#i could do writing maybe... teehee

[dr-viles-laboratory]

Debating whether i should make a sideblog for my MarkiplierTV selfshipping bc I selfship with so many egos (and also special interest) or just get More Annoying (/pos) about it on main

[saedyne]

this may be a hot take, but - for me, adaptations extricating kon's creation from its original circumstances (i.e. superman was dead!!) bothers me almost as much as the lex retcon

[millidew]

WAKES UP IN A COLD SWEAT. kaemugi utenanthy/rgu au. junko akio. monokuma chuu-chuu. it’s all coming together

[shesin]

it’s odd, really; she’s never been in this position before, in this sort of limbo between life and death. not once has she even been as close as she is now. she can’t even curl her fingers, her limbs are stiff, some sort of faux rigor mortis. or maybe he slipped himself something? she noticed his blood smelled a bit different, earthier than normal— more metallic, but proceeded anyways. without heed, she flew straight into the sun: her golden boy. the love of her eternal life. even in death.

‘i have loved you with all myself,’ she murmurs softly, stiffened fingers cradling the gash upon her empty womb. his hand wraps around her from the back, chilled fingers curling around her throat, grip stopping the blood flow from the incision along her neck.

‘don’t lie,’ her whispers into her ear, boarding on a hiss. if there weren’t so many different pain signals firing throughout her body, she’d have registered the harsh nip he gave to the shell of her ear. ‘you’re here for a reason,’ this time, his voice is full of venom as his knife presses to her throat once more.

she hums softly, the silver of the blade constricting her vocal cords. she doesn’t fight it. she doesn’t fight him, just takes what he is fishing out. with the force at which he has this knife at her throat, she’s surprised he hasn’t cut all the way thru. what’s holding you back?

‘i’m happy it was you,’ she’s able to push out a few more words past his blade as he digs it into her flesh, streams of blood pooling beneath them. he’s quick to deliver the final slice to her throat. and with that, he lets her go. her body crumples without his support.

her mother always said that love would kill her. perhaps that’s why she ruled as she did; an iron fist, affection given so sparingly and yet it was still intoxicating. love will be the death of you. if she could laugh, she would. a big, hearty laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the corners sort of laugh. one that comes every few centuries: jaewoo himself has only seen it a handful of times.

‘put me in my bed,’ she whispers from the floor. put me in the bed we made love in. in the bed our children were born. in the bed we sleep in. if she is to die, she wants it to be in her safe place.

her eyes dart from place to place, irises shrinking and widening with uncontrollably. she can’t focus on anything, yet she can clearly see the combat boots in front of her. he’s always been one for routine.

he lets her lay there for a few minutes. maybe a few hours. watches as she spasms, blood gurgling past her lips and unto the wooden floors. even in death, he’s possessive, unable to leave her be without a watchful eye on her. who would want me now save for you, my love?

she doesn’t know how long she lie on the floor until she feels just the slightest breath of cool along her skin. she supposes he’s lifted her body, but she is unsure at this point; unable to see, unable to move, she can hardly feel nor hear her surroundings. she can, however, taste betrayal on her tongue. acidic, burning its way down her esophagus, eating holes in its wake. only he can make her feel this way.

she knows not of where she is or if he had answered her ask. she doesn’t even know if she’s alive at this point; this limbo is deathly quiet and cold. she can’t feel the flame of her spirit anymore. she feels frozen, as if dunked in ice. her tongue still tastes of acid, but she can tolerate it. everything is fading. she feels as though she needs to rest.

see you in your dreams, little one.

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 x Reader - Shower Hide Out

Short Version: You're a member of 141. Mission's over. The boys come hide while you're taking a shower. (Hide? Hide from what?)

WC: ~1300

Pairings: (implied) TF141 x (afab) reader | teensy weensy Ghost x Soap

Warnings: none? (nudity ig, but nobody does or sees anything,) extremely brief mention of drowning. (lmk if I need to add)

A/N: my first little cod fic I'm posting! teehee. Just something cute and domestic and simple that I thought of while showering. LMAO I did this instead of writing my thesis today so plz enjoy. More like this maybe to come?

It was late and a shower was long overdue.

You were grateful to finally be at a place where you could shower. It'd been days out on a mission and the sight of the little house was like heaven on Earth. Laswell had gotten it together, and you all met her there with little ceremony, but plenty of thanks. You each made sure each of you were good and not dying before sitting in with Kate.

You always got a little protective over the boys after the high stress, near-death-experiences you go through together. And they were the same with you, and each other, in their own little ways. Sometimes you weren't sure why, but you rolled with it. Soap always made a point to talk with you, helping you and himself destress. Ghost made sure you weren’t hurt, you would do the same, then he’d say something about getting better. You and Gaz liked to eat together, making sure you were both fed. Price was quiet, bringing you tea or coffee in the later hours, but never quiet enough to avoid a bit of banter. Sometimes it was a hearty combination of them all at the same time, and sometimes it was just one or two. Whatever it was, you were grateful. 

This current mission had resulted in you and Johnny both nearly drowning to death, but you were okay, and so was he. Naturally, it left all parties a little on edge. Soap didn’t shut up the whole drive to safety, keeping spirits light while Ghost and Gaz tried to keep the two of you from freezing to death. Laswell was worried too. She insisted, in her stoic way, on getting you all safe and rested for a bit before moving forward.

This wasn't the first time you'd all holed up in a small house, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was definitely one of the quieter nights of the five of you together. Laswell and Price wasted little time before discussing and debriefing. The rest of you were hardly as interested, tired mostly, but pulled in all the same.

Finally, they let you head up to the shower first, even though Johnny was shaking from the chill of still being in damp clothes.

"Go on, lass," he had chattered. "I'll b-be just fine."

Ghost had to force another towel around him before you were satisfied.

Upstairs, you twisted the shower on, letting the heat steam as you undressed. You peeled away a still damp uniform and even damper socks. Ew.

You'd need a full body scrub down to feel better.

You stepped in, pulling the curtain closed and letting the hot water soak through your hair and warm you to the bone. It hurt a little at your toes, the way warm water does as blood rushes around you again. You started with shampoo, lathering your hair intentionally, but not in a hurry.

As you rinsed you swore you heard the door creak. Then a relaxed sigh confirmed your suspicion.

"Soap?" You guessed quietly.

The Scot hummed in response.

You didn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd stood by while you showered. Though normally it was because neither of you wanted whatever intriguing discussion you were having to be interrupted. Another of those weird little, post-mission comforts. This was just him, sitting quietly, enjoying the warmth of the steamed washroom.

You heard him kick his boots off as you put conditioner in your hair. Then another sound of the door hinges. At first you thought he'd left-weirdo, just drop your boots and leave- but then you realized from a mumbling grunt that he had not left.

You heard the shuffling of movement and the quietest unidentifiable remark from Soap, and then just the sound of the water again.

"Soap?" You asked, confirming if the man was still there.

He hummed again. "Still 'ere. Got some company too."

If you had to guess, it was probably Ghost. You could imagine him plopped down on the floor at Soap's feet, leaning against the man's legs. Again, it didn't bother you as you rinsed the product from your hair. Ghost had seen you roughed up, helped patch you up enough that his presence couldn't bother you. You'd done a bit of the same for him. Those weird little comforts.

Knowing they were on the other side of the dark curtain, dirty and wet and tired, but alive, settled a bit of the hammer of worry in your chest. It warmed you from the inside as much as the water on the outside.

The door hinges creaked again, announcing another arrival. You were grinning now.

"Captain scare ya off, Gaz?" Ghost teased.

There was a moment where he didn't respond. "This is just the warmest room in the house, with how much water she's using."

You laughed lightly as you lathered up. Whatever he was in here for you also didn't mind. You trusted Kyle with your life, and with the times he's seen you drunk after celebratory bar nights, you couldn't chase him off now. Those little comforts.

Before you could rinse off, the door creaked a fourth time. You thought maybe one of them had left. Maybe Kyle. But instead, you heard an unmistakable grumble.

"You moppets. Let the girl shower in peace." Price's voice was low but laced with a tease.

"And wot brings you 'ere, Captain?" Soap poked right back.

You rinsed yourself, a laugh escaping you as you thought about the four grown men occupying the small space. Little comforts. 

"What's so funny?" Ghost's voice was light, or at least as light as it could be when he wasn't too stressed.

"Are you all hiding from Kate?" You teased.

When your question was met with silence, you had your answer. Your laugh burst from you as you turned the water off. It subsided only as the chill of the air entered the isolated space as you extended your hand through the small gap between curtain and wall. There was a moment of shuffling and scrambling, then a towel landed in your hand.

"You'd be hidin' too if you were down there listening to her plans, that woman never rests," Soap's voice grumbled. It made you laugh again as you wrapped the towel around your body. You finally pulled open the curtain to the scene before you.

Like you'd guessed, Soap was seated on the toilet, boots off in the pile next to your own, his clothes still damp. Ghost was seated on the floor in front of him, still fully geared. Kyle had at least taken off his equipment in a different room, sitting on the floor against the sink counter. And Price, also still fully dressed, was leaning just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

While the other men glanced away in their respectful little ways, Soap watched as you stepped out, earning a thump on the leg from Ghost.

"What?" Soap cried. "She's'not naked!"

You laughed, stepping over Ghost and Gaz's legs as you made your way to the door. You rested your free hand on Price's shoulder and his eyes met yours.

"Surely Kate's new ideas aren't that bad," you teased.

The man shrugged, a smile crinkling his eyes. "You can go find out."

You huffed a tiny laugh. You could feel all their eyes on you now, so you made a point to linger just a moment longer. "One of you start showering; you all smell."

You headed for your own room as Soap's gripes and protests hit your ears. You understood something along the lines of “wouldn’t if you’d not taken all the water.” You smiled to yourself. They were protective, always in that weird little way of theirs after the high stress, near-death-experiences you all go through together. Shared little weird-not weird, just your own-comforts to make sure you were all alive and well. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading.

[bewitched-hours]

hellllooo :)

since you're asking for yandere stuff rn, could i get some yandere 7n7 and noli x reader? :3 (idk if u like 7n7 and noli as a ship, if u dont, u dont have to do this request !!)

the reader and 7n7 meet for the first time when they got forsaken and start getting along, and they have no idea that they both dated noli at some point in their pasts. that is, until noli is added as a killer and theyre both like

"MY EX-SITUATIONSHIP!? ......YOUR ex-situationship?!" and then thats when the yandere shit starts happening teehee

headcanons or oneshot, whichever u feel like writing! (also ive noticed you adding more suggestive stuff to the end of ur fics, so if u wanna do that here go ahead ;3)

-maomao anon :D

Dw Maomao anon, I'm a multi-shipper. As long as it's not illegal, I'm open to it! Also, that scene is so funny in my head because I imagine it's like- 007 and reader already started dating when Noli appears and are shocked to find out they have a mutual ex- (I imagine it like that one spiderman meme) Also- please forgive me for not making him glitchy mainly because the amount of stuttering I'd have to write in makes me slightly cringe-

Anywho, reader's pronouns are She/They for this~

You were never quick to judge.

I mean, you were a hacker in the past, that's why you and Noli were a situationship before you got caught.

You weren't so remorseful of it like 007n7 but you two still bonded over being outcasts with similar pasts.

Yet, neither of you ever dared to mention Noli... For some reason.

It wasn't like you were really ashamed of it, Noli was fun for a situationship and you broke it off amicably by the end...

But it didn't matter in this cursed realm. 007 was practically head over heels for you and you felt the same. Hell, you even found out one of the killers was his son and tried to help him cope to the best of your abilities.

Sometimes you'd even try to give him hope by saying things like "when we all get out, I'm sure he'll be back to normal and we could take care of him... Together..." which seemed to make a slight sparkle appear in his eyes.

You never even considered taking care of a kid before. But seeing how committed you were to your fellow ex-hacker, you figured you could at least try... For him...

007 actually did once manage to find an old picture of him and c00lkidd and you caught yourself actually tearing up over how cute the little bugger was.

What could you say? You were a sucker for cute things. (Probably why you fell for 7n7)

And when you were told of all the chaos? You couldn't stop laughing for what felt like hours. You were definitely gonna encourage the kid to be chaotic but maybe in more harmless ways... Wouldn't wanna upset 7n7.

It was a surprise to learn a new killer was being introduced so you joked about it being your ex, conveniently forgetting to drop his name. 007 joined in on it, also conveniently forgetting to say his name.

How embarrassing to learn that you were both talking about the same person...

Regardless, you and 007n7 stuck with each other for the round. You were a little thankful the Spectre at least had a tendency to spawn you with the one person in this realm you could comfortably team up with.

Being that you were a support, you were able to compliment each other in your strategies quite nicely.

Although your strategies were usually just to protect 007 and yourself while he worked on teleporting you both away from the killer... You sadly couldn't heal...

But imagine the shock when you heard Noli's voice in the distance and both you and 007n7 suddenly stopped dead in your tracks, looking behind you to see Noli approaching before taking notice of your mutual shock that quickly turned to realization.

Oh for the love of- you have a mutual ex-situationship...

"Well, lookie here!" Noli chuckled. "Both my ex-situationships made it back to me! And together no less!" His words almost made you both blush. What was he implying with 'back to him'?

"Noli... What-" You barely managed to get out before he suddenly stood before you and 007, sending shivers up your spine as you tried not to scream in surprise. Although, you were holding 7n7's hand tighter-

"I might not be able to spare you two but considering you've never left my heart, how about I leave you for last, make it quick and as painless as I can and then we meet up during rounds where we're all free!" He sounded like he had genuinely missed both you and 007, causing the two of you to give each other a questioning look before shrugging. "Good! Can't have my darlings running off and having fun without me!"

He disappeared almost as fast as he came, leaving you and 007n7 to stare at each other in shock for a couple of seconds before continuing on while you talked.

"Was he just saying what I think he said??"

