylan’s smirk to make eye contact with me for only a second before shrugging my hand off him.
“Yeah, Gray. Listen to your girlfriend. Don’t wanna embarrass you in your house, right?” Dylan mocks and I roll my eyes, knowing he’s just trying to rile Grayson up.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” the words are out of his mouth so quick, I don’t even realize what he said at first. I scoff and roll my eyes.
Because this is the time to correct him. You know what, “Fuck you.” I spit at Grayson and push my way out of the small circle forming around us. I make it to the front door when I hear a loud crack, looking back to see Dylan on the ground holding his nose and Grayson looking for me in the crowd.
We make eye contact and I shake my head, knowing this is the end of us. I open the door and slip out, running down the road, passing all the other fraternity houses. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears but I keep pushing myself until I get to my apartment, knowing it’s only a mile or so.
Once I get inside I slide down the door, leaning against it as I realize that happy ever afters are fake. The person you love isn’t always going to love you back. Fuck fairytales.
It’s not like I can hate Grayson- he didn’t know. I can hate him for not chasing me. He probably realized I’m not worth it. Best friends don’t run after each other, right? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have let Dylan get to him. He would’ve grabbed me and made me stay.
Tears fall down my face unrestrained as my heart clenches at the thought of never being friends with Grayson again. We’ve gone through death, high school, years of people trying to pull us apart, and I was able to ruin our friendship with three words.
If it was meant to be, he would’ve fought for me. Figuratively, not physically, seeing as he already punched someone tonight. I drag myself to my room and fell into the blankets, closing my eyes. I pray I will forget this night ever happened.
Next Part...
A/n: For all my people who didn’t get their fairy tale ending ❤️
#grayson dolan#dolan twins#ethan dolan#ethan dolan imagine#ethan dolan smut#ethan#grayson#grayson dolan imagine#Grayson Dolan smut#concept#grayson dolan concept#my writing#sad concept#sad#blurb#sophs blurbs#g.dolan#grayson x reader#asks#frat!gray
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lockdown haircuts
→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader
→ Genre: Fluff
→ Warnings: Swearing
→ Summary: cutting his hair during the pandemic
→ I will be honest and say that I don't really know what this is,,, kinda like a glimpse into their life? like its very random and has no plot lol anyways ENJOY
→ Thinking of turning this into a series;;; glimpses into lockdown life?
→ PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS, I suck at coming up with ideas. I might not write well, but at least I’ll have something to write about.
You had been roommates with Corpse for around a year now. He'd put an ad online and you'd answered and that was that. He later told you that you were the only person who didn't judge him just because of his name and that's why he agreed so quickly. The first few weeks were awkward but you'd become friends quickly, watching movies late at night, making dinner because you got concerned when he only ordered out, going on late night drives because both of you couldn't sleep. You'd fallen in love in the middle of all that, whispering that you liked each other at 3 in the morning. Nothing changed much, except that you kissed and stuff. When the virus spread, you both didn't really have a problem with the lockdowns because you both barely left the house anyways. The only reason you left the house was to see your best friend, and that only happened every 2 months when she came down to California. A month into the lockdown, you looked over at him while eating breakfast and had a thought.
“Corpse,” you said, slamming the spoon onto the table, making him jump because of the sudden motion.
He coughed, blinking at you with with raised eyebrows.
“What the fuck?” He asked with bleary eyes, still a bit sleepy.
“You need a haircut.” You said already getting up and moving towards the kitchen drawers.
“What?”
“You need a haircut” you repeated, rummaging through the drawers now.
“Wait wait wait” he said, panicking a little. “What are you on about? My hairs fine!”
“No it’s not!” You said finally pulling the scissors out and turning towards him. “It’s a mop” you said pointing to his head with the scissors.
Corpse backed up a little, his legs hitting the counter you’d both been eating at.
“Y/N, I gotta be honest, you’re kinda scaring me” he murmured eyes on the scissors.
You stopped for a second and then releasing what it looked like, you sheepishly put the scissors down.
Corpse finally relaxed, a sigh escaping him.
“Okay fine, but I’m being serious!” You exclaimed, moving towards him.
“Look how long it’s getting.” You said pulling at the hairs at the back of his head. “It’s almost to your shoulders!”
He shot a look at me. “You literally could not have told a more obvious lie."
He ran a hand through his hair and hummed. “Maybe it is getting a bit long though," he finally murmured.
You gasped, quickly turning and grabbing the scissors.
“Hair cut time!”
“Oh for gods sake Y/N, there’s no way I’m getting a haircut from you.”
...
10 minutes later, Corpse was sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, a sheet wrapped around his shoulders.
“Please.” He was begging, “Please don’t overdo it, just a small trim okay?”
“I won’t!” You reassure him. “Remember I used to work at hairdressers?”
You didn’t tell him that you technically only cleaned the floor and didn’t actually cut anyone’s hair, just watched others do it.
“Okay.” He says finally relenting with a sigh.
You squeal in excitement and grab a few strands before making the first snip.
“Oh my god” you whisper. “This is gonna be amazing.”
“Wait,” Corpse says just before you skip another few strands. “Aren’t you supposed to wet the hair?”
A second of silence and then;
“Oh yeah,” you say softly. “I don’t think we should though. Because your hair is curly and if I cut it when it’s wet and straight, then I’ll probably cut more and when it dries it’ll be realllllyyy short. You get what I mean?”
“Um no. But okay”
You scoff, grabbing another few pieces and begin snipping.
"Do you want a bowl cut?" you ask randomly after a few minutes.
"Nooo!" he wails and you giggle in response, letting him know that you were only kidding.
A few minutes later though, you silently wonder if it might just end up being a bowl cut.
10 minutes later, you snip the last few strands and run your hand through the hair for a bit. Corpse leans his head back slightly and you sigh at the sight of his relaxed face. He had been so stressed recently because of the amount of attention he had been getting. He was barely getting enough sleep because he kept on wanting to work and get music out, scared that people would move onto something else.
You lightly massage his head, making him sigh in relief.
"You okay?" you ask quietly.
He smiles lightly, eyes still closed.
You continue massaging his head until he grabs your hands, pulling you to the front of the chair and into his lap. Without opening his eyes, he leans his head against yours and breathes out a single word.
"Thankyou."
You blink, slightly confused. "Uh your welcome, but you haven't really looked at the hair yet, you might just hate it" you whispered back, feeling weird to talk out loud while being so close.
He chuckled before pecking you on the lips.
"I didn't mean the haircut," he confessed, "Thank you for being so supportive and kind and patient throughout all of this."
"I uh- I know it can be hard," he stuttered, trying to find the right words, "what with my anxiety and my insomnia and all the other shit that's going on, and lets not even start about all the internet stuff, but I jus- I just wanna say that I'm so thankful that you're here through everything. I love you."
"Oh sweetheart," you murmur, grabbing his face and pulling it up to look straight into his eyes. "I'm so happy to be on this journey with you, okay, and that means going through the hard times, the good times, the stressful times, the annoying times, every single moment alright?" Seeing him smile, you quickly give him a peck and then jump up.
"C'mon!" you say, "I'll take a photo from the back so you can see your hair"
Smiling at your excitement, he grabs his phone and turns it to you. You swipe to open up the camera and then quickly snap a few pics that focus on the hair, before showing them to him.
