#and then this week i gotta go to a bunch of fucking places and then my stupid ass college on Thursday to like talk about second year

[kideternity]

Fuck my stupid baka life real life college responsibilities is making it so I can’t fucking watch Digimon Adventure like I want to

[gibbearish]

(random words bolded for ease of reading)

the best protip i could ever give to fellow adhders (but also applies to everyone) is to always keep an eye out in conversation for people who start to say something then get talked over, and once the current conversation thread ends, swing back around to them and go "what were you about to say?"

benefits:

- that person knows they were heard and feels validated and supported

- the person who interrupted them realizes they did so in a way that doesn't publically call them out, allowing them to process it on their own without shame clogging the pipes

- you yourself are less likely to interrupt others, and the times you do are more likely to be easily forgiven bc the other person knows it wasnt because you thought what you had to say was more important, but just because Mouth Move Faster Than Brain Sometimes

- there's automatically a new topic of conversation waiting in reserve

- professional environments see this as "attention to detail" and "mindfulness" and "teambuilding skills"

- helps combat subconscious bigotries/power dynamics that lead to certain people getting talked over more than others (eg misogyny/racism/homophobia/transphobia/etc)

- ^ again may help you be more mindful of those patterns in yourself and work to unlearn them

- people who like you will want to emulate the behaviors of yours they see as good

- i know people will say "create a positive space around yourself and itll domino effect" all the time and it sounds like wishy washy hippie bullshit but genuinely i cannot emphasize enough that it really does work

- like ive watched it happen in real time, i don't think i have a single friend now that hasn't picked this up from me because They Like When I Do It, It Makes Them Feel Good

- nobody likes being interrupted and everybody gets interrupted All The Goddamn Time. like i need to really drive it home that im not exaggerting when i say you'll be a sorely needed reprieve if you make an effort to do this

- and they really will start doing it in return, likely without you even having to ask if that stresses you out

- it's a small and easy way to make the world a bit kinder for everyone

- godspeed my beloveds~

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny’s Wayne adoption bait. The guy that owns the bodega knows it. Everyone and their mothers knows it. Danny, on the other hand, had no clue. To be fair, he had just crash landed in this dimension a week ago and his back was still sore from the weird design the car had.

(It’s only three weeks of homelessness later does Danny realize that he crash landed on the Batmobile. Whoops. Oh well. He’ll blame it on Clockwork if the vigilante asks after repair costs.)

(Bruce, on the other hand, is scouring the streets for this kid the car cams caught- oddly static filled footage- because his mind jumped to the worst case scenarios: a suicidal meta or a meta being threatened or a meta in a trafficking scheme or even worse all three at once and Bruce just can’t because there is a child in danger, he doesn’t have time to sleep.)

Danny rubbed at his back, eyes going watery at the memory. Sure, his wounds have healed over by now but the- heh- phantom pain is no joke. He shuddered, huddling closer to his threadbare hoodie. His only saving grace from getting jumped while walking the streets of Gotham at night is his invisibility and intangibility. Also, he’s floating, so “walking” doesn’t apply to him.

He’s gotta check on the kid he saved yesterday from a mugging, so Danny hurried along to the depilated apartment complex the kid was squatting in. Turning visible and tangible as he turns the corner, Danny glanced around for Amy.

“Danny!”

“Hey, kiddo. Doing alright?”

“Yeah! Come meet my gang!”

Danny felt his eyebrows rise to form Jazz’s exasperated look. Ouch. Waving the pain of losing Jazz away, Danny smiled at the excited girl.

“A gang? I wasn’t aware I was being brought to your almighty group.”

“Yeah! Uh, you actually helped a bunch of us so…”

Danny thought back to all those times he punted crooks away from robbing kids and shrugged. Yeah, what Amy said was likely.

“Kay, kiddo.”

She scowled, and Danny didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked more like a pout.

“You’re just a teenager.”

“Well, you’re a just a kid.”

Danny cackled as she chased him down the street, trying to kick his shins.

Life is good, even if he’s homeless and hungry.

——

“Jason.”

“Old man.” Jason mocks back, pausing his tasks. He waits as Bruce struggles to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

“There’s… a meta.”

“In Gotham?” Jason tilts back, hands halfway to his guns as a silent offer. Bruce shakes his head.

“A child. In Crime Alley.”

“In my turf?” Jason’s disquieting demeanor quickly swapped to a protective one.

“Trafficking, I think. Male, black hair…”

“Shit. Get Dickwing back here, he’s good with traumatized kids. I’ll go look for him.” Jason’s already moving, mind filtering through the kids he knows might have information to offer.

Bruce nods, shoulders relaxing. Jason smacks down the lump in his throat at the subtle sing of trust. “I’ll get Oracle and Red Robin on it.”

Jason morphs from Jay to Red Hood in one smooth step, helmet firmly placed on his head. He grunts in agreement, slinging his legs over his motorcycle. He roars off, mind half filled with tearing apart whatever traffickers dared to shit near his territory and the other half filled with worry for this possible kid.

——

Danny, as the Bats become aware of his existence, hands Amy and her kiddie gang a bag of fancy beef jerky.

“Try these with peanut butter, it’s kind of good.”

Amy stares at him, the judgement of an eight year old more piercing than anything he’s ever experienced.

“You’re fucking weird-”

“Language!” He squawks.

“-but sure, whatever you say, boss.”

“Boss?!”

The kids ignores his alarmed face.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

luxury & lingerie. a retail au

“𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.”

ᰔ pairing. retail au - rolex salesman gojo x victoria's secret associate reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo is the rolex watch shop's pretty boy & you're the victoria's secret lingerie store's new hire that works across from him. let's just say he's determined to get inside your pants.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, porn with plot (seriously that's all it is), smut, casual sex, possibly comedic, lots of terrible flirting, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, gojo's got a daddy kink that you really have no interest in entertaining, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, blowjobs, oral sex, praise kink, some degradation, sort of cum play, banter, suguru & choso are in it too (the hot-boy sales trio)

ᰔ word count. 6.5k

a/n. hellooo this started with this concept idea i had of hot retail worker gojo who just wants to flirt with you instead of actually do his job lmfao. this was seriously just a stream of my consciousness. hope you enjoy! and thanks to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this. creds to @quinnyundertow for the sephora lipstick idea.

The sound of Suguru’s voice was the last thing going through Gojo’s mind right now.

“Anyways, I put the car in reverse, she’s on aux. I’m thinking, she’s gotta have good taste, right? She’s the one that suggested the Maneskin concert in the first place. But you know what she starts playing? Country music. Fucking country music. And I’m not necessarily opposed to a good— dude, are you even listening?”

Choso leans over the polished display case of the mens’ latest Rolex models, staring at the two idiots in front of him. “No, he’s not. He’s been ogling the tits on that mannequin over there for the past five minutes.”

Gojo finally blinks out of his trance, irritated. “I’m not staring at the mannequin, I’m staring at—”

You. New hire. Over at the Victoria’s Secret that was across from his turf at the mall. You were standing on your tiptoes on a mini ladder, wobbling a little, reaching up for a mannequin at the display window to switch out the corny yellow sleeping mask on its face for one that was a more sleek, satin blue. 

The fabric of your uniform slid up slightly, skin of your midriff exposed, and he has to suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I called dibs on that a week ago,” Suguru says from where he stood, lazily leaning on the counter.

“No fucking way. I’ve got dibs.”

“Dibs? Really? I work with a bunch of prepubescents,” Choso groans, tipping his head back to stare up at fluorescent mall lighting.

Suguru’s voice sounds like he’s lax at the jaw. “Is anyone gonna tell her that’s the ladder they use to prop the door open, and not the one to flash Satoru’s horny ass while changing out a mannequin?” 

“I’ll be the one to tell her,” Gojo says.

At the display window, you slowly peel the panties off of the mannequin without a thought in the world to use the store’s modesty curtain, and Gojo, Suguru & Choso are all staring. And probably every other man within the store’s radius.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo says, strained.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Suguru marvels.

“She’s clueless,” Choso sighs.

“You can have the mannequin, I get the girl,” Suguru offers, something just to get under Gojo’s skin.

“Shut up. I’m going over there.” He stands up onto his feet from the leather client chair he had been sprawled across up until this point of his shift.

“Can’t wait for you to royally fuck this up,” Choso muses with a smirk, arms crossing at his chest.

Gojo grumbles something under his breath when he hears Suguru’s coo of agreement, and then he’s making his way across to the Victoria’s Secret entrance. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, as if he expects the sight of the skin at his collarbone to have you seduced like a victorian man seeing a lady’s ankle for the first time.

He makes it through the welcoming glass doors that lead into the sultry & dark ambience that you would expect of a lingerie store, and he rounds to the right, stopping a few feet away from you.

You were combing through a rack now, lips pursed in concentration until he clears his throat.

Glancing over, your shoulders tense and you pull your retail headset earpiece down, leaving it hanging by the wire that was clipped to the neckline of your shirt. His eyes flicker to the nametag pinned above the curve of your breast. You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi sir. How can I help you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a customer,” Gojo quickly corrects you, although he liked the sound of sir from your lips, “I work over there.” He points with a jerk of his chin towards the obnoxiously gaudy exterior of the Rolex watch store facing the two of you.

You blink at him. “Ah, I see.”

“You new here?” Gojo asks, taking a step forward and resting his elbow up on the metal bar of the rack just to get more into your space. “Haven’t seen you around.”

The corner of your lip turns up slightly at his words. “Why? Do you keep a roster?”

“I—no, not really,” he responds, already a little speechless, “wait, a roster of what?” He’d say he does if it’s a roster of pretty girls he’s been fantasizing about tit-fucking all day long, with you being at the top—no, the only one—on that list.

You shrug a little. It’s kind of meek and cute. “Of new hires?”

He breathes in deep. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just like to make sure the newbies feel welcome around here. Y’know, taken care of.” 

You smile, turn to face him and relax your posture. “Oh. That’s sweet. Yeah, I feel pretty welcome here, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

“I mean, everyone’s been really nice to me so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and I really like the break room on this floor. The last place I worked at didn’t have a toaster oven.”

“No way.”

“I wish the clock-in machine was easier to use though…”

“For sure.”

You glance at him suspiciously in the middle of your rant. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re real pretty, angel.”

Your brow raises, the keys hooked to the loop of your jeans jingling as you place a curled hand to your hip. “Angel? Really? Cause of— cause of Victoria’s Secret angels?”

Gojo’s stiff, his elbow still resting on the cool metal pole, and he glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. “Uhh…sure? Yes.”

“That’s not very original.”

“Man, you’re really making me work hard for this. Unfortunately, that only makes me want you more.” He leans down closer to you, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round as you narrow your eyes at him.

“This is you working hard for it? You haven’t even told me your name yet, watch boy.”

He sees your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar of the rack, and he tries hard not to picture them wrapped around something else, but to no avail. You jut your hip out to bump him, pushing him out of your way, before you start rolling the rack down the store.

He trails behind you. “My name. It’s Satoru. But to you, I can be dadd-”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him with a scowl, but he was too distracted by the shape of your backside to be reflexive enough to stop himself in time, and he ends up crashing right into you. The momentum has you falling back with a gasp, tripping over the foot of the rack, and his arm flies around your waist to keep you upright, and then pressed up against him too just for good measure.

His face is just inches away from yours. “Shit. Sorry.”

Your arms are squished between his chest and yours, pinky tickling the skin at his collarbone, and the contact has him reeling. “I-It’s fine,” you say, lashes fluttering, “now let go of me, before I file a harassment complaint.”

He instantly retreats, releasing you, watching you stumble a bit before gaining your balance again. “God, no, please,” he sighs, “I really need this job.”

“You don’t act like it,” you mumble. You fix your hair in front of him and tuck the fabric of your shirt that came loose back into your jeans. He doesn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they feel hot, he can tell from the purse of your lips and the way you won’t make eye contact with him. 

The voices of a couple women are heard from down the aisle, as well as the plastic clinking of hangers on racks as they peruse the sheer bralettes dangling in color-coded fashion. Gojo sees you struggling to pull the rack you were working with away to the side to let them through, and he comes up behind you, gripping the metal bar to do it for you. He catches the fragrance of your hair at the crown of your head, and he inhales slowly.

The women walk by, throwing a few curious glances at the two of you, and Gojo doesn’t move from where he’s holding onto the rack and has his arm pressed against yours, his only lifeline to find some reason to touch you right now.

You start pushing the rack forward again, and he continues to follow you, keeping a more respectful following distance this time. He’s distracted by the pair of crotchless panties hung over your shoulder. He picks them up by the string. “Who the fuck actually wears these?” he asks, dangling them in front of his face and turning them around in the air to inspect it.

Your eyes are set forward for your destination. “Middle-aged women that are desperate to seduce their husbands before those men ride the high of buying a $100k watch by fucking a twenty-something-year-old instead.” You snatch the pair from his hand. “I’m rooting for those women. The men at your Rolex store? Not so much.” 

He’s on your heel until you round to a smaller section of the store, wheeling the rack over to a corner near the collection of lace panties sprinkled across cubbies under dim purple lighting. He glances over his shoulder and takes note that this area’s tucked away from the eyesights of the cash registers and storefront. 

He hears you sigh, then say “Why are you following me?”

He meanders closer to you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “Because…y’know, like I said, I wanna make the new hire feel settled in.”

“I literally feel so very unsettled by you right now,” you say to him with a wry expression as you start sorting through lace underwear, referencing some chart in your hand to get it right.

He walks up to you and peers over your shoulder at the illustration, and notices the way you stiffen a bit but also lean back into him. “Huh…so the cheeky panties go in the left top & bottom cubes. And they’re the ones with medium coverage and…” he squints his eyes at the chart, dim lighting doing him no favors, “and they have an alarming fit.”

You scoff through your nose. “It says alluring fit. Can you read?” 

“I— shut up. Yes I can read.”

You twirl around to face him, a hint of an amused smile to your lips. His eyes widen a bit at the sight of it, until he registers it’s a cheeky one, like those panties.

“Watch boy is illiterate. Must be why you still work in retail.”

“Yes, keep being mean to me, new hire. It’s hot,” he groans, hands still in his pockets as he leans towards you. You don’t shy away, just keep on looking up at him in this little corner he has you in, a twinkle in your pupils now that he wasn’t seeing earlier. 

He’s surprised when your finger hooks the fabric in between two of the buttons on his shirt. You play with the material, pinching it, but never tug on it. “What’s a grown ass man like yourself doing still working for commission at a mall?” 

“Okay, ouch, a little too mean,” he backtracks, watching your tongue briefly swipe across your lip, “let’s be a bit nicer.”

Now you’re tugging on the fabric, hooked finger pulling him closer to you until his hands have to fly out of his pockets and his palms press against the wall, caging you into it. “Illiterate and can’t take a dig. Pick a struggle,” you say to him with a sweet look up.

He’s getting the sense that you’re into him too. He grabs hold of your waist, thumbs rubbing your torso over the fabric of your uniform just to get a feel. “Well,” he starts, bringing your hips forward to his, pressing the erection he was building against you, “this illiterate retail worker could fuck you real good if you’d just give him the chance.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Fuck, he wants to kiss you. Wants to be the one biting your lip right now. Your hand grabs his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin left exposed by his rolled up sleeve. “It’s…It’s real well, watch boy. You’d fuck me real well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll fuck you real well,” he tells you, as his head tips towards your cheek, lips brushing against it. It was just a tease, so he pulls away but still looks down at you in closeness. There’s voices around the corner, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’re awfully forward,” you breathe out, and he almost goes insane at the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he can’t help but jerk his hips forward a bit. 

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” he grumbles, pulling the rack across behind him so he’s created a covered haven for the two of you against this wall, and then he kisses you.

There’s a yelp that he muffles from you as his lips move against yours, slow, because you're new to him and he wants to savor it. His hand finds the small of your back, spreads across it, pushing you to arch towards him, and his teeth catch your bottom lip when he feels your breasts press against him. You’re pliant, opening your mouth for him, and he takes up the offer to taste you. Soft & warm pressed up against him, a subtle sweetness on your tongue, and he only pulls away because you squeeze his shoulder hard.

You’re breathing fast, cheeks shy, a little cutely cross-eyed from his proximity when you look up at him. “I-…okay, I’m a little mad that you’re a good kisser.”

He hums, tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly and you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him close. “I’ll kiss you nice in a lot of other places too.”

It doesn’t really take much convincing after that.

“Oh…oh my god—,” you mewl, back against the mirror of one of this fine lingerie establishment’s fitting room stalls, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you raw with the aim to please.

“Shit, knew you’d be tight,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw when you tip your head back in pleasure, throat loose with a moan, “pretty little new hire. Just had to break you in.”

“S-Satoru,” you moan through a breath, the sound of his name on your tongue having his cock twitch inside your walls, mixed with the pain of the grip you had on the hair at the back of his head. 

He has your shirt bunched up along with your bra, tits exposed for him. His head dips to pull a nipple through his teeth as he feeds you with a few slow, deep thrusts, and his eye catches the earpiece of your headset, still clipped to your shirt, bouncing around with every one of his movements inside you. “Really hope that thing’s off,” he mumbles against your skin, “but if it excites you to have it on, I—fuck, I wouldn’t really mind either way.”

Your hand flies to his bicep when he runs his thumb over your clit, legs wrapping around him even tighter. “More. Need more,” you say, head in a haze, and he really could’ve cum inside you right then and there but he holds out to enjoy some more time buried in the warm pleasure of your cunt.

“If you want something from me,” he grunts between thrusts, “you’re gonna have to beg me for it, love.”

“Fuck me harder,” you cry, eyes shut closed, and he almost feels sorry for you.

“That’s a demand,” he informs, pinching the flesh of your ass and enjoying the way you clench around him from the action, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, oh my god, please—,” you start, moving your hips against his now, and he hears the lewd sound of your flesh slapping more fervently against the mirror. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Good girl. Pretty girl,” he praises you, thumb finding your clit again as a reward, “see what you get for being so nice to me now.”

He bucks his hips harder, your arms wrapping around his neck in desperation, chin resting at the top of his head as his lips fall to your neck, and he kisses, nibbles, sucks, anything to get that sweet taste in his mouth while he draws stars over your sensitive bud, eliciting broken whimpers from you over and over again. 

“Gonna let me cum inside?” he asks, feeling his balls jump at just the thought of filling you up, his thighs feeling hot from the anticipation of you giving him the permission. “All that shit talk earlier about me being a dumb mall worker, but you’d still let me finish in you, right?” His hips stutter slightly, vision starting to blur, and he feels your walls flutter tightly too, “cause I bet it turns you on that you’re letting this dumb retail man fuck you senseless in a flimsy little fitting room right now, regardless.”

“Satoru, please,” you’re begging, the crack in your voice hoarse like you’re about to cry from the pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, retreating the thumb that was toying with your clit. He pulls one of your arms from where it was wrapped around his neck to pin your wrist to the mirror. “You want me to cum inside you or not?” 

Your hips press so harshly against his that he hardly has any leeway to thrust anymore, and it makes him hiss in protest, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to let up. “I want—mhh, I want you to cum inside me, please, please,” you plead, desperate, grinding your clit against the skin above his cock, above the place he was buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sweet words processing in his head, and he loses all sense of control, motions eager and desperate, chasing after his high and his thumb is barely considerate enough to chase after yours too as it rubs relentlessly over your puffed up clit. You shiver against him, walls clenching around his cock impossibly tight, legs wrapping around his waist possibly even tighter, and he feels every nerve as you come undone around him. The gripping sensation your orgasm had on him has him faltering with harsh thrusts forward, and he holds your hips flush to his as the first spurt of his cum spills into you, followed by more with repetitive juts of his hips until he’s emptied himself entirely into you, and you’re just pumped full of him.

You swat at his chest, squirming as he leaks the last drop from the tip of his dick, and he can tell you’re overstimulated.

“Sorry,” he says through a short exhale, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and he slowly pulls out of you, cock falling limp over his thigh, and he holds you until you find footing on the ground, albeit a bit wobbly. 

“Oh no,” you mewl, clenching your thighs together when you feel his cum starting to drip out, and he quickly bends down to hook your panties up back into place. You give him a pointed look. 

“What? The easiest clean-up is not letting it out,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him so he gets to feel the plushness of your bare breasts against him and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re real good, new hire. Or whatever the fucking proper way to say it is.”

He can tell you’re rolling your eyes even though your face is buried in his chest.

“You’re a dumbass,” you say, sounding muffled.

—

Gojo spends about 90% of his shifts meandering across the shimmering tile floors of the mall to the Victoria’s Secret, and only spends about 10% of them actually being a watch salesman. His boss was starting to get real fuckin’ fed up with him, threatening to fire him yesterday for the two-hour lunch break he took because he was eating you out in a storage closet, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care. He was an addict, and he needed to get his fix. Not before annoying the shit out of you, though.