"I guess?? Are you even okay with it?"

"I mean- Yeah- You're both good partners in your own ways and I admittedly still have feelings lingering there... Just sucks he's a killer now..."

You both went on to reminisce on your pasts with Noli, chuckling at the chaos and audibly wondering what he might be thinking of doing during your off-time. Of course neither of you dared to allow any nsfw thoughts into the conversation since you had only just reunited with the killer and are already talking about being a polycule. Were you going too fast? 007 didn't seem to be bothered...

Unlike Noli's promise, you both survived until the end, having managed to evade him and having all generators done.

You had no trouble sneaking out of the cabin when the participants of the next round were declared, considering the other survivors were used to 007 and you taking your off-time to your shared cabin.

But you weren't heading for your cabin this time. Instead, you were heading further out to find Noli. Presumably in the middle of the map.

Where was the middle? Neither of you had the slightest idea. You didn't even know where the Killer's cabin was so how would you know where the middle is?

Regardless, it seemed you were lucky in a way. Noli had been looking for 007 and you as well and almost hugged you both half to death when he could finally interact with you without needing to kill you. It was... Oddly sweet...

The three of you went on to just talk about everything that had happened without each other while you sat absentmindedly on 7n7's lap. A habit you had formed and never bothered to correct. At first it was to help him calm down after nightmares by letting him hold you like a stuffed toy but then it escalated into a habit you did as a form of reassurance or comfort... Or simply just affection-

And it wasn't surprising that Noli wanted in on this.

"Maybe you'd enjoy some love from both sides, my dear?" He chuckled, watching your face flush as him and 007 practically held you in a sandwich cuddle pile and began spoiling you with kisses. All that love practically made you melt right into their grip.

It didn't help that you were all alone and were close enough to feel them both...

Yeah, you'll be dead before you even try bringing up that situation.

Wow I've been procrastinating on this

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[17020]

teehee i love you too 🫶🏼🫶🏼 for the character maybe you could write hcs for shoto 🧐🧐

hiii bibi !! thank you so much for supporting my homework!! here's some headcanons for shoto!! fem! reader

SHOTO TODOROKI . . . THE PR NIGHTMARE!

— shoto is dense and his pr is ass, right? so imagine the first time he got approached by another girl while dating you and unknowingly gets the girl's hopes up and comes home with her number. and you lecture him on the fact that she just made a move on him, so the next time he’s approached like that, he’s dead serious when he goes “oh… my girlfriend told me to not accept any phone numbers.”

— speaking on being dead serious, shoto takes your every desire seriously. whether you’re joking or not, even if it’s something simple like “god i’m craving bread today” and suddenly you’re stocked with bread for the next month. he’s become attentive to detail (though it took him some time) so once he picks up on the fact that you like something be prepared.

— he is the media’s greatest nightmare because of his honesty. his hot single persona went away in an instant when he got interviewed and immediately mentioned that his biggest supporter and his motivation was his girlfriend. he has to be dragged away for media training so next time he’s asked about you, shoto can cut cut himself off with “uhh.. no comment?”

— and when he’s ALLOWED to post you and talk about you (which happens eventually) he’s always posting pictures you do not approve of. you have to create a shared photo folder called “approved <3” so he can choose pictures from there. if not, you’ll look like a gremlin on his socials.

[horny-marbles]

Hi Beautiful!! I’ve been following your work and I love it soooo much :) Could you possibly do some sort of smut with EJ? My idea is the female reader convinced him to get a matching eyebrow or tongue piercing with her, and she’s the one piercing him? Or if you wanna mess the concept , I’m totally cool with that! Thank you so much, hope you have a lovely day <3 (sorry if that didn’t make sense, English isn’t my primary language)

hi angel!! thank you so much teehee 🫶🏻🫶🏻 this is so fucking hot and fun, pierced/body mod jack owns about 80% of my brain and the entirety of my heart, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe <3

Balltongue (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: needles and piercing tongues duh, unsafe piercing handling, dry humping, oral (f receiving and giving), sloppy toppy fr, throatpie :P

word count 3.9k

You weren’t even sure how you got him to agree. You’d begged. Bargained. Maybe pouted a little. Maybe muttered "please let me pierce you so we can match" every time you sucked his dick, thinking that if you caught him off guard he would relent. He didn't.

But after a month or two of stubborn, stonewalling deadpan refusals—based on medical risks he listed to you more times than you could count—and attrition warfare, Jack finally caved with this heavy, world-weary sigh like he's doing something awful instead of agreeing to be hot and slutty for you.

Which brought you here, perched in his lap on his bed, thighs bracketing his hips and the mattress creaking under both your weight and his patience. Elbow deep in prep like you’re about to perform minor surgery instead of pierce his tongues; a pair of his gloves snapped tight on your hands and a tray of tools laid out beside you like you know what the fuck you’re doing. Which—let’s be real—you kind of do. You pierced your own tongue months ago. Healed by the time he resigned. Perfectly centered? No. Hot as fuck? Absolutely.

Jack, for his part, looks like a man walking calmly toward the gallows. Not that he’s anxious—just unimpressed. Still steady on his idea that this is unnecessary trauma to a perfectly functional part of the body. But here you are.

“Remind me again,” he muttered before spitting out the mouthwash in the same cup you handed him, grimacing like the taste offended him, “why the fuck I need three piercings when you got one?”

"I have one tongue, babe," you grinned, "you're the freak with a trifecta of slimy muscle in your mouth. It's only fair."

"What's fair," Jack grunted, leaning back against the headboard with a flat look, hands heavy on your thighs like he was bracing for execution, "is anatomical equality."

"Exactly. That's why you're getting three," you quipped cheerfully, leaning over him with the piercing needle hovering close to his face. "Stop glaring at me and stick one of them out."

"I don't have eyes," he exhales through his nose, the sound low and even more annoyed than usual. But he tips his head back obediently anyway, throat bare, mouth opening like a drawbridge lowering with military precision, offering the first tongue with a robotic kind of patience.

"I can feel it," you huffed a laugh, adjusting your position with a small roll of your hips, just enough for your heat to rub into his lap. He doesn't comment. "Ready?"

"No." Utterly blank, but he didn't pull away.

You even went as far as to flip it up to check the placement of the veins on the bottom—real professional-like—before placing the tip of the first needle on the seam in the muscle and pushing through. Jack didn't even blink. His hands tightened on your thighs when the needle sliced through tissue, but there was no sound, no protest. Just that slight pull where skin meets metal, and then a quieter exhale when you thread the bar through.

You pulled back to inspect your work before he retracted his tongue and clicked the piercing against his teeth to check the new weight, and the throb between your legs was near instant.

"You already look so fucking hot," you bit your lip, tossing the needle in the trashcan at the foot of the bed without taking your eyes off his mouth, "you okay?"

He paused, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch under you, hardening. Or maybe your imagination was starting to get away from you with the mental image you conjured up—his mouth between your legs like he's nosing into fruit, piercing balls rubbing over your folds, catching on your clit, like having more to work with meant using all of it.

"Ask me when you're done assaulting all three."

You reach for the second tongue, knees planted firmly into the mattress, barely controlling the urge to grind down on him again. He extends it with a slight roll of his jaw, letting the others stay curled behind his teeth. You admire the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the muscle moving in his jaw, how together he looks even now—like no matter how turned on he gets, no matter how wet you’re getting on his lap, he’s not gonna crack until he wants to.

This time, his hips jump under you when the second needle goes in. Just a reflexive jolt. But it’s enough. Enough to make your cunt pulse around nothing and to make you bite down on your bottom lip, the curve of your mouth twisting up around it.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” you croon mockingly, leaning in so your breath ghosts over his mouth. “So quiet. So obedient. Is it turning you on, baby? Letting me sit in your lap and poke holes in you?”

You quickly give up the restraint you barely had to begin with and you grind down again, slow and deliberate, dampening spot on your crotch rubbing right against the thick press of his cock under you, now rock solid.

The second needle is still threaded through his tongue when his brows furrow—deep, offended, like you just personally insulted him. And maybe you did, a little. He's sitting here with his tongue pinned by a glint of steel and you're dry humping instead of finishing the job.

But he can’t say shit. Literally. So instead, his palm smacks firm and sharp over your ass, fingers curling tightly in the aftermath, claws stinging where they poke through your leggings. Not playful. Not punishing. Just directive.

Your breath catches, stomach tightening in knots. “Jesus,” you mutter, laughing a little, “Okay. Impatient.”

You hold the barbell up to his mouth like a lollipop, gently guiding it through the second tongue as you hum, voice thick with syrup and bite, "Can't wait to feel these on my pussy, baby."

He doesn't react, but he does breathe heavier through his nose. Barely. But you catch it, another sharp throb under you. You glance down and smile, sharp and vicious. You keep going, because you fucking got him. And how could you turn down the opportunity to rile him up when it presents itself?

“Thinking about how it’s gonna feel when I sit on your face,” you murmur, soft and sultry as the barbell slides into place, “how you'll make me cum all over your mouth with these decked out tongues."

Jack’s hands twitch against your hips like he wants to argue. But he doesn’t. He just exhales again, slower this time, and flexes his fingers. You can feel how wound up he is, tension coiled tight under his skin like he's moments away from going off like a firearm.

He sticks out the third tongue on command, calm again, like he’s not actively dying to pin you down and fuck you stupid. When it slid forward, it trembled slightly at the tip.

"Aw," you crooned softly. "This one’s scared."

"No," he croaked flatly, "it's smarter than the other ones."

You snorted and leaned closer, mouth brushing his ear. “Want me to fuck it better after?”

His chest moved with a shallow breath, sharp and controlled, voice holding a hint of bite. “Pierce it.”

The third needle went in harder—the muscle more dense, tense—and he moaned. Just a little. Low and choked. Not dramatic. But genuine. It slipped out of him like it wasn’t meant to. Just a flash of pain, edged in something that sounds dangerously close to pleasure.

Your grin is instant. “Oh?” you tease, breath warm and fanning over his tongue as you screw on the last ball. “You like pain now?”

He doesn’t answer.

His hand fists into your hair, palm wide and hot against your nape, and drags your mouth to his without a sound. No warning. No question. His lips crash into yours like he’s been starving for it for hours.

You struggle to slip out of your gloves—rubber sticking to your skin, catching on your thumbs in the haste—and kiss him back with everything in you, sterile tray forgotten, needles and pain and aftercare all abandoned because fuck.

Your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging, and the kiss turns molten fast—sloppy, wet, needy. You can taste the faint metallic tang of blood, metal clinking faintly as your piercings clash, his hot breath puffing over your upper lip as he hisses with the fresh sting.

It's not long before you’re grinding again, no longer teasing—just needy, quick friction, his palms kneading at your ass, guiding the motion of your hips against him like he's sculpting it, perfecting it.

You’re soaked through. You feel it, damp heat clinging between your legs, begging for attention, the way it smears over the rough front of his pants with every motion. Jack keeps you moving—pressing you down, up, down again—grinding you into the shape of his need like he’s etching it into memory.

When he drags one of his tongues along your neck, you shudder. The muscle is slick and warm, still throbbing from the needle, and the ball drags slow and shaky over your skin, leaving a trail of spit and heat that makes your knees tighten around his hips. He doesn’t moan. Doesn’t groan. But his hands grip tighter when he tastes the sweat there, claws flexing like he’s anchoring himself.

“F-fuck,” you breathe, voice already wrecked.

He hums against you, lips open and plush on your throat. Then he’s moving—lifting your shirt, not ripping it, not frantic, but hurried. Hands steady, movements smooth but impatient.

“You’re smell like you're fucking soaked,” he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges, slightly slurred around the new weight in his mouth. “Are you a sadist now? Getting wet while you pierce me?"

You grin. “Can you blame me? Fucking listen to yourself, baby."

Jack growls—quiet, breathy, like a broken exhale—and suddenly he’s pushing you back. His thumbs hook into your shirt and he bunches it under your arms, then it goes flying somewhere behind you. He gets your bra up fast, one hand groping your tit while his mouth descends—tongues and lips and that raw, new pressure from the piercings all swirling around your nipple until you arch and moan right into the crown of his head.

It’s so wet. Lapping, licking, sucking—each new flick from his tongues leaving trails that cool too slow, making your skin burn. He sucks a little harder—sharp teeth grazing the sensitive bud just once—and when your breath stutters and hips buck, he grins against your chest, all teeth and silent heat.

He moves down, lips dragging over your sternum and down your stomach, tongues flicking in tandem, tasting every inch of skin like it matters.

And as you lift your hips off the bed like instinct, to help him get to the main course faster, he licks a slow stripe over the crotch of your leggings. Straight through the soaked fabric where it sticks to your pussy.

You jerk in surprise. “Oh my—fuck—”

“You taste desperate,” he says simply, monotone as ever—like his aching cock isn't sandwitched between his stomach and the mattress, hips rocking where the friction's mounting—and presses his face in again. The heat of him radiates through you like a furnace. His tongues spread as they lap, tasting slick through cotton, brows twitching with a low grunt when the piercings catch into the seam, sending a flash of sting through the muscle. He doesn't seem bothered, though.

“You’re such a fucking pervert,” you whisper, but you’re laughing, breath hitching as he noses into the curve of your pussy again. "You're gonna get an infection."

"Should've given a shit when you were riding me five minutes ago."

You can almost hear the eye roll in his voice as he yanks the waistband down to your knees with firm finality, claws scraping the outside of your thighs, and he exhales right over your cunt—drenched, flushed, throbbing in the open air.

His mouth drops to it like he’s starved.

You gasp the second his tongues make contact—not just from the heat of him, or the obscene way he moans into you like he needs it, but because fuck, those fresh piercings burn as they drag over your folds.

The metal’s cold at first—sharp pinches of chill against slick heat—but then it’s just sting. You twitch when the bead of the bar in his middle tongue bumps against your clit, just a little too firm, and you flinch—more from shock than pain.