"Oh." he says, sounding surprised.
You gasp and look at him astonished, "Did you have no faith in me?" you ask.
He looks up at you, slightly apologetic.
"Yeah okay," you said, deflating. "I didn't have faith me in either".
"No honestly, it looks great... better than I expected." he says after a few more seconds of staring at the phone.
"Ahhh" you sigh, "Always the tone of surprise."
You burst out laughing at the look of utter exasperation of Corpses face.
------
all the love - lily xx
#corpse#corpse husband#corpse x reader#corpse husband x reader#corpse fics#Y/N#idk what this is#i hope you enjoy#please send requests#be kind#i am sensitive#but#constructive critism welcome
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Friends with Benefits
Summary: You and Calum are friends with benefits, but what happens when one of you starts to want something more
Genre: Frat!Calum
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes
Word Count: ~900
“Same time tomorrow?” Calum asks as you clumsily climb out of his bed and search around the room for the panties you arrived in.
“Um,” As you reach under the bed, you feel the silk material in a crumbled heap. You pull it out only to realize that these are not the panties you wore here. In fact, they aren’t even yours. “I actually have plans.” You continued, throwing the panties away from you and wiping your hand on your still bare thigh.
“Plans?” Calum’s tone is doubtful, almost even mocking. But you’re too busy scowering the room for your panties to notice.
“Yep.” Deciding to abandon your search for your undergarments, you grab your pants off the foot of the bed and shimmy them on. “So, looks like you’re going old school tomorrow. Just you, yourself, and Miss Righty.”
The way you grin to yourself as you pull your shirt over your head annoys him. He hates for any one, especially just some girl he hooks up with, to feel that they’ve got anything over him.
“Bold of you to assume you’re the only girl I call when I need to get off.” He pushes, raising an eyebrow at you. Uninterestedly you roll your eyes at him.
“Not only,” you smirk to yourself, “but best.” He’s trying to best you, but you’re not like all the other insecure girls he messes around with. You know what you’ve got, and you know what it’s worth.
“Again,” it was Calum’s turn to smirk at you. “Bold assumption”. Your only response it to roll your eyes as you bend over to pull on your shoes.
“I mean, for the past three weeks you’ve called me, what,” You turn your eyes towards the ceiling and scrunch your face pretending to think. For added measure you use one finger to solve an imaginary equation in the air. “Oh that’s right, every night.”
You won’t back down. But Calum won’t either.
“Yea, and who do you think I’ve called every morning?” Calum smirks triumphantly. You say nothing as you grab your purse and head for the door.
“Good, then call one of them.” You say it and mean it. Just like it was for Calum, to you this arrangement was simply a business transaction. A mutual exchange of sexual favors. Nothing more.
“See ya.” You call over your shoulder as you finally walk out of the room. Leaving Calum naked and alone in his bed.
*****CALUM’S POV*****
Friday night. Exactly 22 hours since I last got off. I’m not OCD or anything. It’s just that over the years I’ve found that keeping a strict “booty-call” schedule made it easier to keep track of my endeavors. Not to mention it prevents the always awkward “two booty-calls running into each other” situation. If you’ve never experienced one chick leaving your room half naked, while another chick is walking in ready to smash, trust me – you don’t want to go there. However, it did make for some pretty hot hate-sex.
Not that the schedule really mattered much lately. There was really only one time to account for. (Y/N)’s time. Every night for the past couple weeks. 10 o’clock on the dot is her call time. Usually she won’t get here until about midnight, but that works out perfectly for me. The later it is the less likely she’ll be to try and hang out, or some shit, afterwards.
Throwing the weight of my body on the bed, I pull my phone out of my tight jean pocket and call her.
It’s not until she doesn’t answer that I remember about the bullshit “plans” she told me she had. Whether they are real or not, they’ll just have to wait. Because right now, I need her. Well, my dick does anyway.
I call again. This time the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail.
She sent me to voicemail.
This is probably all just some elaborate scheme to make me think she actually has better things to do than fuck me.
Two can play at that game
I toss my phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the bed makes me stop in my tracks. I smile to myself and eagerly make a move for the phone.
Eagerly? Why are you eager?
I blame it on my being horny. I can’t help the way my face falls with disappointment when it’s my friends contact name on my screen instead of hers.
Disappointment?
I must be really, really, horny.
“What?” I bark annoyed. It’s not actually him I’m bothered by, but he’s the one who’s available.
“Dude, where are you?” he’s yelling into the phone, and I can hear loud music blaring in the background.
“My room?” I don’t know what he wants, but if he doesn’t tell me soon this conversation is going to end.
“Oh, I figured you were at that Phi Delta party?”
“Well, I just told you I’m in my room.” I snap. “Why the hell would I be at some frat party?”
I’m far from the type. All those preppy douchebags. Running around with their gelled-hair, short shorts, and flip flops. What real man wears flip-flops other than to the beach? And even that is pushing it.
“Yea but-” the sound of his voice pulls me back to reality from my internal rant. “Your little fuck-buddy’s here so I figured-”
“Who?” I interrupt.
“Uh, you know that one chick. The one you rated best rack!”
“(Y/N)?!” I don’t know why but knowing that she was ignoring my calls, while she was probably running around with some douchey frat guy irritated me.
“Yea! Yea dude her! She looks-” Before he can even finish his sentence, I hang up the phone and grab my keys. I don’t know why I going to the party or what I’ll do when I get there, but right now all I can think about is (Y/N) laying in bed with a douche in flip-flops.
As I finally pull up in front of the huge trashy house, none of the irritation has left my body. Taking long strides, I make my way in the house and navigate through all the drunk teens determined to find (Y/N). I do a quick scan of the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. With every room I check off the list, my fears of her being locked in one of those bedrooms upstairs with some guy grows.
Just as I’m about to storm up the stairs and kick in every door, I spot her walking through the front door, with a guy following close behind. The type of guy who looks like he wears flip flops. As I watch her grin from ear to ear, I can feel anger rumbling deep in my stomach. Suddenly the house feels hot. Too hot.
My eyes follow them into the kitchen. I count to 10, and I head towards the kitchen too.
“Wooow, hey.” I fake shocked to be running into (Y/N) here.
“Calum.” Her statement sounds more like a question as her eyes go wide.
“Plans huh?” My eyes shift to the tool standing too close to her. I mean come on its burning up in here. Definitely, too hot to be standing that close to someone.
“Yea. Uh Corey this is Calum, Calum this is my friend Corey.” Friend? Her friend Corey? And what I’m? Just Calum? What she should’ve said was ‘Douchebag this is the guy who fucks me better than anyone ever has be-‘
“Nice to meet you man.” Douchebag interrupts my perverse thoughts and reaches out to shake my hand. I don’t want to take it. Who knows where those fingers have been.
Hopefully not in her.
I choke on my own thoughts as my breathe gets caught in my throat. I burst into a fit of coughs and (Y/N) and Douchebag just stare at me like I just grew another head. Douchebag pushes his cup towards me and I take it. As I chug down the beer from his cup, I swear I can taste (Y/N)’s pussy on the rim.
His lips better have not gone anywhere near her.
I can’t stop the thoughts going through my head, or the places my fucked-up imagination keeps taking me, but I know it needs to stop.
