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chilling-seavey · 7 days

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Dreamland (ln4) - Part One

↳ A/N Big thank you to @starlightiing for taking the time to talk this out with me & mega thank you to @norrussell for being my un-official beta reader and hyping this new universe up 🤭

↳ [Very Loosely] Inspired By: 'Heat Waves' by Glass Animals

↳ Summary: As a flunking university student in dreary Bristol, Lando is sure there’s another life waiting for him elsewhere. A life that he can only dream of living with the girl with a million dollar career, verified instagram, and a stunning smile that he swears was created for him. But maybe those dreams stray no farther than his phone screen.

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 6.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, male masturbation, he humps his bed a little (whoops), dirty talk (stemming from his imagination and his inner most desires), Lando's so incredibly down bad for a girl who doesn't know he exists

In the large university classroom, Lando tapped the end of his pencil against the edge of his calculator, his thick textbook open and his notebook page resting on top of it, blank. At the head of the large lecture hall, his professor was walking through the lecture on the overhead projector, showing step by step instructions for their task that day. As an accounting student, Lando might have at least feigned a bit of interest in the lesson on revenues and expenses but his eyes were nearly glazed over, his mind lost in thought, and his page far behind his peers.

His mind only ever drifted to one thing when his interest wasn’t being immediately taken and that was you. You didn’t know it - in fact, you didn’t even know who Lando was - but he spent his daydreams letting his mind wander to various instances with you that he could only pray would be real some day. That day in particular, he was thinking about how sunny and warm it probably was in Monte Carlo for you compared to the late-winter rain that was pelting Bristol in that very same moment. The rain on the windows caused the professor’s voice to nearly be drowned out despite the fact that he spoke loudly to try and speak over it. Lando was too far past bored to bother trying to listen harder.

As his classmates worked diligently around him, Lando slouched back in his chair near the back of the classroom and glanced down at his phone that was lying face up on the table beside his textbook. As if meant to be, the screen lit up with a silent Instagram notification indicating that you had just posted.

His heart did a little leap and he glanced over casually to his professor still lecturing as he slid his phone off the table and held it in his lap to peek. Your birthdate was his passcode - two digit month and two digit date - and he tapped on Instagram from his home screen that was wallpapered with a selfie of yours (a picture he used to tell strangers whom he wouldn’t see again that you were his girlfriend…long distance of course). Your post was at the top of his feed and before his eyes even processed the image, he double tapped to like it. The little white heart appeared in the middle of the post, right over your chest, and then disappeared.

“Mr Norris.”

His head snapped up from his lap before he could graze your post with even a sliver of as much attention as you deserved, only to see his professor staring at him from the front of the lecture hall with a displeased expression and his arms crossed over his chest. A few students turned to look at Lando. He locked his phone and slid it shyly into his pocket.

“Mr Norris, I certainly don’t think your current GPA is permitting you to take the risk of slacking off on your phone in my class, now is it?”

Lando swallowed thickly as everyone was staring at him and a few of the other students chuckled to themselves at the professor’s diss.

“No. Sorry.” Lando answered softly.

“Manners and respect, Mr Norris.”

“No…s-sir.” Lando forced out, physically shifting in his chair at the discomfort it brought him to follow the strange order of his professor to call him sir as a form of respect. Of course, Lando would never outright admit why it made him uncomfortable. He certainly wouldn’t want to face the embarrassment of admitting how he secretly savoured that title for your lips only, how he fantasized of you calling him that and only you. Having to refer to his sixty-something male professor as such left a nasty taste in Lando’s mouth.

Without the distraction of his phone, Lando was stuck spending the rest of the class dooling on his notebook paper to make it seem like he was working. He might have been a twenty-year-old adult but he still found himself pulling the tip of his pencil along the lined paper to form the curve of your silhouette that had been engraved in his mind since you posted that beach picture back in the summer. His bottom lip was captured between his teeth as he distracted his mind from the post he had yet to appreciate by sketching his pencil lightly to form the curve of your breasts. He erased his messy sketch before anyone could peek over his shoulder.

The three hour class was far too excruciating even if he only had to endure half of it wondering about your post he had yet to see. It was driving him crazy in near suspense. The moment the class was dismissed, Lando rushed to put his textbook in his backpack and nearly shoved himself between the crowd of classmates taking their sweet time descending the stairs in the lecture hall towards the exit.

The university hallway was a relief of cool air and Lando hiked his backpack higher on his one shoulder as he stopped just around the corner out of the classroom door and he pulled his phone from his pocket. He ignored his dozens of missed messages and went right back to your profile and opened your new post.