“Jack—fuck,” you breathe, hips jolting.

He huffs against your cunt, an actual scoff that vibrates through you—like it’s fucking offensive to him that he doesn’t have total control over the movement. Like his own pain is an inconvenience he’s choosing to ignore out of spite.

He's always so precise. So devastating.

But now he’s raw and a little unsteady, dragging the ball of a barbell over your clit again and missing a bit. Slips too far to the side.

You laugh—a breathy, broken chuckle that barely escapes your lips.

“Ohhh, baby,” you coo, drunk on it, “what’s the matter? Not used to the new hardware?”

His hand slams up across your chest—hot and firm and absolutely done with you—and presses down on your throat. Holding you down, fingers splayed under your jaw in a firm warning.

Then, he spits right on your pussy. A fat, wet glob lands just above your clit and trails down—hot and slick and disrespectful. And he's back on you with a vengeance.

He doesn’t slow this time. Doesn’t hesitate. Just dives in, two tongues pushing inside you with a wet squelch that punches the air from your lungs. Middle tongue licks you from slit to clit, flicking in messy, aching little swipes, metal catching on your clit—just barely, but enough to make your vision spark. Cold metal followed by heat and saliva and the scrape of textured flesh, enough to make your toes curl.

“Jack—”

You choke on his name and the hand on your throat tightens enough to make you feel your pulse against it. The other runs hot and wide over your stomach, down your thigh, then presses under your knee and hauls your leg up, opening you with no mercy. He plants your thigh over his shoulder, locking you in place.

His brows twitch with effort, mouth full of cunt and face buried so deep it’s like he’s trying to breathe through your clit. He groans when your walls flutter around his tongues, and the sound makes your thighs shake like it's rattling your soul. Each movement of his mouth is sloppy, uncalibrated—but it doesn’t matter. The heat, the wet, the way he’s fucking you with two tongues and torturing your clit with the third, piercings dragging over every soft spot—you cum without warning.

It hits like a fucking grenade going off in your pelvis. You cry out, fingers locking in his hair as your thighs clamp around his head. Your cunt clenches helplessly, fluttering around his tongues, grinding into his mouth and nose with desperate, twitchy movements.

He doesn’t stop. You twitch. Sob. Whimper, and he just holds your legs up and your throat down and slurps through it, drinking it in like it’s holy.

He groans as he pulls back once your voice finally breaks on his name and your nails scrabble at his shoulders, licking his lips like he’s trying to soothe the sting—but you can still see the way his jaw tightens. Still feel the heat of it on your thighs.

“Fucking—” he mutters, voice hoarse, gruff, still wet with you. “Hurts like a bitch.”

You huff a laugh, fucked-out and breathless, legs still twitching. “Yeah? You’re the one who kept going.”

He runs a hand through his hair—messy, damp with sweat. His mouth twitches, not a smile, but something halfway between annoyed and pained. “If I get sepsis, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You’re gonna die with your face buried in pussy?” You grin, still panting. “What a way to go.”

He doesn’t even respond. Just unzips his pants and grips his cock at the base once it's free, hard and flushed, and gives you a flat look.

“Come suck this dick.”

Your whole body reacts—knees already folding under you as you crawl between his legs. The mattress creaks beneath you both, the air still thick with sex and heat and that sharp tang of metal and alcohol. Your tongue flashes over your lips as you settle on your stomach between his thighs, elbows propped and ready.

You curl your fingers around the base of his cock, thick and heavy in your palm, and lean in.

Spit hits his tip before your mouth does. You drool for it, tongue flat and spreading slick along the vein on the underside, swirling just under the crown like you’re kissing it. Then you flatten your tongue and drag your piercing right over the slit, collecting pre-cum and humming at the taste.

“You’re fucking leaking,” you murmur, voice all sugar and spit. “Like you liked eating pussy with those things.”

He grunts. “Didn’t say I didn’t.”

You hum and open your mouth wide, taking him in deep—wet, hot, sloppy from the start. You don’t bother being pretty about it. You drool around him, eyes fluttering as spit pools at the corners of your lips and drips down to his balls.

Your free hand cups them, slick with your own spit, and you pull them into your mouth too—rolling your tongue around one, then the other, moaning high and sweet like they’re candy. His hand sinks into your hair, gentle only for a moment.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rough and low.

You pull back with a wet pop, smear your tongue up his shaft, then flick it hard against the head again. The metal of your piercing taps his tip just right and he groans low in his chest, hips flexing up to chase your mouth.

“You like that?” you breathe, licking slow and wide over him. “Feels good with the piercing, huh?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, deep and strained, “like getting head from a fucking rattlesnake.”

You laugh against his cock, and he growls again—like it’s offensive that you’re laughing while you’ve got his dick in your mouth.

He leans over you and slaps your ass once. Loud. Sharp.

“Lift it.”

You blink up at him, smile tugging your lips. “You can’t even see it.”

He shrugs.

"I can imagine it.”

Still—you do it. You arch your back a little, tilt your hips so your ass is up and your legs are spread, letting him imagine the mess between them. Because he knows exactly what it looks like when you’re like this. Helpless. Hungry.

He fists a hand in your hair and guides you back down, slow.

“Open up,” he rasps. “Show me that filthy mouth.”

Your lips are already swollen, chin soaked, hair a mess as you glance up at him with that smug little glint—but you obey. You always obey when he talks like that.

You roll your tongue out slowly, lewd and lazy, the ball of your piercing glinting with spit, strings stretching from your teeth down to your chin. Drool leaking, soaking the sheets under your tits. You're grinning—humoring him, teasing, even though he can’t see the sight you’re giving him.

Doesn’t matter.

Jack feels it. The heat of your breath, the hunger in the way you whine a little under your breath just from holding still, waiting for him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rough and low, “just like that. My pretty cockdrunk slut."

He slaps his cock down on your tongue, thick and hot, over and over. Drags the tip over the metal to feel the obscene slide of it, lips parted and bitten, and shoves himself into your mouth.

“Open,” he snaps, voice low and taut with restraint that’s already slipping.

You choke instantly—your mouth crammed full, his cock hitting your throat before you’re even ready, but he doesn’t stop. He fists both hands in your hair and uses you, fucking your mouth like it’s just a hole to bury himself in.

You can barely breathe. Sucking in what little air you can through your nose between each harsh thrust of his hips. His hips drive forward again and again, slapping against your face, your nose mashed into the now damp, trimmed thatch of hair at the base. You gag, spit gurgling in your throat, leaking out your nose and dripping onto your chest—but you stay there. Because you fucking love it.

Love the burn of the stretch, love the animal growls you suck out of him, love the way his usually emotionless face contorts in pleasure for you—so deep it looks like agony.

He knows you love it.

His grip gets tighter, claws scraping scalp.

“Take it,” he snarls, voice cracking. “Take it like you fucking mean it, sweetmeat, c'mon—"

You feel the twitch first.

You gurgle a moan around him, useless tears stinging your eyes as you look up at him through your lashes, throat tightening in response, and that's what gets him.

He thrusts in deep, deeper, stays there.

Then the burn.

Then the flood—thick, hot, salty. Gushing straight into your throat.

You choke, swallow, slobber running down your chin in fat ropes as he fills you up. A guttural moan tears out of him, something feral and fucked, and his hips shake with the force of it.

He doesn’t pull out until he's sure you're not breathing.

Then he yanks you back by the hair, wet strands clinging to your cheeks, your mouth falling open on instinct to gasp for air, spit and cum trailing out in shiny ropes—and with a gentleness you never expect no matter how many times you see it, his claws rake through your hair to push it back without as much as grazing your skin.

The following weeks? Hell.

Jack didn’t get a tongue infection. He got three. His entire mouth was a battlefield. No amount of salt water gargles were saving him from that fate. By the end of the week, he was grunting through swollen tongues, crusted studs, and the kind of fever that made his skin clammy and his will to leave nonexistent.

You made the mistake of laughing the first time he tried to growl at you and it came out all gurgled and wet—he flipped you off so hard you almost choked on your food.

Still, you helped him clean the piercings. Blended his organs into chunky soup he grimaced at every time—somehow more revolted than you.

He healed, of course. Bitched and sulked through the worst of it. Refused to kiss you for a week.

But he didn’t take them out.

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he starts, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you sweetly as he slides in some more, your walls wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so good for me."

just a few strokes after, he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement for him to keep going. His palms make their way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[cosmiclily]

teehee hii again - i noticed that u had a caitlyn request and omg do i have requests 🤭

im thinking ofc x fem reader, could u do like university or college?? some sorta sport element amddd here's the best bit. caitlyn after training every morning and ungodly hours goes to this coffee house and every morning, there's this cute girl barista who takes her order and it gets to the point that she has her order ready for her already. and Caitlyn is smooth and flirty and barista is like flirty but more shy. ok one more thing - they would exchange socials and like and comment on stories and posts. THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH your fics acct make my day i love youuu

💐 - some flowers

morning shift (derogatory)

✰ caitlyn x f!reader

wc: 4.8k

notes: i’ve been trying to post this for AGES, the app kept crashing and my computer wasn’t turning on 😭😭😭 how have you guys been?

Getting the morning shift and having to wake up at five in the morning was far from ideal. In fact, it was the last thing you ever wanted to do. Dragging yourself out of bed, forcing yourself into the shower, and getting dressed while barely conscious was pure torture. You didn’t just feel like a zombie—you looked like one too.

But all of that became worth it the moment she walked into the coffee shop.

A goddess in tiny training shorts, a jacket so tight it perfectly accentuated her waist, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Every morning, like clockwork, she’d rush in, order her stupid green juice and iced americano, and somehow make suffering through the early shift feel like a blessing.

You would take this shift for the rest of your life if it meant getting to see her.

And today, just like every other morning, Caitlyn Kiramman strolled in, hair slightly messy from her run, cheeks flushed from the cold. But what really sent a jolt through your sleep-deprived body was the way her lips curled into a teasing smile as she approached the counter.

“Good morning,” she said, leaning against the counter ever so slightly. “The usual, please. And maybe… a smile from my favorite barista?”

You nearly choked on your own breath.

A smile? From her favorite barista?

You scrambled to plaster the biggest, most natural-looking smile on your face (which, given the ungodly hour, wasn't easy). “Of course,” you said smoothly, ignoring how your heart was now hammering in your chest. “That’ll cost you extra, though.”

Caitlyn chuckled, handing over her money, her fingers brushing against yours for a second too long to be an accident. “Worth it.”

She took a seat at her usual table, and as she walked away, you shamelessly let your eyes trail after her, taking in the way those tiny shorts hugged her ass perfectly.

“You should just give her your number, you know?” your coworker commented, picking up a cup beside you. “She comes in every day, flirts with you, and you just stand there grinning like an idiot. Write your number on her cup. Do something.It’s getting a little pathetic.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you started preparing her drink. “Caitlyn Kiramman is way out of my league. I’m nothing but a mere mortal in her goddess realm.”

Your coworker snorted. “Okay, poet, but have you considered that maybe—just maybe—she likes her coffee a little more than usual because of the person making it?”

That made you pause for a split second before you shook it off. No way. There was no chance in hell that Caitlyn Kiramman—beautiful, confident, rich Caitlyn Kiramman—would ever look twice at you.

So, as always, you just wrote one of your cheesy pickup lines on her cup, adding a little smiley face next to it, and went on with your day like it didn’t mean anything.

You went to class, dozed off between lectures, ate lunch half-aware of your surroundings, and then finally made your way home, exhausted. But even as you lay in bed, you couldn’t stop yourself from replaying your morning interaction with Caitlyn. The way her fingers had brushed against yours, the way she smiled when she read your note—was it just your sleep-deprived brain making things up, or was there something there?

The next morning, there you were again. Five a.m., standing under the shower, letting the warm water run over you as you took the slowest shower of your life. Your mind was occupied with one thing and one thing only—what line you were going to scribble on Caitlyn’s cup today. And, if you were being completely honest, a tiny part of you was also daydreaming about what outfit she’d be wearing.

Would it be the black shorts today? Or maybe the navy blue ones that hugged her just right? Would she zip up her jacket, or would you get a glimpse of the tight sports bra underneath?

You shook your head, forcing yourself back to reality and going to work. You need help.

For some unknown reason, you felt extra antsy today. Your stomach was fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with hunger, and the anticipation was getting to you. So when the clock hit 6:45, you automatically started making Caitlyn’s drinks, your hands moving on autopilot. You blended her green juice, strained it, and set up the coffee to brew, wondering if today she would actually stick to her usual order or throw you off by asking for something different.

“What are you doing?” your coworker asked, staring at you like you had lost your mind. The coffee shop was empty, the lights still dim, and not a single customer had walked in yet.

“Making Caitlyn’s drinks” you replied simply.

They frowned. “Uh… there’s no one in line.”

“She comes in at seven sharp every morning,” you explained casually, still focused on your task. “It takes me 10 minutes to blend and strain her juice and for the coffee to finish brewing. That leaves me with five minutes to think of something to write and cup her drinks so they’re still fresh.”

You said it like it was nothing. Like it was a perfectly logical, totally normal thing to be this dedicated to one customer’s order.

Your coworker just stared at you for a long moment before sighing, shaking their head. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

You shrugged, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a cup. “If this is crazy, I don’t want to be sane.”

They snorted, rolling their eyes. “Alright, Romeo, at this point, you might as well just ask her out.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

But then, at exactly 7 a.m., there she was.

Earbuds in, navy blue jacket, black shorts, high ponytail—looking like she had just stepped out of a magazine. She had that effortless kind of beauty, the kind that made the world slow down for a second, the kind that made you forget how exhausted you were.

You barely had time to compose yourself before she was standing in front of the register, and you forced your brain to function.

“Good morning, the usual?” you asked, maybe a little too eagerly, but could anyone blame you?