I finish off Douchebag’s drink and hand the empty cup back to him. I can feel the alcohol immediately. My muscles ease ever so slightly and I’m starting to function like a normal human being again. I need to regain control of this situation.
“So,” I chose to not even address whatever the hell was going on with me a minute ago. “This is the hot date (Y/N) was all giddy about.” I challenge her.
“You told him this was a date?” Douchebag raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to (Y/N) who’s shooting me daggers with her eyes.
“Well I didn’t use those words exactly.” She says through gritted teeth.
“Damn this is embarrassing,” He continues. I smirk to myself and wait for the show to begin. “Because ... I’ve been telling everyone it was.”
Douche, and I can’t stress this enough, bag.
I can’t help but roll my eyes and scoff, which I play off as another cough.
“You Calum, should take care of that cough, and you Corey, follow me to the beer pong table.” I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him back towards the living room.
I decide to stay in the kitchen and continue adding alcohol to my system. The liquor burns my throat but for the time being it stops the weird thoughts in my head and helps me think more clearly. I mean obviously I’m not jealous or anything because, why the hell would I be. He’s a douche yea, but not because he’s here with the chick I occasionally fuck. And obviously I’m not irritated with her just because she’s here with a douche. It’s just that I needed to get my dick wet and she ignored my call to be here with said douche. Like he’s somehow more important than me getting off.
I stumble back into the living room and find a spot on the couch. Of course from where I’m sitting I have the perfect view of the beer pong table, and therefore the perfect view and Miss Thing and her new boy toy.
I sit watching them as I down beer after beer. My eyes follow (Y/N) intently as she finally walks away from the table towards the kitchen again. Without thinking, my feet are carrying me to the kitchen right behind her.
“Are you like stalking me now Calum?” she spins on her heels noticing me trailing her.
“Fiesty.” I wink at her. She just rolls her eyes and continues over towards the punch bowl to refill her cup. “I just wanted to tell you how good you look tonight.” I lick my lips while allowing my eyes to rake up and down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts.
“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head. She knows this is a game, and she’s fighting hard not to lose.
“Damn,” I place one hand on her neck tilting her head to the side. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.” I make a move to attach my lips to her neck and she lets me. And I know I’ve won. I suck at the sensitive skin and try to push my body closer to hers. “Let me take you upstairs.” I whisper into her neck.
“See I would,” she speaks but doesn’t move away from me. “But, I have a hot date to get back to.” She finally pulls away from me. “I’m just so giddy about it.” She’s mocking me. She smirks as she brushes past me leaving me and my bulge alone in the kitchen.
One hour, and too many shots later I’m still here. At this stupid frat house with these stupid people. I could’ve just gone home, but something keeps me here. I think it’s my obsession with beating (Y/N). Finally proving to her that she should’ve been in my bed with me tonight. Not here with what’s his face. When the first bit of alcohol entered my system, it helped keep my thoughts from running wild. Now that it’s pulsing through my veins as thick as my blood, the thoughts have returned.
I sit on the stairs, watching as (Y/N) grinds her perfect ass against Corbin, or whatever the hell his name was. It makes me sick. He slides his hands down her hips. He could never navigate her body as well as I do – even if she drew him a map. I’m the one that knows all the right places to touch her. I’m the one who knows all the right buttons to push. My name is the name she calls out while I pound into her.
The alcohol is mixing with my lust and my anger and it’s pushing me.
Douchebag spins (Y/N) around and wraps his hands in her hair.
The way that I do.
He tries to lean in and kiss her, but just before his lips meet hers, I’m pushing him off of her. My mind is confused but my fist are determined. I tackle him to the ground and start beating the shit out of him.
“Calum! CALUM GET OFF OF HIM!” (Y/N)’s voice pulls me off of him when no one else has been able to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I don’t know how to answer her, because truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I stand there glancing around at all the faces of the small crowd that had formed around us.
“He-You-” I was struggling to find a way to blame them for this. She stands there impatiently waiting for me to speak. Her angered expressions triggers something in me. She thinks she can stand here and face off against me. What does she think? She can intimidate me or something?
“You’re the one who should’ve answered my call!” I bite back at her. “Then I wouldn’t have had to come to this stupid ass party in the first place!”
“Calum get over yourself!” Why can’t she just let me win. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? My body burns with rage and the faces of all these staring people aren’t making things any better.
“What the hell are you all looking at?!” I yell at the nosy ass bystanders. I probably look like a mad man. Wild hair, sweating, with knuckles busted and bleeding. I look scary enough for the crowd to scurry away in all directions turning their attention to something else.
(Y/N), along with the crowd, turns her back on me.
“Don’t,” I grab her arm and spin her back around to face me. “Turn your back on me!”
“Fuck! Off!” She emphasizes each word never letting any of the anger simmer. She jerks her arm away from me and turns her back on me again. I want to say whatever I need to to keep her from walking away from me. And of all the things I could, and probably should say, the best I can do is:
“That guy isn’t right for you!” The words taste foreign on my lips. I’ve never been one to look of for what was “right” for someone. Especially not some girl. The second the words leave my mouth I want to shove them back down my throat.
Now she’ll think she got me.
Now she’ll think she’s won.
“Right for me? Christ Calum it’s a date, not a fucking proposal!” She’s pissed, but at least she stayed. (Y/N) marches up to get in my face. She’s not done with me yet. “And what the hell do you know about right for me?! We fuck on occasion but that doesn’t mean you KNOW ME!”
She turns around and storms off. This time I let her go.
As I watch her walk away from me, I get this feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sinking feeling.
Don’t leave me.
The thought scares me. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, nor did I ever want to want someone to stay. But as the possibility of her staying faded -- leaving me alone -- I realized how desperately I wanted it. How desperately I needed it. Needed her.
This wasn’t a game. It never was. But as she turned her back on me, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just lost.
#calum hood#calum hood fanfic#calum hood imagine#calum hood preference#calum hood blurb#fratboy!calum#frat!calum#frat boy calum hood#frat calum hood#5sos imagine#5sos blurb#5sos imagines#5sos blurbs#college au#college calum hood#college calum au#college calum#5 seconds of summer imagines#5 seconds of summer blurb#Michael clifford#Michael Clifford imagine#Ashton irwin#Ashton Irwin imagine#Ashton Irwin blurb#Luke hemmings#Luke hemmings imagine#Luke hemmings blurb#5 second of summer au#5sos au
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Innocence - Spencer Reid x Reader
Request:
Agegap!femreader w post prison Reid One of the agents suggest the team go clubbing & Spencer was all like nahhhh man I’ma go home but reader isn’t all like “please Spencer, I want you to come so badly” w an innocent look on her face & he’s like fuck fine I’ll go idk if that makes sense lmaoooo
so uhhh you mentioned age gap and so i made that kinda intrical bc i LOVE a good age gap. anyway porn below!!
“Are you really not coming?”
You heard Garcia’s voice walking down the hall towards you.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just gonna head home for the night.”
You peeked around the corner and Garcia noticed, calling your name and frantically motioning for you to come over to her.
“Y/N, you’ll come to the club with us right?” She asked excitedly.
“Uh, yeah!” You smiled. You figured you deserved a nice night out. “Who all is coming?”
“Everyone.” Garcia turned to Spencer, glaring jokingly. “Except for our resident genius over here. He’s turned me down twice now.”