“Alright, daddy’s home. Let’s get to it. I’m on my lunch break,” he says, walking right up to you in the middle of your shift while you’re folding slip dresses onto a display table, his hand reaching for your waist but you retreat from him.

“For that, get the fuck away from me.”

He sighs. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day long. Do you purposefully walk your gorgeous self across the front of the store that many times just to tease the hell out of me? I’m suffering.”

“I walk across the storefront because I’m doing my job,” you mumble to him.

“No, I swear, you do it to—”

“Sweets,” one of your coworkers calls out to you from the other end of the store, the one with a pink buzzcut that acts kinda scary. “Is that man bothering you?” she asks through a smack of her gum, “want me to call security?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

After a couple of minutes of vindicating himself to mall security that he is not a threat to public safety, which you watch in amusement with no help at all, he’s shortly back at your side in a different section of the store to annoy you.

“When are you gonna wear one of these for me?” he asks, holding up a pair of jaguar-print panties. 

“Never,” you say to him, scanning the tags on the underwear in a box of new arrivals, “those are ugly.”

“Okay, how about these,” he says, pulling a pair out of the box. “They’re see-through. I like that.”

“No,” you say, snatching it out of his hand.

“Oh c’mon,” he groans, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to check if the coast is clear before taking a step forward, pulling you to him by a finger hooked through the belt hoop of your jeans. “I’ll buy them for you. Ring me up.”

You look up at him, hand placed on his chest but you weren’t pushing him away just yet. “Really? You’re gonna buy me panties from the store I literally work at? At least have the decency to shoplift them for me.”

He has a smile on his face when he leans down closer to you, both hands now playing with the loops of your jeans. “Ohhh you’re into criminals. Will you tackle me to the ground if I do?”

“Yes, to arrest you. Not to fuck you.”

“Why not both?”

“Satoru,” you chastise him when you hear footsteps around the corner, and now you’re pushing him away and clearing your throat before busying yourself with the box again as a few customers walk by. Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, and then his eyes widen a bit when his knuckles hit something.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I got you this.” He pulls out a small, shimmering black tube and holds it out to you with an up facing palm. 

You lean forward to glance at it. “Is that…lipstick?”

“Yeah,” he says, “the lady outside Sephora was giving out samples.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “The lady outside Sephora was giving out free samples of lipstick to you?”

“Can you just take it already? My arm’s starting to hurt.”

You swipe it from him and inspect it. Popping the cap open, you twist the cheap plastic adjuster so that the tip of the wax peaks out. It was a deep shade of red. “Did she try to talk to you?”

“Uhh, yeah. Something about how this new formula is smudge-proof or something. Was hoping we could test that out.”

You roll your eyes. “She probably wanted to test that out. With you.”

“What, are you jealous?” 

“Not really, no,” you say and hand the lipstick back to him. He looks at you puzzled. “Lipstick isn’t really for me, sorry.” 

“I literally saw you wear some the other day. That’s what gave me the idea,” he says, “of turning my dick into the shade of your lipstick.”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss at him, glancing at a coworker who could’ve potentially been in earshot.

He shrugs and pinches the tube of lipstick between two of his fingers, holding it up between the two of you. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

Turns out you were not too opposed to the idea, but he had to earn it by making you cum a couple times in the janitor’s closet at the end of the floor. He likes having to earn the sight of you on your knees, it turned him on way more than he had expected.

“My jaw is so fucking sore,” he complains, opening and closing his mouth a few times to stretch it out, then runs a hand across his jawline. “You were a lot less sensitive today. Took way longer.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are,” you say, pulling the buckle of his belt loose, sitting back down onto your heels to get more comfortable while you undress him.

“Bullshit. Should’ve used that insult maybe the first or second time I gave you head. It’s too late now, after the filthy things you’ve said to me in your desperation to cum.”

He watches you flutter your lashes a few times, fingers stopping their movements, and you shift a little from where you were seated on the ground. You were aroused, but still committed to the attitude. “I don’t have to do this for you, you know.”

He shudders a little. “Wait, you seriously don’t want to? You don’t have to.”

You sigh. “You were supposed to demand me to do it anyways. Would’ve been hot.” You pull his belt loose and your thumb and index finger pinch the button open with ease. “You don’t wanna fuck me, though?”

“Of course I want to fuck you, I will always want to fuck you. But the last time we got rowdy in here, I almost killed you when I knocked the shelf over.” A chill runs down his spine. “Not taking any more chances.”

You giggle a little at the memory while zipping down the front, then your fingers dig into the fabric of both his slacks and his boxers, pulling them down until he’s sprung free, fully thick and hard, courtesy of the cute sounds you were making earlier while his tongue was playing with your clit.

“Are you not gonna put the lipstick on?” he asks.

“No.” You grab a hold of him mid-way, giving an experimental tug, and raise from your seated position onto your knees. 

“But—”

“I told you, lipstick isn’t my style,” you say, eyes flickering up to him when you kiss the tip. He sucks a breath in.

“Damn, okay. I was genuinely curious if it was smudge proof. The lady was really hyping it up,” he says and he sees your shoulders drop.

“Enough of the Sephora lady,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his tip again, but as less of a kiss.

There’s a sulk in your posture from where you look up at him on your knees. His heart does this weird thing where it aches a little, and he wants to get rid of the pout on your face with a few sweet words, but he settles for pushing the tip of his cock past your lips instead. Works all the same in the end. “Good girl,” he groans when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh as you let out a muffled moan.

“Fuck…” He pulls his hips back slightly, allowing you to adjust, but when you swallow and his tip feels the roll of those muscles, he’s pushing into your mouth again. “C-Can you take more?”

You try your best to give him a nod and you bob your head once, tongue swiping over the vein that was throbbing the proof of his need for you right now. 

“I’ll finish fast, baby,” he tells you, voice husky, fingers combing through your hair gently, “just take it how I want it, and I promise I’ll be quick, okay?”

You nod again, thumb rubbing the skin near his groin in reassurance. You squirm a little and press your thighs together when he grips your hair tighter now, encouraging your head to bob up and down on him, and you do as he wants. Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on him, and he swears he’s already close to cumming.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” he grunts under his breath, “good. Just—just like that. You’re so good. Pretty girl,” he juts his hips forward to see if you can take it, and you do, “on her knees for me.”

Your throat vibrates with a moan, and he sees you squirm even more. You take him all the way in, to a place deeper than the back of your throat, so well without a gag but there’s a prickle of tears in your eyes, and he rubs your cheek softly while he feels the sweat collect at his temple. “Oh fuck, I’m— shit, baby. I’m close.”

You drag your lips across his length, retreating with a thorough hollow to your cheeks, and release him with a pop and your tongue stuck out connecting a string of your spit to his tip. Your hand immediately starts to rub him up and down as you look up, and the soft panting leaving your lips and fanning across his cock has him swallowing hard. “S-Sorry, needed a break.”

“That’s okay,” he says, swiping at some of the saliva pooled at the corner of your lip. “Take your time.”

You kiss his tip in acknowledgment, then take him in again, this time both hands working at the base as you bob up and down, more free with your moans and the sensation of them reverberating in the canal of your throat makes him grip your hair with both hands, desperate.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he grunts, head tipping back and hitting the door. “Real close. Your mouth feels so good, you’re driving me insane.”

You suck on him, hard, taking him in to his favorite place that’s at the back of your throat, and when your hand reaches out to play with his balls, paired with the sensation of fast exhales through your nose onto the skin of his groin, his eyes close shut and strained and he’s jerking his hips forward to spill his cum down your throat. “Fuuuuck. Oh my god.” He exhales, watching you swallow over and over again as he pumps into your mouth, then he slowly pulls out when he feels that he’s done.

You sit back down on your heels, hands now neatly folded on your lap, looking up at him and his thumb prods at your bottom lip for you to open your mouth. You do as he wants, tongue hanging out in the process, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees you’ve swallowed it all. “Beautiful, baby. Come here.”

With a hand wrapped around your arm, he gets you up on your feet and kisses you. You hold onto the fabric of his shirt for purchase, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tightening your grip on his shirt, “I liked it. Liked it when you said I was good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “More than good, angel. You’re perfect.”

—

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You look like you could use a break,” Gojo says to you in Victoria’s Secret on a random Saturday morning. He usually always works on Saturday, but he’s never seen you here on a Saturday before. Apparently you were picking up extra shifts since you were going on vacation next week, something about a wedding in Spain. But you’d worked six consecutive shifts in a row, and the exhaustion was starting to show.

“I don’t know…your store scares me,” you respond back to him. You were behind the register, and he was pretending to buy forty-two pairs of panties just to talk to you.

“It’s not scary. I just want to show you around,” he says, standing up straight from where he had been leaning over the counter.

You eventually give in, toying with your name badge as you make your way around the counter to him, eyeing the smile on his face before he leads you through the aisles and eventually across the mall to the Rolex watch store.

It wasn’t horribly busy for a weekend, but there were still a few clients around. Choso was helping out a regular, a man who has bought four $200k watches within the past two months, and Choso’s been biting his nails worried he’s going to have to play witness in a tax evasion court case should that client eventually get caught by the IRS for fraud one of these days.

Suguru comes around the corner the second he sees you walk through the polished glass doors, and Gojo’s already annoyed.

“Hey, it’s the new hire,” he greets you, stretching his hand out and you accept it in a shake. “I’m Suguru.”

“Not really new here anymore,” you say to him after introducing yourself, “been here for a couple months now.”

“Oh really? Time flies. Thanks for all the shows, by the way,” he jerks his head off to the Victoria’s Secret store, “I’ve enjoyed watching the 101 ways you can remove a bra on a mannequin. Might have to incorporate some of them into my personal life.”

Gojo scoffs. “Yeah right, like a woman would let you within a hundred feet of her bra.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow with a sleazy smirk on his face, before leaning closer to you. “Should we prove him wrong about that, darling?”

Gojo hates the way he sees you blink your lashes at him and blush, so he’s grabbing your hand and walking you across the store, away from Suguru. He circles you around to the back near one of the display counters. Ladies’ new Datejust models, pretty classy and feminine. He walks to behind the counter, with you staying on the other side, like you were a genuine sale.

“See anything you like?” he asks, resting his elbow on the glass and peering down through it.

You blink at him. “Uh…of Rolex watches?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm…” you press your index finger to your chin and glance at a few. “I like that one.” You point with that same finger and he follows the line with his eyes.

“Hm,” he says, using his key to unlock the case, then slides the opening to the side to gently pull the watch out. “Oystersteel and yellow gold, 18 karat. Wanna try it on?”

“Sure.”

He releases the safety clasp, pulling apart the band, and slides it through your hand down to your wrist, then fastens the clasp until he hears a click. You immediately raise your wrist up into the air, twisting it to assess, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes.

“How much is it?” you ask.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-what?”

“Thirty-thousand.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god. Get this thing off of me.”

He laughs and his hands find the clasp at your wrist, unfastening it and you’re trembling a bit as you shake it off before he catches it in his palm. “Not my fault you literally chose one of the most expensive watches we have in this section.”

“This is insane. How do people afford any of these?” you ask, feet wandering and now you’re clearly curious as you inspect the cases.

“We have more affordable watches available for lingerie store workers,” he tells you, clicking his tongue to get your attention and you turn around then follow him to the other end of the counter. He points at the glass. “These are all under three-thousand.”

“Oh…” you peer at them with interest, and he watches you. His eyes fall to your wrist.

“Here,” he says, sliding the display case door open, and pulls out another watch, “I think you’d look nice in this.”

He shows it to you for a second before releasing the clasp and holding onto your hand to slide the watch through it. After fastening it, he looks up at your expression, and his heart’s beating a bit faster. You turn your wrist in the air to marvel at the watch, and he thinks your eyes look stunning from the way the shimmer of the watch reflects off of them.

“Wow,” you say.

“I knew you’d look good in anything rose gold,” he says, both elbows on the counter as he watches you, “this one’s only a couple thousand.”

You’re still a little speechless as you look at it, right index finger tracing the dial. He wants to buy it for you. He could, it’s not much of an issue, he’d just have to kiss goodbye to that used gaming PC he’s been eyeing on craigslist for the past couple of months, but something in his gut tells him it’d be worth it. Something in the soft look in your eyes right now tells him it’d be worth it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“That it’s beautiful,” you say to him, swallowing and then extending your wrist out to him. “Sorry, wearing it for too long. Probably lost a few hundred bucks in value just from the two minutes it was on my wrist.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll buy it for you.”

Your mouth gapes. “W-What?”

“I mean—if you actually like it. Then, I don’t mind,” he says, suddenly a bit flustered.

“Satoru. That’s insane. This is a two-thousand dollar watch.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it looks good on you. I can’t shoplift this one for you, though. But I’ll buy it if you actually want it. And if you lie and say you don’t like it, just to be nice, I’ll read right through it. So be honest.”

“I…” you start, “I really can’t accept that.”

His eyes are level with yours, and something about your persistence in your refusal just makes him want to buy it for you even more. But he’s not gonna push it anymore. He’ll just try to work towards a day where you’ll accept it from him. Where it won’t even be a question to want to decorate you in something as pretty as you are.

“Alright. Then give it back, it’s probably only worth a couple hundred now.”

a/n. hope you enjoyed!! this was fun to write. it was supposed to be longer but i cut it short so maybe part two lol?? i also wanna write versions for choso & suguru in this au lol maybe like a multi in one verse kinda thing haha i like the idea of a hot watch salesman trio. thank you for reading 💕

taglist: @ohsehuniiee @lost-resonance @whereflowerswenttodie @horisdope @therealestpussyeater @satorminniett @tobaccosunbxrst @alekssashka7 @ritsatoru @angrychinchillanoises @shleepyking @crimsonmarabou @mxlktae @bloopsstuff @slut-4-gojo @lil-cinn @wateronlyhaha @strawberiicreme @wintertoru @mo0nforme @whispersofbeskar @who-can-touch-my-boob @quinnyundertow @ramluvr @anthastudios @sabokunsmalia @ninjaturtletoes @rylierev @dvarlinggg @heyitsmirae @sleepyyammy @lofasofabread @lolthatsnice @tetsuski @bakuhoethotski @sureconfused

[barzysunflower]

can we get a barzy smut (ur wearing his cowboy hat, doing it on the kitchen counter)

save a horse, ride a cowboy – mb

wc: 1.9k

cw: SMUT (18+)!!!, dirty talk, cowboys 🤠

note: I knoooooow I’m supposed to be working on other things but at least I’m writing again!!! hopefully more coming soon!!! love you guys & thanks for the support 🫶🏼 reblogs & comments appreciated

“Alright, cowboy. I’m ready. Let’s go.” After over an hour of getting ready you finally stepped out of the bathroom ready for your night out. Mat and your friends were going out tonight to a bull riding event that came to New York only once a year. Your recent obsession with cowboys had you giddy for the night all day long. You had broken in your new cowboy boots for weeks specially for tonight. Your boyfriend had the same idea with his cowboy hat. Which looked absolutely sexy on top of his mess of hair. You’d been fantasizing for a while about riding him with his hat on. But that would wait for after the show.

You found Mat sitting on the couch on his phone with his black cowboy hat on his head. “Finally,” he said, putting his phone away, looking up at you. You could see his breath hitch as his eyes dragged over your body, slowly, up and down, then up again to meet your eyes. They narrowed slightly as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth.

You grinned and spun around in a circle, giving him the full view of the outfit. The white oversized linen blouse that was held together in the front by only two strings, with a red lace bra underneath, the tight black miniskirt with an oversized western belt and the star of the show, your cherry red cowboy boots. “Good?”

“Fuck,” was all he muttered, before lifting his hand to rake his hand through his hair, which knocked the cowboy hat of his head he forgot he was wearing. He was frozen in place so you took to few steps it took to get to him, leaning over a little too closely to give a little peak and picked the hat up, setting it on your intentional wavy mess of hair.

“Now I’m ready.” You stroked his cheek and winked at him before walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Mat immediately jumped up and followed you to the kitchen where he came up to you from behind to pull you into his body by your hips. His lips latched onto your neck, pressing soft wet kisses along it while his big hand slipped underneath your open blouse over your stomach keeping you in place against him.

“We gotta go,” you hummed leaning more into his touch. You really did have to go, but the warmth that spread throughout your body was terribly good at letting you forget that fact.

“I don’t care,” Mat mumbled back, still working your neck and jawline while sliding his hands over your body.

“We’re gonna miss the opening show,” you tried again, but there wasn’t much care behind your words either.

“I’d much rather bend you over the counter and fuck you all night long.” A little gasp escaped you at his words. “And you know what they say, you wear the hat you ride the cowboy.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic and let him spin you around and kiss you breathlessly. The hat was knocked of your head when he pressed you into the fridge kissing you so aggressively that you had to grip his own linen blouse you forced him to wear – a black tshirt just wouldn’t do – strong enough you were scared you were going to rip holes into it.

You didn’t kiss for much longer, both of you already worked up enough, before Mat gripped your hips roughly to flip you and bend you over the kitchen island. You landed on your elbows, palms flat on the marble while Mat kicked your legs apart. He groaned slapping your ass that was already peaking out from under your skirt. He shoved the tiny bit of frantic even higher so it bunched around your waist, only to reveal the matching red lace thong. The growl that came out of him could have brought you over the edge alone. Mat’s calloused hands griped your delicate skin then pressed his erection into you.

“This ass drives me crazy, every fucking day.” He slapped your skin again. “And then this skirt, god.”

Your moan was interrupted by a chuckle. “I’m aware. We never make it out the door without you fucking me against the closest surface any time I wear it.”

One of his hands got ahold of your waves and pulled your upper body up to him. With a touch voice he spoke into your ear sending shiver down your spine, “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you on the counter? Making us late yet again? We’re starting to gain a reputation.”

His grip on your hair was rough but the pleasure trumped the pain. “Yes,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Good girl.” And with that she shoved you back down, pressing you flat against the cold counter. He works his pants, freeing his hard cock desperate to slide right into you. And he doesn’t waste any time pushing your pantries to the side, lining up and running the tip over your folds. You both gasp at contact. “This pussy if soaked for me. You like the hat that much, eh?”

You wiggled your ass in response, widening your stance and pushing back into him to urge him on. He slipped himself through your folds again before slamming into you to the hilt. “Oh god,” you moaned, your finger digging into the marble.

Mat gave you a few more seconds to adjust before gripping your hips and thrusting back into you, hard. “So fucking right.” He switched between hard and fast thrusts then slower and more precise ones, grinding into you making sure to hit every angle. His hands were on you. Your back, pushing you down. Your hair, giving him something to hold onto while slamming into you repeatedly.

You were a whimpering moaning mess underneath him. “That what you wanted? To be fucked by a cowboy?” His words were choppy and breathless as he slammed into you then rolled his hips sliding impossibly deeper.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed. That got your ass slapped and your hair pulled hard giving you enough momentum to force yourself up onto your hands. Mat’s lips connected with your shoulder, biting down enough to leave marks before soothing the burn with soft kisses.

“You are delicious,” he murmured and suddenly the moment turned soft. Your arm wrapped around his neck pulling him into you for a kiss. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and you both moaned when Mat started slowing moving his hips again.

But then he separated, only enough to spin you around and lift you up onto the counter, capturing your lips immediately after. You kissed, not caring about smearing your red lipstick. He was addicting and even though you absolutely hated being late to events, for this you’d give up everything. But when your body started to scream for his cock filling you again, you slipped your hand between your bodies wrapping your hand around the root of his hard length that juts out above the waistband of his underwear. Around every hot, hard inch covered in your juices. Your finger glides over the tip, smearing the drops of cum beading there.

Finally, you slid closer to the edge of the counter and Mat filled you easily, breaking the kiss to let his head fall back with a groan. Your legs shook in their place around his waist. You felt every inch, every ridge, every vain as he slowly moved inside of you. The please was building and building, turning your brain into mush losing control over your body. But Mat got you, pinning you to him, savoring every moan and sigh.

“Maty. Maty.” You buried your face in the crock of his neck and let him work you, pumping into you slow but deep.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered, his lips tracing your damp skin. “So good.”

His jaw flexed as he started to pick up his pace again, both of you already close to finding your release. So you lied back on the counter, let your legs fall open, and started to play with yourself while Mat took you in. That expression of passion and love on his face in full blinding force. But then you bit your lip and pinched your clit as his expression turned downright wicked. He pulled out and then slammed in hard. Again. And again. Steady, even, powerful strokes that shook your entire body.