Caitlyn pulled out her earbuds, flashing you that smile that had you questioning every life decision you had ever made. “Certainly a good morning now that I saw you.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Did she—did she just say—?

“And yes, please, the usual,” she added casually, as if she hadn’t just dropped that line like it was nothing.

You scrambled to punch in her order, hoping she didn’t notice the heat creeping up your neck. “Right—yeah, coming right up.”

As you handed her the cups, her fingers brushed against yours again, and this time, you swore she did it on purpose. She glanced at the side of the cup, reading the little note you had scribbled there:

Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.

A soft chuckle left her lips, and she shook her head, amused. “This one was bad.”

You grinned. “But did it work?”

She looked up at you, something playful in her gaze. “Maybe.”

And with that, she took her drinks and walked to her usual table, leaving you standing there, gripping the register like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Your coworker, who had been watching the entire interaction with barely concealed amusement, leaned in. “So, uh… still think she’s out of your league?”

You swallowed hard, eyes still on Caitlyn as she sipped her coffee, her lips curled into a smirk.

Yeah. You were so screwed.

──────────────────────

On a random Thursday night, just as you were winding down and nearly ready for bed, your phone pinged with a notification.

@CKiramman followed you.

You stared at your screen like it had just grown a second head.

For a moment, you thought you were seeing things. Maybe your sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on you. But no—the notification was real. You picked up your phone, unlocked it, and there it was. Caitlyn Kiramman had actually followed you on Instagram.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you clicked on her profile. Her account wasn’t private, which meant you could see everything—pictures from her morning runs, candid shots of her with friends, a few elegant photos from what looked like fancy Galas (because, of course, she was that kind of rich), and even a couple of casual selfies. You scrolled down absently, then snapped yourself out of it.

Focus.

Had she searched for you? Did she somehow already know your name? Or—your stomach flipped—had she actually been interested enough to ask someone?

Before you could spiral too much, another notification popped up.

@CKiramman liked your photo.

And not just any photo.

One from three months ago.

Your eyes widened. Oh, she scrolled.

Your mind raced. Should you message her? Follow her back? Ignore it and pretend you weren’t currently gripping your phone like your life depended on it?

Before you could decide, another message appeared.

Caitlyn Kiramman: So, are you ever going to give me your number, or do I have to keep deciphering bad pickup lines on my coffee cups?

Your mouth fell open.

Holy. Shit.

You stared at the message, your brain short-circuiting.

Caitlyn Kiramman had followed you, stalked your profile, liked an old photo, and now she was flirting with you in your messages.

What alternate universe had you fallen into?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but every possible response sounded either too eager or too indifferent. You needed something cool, something casual—something that didn’t scream I’ve been lowkey in love with you since the first time you walked into my coffee shop in tiny shorts.

After what felt like an eternity (but was actually 37 seconds, not that you were counting), you finally typed back:

You: You decipher them? I thought you just rolled your eyes and ignored my genius.

The little “typing” bubble appeared almost instantly.

Caitlyn Kiramman: Oh, don’t get me wrong. Some of them are truly awful. But they’re entertaining.

You grinned.

You: That bad, huh? Should I start charging extra for the comedy?

Caitlyn Kiramman: I think you’ve already overcharged me. Every morning I walk in expecting just coffee, and instead, I leave with a new terrible joke and a distraction for the rest of the day.

Your heart did an actual flip.

You stared at her message, rereading it at least five times before you processed what she was saying. A distraction for the rest of the day? Was she serious? Was she just teasing? Was Caitlyn Kiramman really implying that she thought about youafter she left?

Before you could think too hard about it, another message popped up.

Caitlyn Kiramman: So? Are you going to give me your number, or do I have to find another way to keep myself entertained?

You exhaled sharply, fingers shaking slightly as you typed back:

You: Wouldn’t want you to suffer without my daily wisdom. (xxx-xxx-xxxx) Use it wisely.

Within seconds, another notification popped up.

Unknown Number: Now I can finally place my coffee orders in advance.

Unknown Number: Also, I might use it for other things.

You swallowed hard, rereading her message.

Other things.

Yeah. You were so screwed. And maybe just a little bit in love.

──────────────────────

To say you spent the whole night texting Caitlyn would be an understatement. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jumping from topic to topic until you realized it was waaaay past your bed time. She told you about her upcoming track competition, and somewhere in the middle of it, she casually invited you to come cheer her on. (Which, obviously, you accepted before she even finished asking.)

By the time morning rolled around, you were running on fumes—more tired than usual, but weirdly, it didn’t matter. Because today, you weren’t just going to see Caitlyn from behind the coffee counter. You were actually going to talk to her and that alone had your energy levels shooting up to a hundred.

So, naturally, you got extra ready.

You actually took your time in the mirror, making sure you looked good. Not that Caitlyn had ever seen you at your best before (you were always half-dead on your morning shifts), but today was different. Today, you wanted to impress her.

And apparently, it showed.

“Okay, where’s the event?” your coworker asked the second you clocked in, giving you a once-over. “And why do you look nice today?”

“Oh, nothing…” you said, trying to sound casual as you adjusted your apron. “Just, you know… Caitlyn Kiramman not only followed me, stalked my profile, liked a picture from three months ago, but also slid into my DMs… and I gave her my number.”

Your coworker froze.

Then, in the most dramatic way possible, they grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “WHAT?”

You laughed, swatting them away. “I’m serious.”

They gawked at you. “You mean Caitlyn Kiramman—the woman you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months—the actual goddess who walks in here every morning—is now texting you?”

“Yep.”

“And flirting with you?”

“Seems like it.”

They stared at you for another second before groaning. “Oh my God. I take back everything I said. You’re not pathetic. You’re a legend.”

You smirked, grabbing a cup as you started prepping Caitlyn’s usual drinks. “Glad you finally see it.”

Your coworker sighed dramatically. “You better not mess this up.”

“I have no plans to, thank you very much.”

But then… 7 a.m. hit. And Caitlyn didn’t show up.

7:10. Nothing.

7:30. Still nothing.

Your excitement started to deflate just a little. You glanced at the door between customers, waiting for that familiar navy blue high ponytail to appear, but the minutes kept ticking by, and your carefully prepared drinks were sitting there untouched.

By 7:40, the juice had turned an unsettling shade of green, and the ice in the Americano had completely melted. With a sigh, you had no choice but to dump them out.

Just as you were starting to wonder if maybe last night had been some weird dream, at exactly 7:46, she rushed in.

Cheeks flushed, hair slightly messy, breathing a little heavier—Caitlyn Kiramman looked… flustered.

And God, if that wasn’t the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

The line was long—the morning rush just starting—so she had to wait her turn, and when she finally reached the front, she immediately leaned in, looking at you with something close to guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, shaking her head at herself. “I overslept for the first time in my life. Which, by the way, is very unusual for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. “You? Oversleeping? That is unusual.”

She groaned, covering her face for a second before peeking at you through her fingers. “I know. And I feel terrible. 7 a.m. is our unofficial meeting time, and I—” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she just said. Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip.

Your smirk grew. “Oh? Our unofficial meeting time?”

Caitlyn blinked. Then, instead of backtracking, she straightened her posture, tilting her head slightly. “Yes,” she said, completely serious. “Our meeting time. And I broke it. Which means I need to make it up to you somehow.”

You leaned on the counter, amused. “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”

She hummed, pretending to think about it before giving you a small smirk. “Well, for starters… I’ll let you pick my drink today.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t think I want the usual,” she said casually, resting her elbows on the counter. “What do you recommend? I want to try something new.”

You stared at her for a second. Caitlyn had been ordering the same thing every morning since the day you met her. Now she was just… trusting you to pick something for her?

“Oh wow,” you said, placing a hand on your chest mockingly. “This is a big responsibility. What if I mess it up?”

She grinned. “Then I guess I’ll just have to punish you.”

You choked on your own saliva.

Caitlyn laughed, absolutely delighted by your reaction. “Relax,” she teased, her voice dropping just a little lower. “I just meant I’d make you remake it if it’s terrible.”

You swallowed hard, regaining whatever composure you had left. “Right. Of course. That’s what you meant.”

She winked. “Obviously.”

──────────────────────

After that, your routine changed.

At exactly 7 a.m., Caitlyn would walk in, looking effortlessly gorgeous, and instead of ordering her usual, she’d lean on the counter and ask, “What’s on the menu today?”

And every morning, you’d surprise her with something new. A different coffee, a new kind of tea, a random experimental drink that sometimes turned out great and sometimes… not so much. (She still drank them, though—grinning at you over the rim of her cup like she secretly enjoyed watching you squirm.)

You spent as much time talking as the morning rush allowed, stealing moments between customers, exchanging teasing glances, and sharing stories that made the mundane mornings feel electric.

And then there were the texts.

At first, they were casual—updates on her day, comments on whatever drink you’d made for her, the occasional complaint about a professor or a late-night craving for coffee. But soon, they became… constant.

Messages during lunch. During her breaks. Late at night when you were both too stubborn to sleep.

You talked about everything.

Her childhood. Your family. Her ridiculous rich-person hobbies (which, yes, included knowing how to shoot, for some bizarre reason). The names of her childhood dogs. The fact that she still slept with a ridiculous amount of pillows.

There were no awkward pauses, no forced conversations. Just endless back-and-forth banter, teasing, and something elselingering between the words that neither of you addressed.

Until one night, when your phone buzzed with a notification:

Cait 💙: So, when are you going to ask me out on a proper date? Or do I have to do everything in this relationship?

You blinked.

Stared.

Read it again.

You: Relationship?

The little typing bubble appeared instantly.

Cait 💙: Oh, my bad. Did you think all this was just friendly customer service?

You gawked at your screen.

Was she serious? Was she just teasing? Was this a test?

You: I mean… technically, I do give excellent customer service.

Cait 💙: Uh-huh. And do you text all your customers at midnight?

You: Only the pretty ones.

You hesitated for half a second before hitting send.

And then, before you could panic about that message, she replied:

Cait 💙: So just me, then.

You: Yeah. Just you.

The typing bubble appeared again.

Then it stopped.

Then it started again.

Your heart was practically in your throat.

Cait 💙: Friday. 8 p.m. I’m picking you up. Wear something cute.

──────────────────────

You could not wait for Friday.

And, apparently, the universe had something against you, because the week felt twice as long as usual.

Every hour dragged. Every class felt like a never-ending lecture. Every shift at work felt excruciatingly slow, even with Caitlyn still dropping by at 7 a.m. sharp, flashing you that smug little smirk like she knew you were impatiently counting down the days.

By Friday afternoon, you had done everything you could possibly do to make time pass faster.

Assignments? Finished.

Room? Spotless.

Laundry? Folded.

At one point, you even considered reorganizing your entire closet just to keep yourself busy. But no matter what you did, 8 p.m. refused to get any closer.

You were convinced that if given a few more hours, you could probably find the cure for cancer before the time for your date actually arrived.

You sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Maybe you needed to redo your hair. Or change outfits. You thought you looked good, but what if the lighting in your room had deceived you?

You rushed to the mirror, checking yourself for the tenth time. You turned to the side, then to the other, scrutinizing every detail.

Your outfit was good. Really good. You had picked something that made you feel confident, something that you knew Caitlyn would like. (Not that you had memorized her favorite colors or anything. That would be insane. Definitely not something you had done.)

Your hair? Also fine. Your face? Fine.

So why the hell did you feel like a mess?

You groaned, flopping onto your back dramatically. “I’m gonna die before 8 p.m.,” you mumbled to no one in particular.

Your phone buzzed.

You launched yourself up, grabbing it instantly.

Cait 💙: Excited?

You bit your lip, debating how to answer. Be cool. Be casual. Don’t let her know you’ve been losing your mind all day.

You: Meh. It’s just a date. Not like I’ve been counting down the minutes or anything.

Cait 💙: You’re terrible at lying.

You scoffed, shaking your head.

You: Am not.

Cait 💙: Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself.

Cait 💙: I’ll be there in 30. Be ready, sweetheart.

Suddenly, your heart was pounding.

Oh. Oh, shit.

This was real.

You were going on a date with Caitlyn tonight.

──────────────────────

Caitlyn picked you up in a sleek, undeniably fancy car. You had no idea what kind it was—cars weren’t exactly your thing—but it looked expensive and smelled like it had never known a day of spilled coffee or fast food wrappers.

But the car was the last thing on your mind.

Because Caitlyn? Caitlyn looked gorgeous.

Her usual high ponytail was gone, replaced with loose waves that framed her face perfectly. She wore a crisp white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her forearms, paired with tailored black slacks and shiny loafers that somehow made her legs look even longer. She was all elegance and confidence—and yet, when she smiled at you, there was still that warmth, that sparkle that made your chest flutter.

“You look… wow,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, your voice almost caught in your throat.

Caitlyn glanced at you, lips tugging into a knowing smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You laughed softly, your nerves settling a little as the car pulled smoothly out of your driveway. “Is this where you tell me we’re going somewhere casual and I’m overdressed?”

She grinned. “Nope. I figured we could both use a night out somewhere a little extra.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you said, glancing over at her again. “You’re dangerously close to making me forget how to form coherent sentences.”

She smirked, eyes still on the road. “That’s the goal.”

You turned to the window, smiling like an idiot, cheeks burning just a little. How was this your life right now?

“How was your day?” Caitlyn asked after a moment, her voice softer now, more intimate—like the initial flirty spark had melted into something quieter and warmer.

You told her about your shift, your overly nosy coworker, and the old lady who insisted that oat milk was a government conspiracy meant to destroy traditional dairy farming. Caitlyn laughed, the sound bubbling out of her so naturally, like she was genuinely enjoying every second with you. And maybe she was.

The conversation flowed effortlessly on the drive to the restaurant—Caitlyn had finally caved and told you where you were going after a little playful prodding—and when you arrived, your jaw nearly hit the floor.