You raised a brow, turning to face Spencer, who was putting his hands up and shaking his head. “Clubs just aren’t my scene,” he explained. You pouted. You wanted Spencer to come. Not for any particular reason. Of course.
You considered for a moment and Garcia nudged you, asking for you to help her convince him.
“Spencer, you really should come,” you met his gaze, the height difference forcing you to look up quite a bit, and frowned. “I really want you to come.” You spoke softly, feigning innocence, utilizing your young age to your advantage. You looked so pure. How could he say no?
“I-I really don’t know…” you could tell your plan was working, he was already giving in.
“Please please please.” You continued over-dramatically. “Who’s gonna make sure I don’t drink too much and get home safe?”
He rolled his eyes, sighing. “I’m sure Morgan would be more than happy to do that, but if you really want me to go then fine.”
You and Garcia squealed with excitement, high fiving each other for your success. “Hell yeah!” I’ll see you tonight, then!” You grinned.
Spencer just shook his head in defeat. “See you tonight.”
When you arrived at the club you saw your co-workers huddled around a table. And fuck, you couldn’t help but notice how good Spencer looked. You were glad you convinced him to come. “Hey!” You said loudly ad you approached your friends.
“There she is! I’m surprised they let you in, you must have a pretty convincing fake ID.” Morgan teased. You were of age, of course, but you were pretty young and you definitely looked it, and he never missed an opportunity to make a joke out of it.
“All I had to do was show them the identification.” You joked back. “Told them it was for a super secret FBI mission.”
You gave everyone a hug, leaving Spencer for last. “You look good,” you said sweetly as you wrapped your arms around him. He chuckled and you could feel it reverberate through his chest. “You too.”
As the night went on the group separated a bit, each person going off to flirt or dance with a stranger, except for you and Spencer. You had kept close to him and you weren’t even sure if it was intentional or not. You were seated at the bar together, exchanging casual conversation.
“This is our first time out of a group since you left,” You told him over the music at some point.
“Yeah? I didn’t realize you were keeping track,” he replied, leaning down a bit to hear you better.
“I missed you, you know,” you admitted, face turning a bit red. Had you drank enough to be telling him these things? No. It was normal. Everyone had missed him. He wouldn’t find that strange. “Thought about you a lot.”
He didn’t speak for a moment and you were scared you might’ve said something wrong. When you looked up at him you saw his jaw was tense. Was he upset? “I thought about you a lot, too.” He said eventually. “Sometimes I think I thought about you too much,”
You almost choked on your drink. “Oh, really?” You questioned. “What, um, what type of things did you think about?” Why were you doing this? What were you implying?
He coughed a bit, readjusting himself. “Things I definitely shouldn’t have thought about. Especially not about you.”
“Why is that?” You asked, using the same innocent voice you had used to convince him earlier.
“You’re my colleague. It’s unprofessional. And you’re… young. It’s fucked up.”
You nibbled your bottom lip, suppressing the surge of heat that was forming in your belly. “Does that mean that I shouldn’t have those types of thoughts about you, either? Am I doing something wrong?” You poked at his chest, the collar of his shirt, the buckle of his belt, fingers wandering absentmindedly.
“I suppose it’s not wrong as long as we don’t act on them.” He was watching your every move, trying to maintain composure. But he wouldn’t last for long, you knew, because you had already proved your abilities to work your magic on him.
“So, it’s not wrong that I would think about you late at night while you were away?” You prodded, pushing him further over the edge. His hand was in a fist and he was tense. You held down a smirk. He was flustered, you could tell. “I guess it’s just.. I can’t help it. When I see you, when I think of you, my body just… reacts on its own.”
Before you could recognize what was happening you were being pulled off of your seat by your wrist. “W-Woah, what are you doing?” You were shocked by the switch in his mood. He looked hungry. Starved even.
“If you’re going to tell me all the dirty thoughts you’ve had about me, I might as well tell you what I thought about, huh?” He was weaving through the crowd at the club, pulling you towards the bathrooms. “Sometimes I would think about fucking you for hours on end. I’d think about how tiny you are. I’d think about how I could ruin you, strip you of that innocent little act you always put on and watch you become the greedy little slut I know you are.” He was practically growling, and when you arrived at the door to the bathroom he took a moment, taking you in, eyes filled with desire. After he was done, though, he pulled you inside, locking the door behind him.
“You like it, don’t you? You like the power you have over me. Bigger, older, stronger, more mature. It makes you want me more.” You scoffed. “You’re right. That is pretty fucked up. Preying on me just because you know you can.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, searching for something in your face. He knew you were just saying things to heighten the situation. He knew he was letting you win, but you were right. He knew it was wrong, he knew that you calling him out on it should’ve made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t.
“I guess you’re lucky, though. Because I like it too.” You crashed your lips onto his and he responded by cupping your face in his hand roughly, his fingers squeezing your jaw tightly enough that you couldn’t move if you tried.
You used your hands to unzip the dress you had thrown on for the club, and he let you go to allow it to fall down your body and pool at your feet.
“I knew you were a slut.” He groaned, undressing himself from the waist down as well. He pushed you up against the wall, hands roaming over your bra and down to the waistband of your panties. “I bet you’re so fucking wet.”
“Find out for yourself.” You challenged, panting, and he did, dipping a finger underneath the fabric. You arched your back, moaning, as he ran a finger over your clit. You were grinding your hips into his hand, desperate for more.
“I thought you said we shouldn’t act on our dirty thoughts?” You panted out.
“You were practically throwing yourself at me. If you’re going to act like a whore then I have no choice but to fuck you like one.” And with that he was pushing your panties to the side, lining himself up at your entrance, and thrusting his hips against yours. You were absolutely paralyzed, the pain and pleasure of him stretching you out overwhelming you. “You’re so fucking tight,” he breathed out.
You moaned in response, one of your hands reaching behind him, nails raking down his back over the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck, is this what you thought about while I was gone?” He whispered in your ear. “You think about me fucking you? Did you think about me throwing you around and calling you mean names?”
You didn’t reply, opting to moan instead, and he slowed. “Answer me.” He placed a hand on your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Is this what you wanted?”
You whimpered, nodding, your hips moving to meet his in an attempt to urge him to keep going. “Y-Yes.”
“Good.” He smirked contently, thrusts picking up speed again. You were close, your moans loud enough that you figured someone walking by the bathroom might hear, and he was relentless in his pace.
“I’m g-gonna..” you whined, and his hand shot up to your throat, wrapping around it and cutting off your oxygen. You sputtered, a hand moving up to pull his away but to no avail.
“Cum for me, slut.” He commanded, and your body responded quickly, moans catching in your throat as your orgasm washed over you. Only a few thrusts later Spencer was pulling out, his grip around your throat easing up, as you watched him finish himself, the warm substance coating your stomach and chest, dripping down. He let go of your neck completely, focusing on your body like he had just created a masterpiece.
“Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, grabbing some paper towels and wetting them in the sink. You rubbed your face in your hands, in shock about what had just happened.
“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come tonight, Spencie?” You asked sweetly as he wiped you down.