At only the first glance his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip and he slouched his shoulder against the nearby wall with a deep exhale, eyes unblinking as he admired the pixels that made up the image of you on his screen. Additional images from a magazine photoshoot, you were wearing nothing but an oversized white button up shirt, the collar pulled open and unbuttoned near the top to show your collarbones, and your lips were painted in a glossy red. Naturally cut hair fell in a purposefully messy hair sprayed style around your shoulders and the direct stare you held to the camera with your very light makeup dusting your eyes had Lando’s chest clenching. He had to physically hold a hand to his heart for a moment as he swiped through the three similar images you posted, each with a near perfected lustful stare with your lips just slightly parted and your hands hiding your chest from the slightly see-through material of the white shirt.

Quiet among the bustling university hallway, Lando breathed out a soft, “Jesus.”

He turned to rest back against the wall properly and he brought both hands to his phone to bring it a little closer to his face to really stare. He licked his lips habitually and then opened the comments on the post. He liked a few from your just-as-well-known friends and ignored the ones from other fans that would just make him cringe and he started to compose his own comment.

landonorris: holy shit you’re so beautiful 🧡

When he posted his comment he scrolled back to the picture and zoomed in to take in every single part of you that he could before he was opening his messages. Lando didn’t have too many friends in university but he didn’t mind because he had a good few internet friends instead who honestly were so much better than ‘physical’ friends. They understood and accepted Lando’s little love sick crush on you and nothing felt better than that.

alex_albon: MATE DID YOU SEE alex_albon: LANDO!!!!! alex_albon: DUDE SHES HOT alex_albon: COME GET YOUR GIRL alex_albon: LANDO alex_albon: LAN ARE YOU STILL ALIVE???

Lando could hardly hold back his grin right in the middle of the hallway as he quickly responded to his closest friend.

landonorris: MATE IM NOT OKAY landonorris: I had to wait through my entire class until I could look properly omfg landonorris: She’s literally so fucking stunning oh my GODJHFHFJ landonorris: Minemineminemine 🤤 alex_albon: YES I KNOW OMG alex_albon: YOURS alex_albon: GO GET HER landonorris: God I wish she wasn’t so fucking far away UGJGEBHRG this is UNFAIR 😩 alex_albon: Finish your degree and then go have BABIES 🤪 landonorris: HAHAHAH MATE omfg relax!! alex_albon: Hey you said it first, I’m just being a supportive best friend

Lando swiped out of their dms only to return to your post and he couldn’t hide his smitten grin as he admired you. Alex wasn’t wrong because Lando often thought about a future with you; having babies with you, living in Monte Carlo with you, and following you around the world on your book tours. He was adamant that he was going to make that happen one way or another. He was going to have you fall in love with him just as he had with you.

alex_albon: Wow leave me on seen okay landonorris: Sorry sorry sorry I was a little busy staring at a certain someone alex_albon: Don’t drool on your phone mateeee 😉😉

Lando had met Alex online only a year prior through his online blog he kept about you. He had wracked up a good following by posting little journal entries and sketches and a few short concepts here and there and, of course, posting your pictures like it was his day job to run an update account. Alex wasn’t as much of a fan of yours as Lando was but from the moment they first messaged, they hit it off and became close through the distant connections of the internet. With Lando in Bristol and Alex in London, they weren’t too far spread but they had yet to meet and that probably wouldn’t happen for a while since neither had the money nor means to make a trip cross-country. Their daily messages certainly made up for the distance.

Lando had one more unread message in his Instagram dms and he left the thread with Alex to choose a song, slide in his AirPods, and tend to the next waiting friend as he started to walk back towards his dorm.

georgerussell63: Oh wow she always posts when you’re in class huh georgerussell63: Blimey she looks stunning in this post too geeeeez georgerussell63: Ugh mums calling me for supper but I’ll be back georgerussell63: Message me when you’re free!!!

George was the farthest away from Bristol in King's Lynn right on the opposite coast of the country. Just like with Alex, George and Lando met through his blog and became close quickly too. Lando was sure there were no two more supportive friends than Alex and George and their daily reassurances that someday you were going to love him back honestly was the one thing keeping Lando going.

Lando navigated the busy university hallways with ease while he typed his excited reply to his other close internet friend, tuned out from the world by his curated playlist and wandering mind.

landonorris: Mate I KNOW I’m literally not okay pfjfjfkjng landonorris: It's like she KNOWS I’m busy omg but how can I be mad at her landonorris: LOOK at her landonorris: Like plz ruin my life???? 🤤

The rain that came down hard onto the Bristol university campus didn’t phase Lando as he tucked the hood of his sweater up over his head and hurried down the pathways back to the dormitories. He clutched his phone in the front pocket of his hoodie as if the lingering memory of your image would somehow be left behind in the downpour on his walk home. Like hell he was going to let you go that easily.