The place was fancy. Not just candlelight-and-linen-napkins fancy, but the kind of fancy where the valet wore white gloves, and the front of the menu didn’t even have prices.

You stepped out of the car slowly, glancing up at the glowing sign and the perfectly manicured entryway. Suddenly, the outfit you had spent hours choosing didn’t feel like quite enough. You smoothed your hands over your clothes and swallowed hard, a flicker of anxiety settling in your chest.

You knew Caitlyn had money. That was never a mystery—everything about her practically whispered old money and prestige. But standing outside this restaurant, with her looking like she’d walked out of a fashion editorial and you feeling like you didn’t quite belong, you couldn’t help the quiet question that crept into your mind:

What does she even see in me?

Caitlyn stepped beside you, noticing the way you hesitated. She gently touched your hand, her fingers brushing yours. “Hey,” she said, catching your eye. “You okay?”

You nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah, just… wasn’t expecting a place like this.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I wanted to take you somewhere special. Not to impress you—just… because I think you deserve something special.”

You blinked at her, your heart doing something traitorous in your chest.

“And for the record,” she added, leaning in just slightly, like she was reading your mind, “you belong exactly here. With me.”

──────────────────────

After that first moment of insecurity, everything fell into place. It didn’t matter that you weren’t used to places like this. It didn’t matter that you felt underdressed or that you had to quietly Google a few words on the menu under the table. None of it mattered, because Caitlyn made you feel welcome—seen. Like you belonged not just at her table, but with her.

She didn’t look at you like you were out of place. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. Every smile, every glance, every gentle brush of her hand across yours grounded you. And with her, this fancy restaurant didn’t feel so intimidating anymore—it felt like a memory you’d want to replay a hundred times.

“So,” Caitlyn said, casually sipping her wine, “I have a track competition coming up—I think I told you about it?”

You nodded, already smiling. “Yeah, you mentioned it.”

“Well, I’d really like you to come,” she said, her voice a little more tentative, like the invitation mattered more than she wanted to admit.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be there,” you grinned. “Front row. With a giant glittery sign that says ‘#1 Caitlyn Fan.’ Maybe I’ll even wear a matching tracksuit.”

She laughed, leaning back in her seat. “Please do. I want pictures.”

“Careful what you wish for,” you teased. “I’m not above going full cheerleader mode.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eyes. “Now that’s something I need to see.”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the table and tilting your head. “Oh yeah? You fantasize about me in a crop top and pom-poms, Kiramman?”

Caitlyn didn’t miss a beat. “Only every night.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter spilling from your lips as she smirked. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’ve been told,” she replied, her voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip. “But you seem brave.”

You stared at her, all trace of joking fading for a beat. Warmth settled in your chest, creeping up your neck. She was looking at you in that way again—the kind that made everything else disappear.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you whispered before your brain could stop your mouth.

Caitlyn’s smile softened. “So are you,” she said, her voice low and honest.

The air between the two of you shifted instantly, thick with something unspoken. Your heart thudded in your chest as warmth crept up your neck, your cheeks flushed—you didn’t know if it was the wine or just the effect of being near Caitlyn.

Then you felt it—her foot slowly sliding up your leg under the table, smooth and deliberate, and your breath caught in your throat. You practically melted in your seat, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table for composure.

Caitlyn was still watching you, eyes darker now, pupils slightly dilated. There was something unreadable in her gaze, something electric.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper, but heavy with suggestion.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding, every nerve ending alive. “Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

She didn’t smile this time—not in the usual teasing way—but there was a curve to her lips that told you she’d been waiting for that answer.

The ride back to her place was quiet but charged, your fingers brushing on the gearshift, the tension between you stretching tighter with every passing second. The moment her door closed behind the two of you, it snapped.

She stepped forward, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you like she’d been holding back all night. There was nothing hesitant now—just heat and hands and the thrum of something real blooming between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, her forehead rested against yours again.

“Still think you don’t belong in my world?” she whispered, her thumb brushing across your lips.

You shook your head, smiling against her touch. “I think I might be exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

──────────────────────

masterlist

[hotchsprncess]

get it girl ⊹ emily prentiss

.ᐟ MDNI .ᐟ

ᝰ summary : a night out at the bar with your friends takes a turn when the older woman you've been eyeing offers to buy you a drink. after some flirting and subtle touches, she brings you back to her apartment for a night to remember.

ᝰ warnings : fem reader, age gap (reader mid 20's, emily is 54 in 2025), alcohol mentions, flirting, dom!emily, sub!reader, mommy kink (sorry not sorry), praise, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play both ways, oral & fingering reader receiving, scissoring, multiple orgasms

it's pride month and i'm bi as fuck so yk i had to write my first emily fic this month teehee 🤭 this woman is a lesbian to me and i will never shut up about it and i just know she fucks so goodddd 😫 this is so self-indulgent help!!! okay anyways enjoy and happy pride ₊✩‧₊˚

you hadn't been at the bar very long, maybe 30 minutes, but your friends already had to pee and were making their way through the sparse crowd to join the line at the women's bathroom. you decided to mosey your way over to the bar and get another drink, or at least that's what you told your friends. you were really heading over there to hopefully spark up a conversation with the older woman who had been eyeing you from across the bar. you had been eyeing her too, who could blame you? she was stunning; hair grey and wavy, her shirt low cut just enough to tease but also professional in a way, her hand neatly manicured as it wraps around a beer bottle which she brings to her lips that seem to remain in a smirk.

the bar stool beside hers was miraculously vacant, so you strutted your way over and took a seat, her perfume filling your nose as you sat down. she smelt of floral notes, but in the expensive way. you look for the bartender and see that they're busy with another customer, tapping your fingers along the bar as you now begin to feel a little awkward finally being in her proximity.

"can i buy you a drink?" her voice interrupts your thoughts, the cadence kind yet holding some depth.

you look over to her and bite your lip softly, admiring her for a moment before providing an answer.

"that's really sweet of you, i'd love that.. just a tequila sunrise, please"

she nods and smiles at you before catching the attention of the bartender, whose name you learn is joe, and a minute later a fresh tequila sunrise is in front of you. your phone buzzes in your hand, a text in your groupchat lighting up the screen.

'get it girl!! she's fucking hot'

you giggle and react to the message with a heart, shoving your phone in your purse as you face the mysterious woman once more.

"besides gorgeous, what's your name?" she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she studies you with a look you can't quite figure out.

a light blush fills your cheeks, twirling your straw around in your drink as you tell her your name. "what's yours? you could easily be named gorgeous too"

she chuckles lightly, "thanks, angel. i'm emily" she takes a sip of her beer before continuing, "i'm really glad you came over here, i saw your friends leave and i was about to head over to you"

"well i'm glad we both had a similar plan, i didn't want to miss my chance with you" you lean a little more towards her now, warming up and getting flirtier with every minute that passes.

she hums in response, a hand coming to rest on your thigh. the feeling of her touch sends a chill through your body, the mere heat of her hand making you want to moan out loud. you needed her badly. it was a visceral feeling of need, even if you'd only exchanged a few minutes of conversation.

"what do you do for work?" you ask a bit shakily, sipping your drink to keep adding some liquid courage to your body.

"i'm in the fbi, unit chief of the behavioural analysis unit" she says it so nonchalantly as though it isn't impressive (and hot as fuck).

"wow, that's extremely cool, and makes you even hotter" you giggle and she does the same, her nimble fingers dancing along your thigh and toying with the hem of your mini dress.

"i'm glad you think so, but i'm more interested in what you do" you allow your hand to rest on top of hers, which happens to be gradually pushing your dress up just slightly, allowing her to touch more of you and get closer to where you need her most.

"i'm actually finishing up my master's in forensic psych, but i work as a receptionist in the meantime"

"that's amazing, you seem like a hard worker"

"i try" you smile, gingerly dragging your nails up her forearm.

"your friends not coming back for ya?" she inquires, her hand squeezing at the plush of your thigh and making your core throb.

"nope, they let me off the hook" you lick your lips, observing how her eyes flicker down to them and follow the movement of your tongue.

"well, if you're interested in going somewhere quieter and more... private, i don't live far away" she suggests, the voice inside your head screaming yes over and over.

"i'm definitely interested, emily" you finish the last sip of your drink as she hops off her stool, holding her hand out to you and steadying you as you hop down as well.

"i didn't drive here though, is it okay if i join you in your car?" you ask shyly, not wanting to impose even though the woman just invited you to her apartment.

"of course, don't be silly" she places her hand on your lower back as she guides you both out of the bar, the evening breeze washing over your face as you walk to her car.

���·················•·················•

you could hardly keep it together on the drive to her place; even the way she drove was sexy and the prospect of potentially fucking her tonight made your head spin.

once you get into her apartment she ushers you to the couch, "do you want some wine? i have a merlot open"

"that's my favourite, yes please" you smile at her before taking a seat on her couch, looking around her living room and taking note of the minimalism of it. only a couple pictures of her with other people, everything brown and black in colour, a vanilla scented candle on the coffee table.

she joins you a minute later, handing you your glass before settling in on the couch so she's close but facing you nonetheless.

"cheers" she holds her glass out to you, to which you clink yours against it before taking a sip.

"i have to say, going from beer to wine is crazy" you giggle, swirling your wine around in the glass and watching as the red waves ride up the sides.

"i don't disagree, but i've done crazier" she smirks and takes a gulp, her hand gravitating to your waist this time, drinking you in with lust filled eyes.

"by the way, this dress looks fucking good on you, it fits you well and just... accentuates every part of you" she whispers in a tone that reeks of sensuality, placing her glass on the coffee table in front of you both.

you follow suit and set your glass down, "thank you, i was hoping someone would appreciate it" you whisper back and reach to place your hand on her cheek, urging her face closer to yours.

"i won't be able to stop myself, i'm just telling you now" her breath tickles your lips, her hands gripping at your hips now.

"i have no idea why i'd want you to stop"

she kisses you urgently, your lips meshing together and moving in sync as you start to feel each other up. your tongues slide against one another, her hands groping your ass harshly as your hands start to unbutton her top.

"bedroom" she breathes out as your lips part, dragging you down the hall and into her room.

her bedroom is dimly illuminated by her bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft glow and bringing light to a space that is usually dull in colour. she guides you onto the bed, lying you back as she begins her descent on your neck; biting, sucking, licking and marking you up. she hums in delight as you run your hands into her hair, sucking on a sensitive spot along the column of your neck. she pulls away and smirks at her handiwork, her hands traveling to the hem of your dress and starting to push it up your body.

"need this off you, baby" she ushers it up and over your head, leaving you on display in your black lace bra and panties.

she licks her lips as she looks you over, her hands creeping behind your back and unclasping your bra with ease. she instantly grabs your tits in her hands, pressing them together and diving in to run her tongue along your hardened nipples.

"god, emily-" you gasp, arching your back into the warmth of her tongue. her tongue moves with precision, flicking over the bud and swirling around it like it was a routine she had perfected.

"you have such pretty nipples" she murmurs before sucking one fully into her mouth, her thumb and index finger toying with the other.

she repeats the same action to the other, your whines proving to be music to her ears. her empty hand moves down your body, trailing along the top of your panties and sending shivers up your spine. she releases your nipple and looks up at you through her lashes, kissing down your torso before she reaches the spot where her fingertips were just ghosting over.

"please" you mewl, squirming slightly under her out of desperation.

"hm?" she hums, pressing a kiss to your clothed clit, "please what? what do you need?"

you whine louder at the gentle touch placed upon your throbbing clit, "please, i need your mouth, please! need it so fucking bad"

satisfied with your response she tugs your panties down your legs and off, her hands pushing your thighs apart and putting your glistening cunt in the forefront of her vision.

"fuck― pussy's dripping, angel.. who's this for?" she admires the sight as her thumbs spread your pussy, watching as you clench around nothing. she situates herself comfortably so your pussy is right in front of her face; taunting her and begging to be tasted.

all you can do is whine in response, resulting in a smack being placed on the inside of your thigh, causing you to jolt slightly.

"are you gonna answer me?"

"it's- it's for you, all for you"

"oh yeah?" she moves forward and drags her tongue along your slit, gathering your wetness before she glides it back and forth over your swollen clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves.

"o-oh my god" you moan, your grip in her grey locks tightening as she sucks your clit into her mouth, lips wrapped around it beautifully. she sucks on it as though it's her full-time job, her middle finger plunging into you and caressing just the right spot inside of you.

"fuck, mommy, that's so good! h-how-" your mind is fuzzy as you let the name slip before you can even think it through, moaning loudly as she guides you closer to your orgasm with each stroke of her finger and pull of her lips.

the name causes her to moan into you before releasing your clit with a 'pop'. you whimper at the loss of contact, attempting to push her face into you again. she doesn't budge and rather just slides another finger into you, smirking as you moan in response.

"mommy, huh?" she kisses your clit again, pumping her fingers in and out faster now.

heat rises in your cheeks at her teasing, grinding down onto her fingers that are now curling inside of you and thrusting you towards the edge at a rapid speed.

"you want me to be your mommy tonight? tell me"

"yes please!" your breath is erratic as you clamp down around her fingers, legs beginning to quiver.

"good girl― cum for me, give it to me... that's it" she coaxes your orgasm out, coating her fingers in your juices as you shake and squirm under her touch.

your chest heaves as you come down while she slowly pulls her fingers out of you, sitting back on her knees as she brings them to her mouth to get another taste of you.

"taste so fucking sweet" she praises, holding eye contact with you as she licks you clean from her fingers.

you push yourself up and onto your knees as well, reaching to finish unbuttoning her shirt which you had originally started on the couch. her hand grabs the back of your neck as she pulls you into a kiss, a passionate one at that, as the taste of yourself makes it's way into your mouth. you eagerly toss her shirt aside, immediately ridding her of her bra as well. you pull back to finally see her bare chest, ogling at the sight. you grab hold of her tits, moaning quietly at just the weight of them in your hands; heavy and fucking perfect.

you duck your head so you can latch onto her nipple, pulling the bud into your mouth and relishing in the feeling of it between your lips.