He chuckled. “Definitely. Your methods of persuasion never fail to impress.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds smut
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nosleep mods deleted this for apparently not being a horror story. enjoy
My friend Ed is a bit of an outdoorsman. Not one of those hardcore 'two week hike hunting for food and sleeping in the dirt' types, but he does his share of hunting and camping. He and I got into it together when we met in community college and went on a weed-fueled camping trip over spring break, and since then he has far outgrown my own outdoor endeavors.
He's gotten some great stories to tell over the years. Finding a pair of souvenir Vegas dice in the stomach of a rabbit he was cleaning, getting hit by two skunks in a single day, close encounters with pumas and bears, and the far more harrowing and painful encounters with other hikers. But he's never come back with anything all that disturbing. Until his last trip.
Ed had been making an admirable effort of converting his 'spend the fall watching netflix and consuming pumpkin themed beverages' oriented boyfriend, Saúl, to some small game hunting. About a year ago, the two of them had taken a trip down south to do just that.
A few days into their week-long trip, I got a flurry of panicked texts from Saúl. It was all things like, "omg we just saw something so messed up" and "never going to the desert again LMAO there was a naked guy" or something to that effect.
I barely remember. I was bedridden with the worst case of the flu I'd ever experienced, and received these texts through a haze of fever and Nyquil. At that time, my response to those texts was more or less "Wow, hate when that happens :("
Neither of them provided elaboration upon their return, and I was a little too consumed in my own misery to ask for it. It was left at that.
Last week, Ed and I were practicing our usual 7 o'clock ritual of smoking behind the gas station during his break and complaining about the mere existence of customers. His mask was pulled down to his chin and he was fumbling with an entire cigar he'd brought to work, complaining about some customer who was shirtless in the middle of November and clearly blitzed out of his mind.
It was as he was describing the man's public indecency that I remembered the frantic texts I had received last fall.
"Hey, speaking of nudity...What was the story with the naked dude in the desert?" I asked him.
He cringed.
"From last year, on your trip?" I pressed.
"Yeah, I know, I know. God. Did Saúl text you?"
"Yeah, but he didn't give me the details of it."
Ed finished lighting the cigar, and took a long drag.
"Yeah, okay." He said. "I was honestly trying to forget about it but like. I don't know why Saúl was so stuck on the nudity like, that was the least messed up part of it all. It was the craziest thing."
It was the craziest thing is the set of words he would begin every particularly intriguing story with, and I realized I should probably settle in. I made myself comfortable against the dumpster in anticipation.
His story was as follows.
"So, yeah. We were out in the scrub. Technically weren't supposed to be there, we were a little ways off my aunt's land but like, there's no one to bug you about that out there. It was this kinda rocky area, lots of little hills and tall brush. So you couldn't see very far from the ground. And it was pretty well into the afternoon, and we hadn't caught a damn thing, so we were just kinda screwing around at that point. And we were near this bigass arroyo, and-"
He paused.
"Wait, you know what an arroyo is?" He asked me, taking another drag from his cigar.
I shook my head. He nodded solemnly at my midwestern ignorance.
“Okay, yeah. So it's a dry sorta riverbed in the desert. You ever seen a dried up creek? It's like that. They form when the rains come and are completely dry the rest of the year. And a lot of them are pretty small, but this one was like, a miniature canyon. Probably thirty feet across and ten feet deep. And it kind of winds around the hills before getting shallower when the elevation changes or whatever.
“So anyway we’re… yeah we’re there. The arroyo is on the other side of some rocks, and the open desert is in front of us. And we were sat down in the shade, having some beef jerky and stuff."
He paused again. He seemed to be lost in thought, eyes squinting and looking somewhere distant.
"So yeah, we're having a grand old time, just having a snack or whatever. And suddenly we hear screaming. Some guy’s screaming, ‘help! help me!’ out in the bush somewhere nearby.”
“And you know how Saúl is. Too much of a sweetheart for his own good. He's like nudging me and going "Eddie, we should go help." And yeah, sure, I wanted to help but there was something… Weird? About it? Like the shouting sounded real close but I wasn’t hearing anything else that, you know, accompanies a call for help. Like, no running, no sounds of struggling or being mauled by a wild animal or whatever. It was DEAD silent whenever the guy wasn't shouting.
"And like, call me an asshole but I'm not gonna do some ‘white person in a horror movie 'lets split up, gang!'’ shit. I was staying right where I was.”
"So we just kind of sat there, listening to it. The guy had started just- shrieking. No words, just making noise. And at this point I was starting to feel like a complete bastard for being the pragmatic one, but Saúl didn't seem to wanna move either. Like, it was super off.
"And then, there’s another sound. Kind of a…uh… Gurgling noise? Like-”
Ed broke off to make an odd sound in his throat. It was a low, prolonged croak that slowly lifted into a 'whoop!’
Some old woman in the process of fueling her SUV glared at him. He scowled back.
“Okay, it was actually nothing like that. But you get the idea.”
“And that happens a couple times, and it... It didn't sound like a person's voice anymore. And I'm thinking maybe the world's most fucked up coyote just killed a guy and was celebrating or whatever, but it didn't really sound like an animal either. It was kinda inorganic, you know what I mean?
"But yeah, it kind of whoops a couple more times, and then the last time it just... Didn't stop. It kept going, and it turns into this- music? It sounded, uh, sort of like a bunch of different flutes being played at once. But lower. Very deep. I don’t remember the tune so don’t ask. But it was music, and me and Saúl are just looking at each other like "what the fuck?”.
"And at that point, curiosity is kicking in and I'm gripped by this wave of idiocy, so I get up and start walking towards the sound. Low to the ground, super slow. Stealth. And I can tell it’s coming from the arroyo. So I just verrrrry carefully climb up the side and look inside.“
Ed paused to grasp for words.
"And there’s a man in there. Some pasty dude. Sunburnt, t-shirt tan lines, all that. Pretty scrawny, but otherwise normal looking from the chest down. No injuries or nothing, which I can say for sure because, yeah, the dude is completely naked. I mean naked. There was a pile of his clothes nearby, and his whole dick was out and he was barefoot. And he was DANCING. He’s just dancing naked in this friggin’ ditch.
"And it took me a bit to process what was going on with his head. Like, the music sounds are coming from up there. And I’m thinking he’s got some sort of weird instrument over his head, but he dances towards me and um. He has no head. Or like- Shit. He kind of has a head? Like I could sort of make it out, but it’s tilted all the way backwards. Like, touching his back. So his neck's facing the sky, and his eyes are just kind of staring out behind him.
"And there’s all these… tubes. Coming out of where the nose and mouth probably used to be. Big fleshy tubes, skin toned. But they didn't flop around, they were like, pretty firm. And they’ve got little holes all over them. And that’s where the music is coming from. He’s playing them.”
Ed lifted his arms over his head and mimed with his fingers. “Like a flute”
“So like, it’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen, basically, but I can’t stop watching. And Saúl eventually comes up beside me, and we don’t say anything, we just watch this guy. It’s gotta be like… A solid hour we’re just sitting there, with this guy playing his music and dancing around. And he starts moving up the arroyo, still dancing the whole time, and eventually he’s out of sight. But we hear the music a good while longer until it gets too distant. I don't think he ever saw us. Or he didn't care. I don't know."
He was silent for a long while. I waited for him to continue, but it was evident that it was over.
"And... That was it?" I asked.
"Yeah, that was it. We got the hell out of there and didn't see him again. Or hear anything about a crazy nudist in the area."