The dry lobby of the residence building had him sighing in relief from the rain and he pulled off his hood as he fished his key card from his pocket. With a swipe to the interior doors, he was permitted into the elevator lobby and he smacked the call button a few times impatiently as he brought your Instagram back up on his phone. Safe from class and passing students, Lando let his thoughts drift to less of just she’s beautiful and more of I wish she wasn’t covering herself up.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Lando stepped in without a look up and pressed his floor button out of complete muscle memory, all without taking his eyes off your images. He zoomed in again as he slumped against the back wall of the elevator and his lip was captured by his teeth again as your lightly manicured hands covered your breasts from the camera but the fair material of the white button up shirt had him able to see the slightest colouration of your nipple in the second image. His finger moved the zoomed in picture so he could see more of you and his eyes greedily soaked up the way the shirt hung loose around your thighs and rose up almost to your hips with how you were professionally positioned.

His thoughts were turning dirtier faster and he nearly hurried down the hallway to his room to have some privacy. Lando closed the suite door behind him and glanced into his roommates room only to find it empty before he was dropping his backpack to the floor just inside his own room. He had never been more thankful for his roommate to have later classes and despite the fact he was alone in their shared suite, Lando still closed his bedroom door behind him just in case.

His room wasn’t much different than that of any other twenty-year-old college boy with a bit of mess around the corners - clothes tossed aside and stray papers littering his desk - but on the shelf of his closet he had lined up in pristine condition, your few published novels in date release order. Lando never once called himself a reader and in fact he had always hated English in school, but when he came across a promo video on social media about your recent release, he became a little intrigued. He was more intrigued by you at first and he spent one night scrolling through your verified social media feeds before he ended up adding your debut novel to his Amazon shopping cart in a sleep deprived, curious, heart-eyed rush at 3:00 in the morning.

He would proudly admit that yours were the only books he had voluntarily read since he was a kid.

Finally back in the comfort of his own room, Lando pulled off his rain soaked hoodie and tossed it into his laundry pile in the corner of his closet and flicked on his bedside light. The rain outside caused the sky to turn dark far too quickly for mid-afternoon, but Lando couldn’t be bothered to close his blinds before he was flopping stomach first across his double bed to spend the next however long admiring your complete existence shamelessly.

He literally felt warm all over when he looked at you, his heart always squeezed so tightly in his chest until he could feel each thudding beat that he swore was only ever just for you. You drove him crazy and you didn’t even know it.

Lando blindly kicked off his muddy sneakers from his feet dangling off the end of his bed with his gaze captured all on your image. Having admired your body in the elevator, he took to your face now, making sure to give every pixel its deserved share of attention. Despite it being a magazine shoot, you only wore limited makeup so the focus was all on your red painted lips but your eyes that were lined with thin eyeliner and magnifying mascara had his attention all over you regardless. He swore you were staring at him like you knew what he wanted from you, like you knew what you were doing, and he could only stare right back.

He shifted on his bed with a small hum as the admiration of your beauty was going right to his crotch but he barely paid any mind to anything else as he focused all on your lips. Lando’s mind was whirling with so many thoughts as his gaze lingered on your glossy red lips that were parted just so and looked nothing less than fucking irresistable.

A message popped down from the top of Lando’s screen in the middle of his admiration session.

alex_albon: What r u up to?

Lando tapped it to open their messaging thread and he typed his momentary string of thoughts without second guessing, always able to word vomit into his friends’ dms without fear of being shamed for a single word.

landonorris: I want her to suck my dick alex_albon: DAMN okay I see what you’re up to alex_albon: Just dreaming about your wife haha landonorris: No mate you don’t understand landonorris: I literally want those perfect red lips around my dick landonorris: I fucking crave it landonorris: And I want to kiss her literally all over and worship her body and grab her tits and smack her ass and I want to make her moan my name landonorris: And I want to cum all over her face while she’s looking up at me like in that pic giving me those fucking eyes alex_albon: Oh my God mate 😦 pffhjffjfj you're down bad landonorris: FUCK ME THIS ISNT FAIR alex_albon: I know!!! She’d be fucking stupid to not want you Lan alex_albon: You’re literally made for each other landonorris: PLZ I want her so bad it's not funny landonorris: She’s so fucking pretty landonorris: I want to knock her up mate alex_albon: Only if I can be the godfather landonorris: Maybe we’ll have twins so you and George can share the honour lol alex_albon: Honestly I’m down landonorris: Literally just looking at her gets me so fucking horny it will NOT be hard to make twins first try ngl alex_albon: LMAO 😏 landonorris: Haha okay it’s raining here and I just got back to my dorm so imma shower brb alex_albon: Yeah okay go enjoy that 😏 landonorris: Lol stfu landonorris: 🧡

Maybe his friends kind of knew him too well but Lando didn’t want to let on too much so he played Alex’s teasing off before closing their messages and returning to your post. He screenshotted all three images and then held himself up on his forearm with his phone in hand as his other hand slid down to unbuckle his belt. He shifted onto his side just enough to take his belt off and then pop the buttons on his black jeans before pushing them down his legs and he flailed his ankles a little to get his pants to drop to the floor with his discarded shoes. Now in only his underwear and his t-shirt, Lando rolled back onto his stomach fully with a small sigh.