Mat fucked you senseless on the top of the kitchen counter. The cowboy hat, which had gotten you so worked up all afternoon since he refused to wait until tonight to wear it, scattered on the floor. He looked like some sort of avenging god working you into a frenzy. Flushed cheeks, disheveled hair flopped over his forehead, veins bulging on his forearms while his abs flexed with every thrust. You could come just from savoring the view you got by lying with spread legs beneath his hard, heavy body. His hands held you open wide, and his eyes stay locked on yours.

You finally fell apart underneath his touch. Your body tremored, wave after wave as your orgasm dragged on for an eternity. Mat draped himself on top of you, pressing him lips to yours, swallowing every moan you gave him.

You held him close, hugging him to you even closer. Your shudders subsided and you were finally able to focus on him, noticing his lips switch – a tell he was also close. “Come on, cowboy. Come in me.”

Your voice was hoarse against his ear. You reveled in the fact that he shivered in response before his thrust got more and more sloppy, before he finally erupted. Mat groaned loudly, pushing deeper into you, spilling every drop of him cum inside of you. You felt everything. Every pulse. Every kiss. Every touch. You could even feel his heartbeat on your chest and his harsh breath against your neck.

You spent a couple of minutes catching your breath, stroking his hair, waiting for that orgasm cloud over your brain to pass. When you finally did muster up the courage to look over to the oven clock, you pushed Mat away from you. “Fuck! We’re really gonna be late now.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mat’s hand caught your wrist, spinning you back towards him. “Let’s clean up.”

He grabbed a paper towel, wetting it in the sink, before dropping to his knees. His green eyes were still oozing sex as he slowly wiped his cum from your thigh. “Hurry,” you whined. “I wanna see the cowboys.”

He smirked before reaching back to grab his hat off the floor flopping it on his head. “You’ve got a perfectly good cowboy sitting right here. On his knees ready to worship you, might I add.”

As much as you loved the feel of your pussy clenching at the thought, you had plenty of time to do that later. Mat worshipping you could wait. The cowboys couldn’t. And that’s what you told him, before pulling him off the floor, doing the cleaning up yourself to actually get the job done. After a quick trip to the bathroom for some perfume renewal, you finally dragged your cowboy out the door.

[princessbrunette]

introducing… lord rafe! 🎀

comes with his very own gun and cocaine! pretty girls sold separately . ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

things were different since rafe took the reigns to tannyhill. you hadn’t seen anything like it in real life, only in tv shows and movies. the party house of kildare. a house where rafe was a god and everyone else bowed down. you were the fresh meat, just a girl who got swept up in it all when things began. the older more experienced kook girls had befriended you with a perverted and deranged look in their eye, promising you elite access to tannyhill and rafe’s seemingly endless bank account. you had nowhere else to go, you couldn’t say no.

it had all but progressed into near worship over the few weeks you were staying there. it was a blur of parties by night, and days spent in little to no clothes curled up to the eldest cameron’s side in a pile of other women that massaged him and pet you like a baby kitten. you’d smushed your cheek into his side, still drunk as the sun came up on his porch and asked if he was the king of the castle.

“more like lord of the manor type of shit, you know?” he’d smirked, peering down at you with his sunglasses still perched on his nose. it was from that day it began, all the girls — including yourself addressing rafe as the lord.

“yes, lord.” “yes, my lord.” “anything you want, lord cameron.” the other girls would pur — swanning around him like you were his playboy bunnies, but at the end of each day, if you weren’t his arm candy at a party it would be you speared on his cock — surrounded by the other girls. like mentioned, you were fresh meat. the other girls were happy to be accessories, walking around in bikinis to make the house look good but you — you were his star of the show. his favourite.

he lays against the pillows, sighing out shakily as you sink down on him. maybe the slight tremble was from the line of coke he’d done off your tits, maybe he’d just been craving the hot warm clamp of your cunt. a handful of girls — maybe 6 or 7, surround the two of you on the bed, like watching prey get devoured by its predator. moaning though no one touched them, sliding their hands over you and guiding your hips to ride him. the most established of the bunch appears at your ear, staring down at the way your cunt swallows him and whispers to you “thats it. keep pleasing him. you’re so perfect.” you couldn’t tell if they all wanted what you had, they didn’t show it, nor did they act out in jealousy — it was like it had been an elaborate plan to steal you into their clan all along.

people talked, and maybe you’d been a little reckless — rafe often choosing his moments to fuck you with the balcony doors wide open, giving anyone who passes by a direct view into the master bedroom where he takes you apart. you’d become desensitised, no stranger to asking ‘daddy’ to put a baby in you as other girls wandered in and out the room, sometimes staying to watch the show. it wasn’t often people dared to make commentary on the things they’d heard about the goings-on at tannyhill however — not wanting to lose access to the best parties on the island.

you still remember the way that drunk guy approached you all on the porch towards the end of the night at a party, interrupting rafe in the middle of his elaborate stories with you tucked up to his side, surrounded by some friends and the rest of the usual women.

“awesome party rafe. you gotta let me in on your secret.” he stumbles, and rafe’s eyes flutter in irritation at the interruption.

“yeah, no secret man. just a good place with good people.” he drawls, uncharacteristically humble before going on to continue with his story.

“i gotta ask though, is this some fucked up cult? i heard some crazy shit, bro. its a little weird, you know?” he continues on anyway, and you watch rafe stiffen, smiling disappearing into a tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

he pushes up slowly and you slide off his shoulder where you’d been resting, watching the man slowly wander towards the guy as he scratches at his cheek in thought.

you see him untuck something from his waistband as he approaches, and you don’t quite catch what it is — but as rafe looms over the stranger, pressing whatever it is to his lower abdomen and speaking in his ear, you’re guessing from the look on the guys face that it’s a gun.

“get the hell off my property and don’t come around here asking dumb shit again, a’ight?” he drawls out in a fairly quiet tone, but the atmosphere had fallen silent enough to hear a pin drop. the guy scurried away, never to be seen again — rafe saw to that.

you had never felt the urge to challenge rafe cameron, but now you were certain you’d stay submissive to him forever.

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part xii

✧.* triple header, triple podiums, and triple the love.

✧.* quick little filler before it kicks off. Foreshadowing? Maybe. More insight in the y/nlando household? Yes 🥰 getting to know girlie even better? Yes ❤️this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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mclaren

liked by yourmumsuser, maxfewtrell and 253,678 others

mclaren front row locked in once again!

#imolagp

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

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mcpapaya this team!!!! 🧡

johnson87 them sharing the sheets really works out for us fans huh

bott_ass you're so real for this

norry4 that's my team y'all 😭

sharllekler girlie really said I'm in a good mood, let me give my man a tow and then proceeded to take his pole away 😭

norrizz gotta keep him on his toes :')

marcusklein she's gonna make it up to him tonight

lanlan 🕯 lando p1 🕯

maxfewtrell absolutely mental!

teampapaya HAPPY MCLAREN WEEK 🧡🧡

y/nloveee can't wait to see my girl pull a max verstappen and win her 4th wdc halfway the season 🥰

ohnomeshoes no joke, bagging y/n might just be the best thing to happen to lando, man's is killing it on all fields!!

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y/nusername

liked by cecilemoulin, riabish and 672,652 others

y/nusername fam fam ❤️

tagged: landonorris

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hamilt44n once in a while y/n posts one of these fam fam posts and every time there's a new addition 😭

norrizz a new cat, dog and boyfriend 😂

yukisan I wanna live with you guys, pls, I know I'd be spoiled rotten

y/ngirlie bestie you're such a mom

alex_albon you're going to end up with more pets than us..

norry4 lando being accepted as a part of the family, my boy promoted to dad and step dad 🥺

cecilemoulin something tells me lando did not know about the goodest little doggie 😍

y/nusername unplanned parenthood

y/nlandooo girl stop, what's next, a goat? 😂

bobnorriz she already got a goat back at her parents house, two horses and one fucking duck 💀

y/nusername they didn't fit in my place here in Monaco unfortunately :(

bobnorriz girl get a farm 😅

carlandooo wait so you really adopted a cat back in Spain lmao

landonorris I'll find a cow in the living room next week

y/nusername don't give me ideas

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 789,672 others

y/nusername España, un hogar lejos de casa ☀

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell, cecilemoulin

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mrsnorris 'home far away from home' and for what reason? Oh that's right..Carlos..🥴

chilisainz okay bestie, let's put you to bed..okay? You're talking shit again.

norrizz honestly, it's been a while since we last saw you..how have you been my love? Enjoying every single piece of y/nlando content we've had so far? 🥰

yukisan okaaay but that food looks amazing 😭

teamnotrell bunch of cuties enjoying their few days off :)

landonorris can't believe max got a girlfriend

maxfewtrell okay mate..

cecilemoulin I'm getting paid for this

maxfewtrell you're always bullying me and for what?

y/nusername I've got your back babes ❤️

maxfewtrell thank you ❤️

charles16 lando, y/n and Cecile podium this week? 👀

norry4 I love this little group of gremlins <3

landonorris love you muppet ❤️

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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream @dreamsarebig @angelfreckless

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie

[mavrintarou]

[4:44 PM] Suna Rintarou

Quickly whipped this because I'm trying to find an excuse to not go to the gym. Nothing edited. I know all I ever post about is Rin, Rin, Kiyoomi, Shinsuke, and Rin again... he was just too fitting for this. I'm really trying to expand my fantasy to the other characters.

Warning: Angst, asshole Rin, makeup smut contents .

Rintarou let out a frustrated sigh having been blocked once again. That was three times now in a row.

“Shake it off!” he heard his teammate shout.

“Suna!” Turning his head, he can see his coach signaling for him to rotate out, switching with his other teammate.

As soon as he was off the court, his coach jerked his head, indicating for him to take the empty seat beside him. “What’s going on?”

Rintarou inhales sharply, “bad day, I guess?” He knew what was going on, just didn’t want to speak of it.

“Well, turn that bad day into a good day, shake it off, everyone needs you.” His coach pats his shoulder, “do whatever you gotta do.”

EPJ Raijin lost their second set, this third game will determine their win or not.

With a towel over his head, Rin zoned out, tuning out the sound of the crowd and everything else around him. The only thing on his mind was Y/n.

Three weeks ago, they abruptly ended their casual fling.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, it was definitely, his fault.

He is a hypocrite.

He was the one who said just casual sex. No feelings.

But the moment he saw her at a table with another man he did not recognize at one of Matsumoto’s top restaurants, he lost his shit.

How dare she doll up and wear a red dress, the red dress he purchased for her to go on a date with this mother fucker.

He watched as Y/n looked at her phone, the smile on her face immediately disappeared. Rin looked down at his phone, seeing the Read underneath the photo he sent her.

Y/n glanced up, her eyes scanning the room until they met his. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she responded by tilting her head, mirroring his expression perfectly.

Bathroom. Now. He texted.

Rin didn’t need to look back to see Y/n following him shortly as he made his way to the restroom.

He tugged her into the private room, locking the door behind him. “Really?” His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“Really,” Y/n smiled, and she gave him a spin. “Do you not like it?”

Y/n knew how to rile him up, making the green jealous monster within him wake up and flip a table.

Rin stalked towards her, noticing how her smile slowly faded as she stepped back until she hit the counter of the sink. He pressed himself against her, sandwiching her between him and the counter. His fingers trail along her jaw, “does your date know that I purchased this dress and that I’ve fucked you while you were wearing it?”

“Be careful Rintarou,” she only used his full name when she was serious, “jealousy looks good on you but some might believe you’ve developed feelings for me.”

She has become bold, voicing her feelings each day.

Rin was not oblivious. He knows this casual fling between them needs to end. He wasn’t blind to her recent advances.

How her eyes twinkle for him when he comes over.

How she holds him tighter when he’s rocking deeply inside her.

How she whispers his name with love.

How she kisses his palms before a game, giving him luck.

She is expressing her love for him in every possible way except through words. Because the moment she played that card, he would end the game.

“You’re becoming delusional, Y/n.” He gritted, his lips smirking, “I will admit I am jealous, should I show you how jealous I am?”

They glared at one another, Y/n looking deep into his eyes, searching for the man she fell in love with. Deep down, she knew her place. “Do it,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

His eyes darken and she’s flipped around in a blink of an eye. She sees in the mirror as Rin tugs her dress up, bunching it at her hips, his fingers immediately graze over the thin lacy thong, circling her clit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “Hurry, I have my date I need to get back to.”

“As you wish.”

Y/n half gasped and yelped at his hand and slapped her right ass cheek. Her thong is pushed to the side as feels his cock sliding in between her thighs.

“You’re soaked, was it me or him?” He began rocking, thrusting in between her thighs. He pulled her against him, locking an arm around her shoulder. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, “answer me.”

“You.” Y/n whispered, “you made me this wet…” she whimpered when he rolled his hips, his cock grazing against her clit. “Please… Rin…”

His teeth nips her earlobe as he reached in between them and align his cock to her pussy and slipped inside in one swift thrust. He wastes no time pounding into her from behind. Y/n’s hand comes to cover her mouth.

His groans are heavy against her ear and he hated it, hated how she made him feel. His teeth bite down on her skin, biting down hard until he can feel Y/n flitching and tightening around his cock.

Rin pulls away, satisfied by his mark, knowing it would be visible. He pauses his movement for a second, maneuvering her until she is bent forward before him. His grip on her hips tightened as he resumed his thrusts, pounding until the small bathroom echoed only of their skin slapping.

Y/n drops onto her elbow, head falling forward as her moans are muffled by her hands. He was thrusting deep inside her, triggering her orgasm faster than usual. “Ri – Rin…” she whimpered, a hand reaching behind to push against his abdomen. “Too fast…”

He gripped her wrist and thrust faster until the moment he felt her pussy flutter around his cock.

“Ah,” he groaned coming undone, pounding into her slowly yet hard with each ejaculation. His eyes suddenly widened, “fuck.”

He forgot to wear a condom.

He let go of her wrist and immediately withdrew, his cock was coated with their essence. It wasn’t a time for his cock to twitch lively again at the sight of his cum leaking down Y/n’s pussy and down her thighs.

He swore again, half turned on and half pissed off at himself.

He always wore a condom.

“Here,” he slammed a few bills on the counter, “get yourself the pill. Let’s end this.”

Rin groaned, covering his face. He was such a fucken asshole.

He glanced down at his palms, feeling disheartened by his poor performance, and was convinced that it was all because Y/n hadn’t kissed his palms before the game.

His mind flashed back to the very first time she had done it. She had come to his game, and just before it started, she called his name and took hold of his wrists. Rin looked at her confused, but she gently turned his palms upward and pressed her lips to the center of his hand. “Good luck kisses,” she whispered with a smile.

“Hey, look it’s Y/n.”

Rin’s head snapped up, and he swiftly removed the towel from his head. Before him stood Motoya, gazing towards the crowd behind Rin. In response, Rin pivoted his upper body and scanned the bustling crowd. “Where?”

“Right there!” Motoya pointed.

Rin’s gaze tracked his pointed finger until it intersected with the eyes of the pair he longed for so intensely.

As if caught in the act, she hastily concealed her face and attempted to make a swift getaway.

“Y/n!” Rin roared over the loud music and crowd chatter, chasing after her. He hopped over the barriers and ascended the stairs with determination. “Y/n!” he called out once more, steadily closing the gap between them as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, reaching his limit, he lengthened his strides and snagged her wrist, gently drawing her into his embrace. “Stop, please don’t run,” he implored softly. His arms constricted around her, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  

She remained tensed in his embrace and softly uttered, “you’re the one who walked away.”

“I know, I’m a fucken fool. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I left you. Please,” he pulled away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Please come back to me, I am a mess without you. I need you, Y/n. I –” he blinks the tears back, “I’m in love with you, please come back to me, please.”  

Her eyes widen, hearing the words she longed to hear. Tears filled her pretty eyes as she closed them, letting the tears fall down her cheeks before she nodded her head.

Rin sighed in relief and hugged her once more, “thank God. I love you. I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucken much and it took walking away from you to realize I am in love with you all this time.” He leaned back to cup her face, “please, can I kiss you?”

She extended her hand to gently cup his face, drawing him down to meet her lips. Their mouths danced in a graceful, passionate exchange until they parted, both gasping for breath. Their lips inches apart, “I love… I love you too, Rin. I loved you for a long time.”

“I know, I know baby.” He pressed his lips against hers again. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Y/n nodded, “promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back, “Rin don’t you have a – “

“Suna! Where the fuck did you go? The third set is about to start!”

.

Rin’s mouth never once left Y/n as they stumbled into his apartment. He pulled away briefly to tug off his shirt before his mouth resumed hungrily against hers.

In the grueling third set, EPJ Raijin fought valiantly, shedding blood and sweat, and managed to secure a hard-fought victory. Finally, with the fortunate kisses pressed onto his palm by his beloved, Rin executed his spikes flawlessly, scoring nine crucial points that contributed to their triumphant win.

His hands rest on Y/n’s hips, guiding her backward towards the hall of his place and into his bedroom. He is nervous, almost shy at standing half naked before her. “I… I didn’t get to shower after the game – do you want to shower together?”

Her lips curved upward as she grabbed his hand leading him into his bathroom. She quickly stripped her clothes off and turned on the shower, looking over her shoulder, Rin stood there gawking as if he had never seen her naked before. “You coming?”

He quickly pushed down his joggers and boxers, striding into the shower with her. The water cascaded down their bodies as she reached for his body wash to spread it all over his body.

Rin caught her wrist that was lathering his chest with body wash and brought it down to his cock, he closed her hand around it. He hissed feeling his cock harden from her touch. “Y/n,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her hand.

Y/n stepped closer, pressed her lips to his left nipple, sucking it gently and swirling her tongue around the bud. Her hand tightens around his cock as she strokes him faster.

He hissed, reaching with his other hand to find her clit, “missed this.”

“I missed this too,” Y/n squeezed his cock, pressing her thumb against the tip. She was about to drop to her knees when he stopped her.

“I need to be inside you, now.” He lifted her, her legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck. He easily slipped his cock inside her pussy.

For a brief moment, they savored the intimate moment of being united as one again.

Y/n leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. “Ah!” she breaks the kiss, moaning his name. “We – we forgot a condom – again…”

Rin thrust deeper, pressing his lips to her clavicle. “I’m clean, there – there’s been no one but you…”

Y/n’s arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, her lips to his ear, “that’s not what I mean… Rin – we could risk –“

Rin is reminded of the last time he came inside of her. He is selfish but he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her again, over again and again until he knows she is pregnant.

Y/n pregnant with his baby, he loves the thought of that.

He wanted that.

Y/n moaned loudly into his ear, “you like that?” She tightens her pussy around his cock, hearing him groan, slowing his hips. “You want to knock me up, Rin? You want me to have your baby?” He hummed, agreeing. “You want to breed me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. I want to breed you. Cum inside you again. And again.” His nose trailed along her neck until he reached her ear, “I’m not asking Y/n, I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to put a baby – my baby inside you.” He nipped her earlobe, fastening his thrust. He is so closed, all this promise is knocking him over the edge as he is eager to cum inside of her. “You’re mine.”

Y/n tightens her arms and legs around him, chanting, “yes! Want your baby!” Her tummy coils, tightening and her body trembles in release, cumming around his cock.

Rin pressed Y/n against the tile walls, hooking his arms behind her knees and hoisting her weight so he could pound into her pussy with the purpose to breed.

Her overstimulated pussy fluttered around his cock until he painted her womb with his cum.

Walking over to the seat built into his shower, he sits down, keeping Y/n close as she straddles his lap. They catch their breaths, gazing tiredly yet lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Y/n was about to lift herself off of him when he stopped her, “don’t, not yet.”

She relaxed around him, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re serious about baby-making?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It sounded like in the heat of the moment talk but I’m dead serious. Were you not serious?”

Y/n threaded her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. “Aside from you telling me you love me and want to be with me, I want nothing more than to have your baby.” She lifts herself off, letting his flaccid cock fall limp. “But before that, let us focus on just the two of us for now.” She pressed her lips against his, “take me out on a proper date first.”

Rin grins against her lips, “a little out of order but yes, anything you want.”

. . .

E/n: When I'm writing and releasing my dirty imagination, Rin is the only one I can see getting away with this shit. He can talk about breeding any time and I'll be like... "yes daddy." Please don't be like me. Make good choices. Lol. I'm finishing up on Lord Ushijima... I'll share it soon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[sturniololoco]

Could u do a Colby Brock x sturnilio triplets sister? Like shes a part of the triplets channel and goes with them to Collab with Sam and Colby

Are you Scared?

Colby Brock x Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS)

Warnings: Kissing, ghosts, random shit, etc.

Note: Kinda set from the collab but some event r out of order, might do a part two, let me know

SLS's POV

Today was the day I've been looking forward to for months:

My triplet brothers and I are going to film with Sam and Colby!