He took another puff of his cigar, and coughed.
"I mean, it could have been... A really, really good costume or something. Like, REALLY good. I mean I definitely saw his eyes blinking. On the head that was... You know. Bent entirely backwards. But hey, could be a costume!" He added with a flourish, clearly not entertaining this possibility whatsoever.
"Holy shit." I said.
He laughed, and snuffed out his cigar in the snow. "Damn right."
#YOU MIGHT RECOGNIZE THE CHARACTERS LOL this was taken and heavily revised from a fic i made#i kept their human au names bc i couldnt be bothered with coming up with new ones#i originally had human ned be Ned B.V but his name is ed/eduard#also this was loosely inspired by visiting some of my extended family from baja sur california and hearing some freaky fucking#noises walking around in an arroyo#i think it was fuckig. raccoons fighting or smth tho#ALSO id like to revise it to be even less Nosleep-y . the longass exposition intro was to make it fit more with their sort of thing#my writing
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Team Bonding
fr when was the last time i posted like,,, a fic on here. like a tumblr fic. damn. anyway. ummmmmmmm this is just your.... typical steve freaks out and the avengers are awesome um yah ok ok
warnings: panic attack, vomiting (basically steve watches the titanic and doesnt have a very fun time)
word count: 2575
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If Steve was being brutally honest with himself, he was fucking tired of hearing about “the classics”. Irrelevant people butting their noses into his business, tipping him off to what movies were, “the best of the best!” and “absolute must sees!” He appreciated what they were trying to do, but after a while, it felt like people were more or less just trying to garner a slice of his 21st century experience, and quite frankly, he liked doing things better by himself. It was much more appealing to park himself in front of his laptop, nothing but his own quietude to keep him company as he combed through different wikipedia rabbit holes and caught up on movies and TV shows that were apparently crucial to his very existence.
Most were subpar and honestly, he preferred the copious amounts of popcorn he treated himself to on these solo date nights, but some things surprised him. Like Indiana Jones. He liked Indiana Jones. He was neat, and Marion reminded him vaguely of Peggy.
Still, he supposed he should have seen it coming when Clint came to collect him from his floor one evening, that sort of eager-puppy energy he carried around with him vaguely prickling the back of Steve’s neck.
“C’mon, man,” he was saying. Steve leaned against the door jamb, tired. He was going to concede, but Clint was rambling and Steve knew better than to interrupt him. “It’s, like, certifiably the best love story ever. You need to watch it--”
And there it was again. That fucking claim. You need to watch this! You haven’t seen that?
No. He hadn’t. He’d been a little busy, you know, being dead.
“--And the acting is all so raw and it’s just-- Leo DiCaprio-- you know who that--”
“--Yes. I saw Blood Diamond--”
“--Oh, you did? Well, anyway, he rocks in this and--”
“Clint,” Steve cut him off smoothly. “I’ll come, don’t sweat it too hard.”
Clint looked positively elated. “You will?” he exclaimed. “Awesome, yeah, it’s gonna be the whole team. I mean, that’s good right? You’re cool with that? You gotta be, you’re the one who mentioned team bonding that one time--”
“Yes,” Steve cut in again. “I’m alright with that. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll be right down?” He was still in his gym clothes from two hours ago. He meant to take a shower, but he’d sort of… ran out of energy. The sweat had cooled by now anyway. He smelled fine.
“Oh! Yeah, no problem.”
Which was how Steve found himself in a pair of sweatpants and an old SHIELD t-shirt, squashed in between Natasha and Bruce on the communal couch. Someone had handed him a huge bowl of popcorn and Steve was pleasantly surprised to find that it was flavored with some sort of cheese powder.
“White cheddar,” Bruce said, holding up a little blue shaker bottle when he heard Steve’s appreciative hum. “They’re, uh, sort of like seasoning, but for popcorn specifically. They come in all different kinds of flavors.”
“Oh, neat,” Steve said, around another handful of popcorn. He liked Bruce. He seemed to get Steve in that quiet, brutally raw sort of way. A quiet kinship. They didn’t talk about it, but he never made him feel condescended, so Steve decided that was okay.
“I think I fixed it!” Tony said, stepping out from behind the ginormous movie screen where, presumably, he’d been fixing a volume problem. The screen had been frozen on the first frame of the movie for nearly ten minutes. “Okay, okay, let’s see…” he pressed play. Music poured through the speakers on either side of the TV, loud enough so that everyone cringed and Steve nearly dropped the popcorn bowl in his haste to cover his ears. He always managed to forget how damn loud the world could be when he let himself get comfortable.
“Sorry, sorry!” Tony hissed, turning the volume down to a much more tolerable level. “Okay, there. Okay, shh everyone. Gotta let Capsicle--”
“--Just Steve, Tony--”
“--Gotta let Just Steve get the full experience.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but settled in to watch.
The film was honestly better than Steve had been expecting, if not a little… itchy in that way period films tended to be for him. The themes of poverty and love were pretty well-rounded, but they hit just close enough that he almost cringed at the far-fetch’d beauty of it.
Still, his fingers itched for a pencil as Jack guided a pencil over the worn sheaf of paper. The dim light, the faint scratch of the pencil, the forbidden love. It was familiar. Steve could almost smell the salty City air, afternoons spent under the dim lights of candles so they could see even with the curtains drawn-- a semblance of privacy amongst the compact vulnerability of his and Bucky’s shitty little tenement.
Draw me like one of your french girls, Rose had said, and Steve’s eyes drifted towards the wall, Bucky’s voice echoing through his head.
“‘Course I want you to draw me. I ain’t denying my vanity, Stevie,” he teased, but his eyes were soft. “Pal, you could draw a stick of butter and I’d still wanna watch. It ain’t about me here.”
There was a soft touch to his arm and Steve blinked out of his reverie. Natasha was watching him, a neutral look on her face that Steve had finally learned to recognize as concern. He shook his head minutely, offering her a smile. She nodded and looked back at the TV.
The rest of the movie passed without much excitement. The acting was pretty good and Steve had even gotten to a point where he could recognize the filmmaking as something like revolutionary for the time it came out. He was quicker on the cultural uptake than people gave him credit for, but that was neither here nor there. He laughed with everyone else, let himself grow somber when the atmosphere lent that mood, and generally, it was a nice time. He hadn’t gone to any movie nights before this, but he thought maybe he’d start going to more.
And then the ship hit the iceberg.
Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Obviously, he knew of the Titanic-- he knew, historically, what happened to it. But for some reason, it hadn’t quite hit him while watching the movie that he was going to have to see the catastrophe go down.
There was a loud creaking of ice on metal as the collision occurred on screen and Steve felt himself go still-- body rigid and tense as the deafening noise played through the speakers. His heart slammed in his chest and he felt his palms start to sweat. He knew that sound-- he knew that--
--He blinked, shaking his head. Movie. Watch the movie. There was a panicked scramble on screen. Characters rushing to amend the situation, more metal creaking and groaning and breaking as dark, foamy water broke through the sides of the ship and Steve could taste it, he could taste the water flooding into the cabin, hitting him from the left as it took the plane down in a harsh--
--He twitched, shaking his head. He was being silly. There were moments of reconciliation as the scenes rapidly flashed between water flooding the ships cabins and peaceful moments of civility. A calm before the storm. A final dance before death.