"such a good girl, baby, that feels so good" she moans, pressing you into her with a hand at the back of your head, her other fiddling with the button and zipper on her dress pants.

she manages to get her pants undone as you move to her other nipple, getting lost in her as you suck and listen to her soft moans. you pull away and grab at them again, "they're so pretty.. and big"

she chuckles as you push her to lie back now, shimmying out of her pants and panties. she looks divine as you shift to get between her legs but she corrals you back onto your knees, much to your dismay.

"but-"

"no, put that pussy on mine, now" she demands and spreads her legs, holding you steady at your waist as you position yourself over her.

you sink down to fully press against her now, your clit brushing hers as you start to roll your hips, the slick between you two starting to spread. you move slowly at first, but her hands grabbing at your ass and guiding your hips encourages you to go faster.

"that's it, angel... so gorgeous" she breathes as she watches your hips continuously grind, your clits nudging one another with each maneuver.

you're moaning loudly on top of her, the sensation so blissful as you provide both yourself and emily with pleasure.

"oh my god, mommy, it- i- fuck" you were completely drunk on her and her pussy alone, alcohol long gone, grinding your clit on hers with no other thoughts or qualms or goals besides making her cum.

the sound of the wetness between you both was deafening; squelching and smacking and sloppy. it reverberated off the walls of her room, joining the chorus of both of your moans.

"you hear that, princess? hear how wet it is between us? you soaked mommy with that cunt" her hands continue to aid you in your grinding, your speed now voracious and quickening by the second.

"yes, yes, wet" you whine, bucking against her rapidly as she increases her grip on the globes of your ass, throwing her head back further against the pillow. your clit is throbbing against her own, your juices mixing with hers as you fervently push you both towards an orgasm.

"don't fucking stop, you're doing such a good job, gonna make us both cum, aren't you?"

you nod vigorously as your second orgasm nears, "cum- mommy- i'm gonna cum-"

"me too, baby, i'm cumming with you― that's my girl, cum for me again, cum for mommy"

you borderline scream as you cum atop her, legs shaking and twitching as she grips your ass so hard there might be bruises in the morning, her own body twitching slightly as she reels from her own orgasm.

you collapse onto her, body splayed completely over hers, hot and sticky and sweaty but beyond content. she chuckles and wraps her arms around you, hugging you close to her chest as you both catch your breath and come back down to earth. she presses a kiss to your head as you lie there, meshing your naked body with hers in an intimate way once more, but with a hint of something deeper this time.

"how does a bath and finishing that merlot sound?"

[coryosmin]

innocence

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, mdni, loss of virginity, praise kink, best friend! coryo, innocent reader, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, coryo has a big dick, reader is just so cute, coriolanus is his own warning btw, soft!coryo, not my best writing but i’m sick and a slut so let’s get this done teehee

3,000 words

It all began when you were having a conversation with Arachne and Clemensia. They started talking about sex and how they hadn’t had good sex in a while, asking you if you had. To which you lied and said yes. But ultimately, you had no clue about sex. It wasn’t something that you prioritized as your main focus was on your studies. But now, it was most definitely on your mind.

Coryo had been your best friend since the two of you were children. He was the only person in the world that you could tell anything and everything. Just as he could tell you anything and everything. He had invited you over to his apartment on Corso after school, exclaiming that his grandma’am and Tigris wouldn’t be home until much later because grandma’am had a few errands she had to run. So you were sat on Coryo’s bed while he sat on his desk, working on an assignment.

You bit your lip as you looked over at your blond best friend. “Coryo,” You broke the silence.

“Hmm?” He asked, not looking up from his work.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to ask your question. Sex was a weird topic to bring up with your best friend, right? Or is it normal? Arachne and Clemensia seemed pretty chill talking about it with you. So maybe it’s a normal topic of discussion? You shook your head, deciding not to overthink it. “Have you ever had sex?”

Coriolanus dropped his pencil, clearly not expecting that question. He turned around in his chair, looking at you with an eyebrow quirked up. “Excuse me?” He asked, his blue eyes looking at you with slight amusement.

“Have you ever had sex?” You asked again, clearly unashamed by the question. Coryo’s your best friend. Of course, you can talk to him about this sort of thing.

“Why would you like to know?” He asked, his voice was neutral as he looked at you.

You sighed, slightly embarrassed by the way he was looking at you. You tried to think about how to word your explanation before speaking. “Clemensia and Arachne were talking about sex earlier,” You began to speak, your voice a bit timid. “And I felt kind of lost in the conversation.”

Coriolanus nodded his head as he listened to you. “Lost how?”

“Well, I’ve never had sex before,” You admitted, unable to help the blush on your cheeks. “And they asked me if I had and I may have lied and said yes.”

Coriolanus couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he looked at you speak to him. You were just so innocent and pure. Of course, he knew that you’ve never had sex before. He made sure of that throughout your life, saying that men were disgusting and that you could only ever trust him. Truth be told, he wanted you for himself, to rely on him to help you through these things. And now? Maybe the time has come. “Well to answer your question, I have.” He answered simply.

“Is it really as bad as Arachne and Clemensia made it sound?” You asked, tilting your head in that innocent way that Coryo always adores.

“Bad?” Coriolanus laughed in disbelief. “If they have partners that know what they’re doing, it shouldn’t be bad at all.”

Your lips formed an “o” shape as you heard Coryo’s words. “They said that their boyfriends never like prepare them,” You said nervously. This conversation was definitely awkward to have. “That it usually only lasts a few minutes and then he cums and then they’re done.”

“Then they don’t have good partners,” Coriolanus replied, shrugging his shoulders.

You simply nodded your head, understanding what Coriolanus was saying to you. You bit your lip. “What’s it supposed to feel like?”

Your question made Coriolanus inhale sharply. He was so ready to just take you. He got up from his desk and walked over to you, sitting down next to you on his bed. “Would you like me to show you?” He murmured, looking at you with his soft blue eyes. He reached up to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

Your eyes widened at his question as your cheeks reddened. “C-Coryo, we’re best friends,” You were flustered as you spoke, unable to help the tremor in your voice.

Coriolanus smiled softly at you, caressing your cheek. The coolness of your hand feeling nice on your warm skin. “It’s okay for best friends to help one another, Y/N.” He replied softly.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as he looked at you. You swallowed. “I-I don’t think best friends help each other with something like this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice.

Coriolanus chuckled, unable to help himself. “Maybe not normal best friends,” he whispered back. “But we’re best of friends.” He said, leaning in slightly. “Let me show you.” You didn’t think much about it. Not when Coryo was just so close to you. You nodded your head and Coryo smiled. “Good girl.”

That phrase alone made you clench your thighs, an action not missed by Coryo though he didn’t mention it. He simply smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You didn’t kiss back right away, just relishing in the feeling of Coryo’s lips on yours. They were so soft and sweet and tasted like the pastries you had brought earlier when you came over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you began to kiss Coryo back, moving your lips in sync with his.

This technically wasn’t your first kiss. Your first kiss was with Sejanus Plinth back in sophomore year when you both talked about not ever having your first kiss. So while you’re not the most experienced person, you have at least kissed someone. Though you never told Coryo about it.

Coriolanus deepened the kiss, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your head. He kissed you as though his life depended on it, needing your lips to survive. His tongue traced your lips and you couldn’t help but part them as he began to explore your mouth. You let out a small moan at the feeling, causing Coriolanus to inhale. You were wearing a dress. Just a simple one that you changed into after school before heading to Coryo’s house. And Coriolanus was grateful because it made things easier.

Coryo’s free hand moved down your body gently and slowly, warming you up to his touch. And as his fingers loosely played with the hem of your dress, Coriolanus removed his lips from yours, moving to kiss your neck. You gasped, biting your lip. His fingers moved to your legs, creeping up your thigh. Coryo pulled away to look into your beautiful eyes. “Gonna make you feel good, okay?” He whispered to you, his eyes so honest and genuine.

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice. Coriolanus went back to kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point which caused you to let out a shaky breath. You felt the heat pooling in your pelvis (pls I hated using that word). Coriolanus moved his fingers to your underwear underneath your dress, causing you to instinctively close your legs. “Shh, it’s okay.” He whispered into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “Relax for me.” You took a deep breath, relaxing as you opened your legs back up again. “Good girl,” He murmured. This caused you to verbally whimper as Coriolanus’s fingers made their way under the waistband of your underwear. The coolness of his fingers pressing your warm skin.

Coriolanus moved his head to look you in the eye as his fingers gently touched your slit, moving the wetness around. “You’re so wet,” He murmured. You bit your lip, his touch foreign to you as you tried not to back away from it. You’ve only ever touched yourself once or twice down there and you didn’t know what you were doing. Coriolanus’s fingers gently went onto your clit, circling it slowly with his fingers. You tried to stop yourself from making a noise, embarrassed. But you couldn’t help the small moan you let out as Coriolanus rubbed your clit. “Don’t hide your noises from me, my dear. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

He moved his fingers from your clit, bringing his middle finger down to your hole. You whimpered as he inserted his finger into you slowly. Coriolanus began to thrust his finger in and out of you slowly, making you moan. “Coryo,” You moaned out, your hand gripping the edge of the bed.

“I know, baby,” He murmured, kissing you on the lips as he continued fingering your pussy.

Coriolanus inserted another finger, curling them upwards. You gasped, bringing your hand to your mouth as you moaned out, “Oh my god.”

Coriolanus couldn’t help the smile on his face as you moaned, the sounds of your voice being like heaven to his ears. “You like it, hm?” He asked, kissing your cheek. “You like that I’m fingering your pussy? You’re so tight. Can’t wait for my cock to be inside of you.” His words were so dirty and yet they turned you on so much. You couldn’t help but whine at the thought, bucking your hips against his fingers. “Can tell that you want my cock. Bet you’ve never even seen one before, fuck.” He continued to move his fingers inside of you.

“I-” You moaned out, feeling a tightness in your abdomen. You leaned into Coryo as he was right next to you, leaning your head on his shoulder. The room was filled with the sounds of you moaning and the sounds of your pussy as Coryo finger fucked you. There was a squelching sound, causing Coriolanus to groan in your ear.

“You’re about to cum, baby,” Coryo murmured, moving his fingers faster inside of you. “Let it all out, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You whined as you came undone, clenching your thighs together as your body began to shake. Your pussy gushed around his fingers, soaking your panties, the mattress underneath you, and the floor. “Oh fuck,” You moaned out. Coriolanus fingered you through your orgasm, not stopping until you relaxed. He pulled his fingers out of you, smiling as he saw the mess you made on his bed and his bedroom floor.

Coriolanus used his other hand to lift your head, making you look at him. “You did so good, baby.” He murmured, kissing your lips. “How did that feel?”

You blushed as you looked at your best friend. It all felt so intimate and well, it was. “G-good.” You stuttered. “I-is it normal for that to happen?” You asked shyly.

Coriolanus chuckled, shaking his head no. “Not everyone can do it,” He said, kissing your lips. “Guess that makes you special, my dear.” Coriolanus grabbed the hem of your dress, lifting it off of your body. “We are not done yet though.”

“You’re going to fuck me?” You asked though you knew the answer. He did say that he couldn’t wait for his cock to be inside of you.

Coriolanus nodded his head as he threw your dress to the side of the room, standing up to take off his clothes. His eyes racked over your body, taking in your beautiful figure. “You’re so beautiful,” Coriolanus said as he threw his shirt to the floor. He began unbuttoning his pants.

You blushed as you looked up at Coriolanus, biting your lip. “Thank you,” You said quietly. You couldn’t ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering as Coriolanus complimented you. You decided to take it upon yourself to take off your panties. They were soaked anyway so you threw them to the side.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Coriolanus smiled as he removed his pants, kicking them off. You could see the obvious bulge in his underwear, the outline of it becoming a bit intimidating. You may have never seen a penis before but you knew that the average was about 4 or 5 inches. But by bulge alone, you could tell Coryo was more than that. “Unhook your bra for me?” He asked though it definitely sounded like a command. You obliged, taking your bra off. “And now lay down for me, princess.”

You nodded your head, moving so that your head was on Coryo’s pillow. The pillow smelt like him. Like roses and poverty.

Coriolanus took his underwear off, revealing his member to you. It was quite large. You whimpered as you looked at his size. “W-will it fit?” You asked innocently, looking at Coriolanus with doe eyes.

Coriolanus chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes, princess. It may hurt though,” He said, crawling on top of you. The heat from his body radiated onto yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his forehead resting against yours. He gave you a small kiss. “I’ll do what I can though to make it not hurt too much.” He murmured.

“Okay.” You murmured back, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Is this okay?” You asked, looking up at him.

Coriolanus nodded his head. “Of course, baby,” he replied. He reached a hand between the two of you, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Take a deep breath for me and relax.” You did exactly that. And Coriolanus began to ease his cock inside of you, very slowly. You were still so very wet and it took everything in Coryo’s power to not just shove himself inside of you.

You whined at the sensation, feeling the stretch of Coryo’s big cock as it eased inside of you. He was so big and you were so so tight. It hurt quite a bit, making your eyes well up with tears. Coriolanus began to kiss you, trying to distract you from the pain. His lips were so soft and tender, unlike the feeling of his cock which was so hard and so big. When he was inside of you, he stayed still for a few minutes, pulling away from your lips. “You okay?” He asked, his blue eyes filled with concern as he looked at you.

You looked back up at him, biting your lip. “It hurts.” You whimpered.

Coriolanus nodded his head in sympathy. “I know, baby, I know.” He said. “It’ll hurt until you get used to it.” He leaned back in, capturing your lips once more.