I've been "stalking" their account since we got the invite, and I must admit, their channel is pretty cool, not to mention Colby, who just so happens to be very good-looking.

I got ready, wearing a pair of black cargo pants with a cropped baby tee for the occasion. I put my hair into an elegant slicked-back bun, making sure everything was perfect.

"Hurry up SLS/N! I gotta pee!" Yelled Chris's sleepy voice from outside of our hotel bathroom.

rolling my eyes, I unlocked the bathroom door and walked out, lightly punching his arm in the process.

"Okay, cutie! I see you!" Nick said as I walked out of the bathroom and sat next to him on the bed as he put his shoes on.

I smiled at him, grabbing my airforces to slide on as we waited for Matt and Chris to get ready.

-

"Alright! Who's ready to get gohstified?"Nick asked once were driving to the haunted hotel.

I laughed at his choice of words while Chris and Matt cheered from the front seat.

Leaning over, I snapped a quick selfie with Nick, mentally reminding myself to post it to my Instagram when the collab was posted.

As we pulled up to the hotel, I could tell that people thought it was haunted. The place just screamed old, scary, and ghost-filled.

I felt nervous butterflies erupt in my stomach as we walked through the threshold of the hotel's front door.

"Hey, guys!" I heard a voice say.

I could tell it was Sam's since we've watched about 30+ hours of their channel in the past week.

We smiled as we walked over to them, my brothers dabbing him up as I gave him a polite side hug. He told us to follow him so we could go find Colby.

But when he said his name, I got butterflies again, but I don't think they were scary ones.

Weird.

-

"What's up, you guys!" Colby said as we met him in the main lobby sitting area.

And I was right, he was very good-looking, even more so in person.

My brothers performed the same actions as they did with Sam, dabbing him up casually, and talking with them about how excited they were.

But I felt my face get hot as I wrapped my arm around Colby's midsection for a side hug. And the height difference was so extreme that he had to lean down to wrap his long, muscular arm around my shoulders.

as I walked back to stand next to Nick, I looked back at him to see him looking at me, with a slight smile on his lips.

My face was officially as red as a tomato.

-

Colby's POV

I knew the triplets had a little sister, but I had no idea that they had a little sister who was hot as fuck and had a great sense of style.

She was so perfect in every way, from her slicked-back hair to the shoelaces on her airforces.

She gave me a side hug in greeting and I had to lean down to wrap my arm around her perfect shoulders.

I was kind of upset as she let go to stand with her brothers, but she looked at me on her way there, her cheeks perfectly pink with a small smile playing on her lips.

She might not of been able to see it from the outside, but on the inside I was smiling like an idiot.

-

We started with a tour from the nice lady who worked at the front desk. She did a very good job interacting with the camera, as well as flirting with Chris.

That left me enough time to stand behind the camera, which just so happened to be where SLS/N was standing.

From "stalking" the triplet's YouTube channel, I could tell she was a little camera shy, hence why she didn't appear in a whole bunch of their videos.

But all the same, she came. She's now walking behind Sam who had the camera on the tour guide and her brothers.

Halfway through, she stopped to look at a painting, letting the others walk a little ahead of her. I stopped too, and decided to take my chances.

"You like this one?" I asked her, hands behind my back while I stood next to her, admiring her as she admired the picture.

She turned her head, looking a little startled as her cheeks started to turn pink.

Fucking adorable.

"oh-I, uh... guess it just caught my eye." She said, adding a cute little giggle to the end of her excuse.

I couldn't help but smile at her, just her presence alone was enough to make my chest flutter.

we began walking side by side as we caught up with the others.

"Are you having fun so far?" I asked her, trying to make the silence less awkward.

"Oh my gosh, yes! when I heard I got so excited!" She said, turning her body slightly to look at me.

I smiled at her again, happy that she was happy to be here.

-

SLS/N's POV

I was honestly so happy that Colby stopped to talk with me. He must have noticed that I shied away from the YouTube videos and came to talk with me.

We caught up with the others as the tour guide left, right beside a picture of a little girl with faded, green skin.

sam explained that we were all going to put candy on the frame as Colby got out a bag of candy from their backpack.

Everyone grabbed one as he held the bag open, then set them on the frame.

I was last, reaching to grab a strawberry-looking candy from the bag As I pulled my hand out, I brushed his, earning another red face from me.

I looked up at him with nervous eyes, but he looked down at me, giving me a smile while whispering,

"You're okay. Go put your candy up there."

I instantly obeyed, following his orders as he put his candy next to mine.

"oh my gosh! This is a great picture for the photo dump SLS/N! Get together with Colby real quick!" Nick said, whipping out his phone.

Colby and I looked at each other stunned for a moment before wrapping our arms around each other in a side hug, leaning into each other to pose for the camera.

I could feel the muscles in his torso and back as we smiled, making my heart flutter and my face turn pink,

again.

-

Colby's POV

I felt bad putting my hand on SLS/N's bare torso for the picture, but her arm around my back caused the baby tee she was wearing to slide up, exposing a little bit of her perfect frame.

Her cheeks turned pink once again as we pulled apart, smiling at each other.

Once we were done, Sam began explaining the elevator game.

-

Once Matt and Sam began their journey up, Nick, Chris, SLS/N, and I were supposed to start our own challenge, but then SLS/N spoke.

"Is there a bathroom in this place?" She said, looking around slightly.

"yea, there's one down the hall, I'll show you if you want," I said, mentally cursing myself, knowing we had a job to do.

She gave me a small smile as she followed me down the hall and back to the main sitting area of the lobby.

"it's right in there, just walk to the right," I said, pointing to the women's side of the bathroom.

"By myself?!" She asked, fiddling with her fingers slightly.

"I laughed under my breath.

"Well, seeing as I'm a guy, I can't really go with you, now can I?" I said to her, feeling the goofy smile spread across my face.

"I uh don't really have to pee anymore actually, you can go through." She said leaning against the wall, trying to look casual.

It didn't work. She looked completely terrified of going into the bathroom alone. She was still picking at her nails and her face had gone bright red.

But now I decided to use this to my advantage.

-

SLS/N's POV

Colby walked over to me and rested his forearm on the wall above my head. I could smell his musky, warm scent as he leaned in closer.

"Are you scared?" He whispered, his hot breath fanning over my face.

A smirk was playing over his perfect lips, knowing exactly what I wanted him to do next.

I nervously shook my head yes at his question, not knowing what else to do as my face burned hotter than the sun.

At this point, he was smiling lustfully at me, only leaning in closer.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." He said in his husky voice, finally leaning in and closing the gaps between our mouths.

The kiss was soft and sweet. Warm and protecting. Our mouths moved in sink with each other and his hands grabbed my sides, no longer hesitant to touch my bear skin.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead on mine. Just as it looked like he was about to say something, he quickly pulled away and sped down the hallway.

I stood there, shocked, but then regained my surroundings and chased after him.

Just as I was about to say something, we rounded the corner to see my brothers, Sam and Matt back from their trip, and the camera pointed at us.

the red light on,

recording.

Lemme know if you want a part two!!!???

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

[suengmi]

✧ cat and mouse ✧ 5.5k, m

fucking prick, you had scoffed, taking a sip of your iced soy latte. it wasn't often you let your anger get to you, but with chan sitting in front of you with your friend, saying something dumb about how you tripped this morning, you were about to crack.

pairing: bangchan x afab!reader (no pronouns mentioned) genre: etl, angst, fluff, humour, smut, non idol!au warnings/other: mentions of drunk sex, alcohol consumption, fingering-r, oral-r, unprotected sex, thicc reader (bc hell yes and you don't gotta be thicc to enjoy this!! i encourage all to read its not overly descriptive), a/n at end

♡please reblog if you liked! it rly helps and i love to hear your feedback♡

everything about him annoyed you, his stupid fake laugh, the way he playfully flirted with you and never meant any of it. you were never close to chan by any means; he was a part of your friend group. you had seen him a bunch of times, nothing too familiar, but every time you did meet, he absolutely ripped into you, like a school boy teasing his crush. how fucking mature. he was like a mosquito, buzzing around you and annoying you with every sound. if you had not restrained yourself you would have slapped him like one too.

the first time you had encountered him drunk was about a week ago.

chan was laughing, his arms flailing around as he made some joke about how he wouldn't date you. this added fuel to the fire, the fact that he thought that dating you would be something funny in the first place, amuse in his tone as he gestured to you. he had joked to your friends about how you'd look when you wake up, all puffy and funny to see. and the way your clumsiness would annoy him and how you'd be too hard to keep up with.

your mind pulsing with ideas on how to really annoy him, to get him back for what he was saying.

then again, you were drunk as well.

fuck it, you had thought as you had pushed him into his room by the end of the night, cornering him in the hallway. you had told him you knew what would really piss him off.

the party he had held ending up with both of your clothes on the ground in a drunken fog, whispers of how much he frustrated you between your lips as he let you take control, loving the way you talked down to him and put him in his place.

that morning you had left, not saying a word, gathering your clothes to escape his room. what you hadn't noticed was the forlorn expression on his face when you didn't look back.

-

why you had agreed to go shopping with changbin and chan around a week later, you have no idea. but, you did want a new necklace, though. the one that chan broke on that night in a rush to take your shirt off, was now sitting on your desk at home, sad and unworn. you hadn't spoken to chan about that night, wanting to forget your druken decision. it wasn't like you didn't want to but, what on earth would you say?

a sour expression painted onto your face as you walked beside changbin, chan on the other side. they were talking about some new game changbin wanted to try. you just followed, sipping the last of your coffee as you listened.

"look, didn't you want a new necklace?" changbin had asked, finger pointing to the alternative jewellery store.

unfortunately, there was nothing you really wanted until one specifically stood out to you. a semi-choker silver necklace, small chains hanging from the sides, and two jagged flame knife like ornaments messily placed between. it was perfect. what wasn't perfect was the price.

"three hundred dollars?! yikes."

"yeah, that is pricey." changbin had said, chan coming to his side.

"it is pretty though." chan chimed in, placing his hand on the glass to get a better look. you watched him as he studied the necklace, his bottom lip between his teeth with thought.

"would look better on me than you." he teased.

you sighed, turning on your heel to leave the store. you weren't in the mood for his antics.

"i think i'm gonna go guys, just don't feel the best."

-

two weeks later, you found yourself back at chan's for one of his parties. nobody knows what you were celebrating, but you were enjoying yourself, at least.

there's just less than twenty people there, some people you didn't know. though chan hadn't been in your friend group for long, he definitely seemed to be making his way around the group with his charm, everyone loving him more and more each day. anytime someone talked to you about him, you'd smile and nod. but once they turned their backs you'd be mocking childishly about how great he was.

chan this chan that bler blah bler shut up.

the longer the night goes on the more you find yourself observing chan. his smile is wide, laughing about something. stupid little prick. like a damn thorn in your side.

changbin hands you a beer from behind as he walks past, distracting you from your petty glare.

"so he broke your necklace? how?" hyunjin asks, lips frowning because he knew how much you loved it. it was your favourite.

"ah, he was just messing around." you say, trying to not remember how it really happened.

any time your mind wanders back to that night. the way his hand slipped around your throat, had your body shivering. how he placed kisses onto your throat, how hungry he was.

huh?

pfft, you say to no one, pissing yourself off with where your mind was going.

oh no, you've summoned him with your thoughts.

"what about me?" chan asks, skipping over to interrupt your conversation.

you stretch your lips into a thin line. "ah it's just-"

"how on earth did you break their necklace?" hyunjin says, gesturing towards you.

chan just stares at you, amuse on his face, like he's going to spill the beans. he waits for your response, brows raised.

"we were just play fighting." you say as you take a swig of your beer.

"play fighting?" hyunjin questions, brows raised.

"yeah, something like that." chan says, small proud expression on his face.

an weird silence sits around you, you're not sure of how to continue.

"i didn't think you were that close." hyunjin laughs, standing from the seat.

chan slides next to you on the couch, replacing hyunjin, swinging one of his legs over to your own. "we got really close-"

crack, your hand slams down on chan's thigh, leaving a bright red mark. "shut up."

-

the sound of up beat low-fi music echoes off your walls as you arrive back home.

earlier, chan had happily accepted the offer in trade for helping you make some furniture. changbin had thrown the idea to chan, saying he was better with putting furniture than himself. he was kind of right, chan was currently hyper focused like you had never seen before. his eyes darting back and fourth from the ikea instructions. it's not like you were bad at it, you just wanted someone to be emotional support while you probably made it wrong. but chan had taken over, saying he'd built it before.

you make your way down the hall but as you turn the corner from your kitchen, a little bit too fast, you're met with the door frame.

"ah fuck!" you exclaim, hastily trying to find a place to put the drinks on.

chan chuckles, not even offering a hand to help. "should look where you're going stupid."

you groan, rubbing the offending spot with your free hand. "you're only here because i offered to buy you bubble tea."

chan cheekily grins, getting to his feet to grab the tea, not to console you.

"now," he starts, eyes wide with sarcasm. "that's a door frame, not a door."

he's basically patronising you at this point.

"shut the fuck up, you're so annoying." you say through your teeth, swatting in his direction, he's too fast, zippy like a mouse.

"i'd be rich if i had a dollar for every time you told me to fuck off or shut up." chan laughs, poking out his tongue.

you roll your eyes, placing your drink down on the ground.

"it's the small nails, right?" you ask as you fumble with some nails, half of the packet falling to the floor before you can even lift them.

"yeah, those." chan chuckles, pointing in your direction. totally ignoring the embarrassing mess you made.

it's odd, you were actually getting along, well, in a kind of cat and mouse way. when you had said you were getting a larger bed he had joked about how you'd break it in. at first you thought it was funny, but then realised what he was actually meaning. your slaps were anything but gentle, chan pleading for you to stop.

the two of you finished building the bed in no time, both laying back onto your new mattress in triumph. laughs dance in the air as you talk about how chan had held two of the smaller planks in the curves of his butt cheeks.

"i remember you showed me the chopsticks, but planks? colour me impressed."

"yeah, i've out done myself." he laughs, rolling to face you. "did you end up getting that new necklace?"

"nah," you sigh facing him. "too expensive. i'll keep looking."

chan says nothing, lips pouting in thought.

-

the next morning, you had awoke to a knock at the door.

"who the fuck comes this early?" you had grumbled to yourself, shuffling your bare feet towards the entrance to open the door. when you looked down, you saw a small package, wrapped kind of badly with a note on it. you bent down to pick it up, knees cracking beneath you. it read -

'nah, would look better on you than me.'

"eh?" you said to no one, unwrapping the present to find with that very necklace you had wanted in that store. your fingers ran across the flames, admiring the beauty before you, price tag still in tact.

you're not sure if this was chan apologising, or just another joke. none the less, even if it was a joke you were still going to wear it. it was perfect, and would match with the many silver piercings on your ears.

a vibration startles you, your phone buzzing in your pocket.

'fuck head' the phone chimed, a picture of chan asleep face first on the couch blinking with the phones light.

you hesitantly agree to the video call, probably not your best angle, you think, as you answer it.

"do you like it?" he asks, his hand placing itself behind his head.

"no." you returned dryly, walking back inside, placing it down on the counter. no, you didn't like it, you loved it. "it's okay."

you clear your throat, kind of annoyed by his call. "why are you calling?"

"no reason." he smiles, leaning back against what seems to be his car seat. "thought you'd like it, dude."

"dude." you mock him, pulling a face at the phone.

he laughs, head dipping for a moment. "cute."

ignoring his charm, you sigh. "chan, what do you want? i wanna go back to bed."

"want me to join?" he questions, one brow raising. you're not sure if this is a joke or not, once again, but you're too tired to care.

"whatever."

you watched him sit forward, placing his phone down for a second, before you hear the rustle of his car keys. "i'll see you soon!"

"what?!"

click, chan had ended the phone call. the little shit was waiting in his car the whole time.

-

so this was where you were at, chan in your bed for some unknown reason. you're not doing anything, just laying in silence, covers up to your chin. it's kinda awkward. you feel sleep tugging at your body already.

"what possessed you to actually come to my house? you know we're not that close." you felt the words of honesty leave your lips.

"i unno."

you tut at him, "yeah we fucked once, but we were drunk. you still annoy the shit out of me."

chan laughs, turning onto his side, absolutely making himself at home. "it was good, though. well, from what i remember."

you scoff, turning to face him. "yeah, it was okay."

the look on his face kind of makes your tummy turn, he looks hurt but he tries to cover it with a laugh. "i can make up for-"

"chan..." you start, hands flinging down onto the bed. "you don't need to joke all the time. it happened, yeah? it is what it is."

"aw c'mon, i can do better." he half sings.

you groan at his antics, sleepiness making you irritated the more he goes on. "you need to stop. you're teasing gets too much sometimes."

"nah you like-"

"this is what i'm talking about. you never take anything seriously. you always make fun of me, and it makes me feel like shit. do you seriously have no indication of how you make me feel?"

chan frowns, looking down to the doona cover. "i just- i don't know."

"what? you what?"

"you're just so easy to tease." he chuckles, his hand grabbing the side of your arm to shake you.

you sit upwards shrugging him off, frustration in your tone as you rub your eyes. "you can leave if you're not gonna take me seriously."

"okay... you're right." he follows, sitting to face you crossing his legs. he fumbles with his hands, "i like you, okay?"

"huh?"

"i like you."

"i don't like you." you return.

"see, this is why i didn't wanna tell you. you're so grumpy at me all the time."

"yeah, i'm grumpy because you make me grumpy. always pulling on my hair, tripping me and making fun of me."

neither of you is sure how to continue, you just want to sleep. why you let him in is still beyond you, fatigue taking over your decisions, something like that.

"look," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "i really like you, but i'm not sure how to be around you. you're kind of cold sometimes, and i dunno how to get past it."

chan's kind of right, you were generally more stand-offish than your other friends, and you were kind of hard to read sometimes. maybe it was just to him. yeah, just him.

"what are you? twelve? so you've been making fun of me for weeks because you... like me?"

"yeeeah."

"you're an idiot."

"sometimes."

"ugh, i'm going to sleep."

you choose to ignore what his saying, but you'd be lying if there wasn't a delight in what you were feeling. it was kind of powerful, knowing you held the next move. you thought about what it would be like to date him, mind reeling with possibilities. and no, the drunk sex wasn't okay, it was mind blowing from what you remember. but then again, it could have just been the alcohol amplifying your experience. then again, maybe he's just joking. just wanted to get into your pants again. either way, you were in charge now.

eventually, sleep tugs at your eyes. you faintly remember feeling his hand slip around your waist as you doze off.

-

when you wake you feel him against you, one of his hands pressed into your chest gripping onto it for dear life, his hips melding into your own. you barely remember falling asleep. was he holding me this whole time?

you turn your body to face him, his hands still around your waist, fingers fitting into the soft rolls on your side. his puffy lips look so inviting, slightly open and moisturised. he's still asleep, little hums in the air as he breathes. you ponder on what he was saying earlier that morning, maybe he wasn't joking, maybe all of this was a façade just because he wasn't sure how to approach your supposed cold demeanour.

one of his eyes opens, squinting from the faint light from the day. he says nothing. you stay like this for a while, just admiring him. his curly hair looks so soft, you want to run your hands through them again. wait what?

you can feel it, the urge to kiss him. the urge to relive that night you had before. you weren't sure if he actually liked you, or that you liked him, or if it was just physical. regardless, you were curious.

your left hand slowly raises itself to wrap itself in his hair, he allows the touch, head leaning into your slow strokes. he hums lowly, voice a little raspy from the sleep. your hand comes back to his cheek, thumb rubbing just underneath his eyes.

whatever possessed you to kiss him you don't know. nonetheless you lean in, your lips lightly sliding against his soft ones. the kiss is gentle, as if chan is hesitant to let himself go. a small moan leaves your lips, your leg raising to rest on his side. he continues the kiss, hands digging into your sides a bit deeper.

abruptly, he stops. before you can even comprehend what's happening,

"i think... you need to think about this." he speaks, breath mixing in with your own.

"no, c'mon." you go to lean in again to taste him, but he pulls back more, frowning and avoiding your eyes.

"are you just doing this because it's convenient? just because you know i like you?"

"i thought you just wanted to fuck?"

his hand slips from your waist as he moves his body from yours, now picking up his phone and keys. "i'm not a toy you can pick up and use as you please. i have feelings."

"you don't seem to care for mine when you fuck me around all the time." you scoff, "it takes two to tango."

"i know i can be a bit much... but i do have them. don't take my confession lightly." he says under his breath. "call me when you make up your mind."

without another word he leaves, not making a single peep as the front door slams behind him.