I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance…
There was a sudden crash as water blasted through into the work quarters and Steve jumped, watching transfixed as unforgiving torrents pushed workers over, flooding them, drowning them, and they were falling, slipping, sliding, panicking as certain death met them at the halfway point, and Steve knew it must be cold. So cold. Suffocating and unforgiving as it flooded their lungs, saltier than they probably imagined, heavy and awful and--
“Stark, turn the movie off.”
The room went abruptly silent. Steve realized his eyes were closed, chest heaving as he sat, hunched over his lap, hands fisted in his hair.
The popcorn wasn’t on his lap anymore. When had he moved? He couldn’t breathe and he was so cold and someone needed to save those guys, someone needed to--
“Steve,” a gentle voice cut into the roaring waves crashing in his head. Bruce. That was Bruce speaking. “Can you hear me, Steve?”
Steve nodded, pulling his hair harder. He couldn’t breathe. Was he drowning again? Surely that was impossible. If Bruce was talking to him, he couldn’t be drowning again, but-- but the water-- and-- and the cold--
“Good, that’s good, Steve,” Bruce. Bruce again. It was Bruce. “Can I touch you?”
Touch. Touch. No touch. He was so cold. He wanted to stop being cold, but he was certain if someone touched him right now, he would lose his goddamn mind. More so than he already had.
“That’s alright,” Bruce sounded steady. Calm. So calm. Why couldn’t Steve calm down? “That’s okay. You think you can do something for me?”
Something… for Bruce? Could he? Could he do anything right then? If he couldn’t breathe, how could he do anything-- and he-- he felt sick--
He opened his mouth to answer and vomited between his feet, straight onto the carpet. Someone in the room hissed sympathetically. Steve wanted to crawl somewhere and die.
“Oh, Steve,” Bruce seemed to be talking mostly to himself, but Steve felt his shoulders climb higher towards his ears. “Okay, Steve, I need you to listen to my voice. Just listen. I’m going to count and you’re going to breathe in time with my instruction, okay? Can you do that for me?”
Steve shook his head, choking on a sob. His chest hurt. Like someone had taken all of his ribs and replaced them with weights, flooding his lungs with-- with water-- and fuck, now he was thinking about the plane again. He felt his breathing tick up higher.
“I want you to try,” Bruce said. “With me. In,” he sucked in a breath. “One… two… three… four…”
Steve tried to suck in a breath, but all he managed to do was send himself into a coughing fit. Bruce kept counting. Steve wanted to tell him to wait-- slow down-- shut up--
He braced a hand over his chest.
Bruce was still counting.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually he found himself matching Bruce’s counts, eyes closed and the heels of his palms braced on his temples as he sucked in greedy, measured breaths. His heart was still slamming hard enough to make him tremble and he could smell his own sick wafting up from the ground, but at least he was breathing on his own.
Bruce trailed off. Silence hung thick in the air, the only noise Steve’s slow, shaking breaths. Shame burned around his ears. He didn’t dare look up.
Tony, predictably, was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he said, and Steve was surprised to hear honest regret in his voice. “I was the one who suggested we watch Titanic. I should have thought for more than two seconds about that…”
Steve shrugged. Embarrassment climbed from his stomach to his throat, threatening to choke him.
Natasha spoke next. “Why don’t you go wash up?” It was an escape-- a way out-- and Steve took it graciously, keeping his head ducked down as he stood on shaking legs and rushed to the communal bathroom.
Inside, he locked the door and braced himself over the sink, splashing warm water on his face. He drank greedily from the tap. His reflection looked like shit-- he’d burst some blood vessels in his eyes, probably while vomiting, and his skin looked sallow and pale. He was trembling, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He looked how he looked after a nightmare. This, he supposed, had kind of been like a nightmare. Though, he hadn’t been asleep.
Nightmares, he was finding, weren’t strictly exclusive to the nighttime.
He supposed he’d always known that, though.
He closed his eyes, bowing his head again.
His emotions had been fucked to high hell since waking up from the ice. This hadn’t been the first of those awful… fits, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last, but to have something like that happen in front of the team was a whole new level of mortifying. Fuck. He’d gotten sick. And he’d left it.
He felt the ceramic counter straining under his grip. Scowling, he let go.
He could slip off to his room, lock himself away until he could find some way to sneak out of the Tower and never talk to any of the others ever again. Even in this state, Steve knew that wasn’t viable in any sense. He sighed. Besides, he couldn’t just damn the others to clean up his mess.
Stowing his pride, he dug some spare mouthwash out from behind the mirror and chugged some straight down, keeping a mouthful and swishing it around before spitting it in the sink. He still felt and looked like shit, but at least his breath would smell like wintergreen.
The others were still gathered in the communal living room, watching what looked like a kid’s cartoon on TV. There was a distinct smell of cleaner in the air and Steve’s eyes landed on the ground where he’d gotten sick. It was clean. He let his eyes drop to the ground, ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. The cartoon paused. He didn’t look at any of them. “I was going to clean up.”
“Nah, man, the only thing worse than freaking out is having to clean up after yourself while you still feel shitty,” Clint said, and Steve looked up. There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding.
“Yeah, we’ve all been there,” Tony said. “Sucks, but hey, least we know now that Titanic is a no-no for you.”
Steve flushed, swallowing a few times. “Um, I guess,” he looked at Bruce. “Thank you.”
Bruce smiled. “No problem,” he said gently. “We’re watching Phineas and Ferb if you’d like to join us, but we understand if you’d like to go rest.”
“Phineas and Ferb?” Steve asked, guilt replaced with genuine confusion.
“Yeah,” Clint said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “It’s my go-to when I have a bad day. Nothing like some good old platypus drama to cure life’s woes.”
Steve blinked. “I genuinely don’t know what to say to that.”
Clint barked out a laugh. “Join us, man! Don’t gotta talk if you’re not feeling it, but being alone after shit like that sucks.”
And Steve hadn’t had someone there for him after a breakdown-- not since the war. Not since Bucky. Every ounce of him wanted to run. Hide. Smooth out his face and slip on that mask of stoicism. But maybe… maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe he could let himself have this, if only this once.
“Sure,” he said, voice a little hoarse. He awkwardly sat back in between Natasha and Bruce.
Tony pressed play again and Steve smoothed his hands over his thighs, feeling out of place and a little cramped and--
Natasha settled, casually letting her feet rest on his lap. On his other side, Bruce leaned into his shoulder, a subtle, grounding pressure. Clint caught his eye and offered him some more popcorn.
Steve relaxed.
Yeah. He could let himself have this.
-
thanks for reading, chiefs
yeah this was chatted about in one of the awesome discord groups im in so thanks guyysss lol
#marvel shit#marvel#Steve Rogers#marvel fic#steve rogers fic#Avengers#team bonding#yes#avengers fic#i love them all#dlakjfl#ok#crawling back into my hole#im definitely supposed to be doing homework
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| caffeine | [chapter 2]
pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader
this chapter’s notes; oral(male receiving), dirty talk, wonwoo having a size kink 😩🥴 💕 y’all!! thank you so much for all the love on my fratboy!wonwoo au im literally------- so !!!! I love yall so much you don't even know 😩😩😩
chapters; 1 - 2 - x - x - x
When Minghao asks you to accompany him to the library on a Wednesday morning, you contemplate pretending you slept through that message if it meant not having to see Wonwoo again. You hadn’t been back since then, scrambling to collect all your things from your study table as you promptly left and didn’t look back.