You guys lay there for a few minutes, kissing. And slowly, Coriolanus began to move his hips. He eased his cock back out before bringing it back in, causing you to whine from the pain as a few tears slipped out. And eventually, the tears of pain turned into tears of pleasure as the pain began to ease. You gasped, pulling away from the kiss to look up at Coryo. He gave you a small smile as he continued to thrust into you.

“You’re so warm and tight, baby.” He murmured, kissing your forehead as he moved his hips slowly. He couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of your wet pussy around his cock.

You gasped and moaned, feeling his cock filling you up. You finally understand what you’ve been missing out on. Coryo made you feel so full and it began to feel so so good. “Y-you can go faster,” You said.

Coriolanus’s smile turned into a smirk as he heard your words. He positioned himself so he was leaning on his forearms rather than on his hands, bringing his head towards your neck. His hips began to move a bit faster and harder, making you let out a high-pitched moan as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. “Fuck, baby.” Coriolanus moaned against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “You’re taking me so well.”

Coriolanus was in heaven. It was he who gets to take your virginity, only he can make you feel so warm and protected and only he gets to make you feel good. Coriolanus was the only one who got to hear your beautiful moans, your lovely voice. Your pussy was just so tight around his cock and you were so wet. He hadn’t had sex in a while and he hadn’t been expecting to have sex with you yet but god he was happy that he was.

“Coryo,” You moaned out, closing your eyes. You moaning his name only made Coriolanus move more frantically.

“Feel so good around me, darling,” He moaned in your ear, unable to help the noises he was making. “Gonna make you cum on my cock like a good girl.”

You whined at his words, meeting his thrusts with your own grinds against him. “Feels so good inside me, Coryo, so big,” You moaned out, putting your face to his shoulder. You pressed a kiss along his collarbone.

“Fuck, baby,” He lifted himself slightly, moving his head to look at his cock plunging in and out of you. He looked back at your face, groping one of your breasts, massaging the nipple with his finger.

You arched your back, moaning Coriolanus’s name. You felt that tightening that you felt earlier in your abdomen. “I-I’m close, Coryo,” You moaned out.

“Me too, baby, me too,” He said, leaning his head to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other one. He continued to rut inside of you.

And the sensations were too much, making you let out a very loud moan as your legs began to quiver, your orgasm hitting you harshly and quickly. Coriolanus slowed down his hips, helping you ride out your orgasm. And as you calmed down, he pulled out of you, jerking his cock off a few times before spilling onto your stomach with a loud groan.

And when you both came down from your highs, Coriolanus laid down next to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “How was it, baby?”

You smiled, looking at Coriolanus with a lazy smile. “I-it was lovely, Coryo. Thank you,” You said so kindly.

Coriolanus’s heart melted. He kissed your lips before replying. “It’s what the best of best friends do,” He murmured against your lips.

[candybarz]

hihihihi do u think you could write about nerd!armin and reader being academic rivals and armins a big meanie because he gets a higher score on the final than reader does >:) (nsfw teehee)

SURE THING!! ty for requesting!! i did some changes cause i didnt know how to go about it so i hope thats okay!! A/N: i used college nerdmin (https://ca.pinterest.com/pin/52354414414324585/) this took so longg, its kinda good, idk it feels rushed i hope yall enjoyy (i proofread it but there might be a few mistakes!!)

WARNINGS: Mean!Nerdmin x Reader, calculus mentioned. ,Backshots(F!receiving), Oral sex (F!+M!receiving), Rough sex (?), Fingering (F!receiving), Name calling (stupid/dumb whore,slut etc), ussage of y/n and female anatomy.

You were always the smartest in your classes, top of the year if you will. Basically any class you took was not a challenge to you, from first to the seventh you were the smartest. were.

Then came along that bastard who one-upped you, that dumb ass bob to the stupid ass nerdy clothes he wore, that otaku shirt wearing smartass. Armin Arlert. The moment he showed up everything went to shit, every test you did ended up having the same.exact.grade. At graduation you both got the same awards, ending up in an academic tie at graduation. It did not change in college. You both ended up taking the same course, some-fucking-how. It was constantly in a tie for a whole year, it was irratating.

---

You recently had done exams, everyonee eagerly waiting for their answers. Hell, they were probably waiting to see what you and armin got as this exam basically kicked everyones ass. The room was dead silent, whispers of people saying they were for sure going to fail or others saying they didn't even wanna look.

The teacher nodded dismissing the class. you instantly whipped out your phone to check your grade, scrolling down to each class to see the grades. Every grade had A or A+.

Calculus: C-

Your heart sunk to your ass, that had to be the lowest grade you have ever gotten in your 20 years of living. You walked up to your professor, grade propped up and ready 'cause this had to be a mistake, right?

WRONG.

Mr.Ackerman looked you dead in your face sipping on his tea, your grade wasn't a mistake. Apparently it was 5 questions you got wrong, all of them were the ones you did a million times.

During your free period you sat under the shade, still staring at the grade. Sasha looked at you with a look of worry, you barely finished your food. "Girl, you've been staring at that grade for like 4 minutes now! Whats up??" Sasha asked leaning in to see your face, you looked up on instinct shutting off your phone and shrugged acting chill.

"I just really thought I was going to do better than that, I studied all night for that? But it's whatever." You explained and letting sasha continue her story about how some frat house was throwing a huge bash for the end of exams. What you said wasn't a lie, but there was more to it and it was the fact you did not want to feel like you lost to Armin of all people.

"So will you go?" Your bestfriends voice cut into your mind, you sat and thought about it, maybe this party could help take your mind off it. You letting out a long dramatic sigh before smiling at sasha, you nodded your head and she squealed 'thank you' hugging you. Later on in the day she sent you the address and to be honest you were a little excited. -- The lighting of the place changed colors repeatedly and the smell of marijuana mixed into the smell of alcohol and perfumes. It was a bit hot inside. You sat by the punch area awkwardly drinking water, you had a brownie 30 minutes ago and the effects hit you like a brick. While it didn't comepletely fuck you up, you were just a little bit calmer, guess this was a smaller dosage then the regular.

You stared at the people coming and going, until someone came beside you. Turning, you look up to see who it was. Armin fucking Arlert. He had that dumb smirk on, you had to squint at him to see it. He had his regular glasses on, his hair was in his usual style, maybe he missed a barbers appointment because his under cut grew out. His shirt, radiohead merch paired with some long jorts, to be honest he looked hot, maybe Eren finally put him on? who cares, you still didnt want to see him. "How'd you do? Like on the exam." He asked with fake

You stared at the people coming and going, until someone came beside you. Turning, you look up to see who it was. Armin fucking Arlert. He had that dumb smirk on, you had to squint at him to see it. He had his regular glasses on, his hair was in his usual style, maybe he missed a barbers appointment because his under cut grew out. His shirt, radiohead merch paired with some long jorts, to be honest he looked hot, maybe Eren finally put him on? who cares, you still didnt want to see him. "How'd you do? Like on the exam." He asked with fake innocence, you knew that he already knew somehow, he always does. You glared up at him with annoyance on your face, you muttered the grade under your breath not even wanting to say it out loud. This bastard leaned in like he didn't hear you over the music, the same smirk turned into a shit-eating grin as if he couldnt contain his joy.

"C-minus." Was all you said before he let out a mocking laugh, like you were the clown of the damn year. Armin stared at you with smugness all over his face and disgust like you were contagious and the stupid was gonna rub off on him. "Are you a blockhead? That test was so easy even the meat heads got higher than that." He sneered behind his cup of juice, you rolled your eyes at his statement. "Can you tutor me?" You bit your pride and asked the impossible and some how he took this as a sign to continue.

"You know this was what we've been studying this whole time? He even gave people sheet that can help with the process. Did you not pick one up? Typical, you don't know how to study at all huh? Just as dumb as always, but I guess-" He said before looking at you, you stared at him with a confused face, you didn't even say a word and he's talking like that? Fucking asshole.

You could swear you saw him mutter something. Shoving him aside you left the party. -- It's been a week since you and Armin's last encounter, you ended up getting a text from Sasha saying Armin will tutor you as an apology for what he did, part of you was still pissed but you weren't a hateful person, just competitive.

You had been going to armins house every three days to be tutored, some days he was difficult and others he was nice, there was no in between but lately he was too nice. He would give you food during breaks and complimenting your outfits, it was weird to say the least. You headed off to Armins house, it was a bit too hit today so you decided to wear a white spaghetti strap top and some distressed jean shorts with the frayed hems.

--

Today was not the day for you or armin, you were both irritated for some reason and everytime you answered a question wrong, you got a scoff. Or asked a "stupid" question, you got a stupid look while he fanned himself.

"Just do the equation and stop doing it your way! Do it the way you're supposed to, it is not that HARD! Dumbass!." Armin whined as he dropped his fan in frustration. You scoffed getting up and leaving the room calling him a fucking nerd, you needed some form of relaxation or you were going to lose your mind. You got a glass of water and started to chug it, this heatwave better die down by the last hour. Suddenly, Armin came up from behind and yanked the glass out of your hand throwing it into the sink. "What is your problem?" You asked annoyed, He was way too close for your liking.

"You're my fucking problem everything you do pisses me the fuck off and messes with me. I take time out of my day to tutor your ass and this is how you repay me, with that fuckass attitude?" He spat with a glare in his eye, your brows knitted together at his words, before you could say anything he continued. "You better fix that attitude, or else." Armin threatened and you looked him up and down. "Or what?" You snapped back, walking back to the room scoffing.

SMUT INCOMING!!

You didn't have this in mind, if you told you in the past this is what it has come to, she wouldn't believe you. Armin had his lips on your neck, sucking and kissing at the senitive skin while leaving a nasty mark.

His hand snaked around you, your shorts unbuttoned while his hand teased your clit behind the underwear making your breath heavy. He listed off your shirt in one go, removing his hand from your clit, making you whine. You turned around taking his off which caused you to get a good look at his torso, he was kind of fit which you didnt expect from him, his shirts weren't doing him justice.

You felt him shove you roughly back onto the bed, before you could do anything he latched himself back onto your neck before slowly moving down to your chest, basically almost tearing off your bra. "Fuck.." you whispered as he kissed your breast lovingly, sucking on them at some point but then he bit one causing you to whine again. He kissed down to your stomach, making your spine shiver as he went right above the pelvis. He tugged your shorts off, throwing them somewhere else. You clamped you legs shut but armin forced them apart, spreading them widely. "Keep your legs open slut." He whispered leaning down and giving you the warning in your ear, you did as he said opening them.

He went down until he was facing your clothed pussy, he kissed your clit through the panties, sending a shiver up your spine as you moaned. "A-Armin!" You held his hair as he sucked on it through the cloth, dampening your pink panties and mixing his saliva with your slick. He tore them off soon after which made the cool air hit your pussy. Armin kissed your clit a bit before eating you out. You tried to close your legs but armin was faster, he pushed them open and farther than before.

His tongue moving in ways you didn't expect, his nose rubbing against your clit as he ate you out. "S-Shit.." You whimpered at the feeling, you suddenly felt two finger inserted inside you while he moved his mouth to your clit. Armins fingers moved faster while curling slightly upwards, he could feel his dick getting hard with the way your pussy clenched his fingers, you could feeling yourself getting closer as your whimpers turned into begging real quick."Please...faster...Armin, im gonna-!" You felt his fingers leave from your pussy and his mouth detaching as well.

"Brats don't get to cum fast, think about that next time dumb whore." Armin said at your whining, your slick coating his chin. You felt him reach over you for his dresser where he pulled out a condom box that read large, surely it was just for show...right? He stood taking his jogging pants off, showing his black boxers, once he took those off you felt your eyes bulge out of your head. That had to be the prettiest dick you've ever seen, it was like everything was perfect for him from his grades to his face to his dick. It had a pretty color to it, the tip was a darker shade of pink. Precum oozed out of the slit whilst he put on the condom, groaning lowly once he touched it, his dick was maybe 7-8 inches, 9 if you really thought about it, the girth wasnt extremely thick but not so slim either.

He slid back onto the bed, rubbing his dick near your entrance, you moaned when you felt it rub your clit. You whined as he teased you, staring up in frustation. "You want my cock?" He asked soothingly, and you nodded like a dumbass. "Beg for it, whore." He smirked, You looked at him with a deadpanned look but it was too late now. "Please fuck me Armin, Please." You begged squirming around, he grabbed you and flipped you over and raised your ass in the air while pushing your back down. In one swift move he pushed his dick in you causing you to moan louder than you should've, At first he was going slowly, very slowly. trying to get you used to his length. "Faster...please..." You begged trying to move back into him but he didn't change his pace. He rubbed you clit while he teased you with his pace, you whimpered every time it grazed your good spot and armin noticed this.

He slammed his hips harshly into yours with no warning. "Fuck!" You squealed as his pace quickened, every plop of your skin connecting to his was another moan from you, you try to slow him down with your hand by putting it on his abdomen. He quickly got irratated and pinned it to your back and pushing you into the mattress that was covered by some shark sheets, you would've teased him for it if you saw it sooner but you were too busy with his brutal thrust. "You dont cum until i say so, stupid whore."

Armin smacked your ass and fondled it, he's always liked staring at your ass the moment you both got into college and you gained confidence, the way it moves is enchanting. You moaned with a high pitch tone as his tip bullied your spot, he let go of your arm and grabbed your hair, letting out quiet curses under his breath as he felt you getting close. Your screams got louder, he sucked on the sensitive spot of your neck while playing with your clit. "Armin! I'm gonna-" "You wanna cum? Are you gonna stop being a fucking bitch and listen to me? You gonna apologize?" Armin said lowly into your ear, his breath shaky from the work he was putting in.

"Yes! Yes, i'll stop-Fuck! Being a bitch and Mgnh listen to you! Im sorryyy!" You cried out tying to contain your moaning while being edged. He kissed the back of your neck and let your body down before whispering that you can cum. You reached your climax, eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth hanging open while armin kissed your shoulder, thrusting as you came.