-

neither of you talk for the next few days. he was right, you decide, fingers dancing along the necklace you had chosen not to wear yet. it's like if you put it on it will mean something, mean that you're giving him the green flag to go. to chase you, to want you with permission.

you think back to the kiss, how he hummed as he moved his lips against your own. it sent jolts down to the pit of your stomach every time it enters your mind, the urge to touch yourself strong.

tiredness is in your eyes, you're so damn tired from work and the thoughts that have been swimming in your mind. should i call him?

sighing, you lean back onto your pillows, taking out your phone to scroll to his name. another long breath leaves you, your heart beginning to race. you're confused.

what the hell is that?

do i want this?

no, absolutely not.

i probably just like the attention...?

your legs flail back and fourth on the bed, much like you're having a little tantrum.

wait... maybe?

he is really cute, seems affectionate.

but he fucking annoys me.

frustrated groans escape your throat, maybe one more leg flail will help you decide.

you could always try, maybe, just to see what it's like. it kind of makes sense when you think about. you slap yourself on the forehead, maybe it'll jolt your brain into making a decision.

"okay okay! i'll do it." you say to one of your plushies, trying to hype yourself in any way.

eventually you suck up the courage to call. when he answers the phone he doesn't say anything, just looks into the camera waiting for you to speak. you sit in silence, kind of just staring at each other.

"yes?" he finally chimes, his tone an indication of slight satisfaction.

you scowl, biting on the sides of your cheeks. "fine."

-

a month had gone by with the slow beginnings of your new relationship. you hadn't labelled anything, deciding to take things slow. it was actually quite fun, much to your surprise. there was always something exciting planned, chan jumping around you like a little kid whenever he won at an arcade game. it was cute. now, everything he usually did to annoy you seemed to become increasingly adorable. whenever he pulled your hair it was for a kiss on the cheek. whenever he laughed it was genuine to what you were saying. he had wriggled his way, just a little bit, into your heart, but not your bed.

it had been a few days since you'd seen him, both of you busy with work and other things. when you lay back on your bed, absolutely tired and fatigued, you hear your phone buzz. you know it's him, your heart thumps. damn heart.

looking down at the screen you see the name 'baby girl'. definitely a step up from fuck head. you answer the call.

"am i still baby girl in your phone?"

"yes." you laugh, turning onto your side.

chan bites his bottom lip, searching your face. "you look beautiful."

"what on earth are you talking about?"

you look at yourself in phone screen, you're definitely not in your best element. the mascara you had applied earlier slightly smudged, hair a little curled from your sweat and one of your eyebrows not properly coloured in. you groan, pushing your face into one of your pillows.

"no, i mean it!" he argues, laughing into the phone.

"whatev-"

"whatever." he mocks you automatically, knowing exactly what you were going to say. some old habits die hard.

the two of you talk about your day, how work was going and what projects he was working on. eventually it ends up in a discussion about the first night you spent together, but not having one like that since.

"yeah, why is that?" you ask, sitting back up in your bed.

"i think... i just want you to be sure."

you hum in thought, "i am sure."

"but this just isn't a hook up. we're dating now? i guess."

"you guess?" you laugh in slight disbelief. "what we been doing for this past month?"

"being cute." he says, eyes rolling comically. "ah, but yeah i guess you're right. if i'm going to be honest i still feel apprehensive."

"you do? why?"

"long story."

you roll to your side, lip pouting at the camera. "i have time, i want to know."

"honesty?"

you smile. "always."

"okay so, i guess it's just... i still don't know if i can believe you like me back. like, hear me out. i know you do, but i'm afraid that you just want the physical because that's how it was before, you know?"

"chan-"

"no i just... i want to trust this. i want to trust you. but something is telling me i shouldn't... maybe that's my anxiety."

a sharp ache, like turning daggers hit the base of your heart, how could he think that? you'd been spending the whole month with him, taking things slow like he wants. yes, you still play fought like little kids. chan annoying you would usually ending up in him in a head lock or a noogy, threats of a bite coming from your mouth.

what he's saying makes sense in the end, he has every reason to feel these worries. it's absolutely valid with how you began things with him.

you sit upright, leaning your chin on your hand. "do you wanna come round and talk about it?"

"yeah." he says letting out a long breath.

-

the only thing that chan had said when he entered your room was how much he missed you, how he was so happy to see you and how beautiful you looked. his lips were all over your face, kissing every bit of skin he could find. you enjoyed this. at first the affection seemed to turn you off, but now you found yourself melting into his touches.

when you eventually settled onto your bed, which still wasn't broken in, he would joke later, you found yourself patting your thighs. he looked slightly hesitant as he leaned forwards.

"you know you can come over whenever, right?" you chuckle, giving him a gentle smile. "we don't have to be so formal-"

almost aggressively, he pushes you onto your back, lifting your bed shirt to bunch at your chest.

"no talk, just tummy." he says face planting into your soft belly, hands finding their way around your waist for grip.

the affection surprised you, but wasn't unwelcome in the slightest. you realise you hadn't been this outwardly intimate before, this vulnerable with each other. it felt weirdly natural, much to your amuse. it wasn't as if you hadn't been physically intimate, always leaving the night with red marks along your neck and blotches on your cheeks. that one night doesn't count you justify to yourself. this was like a reset, a new way to start.

the boy doesn't speak, just breathes against you. your hands end up finding their way to his back, running underneath the cotton to rub soothing circles.

"mmm." he mumbles before pressing a kiss on your belly button.

the way that chan appreciates your body, every curve and slope, makes you feel like you're on cloud nine. he never once questioned it, always enjoying you as a whole.

"didn't you wanna talk?" you say leaning your head to the side.

"no..." he huffs.

though you know you need to talk, there's nothing more precious to you right now than this moment. chan's face lifting to press delicate kisses onto your stomach, slowly making their way to your neck and eventually your cheeks.

"such a love bug." you laugh, allowing him to have his way.

chan leans back, his hands still around you. "you actually love it, don't you?"

damn, you've been cornered. "mmmaybe."

"you totally do, you're a softy!"

"psh, look who's talking."

"oi yeah, at least i admit it."

you roll your eyes, knowing you've absolutely been caught. "okay maybe i am, but we shouldn't get distracted. talk to me."

chan lets out a long breath, his grip on you still strong. there's so much emotion on his face, you're not sure which one he's feeling. it seems he can't form the words, he can't put his finger on what he wants to say. you kind of know what direction this is going, so you decide to take the lead.

"babe," you begin, facing your body to him more. he looks back at you, the right of his lip curled downwards. he almost looks like he's about to cry.

"should i start?"

chan just nods, eyes on you.

"i know we started rocky, and i know why you feel hesitant. i would too. that night when we first... you know. it was more of a... an angry 'fuck you' kind of thing for me. and i never imagined it would actually lead to me liking you. i really thought about it, and how even though we're opposites, it kind of makes sense, doesn't it? cat and mouse? maybe i liked you from the start but didn't know it, probably why i hated you so much, couldn't figure out my damn feelings."

sharply, his head snaps to you, lips turning into a smirk. "sooo, you do like me?"

you scrunch your nose at him and frown. "is that all you got from that?"

"that's all i needed." he says as he pushes you back for more kisses, hands wriggling their way under your shirt.

"chan!" you giggle between his attacks. "we're not done!"

this time it seems right. it seems less rushed at first, more innocent in a way. it's an even playing field, both of you finally admitting how you actually felt and discussing the worries you had. chan had spoken in depth about his trust issues, and how he sometimes thought you were playing with him still. with reassurance, you held his cheeks in your hands telling him this wasn't a joke and that it was real.

your kisses sealed his worries away, with every 'but' or 'why' he murmured against your lips. it's not until you told him to shut up already did he take it seriously, seemingly waiting for your command.

though he was he one physically in control, you were calling the shots, whispering how good he was doing and how it made you wet anytime you had thought about this prior. this was just encouraging him more, you were nothing but a mess beneath him to his touches.

before you knew it, your clothes were somewhere on the floor, his following soon after.

the next few minutes is a haze, you're not entirely sure what happened to get to this point, but just from the shallow strokes of his fingers in your cunt alone, you were sent into spirals. his movements getting deeper and more calculated, enjoying the way you squealed and held onto his arms. he followed your body, assessing what you needed. the more he went on the harder he got, fingers going deeper and hitting that one spot you needed him to.

"please." you whine, feet placing themselves on his shoulders.

a grin paints across his face. it didn't take long for you to get to your peak, not with his tongue gently pressing against your clit, circling just around the edges. your head falls back, a silent scream coming from your throat the closer you get, hips rocking into his fingers and face.

your orgasm tightens across your body, fingers gripping anything they can find. it takes you a while to get back to reality, your body melting into the mattress.

"such a dick." you had breathed shortly after your high, laughing in trance like state. "shit."

he chuckles into your thigh, wiping your juices off of his cheek.

"hmm." he hums sitting upright, one finger still slowly dragging out and back into you. you wince at the over stimulation, legs trying to clamp shut.

looking down you notice his cock against his belly, red and at full attention.

he notices your glare and his hand stops. "ah we don't-"

"chan, if you don't let me fuck you right now, i'm going to scream."

with that, chan happily lets you take control, your hands on his chest as you push him back onto the bed. you can feel him sitting against your core, your wetness soaking onto him. you take in a sharp breath, still slightly over stimulated as you roll your hips.

the way he looks at you feel embarrassing almost, he's beaming at you, his hands gently pushing your hair behind your ear.

"stop." you say shyly, hiding your face in your chest.

"no, i want to see all of you."

the words are so raw and so honest, it's so much different than last time. there's no malice and no rush. no hate or resentment.

it's the way he looks at you. maybe he looked at you like this all along, you were too busy being petty to notice, maybe.

when you look down, you're met with a gentleness, a softness he seemingly reserves only for you. his eyes are filled with warmth, loving every part of you as it is.

you slowly raise the right of your hip, angling him at your entrance. he takes in a sharp breath as you push yourself down, his hands finding their way to the height of your back, pulling you in closer. one of your hands rests on his cheek, your other beside him for balance.

fuck, he feels so good. a slow hot ache pooling in the base of your stomach expands, small jolts of pleasure tingle across your body with every motion. his girth stretching you open feels incredible, and with the way you're lazily moving your hips; it has his breath laboured, faster.

"chan..." you begin, still shy in your actions, slowly angling your hips up to roll against him.

"hm?" he hums through a low grunt.

your movements halt, head dipping to rest on his forehead. you're taking this in, you need to take a moment, feelings overwhelming you.

"how did this even happen?" you breath against him, eyes closing.

chan pulls your face back, hands cradling your cheeks. when open your eyes to look at him, he just shakes his head, as if shushing you and your overwhelming thoughts.

you nod back at him, leaning in to press a slow kiss against his forehead. the smile he gives you says it all, his hands finding their way back to your hips,

the rest of the night is a blur, your hands everywhere, mouths on any piece of skin either of you could find. it's not fast, it's gentle and loving, things you never expected from chan himself. it was beautiful.

-

it's nearly morning, the both of you are a sweaty and complete mess. your make up is completely gone and you're not sure how you even look right now. that doesn't matter, not with chan's head resting on your chest just looking up at you, seemingly treasuring you as if you'd break from a blink.

it's not until chan speaks up, you're reminded why you argued in the first place.

"you look funny when you cum."

"shut up!"

still cat and mouse, always.

-

a/n: thank you for being patient for this! i tried to do slow burn but it's not my strong suit :S hopefully it's ok!!!

[hobies-princealbert]

Im tryna have Fontaine kids...give this man a baby I swea he'll love his kids like m leaning more towards girl dad like I feel it in my nuggets

Toodles~ rey rey 💛

dad! fontaine has been haunting my subconscious for weeks now ｡ﾟ(ﾟ＾Д＾ﾟ)ﾟ｡ and he would be a girl dad

dad! fontaine hcs | (very sfw)

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♡ had no idea how to be a father. he never planned to be one in the first place. he didn't hate kids he was just indifference to most of them, expect junebug. plus he has a fear of fatherhood, since his dad was never in the picture. plus his lifestyle didn't reflect dad of the year. so becoming a father was the last thing on his mind.

♡ but when you sat on his couch that night and bawled your eyes out, after you told him you were pregnant. it was like his whole world stopped for a minute. he was rethinking everything he ever thought about parenthood, and he didn't know how to feel.

"you wanna keep it baby?" he finally broke the silence that surrounded the two of you.

you tried to answer but all that came out were sobs and hiccups. he could tell you hadn't come to terms with it either. so he decided it was just best to comfort you for now, and discuss later.

it's okay. he'll stay no matter what you decided, he's not going anywhere. And he always kept his word, stayed with you through everything.

♡ the day you went into labor, it was like a completely different side of taine came out. he was nervous, his hands were shaking and his eyes reflected how panicked he really was.

♡ he and the doctors went back and forth at times. some threats were thrown, and mama's were brought up. but he knew he had control himself, cause if he was scared, you would be too. "where the fuck is that damn epidural man. she's in fucking pain, get your head out yo ass". (thank god he left his strap at home).

♡ the man was riddening with fear and guilt. he told you how sorry he was that you had to go through this, he hated seeing you in pain.

♡ but once it was over. all those feelings left, and were replaced with happiness (and a little fear). he was happy that you gave him a beautiful baby girl. but dreaded the idea that he would fail as a dad.

♡ but no matter how scared he was, he vowed that no matter what, he would always be there for his girls.

♡ he'll stay up with you every night that the baby cried. whether it was a diaper change or a breast feed, he was up with you. If the baby wanted to be fed, he'll let you lean back on him. sometimes he'll hold her for you and just keep you propped up.

♡ would make sure to tell anyone who wanted to see or touch the baby that, "you ain' touchin' her or her momma with cho' dirty ass hands. an' if you smoking, put tha' shi' out before i do for you". He's a little overprotective ok.

♡ just picture his infamous cadillac driving through the glen blasting baby shark. and he would be bumping his head to it too.

♡ always had the baby near him. either she was cradled in his arms, or his makeshift baby sling. he watched a bunch of tutorials on how to make them. in all honesty, he didn't wanna put her down, he couldn't stand being away from, her for too long.

♡ he read so many parenting book during your pregnancy that he now quotes them daily when you catch him doing some dumb shit your baby.

"taine, why are you staring down my baby like that?"

"that nigga dr. holding say tha' doin' this builds a bond. and that nigga got a phd on this, so it gotta be a lil tru' "

"taine, baby?"

"yea, ma?"

"put my baby down"

♡ chronically attached at this point. and I bet you know what was her first word. if you need anymore hints, it cost you twenty bucks and your dignity.

♡ he cried the day she began walking. cause in his words, "she's practically gonna be in college next year and leaving her daddy for a bum nigga". dramatic much.

♡ is her designated stylist. buys any accessories she wants. simply holds them up, let's her pick and swipes the card. will wear a bow in his hair if she asked him to. the most gangsta baby daddy you've ever seen. "what you never seen a real ass nigga in a pinkie pie pattern bow before. fuckin punk"

♡ is her biggest hype man too. loves to hype both y'all up. tells her she's the prettiest princess with the prettiest mommy in the whole world.

♡ the same way he loves to help you do your hair, he loveeeess doing her hair too. will spend an hour getting the best colour bead pattern that matchs her outfit. spends his time making at home hair masks cause the ones in the store have too much chemicals for his angel. and also makes it his mission to get the perfect swoop angle on her edges. and best believe, they have matching bonnets.

♡ him and that damn baby conspire against you all the time. they will have inside jokes about you. even a secret language built around them practically shit talking you sometimes. After nine damn months, this is how she treats you three years later.

♡ it was hell to convince him to go on a date night or anything that involves leaving your daughter for more than 10 minutes. if you do, he'll make sure to prep everything his little angel could ever need while he's gone. and checks in every five minutes, and a hair strand turns gray everytime the phone rings.

♡ if you just so happen to forget to mention that you called over slick and yo-yo to watch his kid. that man will practically be losing hair follicles the whole night. cause he don't want to have to bust a cap in slick's fake fur salvation army coat.

♡ and if you think that's bad imagine her first day of school. the man spent weeks dreading this reality. almost bursted into tears at the orientation. his heart wrenched when she walked to class by herself, without even giving him a hug. yall were in that parking lot for an hour as you reassured him, she still loves her papa bear. "she still loves him, she's just excited to make new friends. No taine, you can't be her only friend."

♡ what can he say he loves his little girl.

[roosterforme]

Can I Have My Shirt Back? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You didn't usually invite guys home with you after a night out, but this one was always going to be an exception. 

Warnings: Smut 

Length: 1100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

You didn't usually invite guys home with you after a night out, but this one was always going to be an exception.  Rooster. He was wearing his uniform, and the way he filled out those khaki pants was making you feel a little dizzy. You and he had been flirting for weeks at the Hard Deck, always dancing around any sort of physical touch. Until tonight. And a little physical touch had led to a lot more. 

"Let me buy you another drink," he said, letting his fingers stroke along your cheek before sliding down to your collarbone and then to the back of your neck.  "Only if you let me kiss you first," you boldy replied, looking up at his surprised smile.  "Where? Right here at the bar?" he asked, gesturing to Penny who was ten feet away, but he hadn't told you no. In fact he had grabbed your hips and pulled you closer.  "It's as good a place as any," you replied, and to your surprise, Rooster leaned down and placed his lips on yours.  You and he made it back to your place, already half undressed on the car ride there, and now he was taking you on your living room floor. He was fucking you hard with your skirt bunched up to your waist and you hair tangled painfully in his fist.  "I still can't tell if you're a good girl or a bad girl," he grunted next to your ear as he palmed your tits and slammed into you.  You moaned loudly, arching your back off the floor as he started fucking you with longer, needier strokes. "I can tell you're a bad boy."  Bradley huffed out a laugh as he panted. "I tend to be pretty sweet most of the time. But apparently not when I'm fucking you," he confirmed before biting your shoulder and making you cry out as you came. You could feel yourself squeezing his cock, your body trying to milk him as you bucked up against him.   "Fuck," he grunted, pulling out of your pussy before grabbing his dick and cumming on you. "I'm sorry, but I didn't know if you wanted me to... you know." You sat up, still a little stunned from your orgasm and looked at him, holding his dick through the opening of his uniform pants. "I'm on birth control. You can cum inside me next time, if you want to. Or in my mouth," you added, swiping some of his cum off of your thigh and licking it off your finger. "But this is good too." After that he invited himself to sleep over. -------------------------------- "Just one more time, baby," he whispered, coaxing you on top of him, begging you to ride his cock. You and he had been at it most of the night, and you were sore and exhausted. But just in case this was a one off, you wanted your fill of Rooster and his big cock. So you rode him well.  "Baby," he moaned, grabbing your hips and thrusting up into you. "Oh God, look at you." You bounced on him a little faster, and his smile made you smile too. He caressed your breasts while you rolled your hips, and he squeezed your ass when you leaned down to kiss him. "Rooster!" He started thrusting up into you harder, the wet sounds from your pussy seemed to be spurring him on harder.  "I'm cumming inside you this time, baby," he grunted and groaned as he filled you up, and you collapsed on his chest, panting his name.  --------------------------------- A few hours later, as the early morning light filtered into your room, you woke to Rooster placing soft kisses on your neck and chest. His mustache was tickling your skin, drawing out the smile that was on your lips.  "I've gotta get going. Gotta be on base soon," he said in that low raspy voice you already loved so much.  "Okay, I understand," you said, and he kissed your lips before getting up and heading to your bathroom.  You slipped out of bed and went to find something to cover yourself so you could walk him out. You saw his uniform shirt on the floor and bit your lip. When Rooster came out of the bathroom in his pants and boots with his hair looking a bit tidier, he spotted you in the living room, ready to say goodbye to him. He stalked over to you, and the look he was giving you solidified in your mind that he was definitely a bad boy.  "That looks good on you," he whispered, running his hand along the front of his uniform shirt, fingers skimming over his nametag where it rested against your breast. He backed you up until you were pressed against the wall. Then he grabbed your chin and tilted your head back before he kissed you sweetly.  "Rooster," you moaned into his mouth as his other hand snaked underneath the shirt and caressed your skin.  He kissed you hard, still pinning you against the wall with his body. Then he released your lips in favor of teasing your neck with his mouth and his mustache, whispering to you as he went.  "As much as I love the idea of fucking you in my uniform shirt, I need to head out," he murmured. "Can I have my shirt back?" You grinned as he sucked on your neck and tickled your side. "And if I tell you no? Does that mean you'll take me to work with you?" He grunted. "I wish I could, baby. You'd look so cute sitting on my lap all day in my Top Gun class." You giggled as he unbuttoned his shirt and started to slide it down your arms. He teased your skin with his fingers as he went. "What do I get in return for the shirt?" you whispered, daring him to answer you.  "Hmmm," Rooster hummed, sliding the shirt on over his own gorgeous body and buttoning it up. "How about I promise to come back here right after work today? Then you can wear my shirt as much as you want." He pressed your back against the wall again as he stroked your breasts with his calloused fingertips. "Hmmm... will you call me Lieutenant and let me boss you around while I'm wearing it?" you asked, biting your lip as his eyes lit up. Rooster groaned. "That sounds like fun," he whispered, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking before pulling away completely and heading for the door. "See you in a few hours." You had to clench your thighs together as you literally panted while you watched him walk away. 