There was a part of you that still couldn’t believe everything that had happened and even questioned if it really happened. But there was also a part of you that craved more and wanted to see him again despite being unsure.
Minghao texts you a few more times, knowing that you’re free on Wednesdays and almost never sleep in.
You finally give in after the 7th attempt, muttering under your breath as you toss on some clothes, texting Minghao you’ll meet him at the campus coffee shop in 20 minutes.
“I thought you’d never show up, slowpoke.”
You give Minghao a side hug, adjusting the big shirt and shorts you decided to throw on. “Yeah, well I made it, didn’t I? It’s not like I don’t love seeing your face, but why exactly did you ask me to come anyway?” The male shrugs, already walking towards the direction of the library. “Mingyu managed to snag a retake on that exam he failed last time so he couldn’t make it and I just like company and a second opinion when I work sometimes.” The two of you fall into idle chatter; laughing about Mingyu’s horrendous luck when it came to being on time for his classes.
“I mean, I told him beer pong on a school night wasn’t the brightest idea, but you know him, hates to lose against Jihoon.”
“How do you do it? Like, how do you exist around these dudes and not lose your shit?”
“Dunno, maybe it’s the free booze when I do want it. And let’s be real, the notoriety ain’t so bad either.”
You scoff, jokingly rolling your eyes before you take notice that you’ve already arrived at the dreaded location. Noticing you’ve gone quiet, Minghao turns to you, hand already on the doors.
“You okay? Why do you look so weirded out?” You shake your head at him, giving him a weak smile as he opens the door for you, letting you in first. “Thanks.”
Your eyes immediately scan around, searching for the silver haired bespectacled man, and to your mild disappointment, you don’t find him anywhere.
Minghao finds an empty table and begins setting down his books, taking out a sketch pad and his earbuds as he settles in.
“We’re gonna be here a while, so you better find something to do.”
Something to do, for you, means being Minghao’s errand girl when he asks you to find a couple books on colour theory; claiming he needs them while he continues to sketch and prepare his next painting. And like a good friend, you do, jotting down book titles and their locations before you head off.
You weave through bookshelves, getting closer to the part of the emptier part of the library that Wonwoo had taken you before and your body instinctively begins to heat up at the memory. You shake your head at the thoughts, moving past the shelves until you come upon the aisle with the books you’d need to gather for Minghao. FInding one, you pick it off the shelf, tucking it under your arm while you search for the next.
“Do you need a hand?”
The deep voice causes you to drop the book as you turn to face the silver haired male leaning up against the opposite shelf. “Fuck, do you have to s-scare me!?” The smirk on Wonwoo’s face is enough to send you blushing as you lean down to pick up the fallen object. “Aww, thought it’d be cute to surprise you for a little payback, sweetheart. After all, you did leave so quickly last time.” You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly shy and refusing to make eye contact. “I… had to finish my--my essay…”
“I’m sure you did. I’m sure you didn’t just go home and think about me… Right? You were just a good little girl, weren’t you? You didn’t go home and get those cute fingers all wet from fingering yourself? Or maybe you got out some of your favorite toys, hmm? Didn’t pretend they were me instead?”
Wonwoo pushes off the shelf he’s leaning on to back you into a familiar position.
“Because I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I went home and thought about you all night. How that pussy would be so tight around me. And how fuckin’ small you’d be underneath me takin’ my big cock. And how you’d be such a good ‘lil thing and take all of it and then get it nice and wet for me when I make you fall apart.” He cages you against the shelf, leaning down to nose at your neck. “And how you’d keep begging me for more.”
You can’t help the moan that escapes you, your eyes fluttering shut at Wonwoo’s filthy words as he softly kisses your neck. “Mmh, Wonwoo…”
“But you were so selfish last time, y’kno? Didn’t even ask if I needed to cum. Just took your things and ran off. And I don’t like bad girls, sweetheart. So I’m going to have to punish you a little bit, won’t I?” Wonwoo slots a leg in between yours as he pressed into you, his cock already hard in his slacks. “But you want to be punished, don’t you?” Wonwoo pulls back, using his fingertips to tilt your head up. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to know that you want this.” Your eyes immediately lock onto his, pupils already blown wide and panties already wet and all he’d done is talk to you.
“Yes… I--I want this. I want you.”
The library carpet is rough and makes your knees hurt while Wonwoo tugs on your hair, pushing you further down onto his cock. Your hands are neatly clasped behind your back as he uses your mouth to get off.
You’re convinced by now that Minghao’s sure you’ve just left with how long you’ve been “looking for those books”.
“Fuck, look at you, your mouth can barely take my cock. How’s your tight little pussy going to?” There’s a chuckle at the end of his words as he holds you down onto his cock, restricting your breathing. Your throat closes around him as he moans; the sounds music to your ears as you clench around nothing. The wetness is already pooling in your panties and you really just want to slide your hands into your shorts and relieve yourself.
Wonwoo lets up, giving you a second to catch your breath as he pulls you off of his cock; your eyes teary as you cough. He tilts your head up, admiring your teary eyes and swollen lips. “You’re really pretty like this, y’kno?” He grins down at you, licking his own lips. “Bet you just want me to fuck you now, huh?”
“Y-yeah…”
“Well, that’s too bad. Now, open your mouth. And don’t make a mess.” You pout up at him as he gently tugs on your hair in warning. He guides his cock towards your lips as you stick out your tongue to lick the head. Slowly, you work his cock back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks around him until he hits the back of your throat again.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.” You moan around Wonwoo, the vibrations sending chills up his spine as his grip on your hair tightens. He shallowly thrusts into your mouth as you hollow your cheeks around him. You can’t help the way your thighs rub together to try and satisfy yourself; hoping Wonwoo doesn’t notice.
“Fu--Fuck, I’m c-cumming, don’t--don’t swallow it, sweetheart, I want to see it in that mouth of yours.” Humming around him, you listen; the salty substance meeting your tongue as he fills your mouth with it.
Wonwoo slides his cock from your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting the head of it to your lips.
“Open your mouth, let me see it.” You open your mouth, showing him all the cum in your mouth as he hums appreciatively. “Swallow it.” Wonwoo’s eyes are hyper focused on you when you do, opening your mouth again to show him you’ve swallowed all of it.
“Good girl.”
When you trudge back to Minghao’s table with all the books he asked for, you hope to god he doesn’t notice that you’d been crying and choking on Wonwoo’s cock.
You set the books down next to him as he tugs a earbud out, giving you a look before he picks up one of the books and pries it open.
“Hey, you okay? Why are your knees all beat up?”
“Oh, um, the books were on the lower shelves so I… I had to get on my knees for them and, ykno.. Look. I, uh, had a hard time finding them.”
He hums, sticking the earbud back into place as he quietly goes back to work.
“Well, at least you were on your knees helping me find books and not sucking dick, right?”
You freeze, awkwardly laughing as your panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably from when you came untouched with Wonwoo’s cock down your throat.
“Haha, yeah. True.”
#fratboy!wonwoo#wonwoo smut#seventeen smut#svt smut#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo imagines#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios
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