He pulled out and was confused when you turned and grabbed his dick yourself, you peel the condom of and threw it somewhere. You lick the precum off the tip before kissing it. "Fuck.." Armin let out a whimper and bit his lip, You licked his dick from the base of the bottom of his dick to the tip and felt his dick pulse. Armin stared down at you as you put the tip in your mouth, sucking his dick slowly. After a bit you sped up the pace and sucked him off faster. "Holy shit...Y/n....good girl." He breathed out grabbing your hair and forcing it up and down, You gagged as he did so.

Your hands scatched at his thigh and pelvis area, he hissed as you scratched and fucked your throat so he could cum quicker, tears fell down your face as you gagged at every thrust. "Ngh fuck! Y/n..!" Armin came into your mouth, shooting hot loads into your mouth while moving your head up and down. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, straight at the phone he had in his hand, You didn't care at this point. Armin watched (and recorded) you swallowing and sticking your tongue out to show him you swallowed it. he stopped the video as he muttered something about "you're so fucking hot..", he leaned down and kissed you with tongue, you kissed him back as you laid in bed with him.

"Is there any other class you need help with?"

This fucking nerd.

--

Credits to me!!

[twistedpink]

REQUESTS OPEN?!?!?!? O.O (totally wasnt counting down the days teehee)

im not sure if you do this sort of request but??? feel free to ignore it if thats the case jdfjjf sorry T_T

could you write hcs about love triangle! idia and riddle (or idia and vil? whatever you think is best genuinely)?

i love ur posts so much omg, genuinely feeds the entire family for a few months they are not only living rent free but investing in free real estate for the future!!!

I missed these!!! @bju3c0re @kyokills

Rival!Idia is not live laugh loving life right now. In fact, he’s doing the opposite- crying a little in his bedroom before falling asleep mid-raid, which you have the audacity to shame him for despite sicking an UNFAIRLY meta boss on him :/ Of course he’s scared!! Have you seen Riddle? Like, really looked at him without your biases? He can’t beat that guy, at least not in a 1v1.. But he’s trying, if only for a sweet pity kiss before you run off for tea and biscuits :(

Rival!Idia doesn’t even try to play fair, because honestly, why would he? Ortho sees an immediate (and concerning amount of it weren’t Idia being Idia) uptick in online purchases- all your favourite games are flush with cash, and by extension, so are you. Suddenly, there’s con tickets, merch, and straight up checks on your doorstep where they DEFINITELY shouldn’t be. But, you pride yourself on being a good person- and you’re sure the owner won’t mind too much if you enjoy their goodies for magicam content,, Idia is vibrating with the taste of victory, and he’s sure a little f2ping won’t kill him if it means you’ll come home <3

Rival!Riddle is SEETHING. But, like, a totally normal amount that (hopefully) won’t freak you out. Sure- it’s not his fault you’ve been so ambiguous with your feelings, but if seeing you all lovey dovey with Idia off all people doesn’t spark a little something, then nothing will. He insists that it’s not jealousy- that you’re projecting, and ‘wouldn’t you feel better talking about it over a snack?’ BUT if you’re even a little concerned for Idia’s psyche you’ll deny, deny, DENY until there’s balance between your “leisure time w/wookie”. You’re like 80% sure a fight won’t break out, but if they’ve taught you anything then it’s better to be safe than sorry!! It’s a touch sociopathic, and a monster for your calendar app, but it’s a balance nonetheless..(And if anything, Riddle appreciates the structure of it all)

Rival!Riddle is not normal about this situation, by any parameter. But, he likes you- like, like-like likes you, enough to put up with whatever summon rates and loot drops you complain about, because he absorbs every word despite being totally lost. Okay, maybe he’s a little jealous that Idia connects to you on a level he can’t- but there’s plenty of things you enjoy with him! So doesn’t he just have to be your favourite? It’s not that he’s doubting your ability to study for hours at a time or to read all his favourite books organically,, However, there’s this itty bitty voice inside his head that needs you to be doing it for him. Because, maybe then, he’ll win you over without a boss fight <3

[letssimptogether]

Slashers x Pregnant! Reader

✨ reader almost gets hurt by a victim/victim uses reader as leverage — requested by anon ✨

includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, and Poly! Ghostface

warnings: mentions or possible descriptions of (slight!) violence, cursing

a/n: i might use some manga as lil cover pictures when writing multiple slashers/idk what picture to use idk i think they’re cute teehee😅🤭 anyways, sorry for the wait—i hope you all enjoy! readers pronouns are gender neutral💜💜

💜Bo Sinclair

You just finished doing the dishes, when you heard a knock at the door. Unsure it was one of the boys, you scooted from your comfy couch spot and opened the door.

To your surprise, it was not one of the boys—and much to the unexpected visitor's surprise, someone opened the damned door.

“Please, you have to help me.” The man begged in front of you, big sloppy tears pouring from his eyes.

You paused and looked at the male in front of you before raising a brow. You knew what was up, but you never had to deal with the victims before, especially now that you’re over a month pregnant—Bo really doesn’t want you talking or handling them.

“They’re going to get me,” He choke and sobbed, “I need your help.”

Unsure of what to do, you stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking of what the safest option was, but also one that wouldn’t put the boys in danger.

Over the surprise visitor's shoulder, you could see Bo approaching, and he was just a few buildings away—while staring at Bo, and trying to decide your option, the visitor turned around to catch what you were looking at and met Bo’s now rage-filled demeanor.

Quickly, he shoved you to the floor, hopping over you; only stepping on your arm. The minute Bo reached you, he gently helped you up and cupped your cheek. He then pressed a small kiss to your nose and asked you to go to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You could hear each sloshing stabbing sound and the man’s blood-curdling screams almost all night before Bo accompanied you in bed.

🩷Vincent Sinclair

You happily made your way towards the Wax Museum, a plate of food in your hand for your beloved since you know Vincent most likely hasn’t eaten yet.

Once you got to the entrance of the museum, much to your startle, the door was already open. And to make matters worse, you hear two voices giggling.

You stood still beside the entrance, your free hand holding where your womb is, pausing to think of your best option for safety for you and the growing baby. Vincent must've known of their presence, so it's only a matter of time now. Once their whispering died down, you snuck inside the building, peeking around each corner and listening to make sure nobody could see or hear you. You turned a corner too quick in your need to get to Vincent, that you bumped your hip on a nearby table, almost causing you to drop your plate. "Shit," You silently muttered, panicking slightly from your slight bump. "What was that?" A man asked just faint enough for you to hear, causing your panic to rise more. "Maybe it's the dog from earlier?" A woman responded questioningly. As if on cue, Vincent sneaks around the corner and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, while also signaling you to shush before pointing in the direction of where the intruders. He quickly puts his hand over his mask's mouth, then presses it softly to where your baby bump's growing like a little kiss. And from there, he went to take care of the two.

💜Lester Sinclair

You were riding in the truck with Lester, as he went to run errands when a stranger waved you guys down alongside the road.

“Hey! Hi—sorry to bother you guys,” The stranger stumbled nervously, “Something happened and we really need to get to our friends, would one of us be able to catch a ride to the nearest town?”

You and Lester exchanged unsure glances, but Lester agreed nonetheless. You scooted to the middle seat closer Lester, giving him one last worried glance before patting the seat for the stranger.

The three of you rode in an uncomfortable silence, occasionally making some small talk about the small town of Ambrose, and how the two of you like it.

“Ain’t too bad,” Lester spoke up, “Pretty quiet. Everyone minds their own business for the most part.”

The strangers phone started to ring, and they quickly apologized and answered, stiffening in statue after what seemed 10 seconds. They nervously side eyed Lester and you a few times, while giving verbal acknowledgments over the phone.

“Excuse me—can you stop the car?” They asked, feigning a polite exterior, their jaw quivering and the right hand upon the door handle shook nervously.

“Mhm,” Lester slowed to a stop, but before the old beat up truck could even get to a halt, the stranger opened the door, and grabbed you, pulling the both of you out of the car, leaving only Lester in the drivers seat.

“Stay back, freak! Or—or else!” The stranger shoved you to the ground, then pointing a finger to Lester, to prove a point to him that they’re not above violence.

You tried to crawl away, but the stranger had other plans.

“Get back here, bitch,” The strangers focus was too engrossed into you, they didn’t notice Lester hop out of the truck, “I heard what you did to my friends!”

The stranger went to reach for you, but was stopped by Lester pulling them back and punching perpetrator in the throat.

“Hell is wrong with you hitting a pregnant person,” Lester’s punches did not ease up until the strangers face looked like a bloody pulp.

Once he finished, he walked over to where you stood yourself up, and pulled you in for a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead and knelt down to press a kiss to your tummy.

“Y’okay, sugar?” He grasped your hand, and walked you to the truck and helped you sit down comfortably.

🩷Thomas Hewitt

You and Luda sat in the kitchen knitting things for the baby that’s on the way.

“Y/N, would you be a dear and check on the pie?” Luda politely inquired.

“Of course!” You opened the oven to check, but the pie wasn’t fully done, so you reset the timer for about 5 minutes.

You took your seat back, and continued knitting your baby blanket. Luda stood up, and started cleaning the counters and washing the dishes used to make the cherry pie.

Faint scrambling and screaming could be heard coming from the basement, but you just turned on the small radio and continuing knitting zigzags into the blankets design.

Until someone managed to scramble their way to the first floor, scrambling through the living room, and then the kitchen.

“You two! Hey! You have to help me!” The man pleaded, “He’s trying to kill me down there!”

The man pointed down in the basement, and Luda looked at him unimpressed. She was sneaking her way to find something to hit the person with without being detected, but the man grabbed onto your hand and tried pulling you with him.

“Please! You have to listen to me; he’s going to kill me—then he’s going to kill you too!” He sobbed, ripping you from your chair at the small table.

“I—” You didn’t get a chance to respond or call for help before the man pulled you outside and down the wooden steps.

“Tommy!” You hear Luda Mae call out, “They’re trying to take Y/N!”

About two minutes later, Thomas ran through the door, his chainsaw rumbling with a seething rage. Within a minute, your captor was mowed down by Thomas, who then dropped the (now off) chainsaw, and spun you in the air with his embrace, pressing his forehead to yours.

That night, Thomas made you a warm bath and you enjoyed a cool cup of sweet tea while you got to munch on the pie you and Luda made from earlier.

💜Brahms Heelshire

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, and you were waiting for Malcolm to bring groceries to the house for you and Brahms—who was hiding upstairs, waiting for your okay to come out.

You sat in the living room, sipping on your favorite hot beverage while rereading a book you started, but haven’t finished.

Faint knocking could be heard from the front door, so you placed your book and drink down, and peeled through the door.

Malcom finally arrived; which means Brahms can come out soon!

“Afternoon, Malcolm!” You gave a small smile with your greeting, which dropped when you saw the man who delivers Brahms and your groceries arrived empty handed.

“Malcolm wh—” You were cut off by his quick ramblings.

“Y/N, you have to get out of here,” He quickly blurted out, “Brahms is alive; he-he’s been living in the walls!”

Mentally, you rolled your eyes. You knew this, obviously—he is your partner after all.

“What do you mean?” You faked concern, even though you had a feeling you knew how this would end.

The grocery boy would enter, prohibited to leave; his fate sealed past the front door.

“Brahms—I SAW him, Y/N.” He huffed, pacing in a nervous circle.

“I think you’re just seeing things, Malcolm. I live here, don’t you think I’d know if he’s here? Wouldn’t I have seen or heard him?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow, trying your best to gaslight him into leaving you and Brahms alone.

He grasped your hand, “If you refuse to believe it, I have no choice. We’re getting out of here and somewhere safe.”

Little did he know, Brahms was watching the whole interaction. And boy is he pissed.

He snuck out through one of the walls, and approached Malcolm from behind.

“Y/N,” He whined, walking towards where Malcom had a grip on your wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Get him Brahms!” You cried, ripping your arm away from Malcolm and backing away.

Brahms quickly gripped Malcolm’s neck, squeezing so hard his poor face turned a blueish purple from the lack of oxygen due to Brahms’ rage.

As soon as Malcom’s body felt limp, Brahms ran towards your slightly nervous form, nuzzling his masked face into your neck, whimpering softly while rubbing your belly.

🩷Poly! Ghostface

You laid sprawled out upon the bed that the three of you shared, watching nostalgic horror movies. Your phone wasn’t too far from your reach due to the boys needing a ride later.

As if on cue, said device started ringing with Stu’s ringtone.

“Hey, babe!” You perked up, “You need me to come scoop you guys up?”

“Mhm-ow!” The sound of slapping could be heard on your end, and Stu groaned over the phone.

“Hi cutie,” Billy snatched the phone from Stu, “Seems nobody’s here. Can you come get us now?”

“Absolutely!” You beamed before hanging up, running to your car, and starting it.

Once you got to the location they sent you, you pulled into the driveway, turned your lights off, and parked the car.

With few lights lit in the house, you could only make out one figure running around in the dark rather than two. Nonetheless, you brushed it off due to how dim the house was, and you turned your music back up, rubbing your hand over the slight bump.

The figure snuck out of the house, and knocked on the window of the car.

“Are you their ride, bitch?” She sneered, “I overheard those fuck-faces on the phone talking about a ride.”

You tried to lock the doors, which you left unlocked for the boys, but the assailant was faster to open the door. She tried to rip you out of the car as you covered yourself up for defense, both not realizing the seatbelt was on.

“Billy!” You screamed out, “Stu, help please!”

The stranger retracted their fist to hit you, but was pulled back by Billy’s grip, before he plunged a knife into her. She glared at you as she tried to hit Stu who blocked her path, gladly taking a turn stabbing her in the ribs.

They dropped her, and both huddled around you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheek while their hands hold your baby bump.