-------------------------------

Just a buncha smut.

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[pixiemunsons]

hiii what about steve harrington x reader where steve with all of the girls he slept before he can't manage to cum -like he only cums when he's alone and like it feels kinda humiliating to him to cum in front of someone bc he's really noisy and it's reader's first time and she manage to make him cum 👀

stop the world (i wanna get off with you) sh

stevie learns that sometimes, you just gotta let go (3.1k words)

anon i'm so sorry i missed the part where u said first time however it is their first time together. my first steve fic!! also don't usually write dom!reader so v new for me. thank u for requesting<3 this is set sort of between s2 and 3

light sub!steve/dom!reader, caretaking, handjobs, vulnerable/embarrassed steve, mentions of him sleeping w other girls but no jealousy, first orgasm w a partner, p in v sex, gentle sex, lots of sweet talking and reassurance, this is a very sweet little thing w very very little angst. no use of y/n or appearance description. no spoilers

‘sorry, can you say that again?’

steve blushed bright red, running a hand through his messy hair as you stared at him, wide mouthed.

‘baby, please, it’s so humiliating!’ he threw his head back into the pillow, hiding his hot face in his hands, and it took almost all of your strength to gently prise his fingers away from his eyes.

‘no, s’not. just wanna make sure i heard you properly.’

steve sighed deeply, looking at you tentatively.

‘no one else has ever been able to make me cum before, just myself. happy now?’

───

when king steve harrington had first asked you on a date, you thought he was joking. you’d barely ever spoken at school; helped him get through a bio test once when he was in junior year and you were a sophomore taking an advanced class, but outside of that, you’d barely interacted. 

that is, until you had nipped over to jonathan byers’ house to drop him and his mother a tray of mac and cheese and ask how the search for will was going and had found him, nancy and steve beating the shit out of an alien.

it had all sort of snowballed from there, really. nancy and steve started dating again not long after the incident, before she bounced on over to byers, and while you were really happy for your friends, it had been you that was left to pick up the broken pieces of steve harrington’s heart. well, you and the ragtag bunch of thirteen-year-olds that you had sort of acquired over time. you learnt a lot about steve over the months you spent together; he was a serial dater, though they never seemed to go anywhere - despite the girls seemingly chasing him for weeks after he’d turned them down. he loved ice cream and cheesy rom-coms and the songs from west side story. steve harrington liked driving the kids around, even when he denied it, and listening to dustin talk about d&d, and so it turned out, he really, really liked you.

he’d asked you to go on three dates before you started to believe that he really wanted you like that, and even then he’d had to ask twice more before you agreed to go. you had heard he was a bit of a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kinda guy, and the dynamic you’d built up wasn’t something you were willing to ruin for a quick fumble; even if you had heard that said fumbles were nothing short of magnificent. he’d done things properly though; picked you up and opened the car door for you, told your mother he’d have you home on time, taken you to enzo’s, the nicest place in town. he’d made you laugh with his stories all night, ignoring the way other patrons looked at you, and when you reached for the cheque at the end of the night he had brushed you off as if you asking was an insult in and of itself. and then he’d taken you home fifteen minutes before curfew and asked you permission before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, driving away and leaving you leaning breathless against your front door.

being with steve was a lot different to how you expected it might be. it was just like before, really, doing everything together like best friends. but you caught the way he looked at you now, really looked at you like no one else did. saw how he took in every scar, every mark and cherished it, loved it as a part of you. and even though you hadn’t quite said those words yet, hadn’t quite taken it there, you knew it was true for both of you. there were other things about steve that you hadn’t expected, either; how his room was still the blue colour he’d painted it at twelve, how he could cook a really decent spaghetti. and how, five months into your relationship, he’d never taken it further than making out.

you hadn’t intended to get onto the conversation. you were just talking about how tommy and carol were hooking up again even after their latest break up, and steve had said he thought tommy was dating paula morgan from their graduating class, and about how steve’d gone on a date with her once and she’d left a hickey so big he had to tell his folks he got hit with a volleyball in gym. you knew there was a reason paula kept giving you the shit-eye when you went into the grocery store where she worked. 

‘tellin’ you, i got off lucky! danny rogers, you know from the year above me? he told me once that she gave him a handy and twisted it so hard he was bruised for weeks! scared me off of her for life.’

you laughed, half thinking as he spoke. he had hooked up with loads of girls at school, you knew that, but the more you two spoke about your histories the more you were finding out; secret rendezvous' with girls under the bleachers, in the back of his car. he’d even confessed that he let sheila richards give him a blowjob in mr davies’ empty maths classroom. but it’d been months and the most the two of you had done was heavy petting over the clothes and making out before he’d push you gently away to get back to whatever movie you’d rented that weekend, even if you could feel how hard he was under his jeans. you hadn’t really meant to bring it up at that point, but surely it was better to tell him how you were feeling?

so you’d asked what was going on, and he’d stared at you for so long you thought you might burst into flames of embarrassment, desperately worried you’d said the wrong thing, when he came out with a whisper so tiny you almost didn’t hear it.

almost.

───

‘but-but what about all the other girls? you’ve been getting it left right and centre by every girl in your year, and i’ve certainly never heard any of them complaining.’

steve looked at you and drew a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders.

‘no, babe, they’ve been getting it from me. i mean, i’ve had a few… favours, but i’ve just never, like, finished. i find an excuse, like that i can hear someone coming or whatever, and then i go home and… sort myself out.’

‘so, you can come? just not when other people try?’

he nodded his head, seemingly more calm now that it was out there in the open.

‘is it a physical thing, you think? or a mental block?’

steve shrugged his shoulders again.

‘bit of both, maybe? i think part of it is that i’ve never been that bothered about cumming? i know it sounds silly, but i’m not usually in the sex for myself, and when you end up with a reputation like mine, you gotta find a way of keepin’ it up. so i just do what i need’a do to get her there, then deal with myself later.’ he felt silly now that he said it aloud, wringing his fingers in front of him. it had been part of the reason he’d never moved on you; he was too worried you’d think he didn’t find you attractive, didn’t want you, and the thought killed him.

‘you ever fucked someone you really care about, before, stevie? who really cares about you?’

he looked up at the change of tone in your voice, and saw that you were climbing up his body so your faces were level. he was going red again, gulping as you leaned down over him.

’n-no? never.’

you cocked your head to the side, frowning. ‘what about nance?’ steve shook his head solemnly.

‘no, w-we never… what are you doing, babe?’ he asked as you crawled onto his lap, thighs now either side of his hips.

‘stevie, i think the reason you were never bothered is because they weren’t. they just wanted to fuck the king, have a piece of him. but i don’t want the king.’ you laid a soft kiss on his lips, smiling as you pulled away and steve followed you for more. ‘i want steve harrington. and i wanna make him feel good. y’gonna let me do that?’ you were almost purring, playing with the hem of his t-shirt, and steve couldn’t even find the words to express how he felt other than god, baby, yes please.

you started by kissing him real, real slow. moved your lips over his languidly, tongue running gently over the seam of his lips in soft, caressing strokes that had his head spinning and his chin jutting forward for more. his mouth opened, and you slipped yourself in, running your tongue over his own. steve moaned gently into the kiss, grinding his hips up into yours, and you pushed them back down gently.

‘not yet, baby, tryna make this good for you. just calm down, take it slow. we got all the time in the world.’ he hummed against your mouth, settling his hips down while his hands explored your body slowly. you sat with him like this for a little while; one hand playing with his hair whilst the other sat on his stomach, pressing tender smooches to his lips, his nose, his cheeks, ears, forehead, eyes, until eventually you worked a trail of lip gloss down his neck. your teeth came out at the base of his throat, only gently, marking him inconspicuously as yours, and he almost whimpered under you.

it wasn’t often that you took your time with steve. it was hard to show your appreciation for him sexually when he was always resisting, refusing to let you in. so you were definitely having a lot of fun taking your time tonight. you stripped him of his t-shirt, straddling his hips and feeling his hard cock pressed against you through both of your jeans as you leant forward. your lips shifted from his neck to his chest, nipping at his collarbones as you moved down his stomach.

‘stevie, y’ so pretty,’ you whispered from his happy trail, nose nudging at the curls that lay there as he whined under you.

‘you’re so beautiful, babe, so gorgeous.’ his hand dropped from his chest to your face, stroking at your cheek gently with a thumb. you turned to kiss his fingertips gently, and he moaned when you took the very tip of his index finger into your mouth and sucked gently.

‘’m gonna get you all ready for me, stevie, use my hand and get you worked up, then i’m gonna get on top like you like it and make you feel good. no pressure, if y’can’t cum it’s all good, we’ll just try again when you’re ready. i jus’ want you to know you’re safe with me, nothin’ bad’s gonna happen, i’m gonna take good care of you, yeah?’ you were running your fingers over the top of his jeans, dipping into his boxers ever so gently, and he nodded, fingers grabbing for your t-shirt.

‘yeah, but can you take this off, too? please? don’t wanna be the only one sat here naked,’ he half-chuckled, half-moaned when you stripped the garment away, bra following so you were clad in your jeans alone.

‘can you go in the drawer, babe, get the lube please?’ you asked sweetly, and he passed it down with a kiss pressed to the top of your head. you manoeuvred your position so you were sat facing steve, his face level with your boobs as you straddled his thighs, giving you enough room to pull him out of his jeans and boxers. and, wow, was he hard. and big. his red tip was leaking, almost painful looking, and you pumped some of the lube into your right hand before rubbing it together in your palm, warming it up. he let out a hiss when you finally made contact, hips bucking up into your palm. you simply eased him back down again, pressing a kiss to the bicep of his right arm.

‘shh, baby, i said i got you. how do you usually like it?’

steve cocked his head to the side, blushing red. ‘what do you mean?’

‘you said you make yourself cum,’ you grabbed his hand, guiding it on top of yours. ‘so show me how you do that. maybe it’ll help you relax a little.’ he was nervous, you could tell, so you kissed him gently on the mouth, nodding gently to encourage him. slowly, his hand tightened your own around his cock, moving at a much slower pace than you anticipated he’d like. not that you minded; having him show you how intimately, gently, he liked to be touched was getting you wet, and it was taking a lot to keep your mind on the task quite literally at hand.

steve removed his hand once you seemed to be getting the hang of it, letting his head flop back against the pillows behind him.

‘o-oh, baby, just like that,’ he was writhing under you, leg bouncing up between your thighs in a way that made them clench. steve noticed, reaching out to touch you, but you carefully brushed his hand away.

‘not right now, stevie. we’re gonna think about you for now, we can worry about me later, ’s okay,’ you whispered up at him, flicking your thumb over the very head of him and watching as his head dropped back once more, eyes rolling into his head.

‘f-fuck, that’s so… fuck.’ he seemed to be relaxing, finally, letting you make him feel like he deserved for the first time.

‘you’re doin’ so good f’me, babe. such a good boy,’ you hummed, and steve’s fingers were white knuckled and wound into the bedsheets. he moaned, high-pitched and needy, and the sound went right between your legs.

‘’m gonna c-cum, babe, fuck, stop,’ he whimpered, and you cocked an eyebrow.

‘why stop? everything okay?’

‘wanna- fuck, wanna cum in you.’ his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you swallowed the moan making its way to the surface.

‘you sure? you won’t lose it if i stop now?’

steve shook his head vehemently, pushing your hand away from his leaking cock and reaching to undo your jeans, yanking them down to your knees. you leant forward to kiss him, gently pushing his arms back to his sides.

‘there’s no rush, steve, we can take our time. here, keep touching yourself f’me. there you go baby, just like that.’ you stripped yourself slowly, pushing your lace underwear down your hips and kicking them off with your jeans so you were bare in front of him. you’d usually be nervous, first time a boy saw you like that, but steve? he was something different. his hand was pumping up and down his cock just like he’d shown you he liked it, eyelids drooping as he revered your naked form above him.

‘want me on top? or d’you wanna do it?’

steve groaned again. he had no idea how he’d managed to swing you, but right now, he definitely wasn’t complaining. ‘can you do it, babe, please?’

his puppy dog eyes were so disarming, so loving, you couldn’t help but to lean forward and run a thumb over his lips, watching as he ran the very tip of his tongue over the pad of your digit.

‘i just want you to know that there’s no pressure, honey. if it doesn’t happen, we don’t force it, we try until you wanna stop and then we try another time, okay?’ the concern in your eyes had him almost in tears, so he just nodded as you lowered yourself onto him for the first time.

the sting was uncomfortable but not unwelcome, his thick cock stretching you out just enough for it to hurt whilst still feeling good. you moaned together when you finally had him all the way down to his thick base, buried so deep you could feel it everywhere.

‘’m not gonna last long, sweetheart,’ steve grunted, hips meeting yours mid-thrust and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him, not when he was bumping up against a spot that had you seeing stars.

‘stevie, so good, so fuckin’ big and perfect for me,’ you were half-crying on his cock, trying to keep a rhythm going.

‘where d’you - fuck - want it? s’comin’ babe,’ steve was grunting through gritted teeth, and you just had time to cry out ‘stomach, shit’ when he was pulling out, head poking out from his hand as he fisted his cock, warm splashes of cum spurting out to paint your tummy.

‘oh baby, oh my love, fuck, so good!’ steve was almost shouting through his orgasm from under you, and he was the most beautiful person you’d ever met. head thrown back, hair messy, chest red and mouth forming an o as he rode his orgasm out in his hand. you were still hovering above him, up on your knees, when he covered his face with his hands once more.

‘stevie, what’s wrong?’ you asked, worried you’d taken it too far. he peeked out from between his fingers, eyeing you.

‘that was so loud, s'embarrassing,’ he whispered, and you pulled his hands from his face like you had not half an hour earlier.

‘you kidding? that was so hot!’

‘shut up, don’t be a dick.’

‘steve, i’m being serious!’ he peered over at you, intrigued, as you started ranting. ‘fuck, i can’t believe i’m the first person to see you like that! i mean, i’m glad i was, because holy shit, that was a religious fucking experience!’ the look of wonder on your face soon became something a little more teasing. ‘i can’t wait to make you do that again.’

it was your turn to be surprised when steve looped his arms around your thighs, yanking you forward so you were still on your knees, now situated with your pussy directly over his mouth. a smirk spread across steve’s face at the look of wonder on your own.

‘well, not right now, you won’t sweetheart.’

he pressed a trail of kisses down your right inner thigh, short nails scraping at the skin of your ass.

‘you’ve shown me what a good job you can do. now it’s time to show you what i’m famous for, baby.’

[ghouljams]

Crybaby Rating: Mature (for horror not smut) Word Count: 7440 Tags: psychological horror, gaslighting, manipulation, monsters, body horror, gore, murder, blood, OC x OC (Threat x Crybaby), bad end, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything but please heed the tages Summary: A few weeks ago you met someone at a bar and offered them a couch to crash on. You don't know why you did that, but you can't take it back now.

 "Then what did you do?" You ask, hugging a pillow to your chest. You're sitting cross legged on the couch having what your couch surfer has dubbed "slut talk." It's your favorite part of the morning. Somehow despite the late nights your half-invited guest is always awake when you are. You hardly turn the coffee pot off when they wander into the kitchen with messy hair and a yawn.

They hum, "Grabbed a bite and left, same as always." It's a disappointing end to all their stories, you sort of wish there was something exciting to end their nights with. Instead of the usual fuck, eat, leave.

"Do you think people notice when you raid their fridge?" You lean to grab your mug off the coffee table.

"You don't notice when I raid your fridge," they shrug. You roll your eyes.

"Ok, well, you're allowed to raid the fridge, you're sort of living here." You tell them. They shake their head with a smile, lean against the arm of the couch to kick their feet up onto your lap.

"A fact I greatly appreciate and plan on repaying." You nearly choke on your coffee, and wave your hands to dismiss the thought entirely.

"Oh, no, no it's fun having you around. I just wish I had a better bed to offer you."

"I don't mind the couch, but if you wanna cuddle I'm all for it." They wiggle their brows, it's enough to tell you they're only teasing you.

"Funny," you grin, "you're funny." 

You check your phone, and unceremoniously shove their feet off you. You've gotta get going if you want to shower before work. It's fun having a couch surfer living with you, but it's definitely tightening your schedule talking to them so much.

-

You feel eyes on your back as you walk across campus to the metal studio. There’s a new missing poster tacked to the board outside the art building.

-

This is your least favorite part of your art hobby. Gathering material. You usually only do it once or twice a month, and even that feels too often. If your flat had any sort of garden or nearby trees you could manage, but no you wanted to live in the city. Really it wouldn’t be such a bad trip if the forest didn’t whisper to you, didn’t seem to sink deeper and darker when you stared into it.

You crouch at the edge of the forest picking up pine cones and helicopter seeds. You carefully place them in the appropriate bags to keep them separated while you look for the twigs you like. Thin, but not too thin, with good knotting. You hum quietly to yourself, mostly for the noise of it, and pluck a few of the freshly fallen leaves off the ground. Everything is inspected and saved, or discarded, as you move. It’s a good day for the woods.

They’re quiet. The usual woodland critters sing their song, but otherwise? No voices, no shifting shadows, no spooky shit. You can almost ignore the watched feeling, the tug to go deeper into the trees’ embrace. There’s nothing good in the woods. You’ve known that since you were a child. Wandering too far off your path has always made your stomach squirm. 

Which is fine. You’re not adventurous, you have no desire to get lost in the forest. Just like you have no desire to jump out windows or sleep with someone new every night. You wince a little at your own mental tone. You shouldn’t think of your couch surfer like that, they’re perfectly nice and you can’t judge other people’s lifestyles when your own is so sheltered.

You shiver, bunch your shoulders up close to your ears. You can feel eyes on you, but you know better than to look for them. Looking for them just makes the whispers start. 

You finish your collection quickly and start back towards civilization. 

-

"You smell good," their voice is in your ear. You nearly jump out of your chair, you hadn't heard them come in. Maybe you'd been too focused on your work, sueding twigs to wax and vice versa. You push your needlepoint glasses up to look at your guest.

"What?"

"You smell good," they repeat. You learned early on in their stay that your guest is a little off. Not just in their sexual escapades but in every way: the way you never see them eat, the way they never seem to sleep, and especially in how they don't seem to have any shame in their compliments.

"I smell like pine cones, I was out in the woods today." You flip your glasses down and go back to your wax work.

"That makes sense," they pick through the other wax figures you've made, shuffling them to the side as they search. "Where's the deer-fly?"

"What deer-fly?" You ask, because you don't want to admit you might believe in monsters to your not-roommate who --despite all signs against it-- seems pretty together mentally.

"You had a cute little deer with helicopter seed wings, I remember you working on it," they pick through your figures again.

"Oh, uh, I cast it." You lie.

"Oh," that's the other thing about your guest, "Ok," they believe you when you lie.

-

You fidget with your guest’s rings, twisting the gold around their fingers as they lay on their side next to you. You like how intricate they are. You trace your fingers over the thick band around their middle finger. The gnarled gold, like roots, is warm from their skin and dotted with red chip rubies. Their eyes rest on your hands, their cheek resting against their closed fist. You’re not really sure how you both ended up on your bed, but it’s comfortable.

“You sure you don’t wanna come out with me? You’d be good bait.” You snort, and roll your eyes.

“Clubs aren’t really my scene.” You move on to the interlocking rings on their pointer finger. You twist them off and watch the thin bands fall apart. It’s easier to talk when you don’t have to look at people, when you can keep your hands busy. “Besides, I’m horrible bait. People don’t talk to me.”

“I talk to you,” You can hear the smile in their voice. You shrug, twisting one of the bands onto another and pinching it to keep it together as you work on the rest.

“You don’t count.” They hum.

“Yeah, suppose I don’t really.” They take the ring from you as you struggle fitting the pieces together, their long fingers elegantly turning each piece with practiced motions. It’s strange watching them do it one handed, each finger working nimbly in a way you’re not used to, before the ring slides back onto their finger. “Person is a loose word. We’re not looking for people, we’re looking for meat.” They settle their hand back in yours and you tip your head to look at them. They raise their brows.

“Would love it if you could say dick like a normal person,” You tell them. They laugh and tug their hand from your grip to flick your forehead. Something warm pools in you, and you smile. “I really like having you around.”

“I like being around,” Their voice is a little softer, fingers brushing stray hairs from your face. “I should’ve gotten a roommate ages ago,” You sigh looking back at the ceiling. Their fingers stall, just a fraction of a second before they continue their sweep. “I’ve never been good with empty houses. Makes me a little-” You grimace, trying to think of a word other than paranoid, spooked, or crazy. Your crash-roommate pats your cheek and pushes themselves to sit up.

“Well, you got me around now. I’m way worse than any ghost could be.” You grin at your empty ceiling and sit up to watch them shrug their jacket on.

“Because you’re so scary,” You laugh at them.

“You know me,” They flash you a smile with all their teeth, “I always have to be the biggest threat in a room.” It’s a trick of the light that they look sharp for the briefest moment. Your fingers shake, your smile falling a little. They’re gone by the time you can get your nerves under control.

-

You carefully pen your letter, a short single sentence. You only do this when your sort-of-not-really-roommate is gone. They’d make fun of you, they already notice when your statues are missing. You fold the tea dyed paper carefully. The sides in, the bottom two thirds folded up, top folded down to slide the bottom in and close it. You run your fingers over your army of wax and pluck one of the fairies from the middle. 

One for the window, and the rest to cast.

You tug the window open in your craft room and tug your crucible free from its fire safe home.

-

You scrub at your arm with your hand, it feels like you just walked through a spiderweb. You hope not. You always worry that means the spider is on you now, a rather unpleasant thought. The flat  is dark, well, dim. There’s a blue glow from the living room, a gentle static of televised voices, as you make your way from your room to the bathroom. You think it’s maybe three in the morning? You didn’t check.

The TV is still talking when you finish your business, your couch surfer must be home. You’ll get a glass of water from the kitchen and make sure they’re not sleeping with the TV on. You’re less jumpy with someone else living in the house. The shadows don’t scare you the same way, still, there’s a growing sense of unease as you make your way down the dark hall to your living room. You don’t like being awake at this time. Three am is when horror movie bullshit happens. 

You squeeze your hands into fists, feel your nails dig into your palms. It grounds you enough to keep you walking as you actually get into the open living room. It’s empty. On the television an infomercial is walking through all the great deals you could be getting on a 15 piece cookware set. You power through the living room to the kitchen.

Light from the streetlamps slants across your floor from your street facing window. The scattered letters and your half closed laptop on the kitchen table under it, just barely illuminated. It’s enough to keep you from bumping into the chairs. You know your kitchen well enough to navigate it in the dark. You repeat your “I’m not scared, definitely not scared, monsters aren’t real and the dark is safe” mantra as you fish a glass out of the cupboard next to the sink.

The tap squeaks as you twist the cold water on and hold the glass under it. This is totally fine. You’ll turn off the TV after you get your water, and go right back to bed. You’re so proud of yourself for braving the safety of your empty flat. Real powerful stuff.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a full body shiver goes through you. You turn from watching your glass fill up to look towards the living room. Your guest, or something with a similar shape, stands in the shifting technicolor light of your old television. The long night shadows of the room and the moving light make them hard to discern, make you think you can see long jointed limbs protruding from their back. Their hands hang by their sides, fingers long and sharp, dripping with a viscous fluid you think shines red as it falls on your floor. They stand unnaturally still, waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to blink.

You can’t even breathe.

One of the long limbs behind them moves, directs itself towards the ceiling, the rest of them following. Your guest pulls themselves like a spider back towards the shadows as your breath starts again just in time for you to start hyperventilating. You can hear the rapid insectoid clicking over the rush of water from the sink.

Water pours over your hand and your attention is sucked back to your overflowing glass. You swear and turn the tap off quickly, setting your glass in the sink to grab a towel for your hand. The front door of your flat rattles, the lock turning. You can hear your guest humming as they open the door to come in. You turn to look at them quickly. They look the same as always, a little more disheveled than when they left you suppose, but otherwise perfectly normal. You try to calm down your heartbeat as they toe their shoes off. It was just your imagination, your paranoia working overtime at this late hour.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Your guest whispers. You shake your head, swallow and go back to your cup. You pour some of the water off and decide you should start keeping a water bottle in your room. 

“No, uh, just- just had a bad dream, I guess,” You tell them, sticking close to the wall as you make your way out of the kitchen towards your room. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious you’re avoiding something. “Did you turn on the TV before you left?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the noise,” They half follow you, going over to the couch and grabbing the remote, “It didn’t freak you out, did it?”

“Nope,” You lie. 

“Good,” They smile, “Wouldn’t wanna scare ya’.”

-

You chalk up your late night scare to being half asleep and an overactive imagination. Nothing to be worried about. You scroll through your local paranormal site and update them on your recently disappearing statues. You chew your nails as you watch the comments pop up on your post, the message board discussing whether it's human or monstrous intervention. You sigh and close your phone. Maybe your therapist was right and you are giving in to your delusions to an unhealthy degree. It seems crazy to think that some unseen monster is following you just because you're an artist, more so that the little statues you've been leaving out on your windowsill aren't just being taken by some random human.

You haven't been looking over your shoulder as often since they started disappearing but that could very well be a placebo effect. None of the folks in your class have been missing either, a few have even come back. There’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing waiting to eat you alive for… what? The sin of being creative? 

You stare at your bedroom ceiling. You should get some work done today, finish casting some statues. You push yourself up and out of bed, grabbing a sweater and your slippers to get some coffee before you shower. Maybe you should leave the house, it’s been a while since you went anywhere that wasn’t your workshop or class.

The lump on your couch hardly stirs when you wander past, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. You try not to stare, try not to slot your guest into last night’s nightmare. You do a pretty good job. You make yourself busy in the kitchen getting grounds in the coffee maker and rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. 

You can feel dread creeping just at the edges of your mind, stiffening your spine, eating at the end of your sanity. You thought when you finally lost your mind it would be a sudden thing, not this slow descent. You itch at your arm, at the invisible spider thread feeling, and grab a granola bar. 

“You’re so cute in the morning,” Your not-roommate says behind you. You just about jump out of your skin, turning to face them with your heart hammering in your chest. “So jumpy,” They smile over their coffee cup, bounce their shoulders to mimic your fright. 

“You’re up,” Look at you pointing out the obvious, they raise their brows, duh. You don’t know how to explain your unease around them this morning. You can’t reasonably tell them you had a weird semi-lucid nightmare hallucination and now their smile makes you think of their head spinning like the exorcist. 

“Call the media,” They joke, grabbing your mug and holding it out to you. You force yourself forward through the anxiety to take your coffee. It’s easy. Their hands are both occupied, and there’s no reason to think they’d hurt you. Still, you approach the gesture with the tremor of a bomb defusal technician rapidly running out of fingers. 

They transfer the mug to your hands without a second thought, dropping their hand to their side as soon as it’s done supporting the coffee’s weight. You feel the tightness in your chest unspool, your shoulders drop, the tension leaves you like it was never there in the first place. “Seriously what’s with you this morning, look like you saw a ghost.” Their voice is almost concerned. Not quite, it’s a play at concern, a child acting out what they think it should sound like. It twists your stomach into knots.

“Guess I’m still thinking about that dream,” You breathe.

“Nightmares are a bitch, huh.” Their concern drips with amusement. You knew it would be silly to bring up. They’re never concerned by the things that scare you. You don’t think your guest is scared of anything, least of all bad dreams. You brush past them to go sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest as you click the TV on. 

“-recent string of deaths has been linked to a potential black market organ ring-” the television buzzes in the background, your guest falls hard on the couch next to you.

“You wanna do slut talk, or…?” You shake your head, they shrug. “Whatever, mind if we watch something else?” You offer them the remote silently, you don’t like watching the news anyway. Too much bad is happening in the world, you don’t need the added anxiety.

“-say citizens should be on the lookout for-” Your guest punches in a new channel number and the anchors are replaced by a pair of far too large men discussing statistics of some sort. The camera cuts to a caged octagon. Oh, fighting. You tune it out and try to start hyping yourself up to leave the house.

-

“Have you been taking your medication?” Your therapist asks. You pick at her couch, fingernails scratching at the felt balls that pop up on well worn knits. You don’t like that way she says it, like you’re crazy for bringing up an issue she asked about. Then again anyone would think you were crazy talking about the- the thing you saw in your house. Or didn’t see. Thought you saw.

“Every day,” You assure her, “it doesn’t feel like they’re helping anymore.”

Your therapist thinks for a minute. You like her, she’s kind, and most days helpful. She lets you talk without making you feel like you’re losing your mind, at least.

“Your sculptures, are they still disappearing?” She starts, and you desperately want to know where she’s going with it. You nod, and she nods as well. “How’s the ventilation in your craft room?”

You wince. “Not great, but I open the windows when I’m die casting.” She nods again, slower, heavier.

“Do you think you might be exposed to any toxic fumes that could be interfering with your meds? Hallucinations, memory gaps, lost items, it could be caused by that.” You hate to think she’s right, but the alternative is you being right. You suppose a carbon monoxide or noxious fume issue is more plausible than monsters being real(and out to get you). Your therapist takes your silence as agreement and pushes on. “Maybe you should try a less… fume-y hobby for a while, see if that clears up any of the symptoms.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You ask.

She sighs, leans back in her chair, “Then we might need to start entertaining the possibility that this isn’t just anxiety.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Whatever tests she’s thinking of, you’d like to avoid for the moment. It’s probably the fumes. It has to be the fumes. 

“Find a stopping point for your sculptures, and let me know next week what you want to try.” Your therapist scribbles something on their notepad. You suppose it’s good they know you well enough to know you won’t quit your art just for your health.

You’ll use up the rest of your supplies and find something easy to do.

-

You’re almost completely over the nightmare incident by the end of the week. Your guest is as friendly as ever, unbothered by any of the anxieties that plague you. You leave your offering for whatever is taking your sculptures, ask it to stay out of your house while it’s kept away. You figure that must be what it was. If it was anything at all.

You shove laundry into your washer, dropping in clothes from your hamper as you scroll on your phone. You should grab some of your guest’s washing too, that’s the nice thing to do, and they’ve been staying with you long enough. You grab your empty hamper to go snag their pile from the living room.

Come to think of it, how long have they been staying with you? You feel like it’s been a while now. You can’t really put your finger on when you offered them your couch. You think a month? Maybe? But, that doesn’t feel right. The thought rubs against your brain the wrong way. You shove their spare shirts into your basket. You’re not great with dates but you know you’re better than this. Forgetful but not enough to forget when you opened your home to a stranger. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why does it feel like they’ve moved in?

You wince, feeling the sharp stab of a stress headache forming. You try to keep your focus on the clothes you feed to the washer, stopping to check the tag on one of their flannels. You check the little symbols against your cheat sheet on the wall and stop. 

You rub your finger over the hard crust on the collar of their shirt. It makes your lip curl in disgust, it doesn’t feel like dirt. You glance down to see if you need to pre-treat the stain, scratch at one of the brown droplets. It looks like a nasty stain, already soaked into the fibers of the shirt. You frown, it looks like blood. But on their collar like this you would’ve seen a cut on their face by now. Besides this was at the bottom of their pile, and you haven’t seen them wear it in a few days. Plenty of time to notice a new bandage or scar. Which makes you think it isn’t their blood.

You dig your nail into the stain, feel it crush under your finger. There isn’t any reason to think it’s blood. No reason to think it isn’t your friend’s blood. Really this whole blood stain business is a bad faith line of thinking. Except you know blood when you see it.

With shaking hands you set the flannel on the table and go to grab the lemon juice. At least you can clean it up. You can get the blood out of your house and then it won’t be blood anymore. No more blood in your house. You swallow your fear, set the lemon juice next to the shirt. You think of the red that had dripped off your nightmare’s hands as they stood in your living room.

You leave the laundry and go to the living room. You’re going to convince yourself that this is silly. You’re being ridiculous. You settle on your knees in front of the TV, and inspect the floor. Your flat isn’t exactly the most up to date, your wood floors have seen better days. If there was blood -there wasn’t- then there should still be some between the floorboards. You run your fingers over the dips between the wood, looking for any disturbance in the lacquer. 

There’s nothing, not even a speck of dirt.

You exhale, shaky, and stand again. Good. Good, you knew there wouldn’t be anything. You clean up well. 

You go back to the kitchen to finish getting your friend’s mystery stain out of their shirt. 

-

You drum your fingers against your work table, staring down your army of silver statues. Their delicately sculpted features don’t help you make up your mind. In fact they almost coax you away from your prescribed course of action. You’re good at this. You don’t want to be bad at something new.

Either way you need supplies.

You grab your usual bag and grip the canvas tight. It’ll be fine. You can be bad at something. You just can’t keep living like this. You lock your front door tightly behind you and start down the street towards your favorite craft store.

The streets are cold. The wind at your back makes you shiver, and the watched feeling... Fumes, you tell yourself. You’d rushed to get everything cast and now you’re paying the price. You hook a right towards the tube station and make your way down the steps. People walk past you on the other side, swipe their card after you, wait around you for the train. It’s normal. It’s suffocating. You squeeze your hands around the straps of your bag, nails digging into your palms. It’s only one stop, but you rush to get off the train and back up into fresh air. You bump into someone and give a hasty “excuse me.”

Halfway down the street someone grabs your arm. You tense and they drop their grip immediately.

“Yer bag’s leakin’.” A low voice informs you. You tug your bag to check it and groan. There’s a tear on the corner that a pound is nearly tumbling out of. You feel your shoulders drop, that’s just fabulous. You suppose the canvas has taken a beating over the years, it must have caught on something when you were leaving the house. “Aw, dinnae cry bonnie, s’alrigh’.” You glance up at the man, he holds up a handful of pencils and coins, “I caught yer trail.”

You find yourself sitting on a bench sniffling while a stranger sews the hole in your bag closed. His stitches are neat, clinically precise. He doesn’t take long, just like he promised, and knots the dark thread with careful fingers when he’s finished. You wipe your eyes, cursing your bad luck and anything else you can think of. Your life feels like it’s been falling apart recently. First you lose your mind, now you’re losing your favorite tote.

“Good as new,” the man gives the mended corner a tug and starts grabbing your supplies to drop back into it. He hums, the tune is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it. “Ya done with yer tears yet, bon?” He settles your tote between the two of you, an illusion of space. You nod, even though he reaches to scrub a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

You give a half annoyed hum, and feel the rays of his smile. You glance at him, and realize you hadn’t actually looked at him until now. It feels rude to not even have spared him a glance. Except that he feels completely overwhelming as soon as you look at him. His eyes are so blue they burn, every piece of him slotting uncomfortably close to human. You flinch as pain strikes through your head.

His brows draw together, and he tips his head forward, leaning closer to get a better look at you. He mumbles something and reaches to press his fingers against your forehead. His skin is so warm it’s almost alien. His nails scratch bluntly at your skin before catching on something.

It’s like he’s pulling a nail from your skull, the pressure gone as soon as he rolls his fingers together to dust off the hair. You blink, your head feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Better?” He asks. You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, thanks, um-”

“Soap,” He supplies, pushing off the bench to stand.

“Soap,” You smile, it’s silly but you suppose you’ve heard worse. He offers you a hand to pull you to your feet. His fingers wrap around yours, warm, calloused, big. You try not to focus on them too much as they tug you up. He leans around you to grab your bag and hold it out to you.

“Where’re ya off ta?” Soap asks.

“Craft store, I’m-” You sigh, you shouldn’t tell a stranger your therapist is mandating a hobby change, “I’m looking for a new hobby.”

Soap tips his head to the side, thinking --you think. He rattles off a few potential options, paper crafts, fiber arts, clay sculpting, good old fashioned pencils on paper. You hardly hear a word he says, too busy feeling your heart jump into your throat. From this angle you’d almost swear he had a second set of teeth.

-

You press against your front door when you get home, fingers shaky as you click the deadbolt into place. Soap had been perfectly polite and cordial to you, and yet you felt unnerved. You were seeing things you couldn’t get out of your brain and it was making it hard to focus on pretending you’re normal. He’d even walked you home, his eyes lingering on your window. You have unfounded suspicions.

“Wow you’re home late,” Your guest calls from the kitchen. They wander into the living room and stop dead when they spot you. Their nose wrinkles when they frown. 

You run a hand over your hair, close your eyes and try to focus on the time. Your stomach rumbles. You hadn’t grabbed dinner, despite Soap’s offer. You’ll eat leftovers, or throw something together. It's no problem.

“You ok?” You jerk back against the door. Your friend hovers too close. Their eyes are wide and searching, darting over you with a strange intensity you’ve never seen before. 

“Fine, I just had a long day.” You tell them, brushing past to head for the fridge. They follow close behind, almost clingy.

“You sure? Maybe I should stay home tonight, take care of you.” They offer. You sigh and tug the fridge door open, leaning to check what you have. Your not-roommate’s hands pluck at your sweater, reach around you to grab food when your eyes settle on it too long.

“Don’t let me ruin your fun,” You let them tug you away from the fridge, and you hop up to sit on the counter. Pasta is dumped into a bowl and shoved in the microwave. 

“I can skip going out,” They stare down the microwave timer, fingers tapping the counter.

“I’m really-”

“Did you meet anyone interesting while you were out?” They cut you off. You blink. That’s a weird question. You don’t know how to respond. Their gaze is so sharp you almost don’t want to tell them the truth. You swallow.

“What?”

“Do you think you’re getting sick?” They repeat, “It’s getting colder out, you might’ve caught something you shouldn’t have.” There’s a ringing in your ears, you shake your head to dislodge it. Maybe you are coming down with something.

“Just more reasons for you to go out, I don’t wanna get you sick.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead, you should find your thermometer. Your guest hums in annoyance.

“Alright, but think about staying home this week.” You nod, you weren’t planning on heading out again except for groceries, but you can always order in. “Don’t wait up,” They tell you, reaching to flick your forehead as soon as you drop your hand.

-

“I thought you were going out tonight?” You freeze in the hallway, staring at your still home roommate. They look up from the couch, a beer dangling from their fingers.

“Decided to stay in,” They tip their head back to finish the can. You don’t watch the bob of their throat as they swallow. You do rub your eyes in the glare of the television. “Hey, you mind if I sneak in with you tonight?” They ask. The question slides over you like water.

You hum, and nod before you can actually think about what they asked. You turn back down the hall and pad to the bathroom. You hear the TV click off and figure they’re heading to your room. Which is weird. 

When you head back to bed your roommate has already made themselves comfortable. They have one of your stuffed animals on their chest, their hands flopping the bunny ears back and forth while they wait for you. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Having them in here makes you- but you can’t-

You climb into bed on the other side of them and click the light off.

-

You jerk awake. Something physically pulls you awake.

You stare, frozen, into the darkness. The darkness is otherwise occupied, it’s spindling limbs cracking and clicking as they reach with odd angles for your ceiling. They lodge themselves in the corners of your room, eating the shadows cast by the streetlights outside your window. You’re powerless to stop it as it drags threads from your cracked chest. The strings throb, glowing an angry red as the dark monstrous mass that’s haunted your shadow for weeks drags clawed fingers over them. The light catches on the silver of spiderwebs. Lace draped all over your room like a nest. You wish you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air of the room on your lungs. You wish it felt wetter, not this horrible wash of dryness.

Long delicate claws piece out your threads, nudge your lungs to the side and you feel your muscles tense. Your fingers retract, clawing at the sheets, gouging into the soft cotton. Fingers slip against your heart, drawing it from your chest in a mess of veins and tethers. Your stomach rolls, watching the shadows inspect the organ. You’ve never felt your pulse in such a sick way, never been so conscious of your blood or the ways it’s distributed through your body. The wetness of your heart drips onto your lungs.

It’s a short nightmare that seems to last forever before your heart is settled neatly back into place. Your ribs are pressed back into place, skin knit together like it never was moved to begin with. Then the claws reach for your face, palm pressing tight over your eyes and pushing you down deep into sleep.

-

It’s strange how well you sleep with your guest sharing your bed. You always wake up cuddled close, their arms around you as they snore softly. You’re used to being the first one awake. Even without them going out, you find they’re slow to wake up. It’s sort of cute. People seem much less cool and untouchable when their face is smushed in a pillow and their hair is all over the place.

You brush your teeth and wince. You must’ve slept wrong. Your neck is killing you.

Your eyes slide off the mirror, unable or unwilling to hold onto your reflection. You grab some painkillers and make your way to the kitchen to start on coffee.

-

You gasp, coming to on your couch like you’ve pulled yourself out of the sea. 

The news drones on about a festival happening this weekend. Weekend? What day is it? You can’t remember. You frown, check your phone. It’s dead, despite being plugged into its charger. You tug at the cord and it pulls up into your hand without resistance, unplugged from its little cube. Ok, so no sense checking that. You plug the cord back in and watch the little light turn on before getting up.

You can check your craft room. You have a general idea of timing on your projects, you just need to check how far you’ve gotten on- on- 

What are you working on right now?

You stop in the doorway, staring down your neat work desk. Someone cleaned up in here(was it you?) and you haven’t had time to dirty it up yet. There are no scraps of fabric, no balls of yarn, no picked apart pine cones or snapped twigs. You move towards a pile of freshly folded fleece, picking at the soft fabric. You almost remember buying this, that must’ve been at least a week ago. Last weekend, maybe. 

You pick it up to check you didn’t set it on top of any ongoing projects and spot the orange flipper of your duck buried deep in the basket. With a frown you tug it free, the cool fabric making your frown deepen.

When’s the last time you left an offering on your windowsill?

You glance out the window, it looks just past sunset. The house is quiet. Your roommate must have gone out already. You take the duck with you back to the couch and grab the remote. You’ll find something interesting to watch while you wait for your phone to charge.

“-of local nightclubs,” The newscaster drones, their even tone hardly relaying the gravity of their report, “you may be in danger. New police reports indicate that these bars may be the hunting grounds for the trafficking ring that police now believe may be a single disturbed individual-”

You lower the remote, sitting forward to listen with growing unease as the newscaster describes murders you should have heard about by now. Murders that have been going on for weeks. Missing organs. They recount the investigation’s process. The first instinct towards organ trafficking, and the growing evidence towards one organized individual and not an organization. Eye witnesses that can’t remember who the victims left with. Precise injuries and surgical precision, their throats torn out like an animal had attacked them.

There’s something itching at your brain, something familiar. Something you can’t touch. You’re not supposed to touch. You stroke your fingers over the handmade plush in your arms, something warm and stick clinging to them as you self soothe. It dislodges your nerves, shakes them free, snakes through the fog over your brain. 

You tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drag it over your lap. You press yourself back into the corner of the couch, small and safe. It’s your paranoia.

Have you been taking your medicine?

-

You wake up to the front door closing. You must have turned the TV off at some point. You rub your eyes and go to check on your guest.

You flick on the kitchen light and see your roommate roll their shoulders back with a click. They tip their head one way then the other, stretching with an unnatural length to their movements. The shadow they cast skewers the corners of the room. When they turn to look over their shoulder at you, their eyes are almost black, all four of them blink. You press yourself back against the wall. When you blink they’ve turned towards you.

Blood drips down their chest, stains their lips and traces down their throat. Their hands hang by their sides, nails stained with grit. Their tongue darts out and along their lips, cleaning some of the red off.

“You’re-’ You don’t know what to say, feel frozen by your own fear.

“I thought we’d settled this,” They sigh, wipe their throat with their hand and inspect the blood. The level of casualty they display strikes you more than words ever could. 

“Blood, that’s blood,” You stammer out. They shrug sucking on their fingers.

“O negative if you wanna be specific,” Their voice is thick as they swallow, “Organ donor too, since you were so picky about that last time.”

Last time? What are they talking about?

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding so loud you can hardly hear them over the noise. Your hands shake, tug at your shirt. Suddenly you can feel the cloth against your skin, can feel your muscles sliding against your bones, a nauseating sensation you can’t seem to get rid of. The way they talk about this, like it’s something you’ve discussed, something you could be OK with if you just had guidelines set up. You can’t imagine ever being alright with whatever is happening.

Something clicks into place in your mind. The string of murders on the news, missing organs, strange lacerations, drained of blood. Was it them? Your guest holds their chin, cracking their neck as you try not to hyperventilate.

“You’re the one from the news,” You whisper. They hum, and smile at you.

“Fun right? I’ve never been famous before,” They laugh like this is some sort of game. You feel your stomach roll.

“You’re killing people.”

You watch as their usual gentle smile falls, as their entire face seems to fall away into a blank unfeeling parody of the person who's been crashing on your couch.

"So we’re doing this again." The start, picking one of your kitchen knives out of the block on your counter, "What’s the line? I'm not killing people, I'm killing men? Although," They laugh, it’s a hollow cold thing, “I’m really not that picky with my prey.”

Your eyes dart towards the door, you take a half step back. "Don't run," they warn you, condescending as you've never heard them before, "I won't be able to help myself if you run." You don't know what else you could possibly do in this situation. You can't stay, there's no way they let you live now that you know they're a murderer. You have to run.

With a burst of energy you bolt from the kitchen for your front door. You hear a snarl behind you, a “you always do this,” as you flip the deadbolt and rip the door open. You nearly tumble down your front step, but it hardly slows you down. You know better than to look back when you can hear the crashing, feel the strike of claws through the air behind you. How do you combat a murderer? You can feel tears starting to blur your vision, and for once in your life you hope they fall just to clear your eyes. 

How many times have you run to the local police station? The monster behind you had said you’d done this before? Would they think you were crying wolf? Would they put you back in the house with this person? Would you forget again?

You’re caught around the middle and lifted. You scream and kick, push at your captor’s face and claw at their arms. You hardly seem to make a dent in them, all hard muscle and low grunts of pain.

“Calm down lass,” Soap orders, voice dropping with your panic. You dig your nails into his arms, sob and scream for him to help you. He grabs your chin and tips your head to the side. “Christ, bonnie, what happened to ya?” He grits, his fingers skating over your neck. You jerk away from the pain that his touch rolls through you.

You freeze, your breath heaving as you stare down your unwanted guest. They haunt the end of the street like a nightmare, their sticky shadows dripping in the midnight moonlight, streaking to cling to the walls and fall to the cobblestone street. Soap hums behind you. No. Humming is too human a description. He growls. The sound low and vibrating, like a dog warning of its impending bite.

You’re struck by another bout of blind panic. For whatever reason your guest has kept you alive, but Soap is a different story. You can’t be a party to this man’s murder. You renew your desperation as you push at his hold.

“We have to go,” You tell him desperately, watching your guest stalk closer, “they’ll kill us, we have to go.”

“That’s mine,” Your guest growls, the sound whispering through the shadows and making your head pound. You squeeze your eyes shut, press back into Soap’s relative safety.

“That’s too bad,” Soap growls, amusement clear where you’d expect fear, “been feeding me for weeks.”

Your eyes snap open, glancing up at your newest monster. He smiles down at you with too many teeth.

“What-”

“Somethin’ much worse than your little spider,” He tells you, holding up a finger, “boop.” He taps your forehead and everything goes black.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hello lovely, your writing is absolutely amazing 🤌, and I was wondering if there could be a pt.2 of the Harley Quinn esc reader x Hobie? Because was simply 💫phenomenal💫

ofc I am!! You guys know me, I have to create more than one part of things

Part 1

Warnings- Hobies kinda a stalker

It’s been a week since the kiss, since the mysterious spider punk had let you go free.

And you thought that it would stay quiet, or he wouldn’t visit again.

You were wrong.

For some reason, Hobie felt an urge. An urge to follow you the second he saw you walking on the street, innocently talking on the phone, oblivious to the currently normal man staring.

So that’s what he did, he felt creepy doing it, but he did it despite everything telling him not to.

He watched as you walked around your apartment, none the wiser to the man outside your window, stalking you.

He slipped on his spider suit quickly, leaving the backpack on the fire escape with a thud. You looked over, but didn’t see anything so you just ignored it.

Hobie went inside the apartment. “Second floor.” He kept repeating to himself, then when he reached it, went four doors down on the right.

He knocked on the door, you groaned in annoyance.

“No, Mrs. Brookes, I haven’t seen your cat-“ you opened the door to see spider punk, who was definitely not Mrs. Brookes.

“Hope she finds her cat.” He said with a small shrug.

“Did you fucking… follow me?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well that’s not creepy at all…”

“Funny.” He said blankly, and peeked inside.

“What do you want? I haven’t done anything.”

“Just wanted to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and sighed, shaking your head.

“Can’t believe I’m bout to do this.. come in.”

He smiled and walked in, it was kind of weird how he was fully dressed in his suit and you were dressed in pajama pants and a tank top.

“Nice place..” he mumbled, looking around and seeing a bunch of stolen crap, pictures of you and your friends littered around.

“Thanks.” You said, and walked into your room, he followed.

“Why’d you really wanna see me?”

“Cause.. I was thinkin’ and honestly, me and you ain’t so different. There’s this job and I can’t really do it alone.”

“Don’t you have a team or something?” You laid down.

“Yeah, but they’re busy, and I don’t believe in consistency anyways. Gotta switch it up every once in a while, right?”

“Mmm.. that makes you sound like an asshole when you put it like that.”

“What?”

“Yeah, sounds like your gonna get a girlfriend or something, then cheat on her cause you don’t believe in consistency or whatever. Which at the same time is confusing because if you consistently didn’t believe in consistency, would you not believing in it be consistent? So then you’re just doing the thing you don’t believe in and that doesn’t make sense.”

He blinked and stared blankly.

“I’m not that much of an asshole. If I find the right person I find the right person.” He shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll do the job on one condition. You show me just what spider punk looks like.” You said with a small smirk.

He pointed to himself and his mask. “I mean this is what I look like.”

“I mean under the mask.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nah, afraid I can’t do that, love.”

“Why not?”

“Because then that ruins the fun, don’t it?”

You sighed “Not really. C’mon, I wanna know who I kissed.”

He rolled his eyes under the mask. “Here I was thinking you forgot.”

“I could never forget.”

He sighed and thought for a moment. His hands reached for his mask and he pulled it off.

“Happy?”

You stared, mostly with wide eyes and shocked because you weren’t expecting him to be so.. hot.

“Y-yeah.. just one more question. How do you fit all your hair in your mask?”

“I never reveal my secrets.” He sat down in front of you, now close to you.

“I mean you just did reveal one.” You said quietly, admiring his features.

“Well what can I say? You’re very… tempting.” He mumbled, and you both were leaning in to kiss each other again.

———————————————————————

Tag list:

- @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo @hobiebrainrot @anonima-2

[gsstories]

When Autumn Starts

A nearby forest has been mysteriously burnt down two weeks ago. It had happened the day of an eclipse and it just happened randomly! People are worried and keep talking about what could have happened. They had no clue the reason was a small, fiery fairy who held a grudge against humanity…

Right now, he was wandering around the place, seeing how things have changed while he was imprisoned. He was astonished by the cars, the cellphones, everything! He had to see more!

The fairy flew near the window of an apartment at the top of a bakery and looked inside. It was a room that was a pastel yellow color with a nice bed, a study desk with some books, sewing materials, a sewing machine, next to the desk a mannequin an unfinished red suit, and there being a separate desk with three computer monitors, a microphone and a HUMAN was sitting on the chair, wearing cat eared headphones and wearing a hoodie that said ‘I cast gun, prepare to meet god’ and was playing a fighting game on his setup.

The guy couldn’t have been older than 15, had dark skin, long, brown hair, golden eyes, slightly big lips, his hair in a low ponytail and some bangs of hair covering his right eye.

“Uhh, guys? I died again.” The guy said.

From Eclipse’s perspective, he was rather confused. The human died? But he was still moving no? What did he mean by again? Can humans just died and keep moving nowadays? That didn’t make sense…

Now, from the human teen’s perspective, whose name is Daniel, it was like this…

“Are you serious?? We just started this round!” Another male sounding voice yelled, his name being ‘Ax’.

“Are you really that surprised? It’s Aspen we’re talking about.” Another male voice said, named ‘Brutus’.

“You need help next round Aspen?” A third voice with a slight Russian accent asked Daniel, or ‘Aspen’ on stream, this guy named ‘KoKo’.

“I would say no but that’s a big fat lie.” Aspen mumbled.

“Where’d CJ go?” A fourth voice with an even stronger Russian accent asked, the guy named ‘Apollo’.

“Knowing him, massacred a bunch of people already.” Brutus said as they heard evil giggling.

“That’s exactly right!” A fifth voice, one a tad bit higher than the other boys’ said, giggling mischievously, this one called CJ.

“LeLe must love you right now.” Aspen chuckled at this.

“She loves CJ no matter what he does.” KoKo responded. “Fucking simp.”

A comment rolled in the chat of the stream. It read:

LeLeNotPons: ‘Says the one who keeps calling his ‘best friend’ his wife when on stream.’

“Hey, I am not the one who rambles about the merman every chance I get, so shut it.” KoKo argued with the comment.

“Hey Aspen, how do you feel about your husband and sister-in-law fighting?” Brutus questioned the eladrin VTuber.

“Kinda hot on KoKo’s part.” Aspen answered, making Ax start chuckling and soon enough the whole group started laughing. “Am I wrong?!”

Daniel then started smelling something. Something was… burning? But he didn’t have anything cooking and his parents were down in his bakery. Couldn’t be his lil brother, he cannot reach a stove and his sister was with Helena (aka LeLe, KoKo’s sister). The young man turned around in his chair only to find the sight of a kind of tall yet still smaller than him, like barely reaching his leg I think, of a humanoid creature with its head having what looked like red flower petals but still not? The creature’s face and body was half really dark brown, and orange, its cheeks seemingly having what would be considered blush that could only be found on dolls, sharp teeth, mismatched eyes with the irises being orange while the right sclera was a yellow color, almost white while the left one was pitch black. It wore a ragged and torn cloak over its shoulders and dusty red and orange striped pants with no shoes.

Besides the creature, a paper was burning on Daniel’s desk. Daniel and the creature stared at each other for a while the paper just burned.

“Hey guys, I gotta mute myself for a moment, something caught on fire.” Aspen said.

“Only you bud.” Apollo said as the others laugh.

Daniel muted himself, walked out of his room, brought a fire extinguisher and put the fire out before it could spread. He kinda covered the creature with the foam though.

“Alright, now that that’s been dealt with…what the absolute FUCK are you?!” Daniel exclaimed, now freaking out.

“What is this? It’s foamy.” Eclipse wondered, completely ignoring Daniel’s question as he tasted the foam. “Tastes weird.”

“You’re tiny! And cute! But also kind of like you would commit arson! Did you make the paper burn?” Daniel asked as he looked at Eclipse’s form.

“Yes, that was me.” Eclipse said as he grinned.

“Arsonist then, called it.” Daniel mumbled as he held onto his ponytail. “Just- What ARE you??”

“I am a fairy. I thought you humans would be able to recognize us better. Bummer you don’t.” Eclipse said.

“Fairies are fucking real?” Daniel mumbled.

Now Eclipse was looking at Daniel who was having an existential crisis over what is real and what is not. It was rather amusing for Eclipse to see a human in distress like this.

“Okay, uhhh, who are you?” Daniel asked.

“Why should I tell you my name?” Eclipse asked the human, tilting his head a bit.

“Because if I don’t have a name, Imma just call you Mosquito because you came in, decided to freak me out on stream, and the pointy nose also reminds me of a mosquito.” Daniel said.

“Do NOT call me mosquito!” Eclipse growled at the human boy.

“Then give me a name to call you! It’s not that hard!” Daniel said. “It’s either that, Mosquito or Mosco cause you are rather big for a mosquito.”

Eclipse was getting rather annoyed at this human. He’s in the presence of a fairy, a real life fairy, and he dares insult him like this? Humans haven’t changed, he guessed.

“Fine. It’s Eclipse.” Eclipse huffed.

“Thank you for giving me a name. I’m Daniel, nice to meet ya. Why are you in my house?” Daniel asked.

“I’ve been… wandering around the place recently. Just trying to see how things have changed in the human world is all. I haven’t been here in quite a while.” Eclipse said as he took out his wings and flew around the room, staring at everything.

“Oh! Okay, I see. So, you were somewhere else then?” Daniel asked.

“Something like that, yeah.” Eclipse said as he looked at a bundle of plushies of some characters before flying over to the unfinished suit.

A bit ominous to Daniel’s liking but it was fine.

“What’s this?” Eclipse asked as he stared at the suit.

“Oh, that’s a suit someone commissioned me to make for them. It’s still a work in progress.” Daniel said.

Eclipse decides to be a lil evil shit and summons a flame in his hand. However, he was drenched in the foam from before, causing his fire to die.

“Hey!!” Eclipse yelled in annoyance.

“Do NOT try and ruin it, I spent WEEKS working on that!” Daniel said as he glared at the fairy.

“Oh please, like it’ll matter in the end.” Eclipse hissed at the human.

“It still matters to me. Just because you are a magical creature does not mean you are entitled to destroy the hard work of others. Calm your damn shit or I will make you!” Daniel said.

“Oh yeah? And how will you do that?” Eclipse asked with a challenging grin.

“You may not be a mosquito or a fly but I can take you out like such still. I am NOT afraid to swat you!” Daniel said as he crossed his arms.

Both human and fairy stared each other down for a long while, just glaring at each other. Eventually, Eclipse huffed and looked away.

“Whatever.” Eclipse mumbled.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a stream to get back to.” Daniel said as he walked over to his computer.

“What’s a stream?” Eclipse asked as he flew behind Daniel.

“It’s a way for me and my friends to make content for our channel, interacting with our viewers, all that.” Daniel said as he put his headphones on and unmuted himself. “Sorry guys, there was a big ass mosquito I had to deal with after the fire.”

Eclipse scrunched up his face at that but didn’t say anything as he sat on the desk. Daniel glanced at him but didn’t say anything. May as well let the fairy watch.

•

•

•

•

•

•

About two hours had passed and the stream was finally over. Daniel said bye to his friends and took off his headphones. Eclipse was still on the desk, looking curious at what he watched for the last 2 hours.

“What was all that?” Eclipse asked.

“What was what?” Daniel asked.

“All of that! The images were moving… and you controlled it with that… what’s that??” Eclipse asked as he pointed at the keyboard.

“My keyboard? Well, I sometimes use it to play games on my computer but other times I use a controller.” Daniel said.

“Controller?” Eclipse repeated.

“I’m gonna have to teach you everything don’t I?” Daniel mumbled. “Listen, I don’t mind helping you out with all this stuff, it’s very new to you, that is clear. But please don’t burn anything, I don’t want anything important to get damaged.”

“No promises~” Eclipse grinned, making Daniel sigh.

“Okay, whatever.” Daniel mumbled. “By the way, what’s up with your clothes?”

“My clothes?” Eclipse asked as he looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They look rather damaged. Plus you aren’t wearing any shoes.” Daniel said.

“I have not been able to get new clothes in a long time.” Eclipse mumbled.

“I see… Well, your clothes gotta be changed.” Daniel said.

“I am fine like this.” Eclipse said as he crossed his arms.

“Doubt it. I think I have some clothes your size, I do make mini clothes for dolls.” Daniel mumbled as he searched through some drawers.

“I am telling you, I am perfectly fine with what I am wearing.” Eclipse said, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Could have fooled me.” Daniel muttered as he found some small clothes. “There we go! Found em!”

“I am not wearing your human made drags!” Eclipse said with a glare.

“Come on, it’ll be fine!” Daniel said.

“No way!” Eclipse exclaimed before taking out his wings and flying out of Daniel’s room.

“Hey hey, don’t fly away like that! My parents could be in the apartment!” Daniel yelled as he ran after Eclipse.

Daniel and Eclipse went through a cat and mouse chase for a while, Daniel occasionally having to save some stuff that was knocked off by Eclipse flying around. Luckily, Daniel’s parents were still busy with the bakery so they didn’t see the scene that was happening at the moment. After a while, Daniel was able to catch and swaddle Eclipse in a fluffy towel, one of those small ones used to dry your hands. Eclipse was a huffy and struggling mess until he eventually gave up. He could have burned the towel easily but it actually felt kinda nice, not like he would admit it.

“Listen, I won’t force you to wear the clothes. At least TRY them and if you don’t like them, ya can keep wearing your old clothes.” Daniel said as he brought back a swaddled Eclipse to his room.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Eclipse huffed as Daniel unwrapped him from the towel. “You really made these yourself?”

“Mmhmm! I have wanted to be a fashion designer one day so I have been practicing ever since I was a kid. I think I became quite decent at it.” Daniel said rather proudly.

“Right.” Eclipse said as he took the clothes and looked them over.

“BRB, I gotta check on the bakery.” Daniel said as he walked out of the room, closing the door.

Eclipse watched as Daniel left. How odd, he could easily destroy everything that Daniel loved right at that moment when he was gone but he still trusted him? A naive kid. A nice one but still naive.

Eclipse looked back at the clothes.

Maybe he could wait for a few days before causing much damage… The clothes don’t seem that bad anyway.

(This was so fun to write! Fairy Eclipse belongs to @ayyy-imma-ninja, hope I did the boy Justice lol! Daniel/Aspen is my Oc, I love him! Hope you enjoyed this!)

((Bonus: Daniel’s avatar, Aspen, in Autumn form!))