He could feel himself getting a little hard by only the thoughts rushing through his mind - and by the sight of your new pictures of course - and he kept them going as he turned back to his phone. The screenshots of your post were in his camera roll and he opened them up to crop out the instagram banners and comments so it was only you taking up his screen. He smiled at the sight of you in the dim sultry lighting of the photoshoot studio you were in and the crisp warm light that lit you up like an angel.

The second image was his favourite of your post between the teasing little slip of your breast behind the fair shirt and the way your eyes were a bit wider, more innocent and sultry, and he could nearly see the line of your panties with how the shirt was slightly raised at the bottom. He imagined them to be as red as your lipstick and lacey and tiny…imagining that peeking up the bottom of the oversized shirt you wore would give him a greedy view of your soft hips cradling the red lace that barely covered anything.

Lando was nearly staring at his phone like he was staring right into your eyes right beside him, nothing but adoration spread through his eyes and the blush of growing lust staining his cheeks in pink. He barely noticed how he was grinding down slightly against his bed, his body swirling in slow precise motions, dreaming for the touch of your soft hand.

The very same hands that covered your breasts in the images you posted, resting gently against your chest to keep yourself decent - you were a modest artist after all, thank you. He just knew you’d be so soft, that you’d touch him in all the right places, tease him with the sight of your body meant just for him. He had never been with anyone before which was another thing he would have hated to admit to anyone, but he knew more than ever that he wanted to give it up to you. He wanted you to be his first for everything that he had yet to check off…he wanted you to be the first woman he ever had in his arms and ever had in his bed. He just knew you would treat him right.

That concept was only solidified by the third book of yours that he had read, engrossed in the pages, illuminated by the light beside his bed back at home, as he was privy to the filthiest, hottest, most intricately detailed sex scene he had ever read. Well, the only one he had ever read. Lando didn’t know it was even possible to publish something so risky but the knowledge that you equipped into your writing only proved his concept that you would be the best partner he could ever have.

With a swipe from the top of his screen, he put his phone on do not disturb to prevent any notifications from popping up while he was trying to have a moment alone with you. He cradled your picture on his phone in both hands as he let the lust work for him, shamelessly grinding against his bed without breaking his gaze from your body, your face, your everything. He couldn’t nearly feel the warmth of your skin right next to him and the plush feeling of one of your thighs nudged between his legs. There was nothing he craved more than the friction of your body on his and his imagination thrived at the concept of having you underneath him, just like that in the picture with your light makeup and plush red lips, wearing his shirt.

Lando just wished he could kiss you too, staining his lips with your lipstick and how you would leave a trail down his neck in your wake. He zoomed in on your picture some more and set his phone down on the sheets between his forearms, staring right into your captured eyes as he pulled his body back and forth against his bed and his hands wrapped around the edge of the mattress. He moaned breathily at the friction and rolled his hips into his sheets strongly, taking his bottom lip between his teeth slightly, dreaming it to be you he was grinding against.

The ache between his legs was growing and his cheeks only flushed more as he grew harder at the simple pleasure of the sheets against his clothed cock and the image of you beneath him. With a soft exhale, Lando propped himself up a bit with one hand flat to the mattress so he was on a bit of an angle and he glanced down his body as his hips ground in strong precise curling thrusts against the bed.

He breathed your name into his room as he looked back down at your picture, soaking in your nearly lustful gaze staring right back at him. He moaned lightly as his hips started to move faster and he was nearly humping his bed in overwhelming pleasure, fingers gripping onto the edge of the sheets.

“Fuck, okay,” Lando huffed out as he forced himself to stop quickly, groaning at the sudden halt of that sweet friction. He slid his hands underneath him and pushed himself onto his knees, sitting back on his heels, and took a second to stare down at the bulge in his underwear. It physically ached and he just wanted you to touch it for him. He wanted you to see how hard he could get for you.

The image of you standing at the side of his bed in front of him in only that white button up and nothing else had him quickly pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor and then shuffling out of his underwear. Left completely naked, Lando only dreamt of you staring at him, and his eyes gravitated to that picture again just to remind himself of how fucking stunning you were to him. It would be an honour to have you.

“Want you to suck my dick.” he whispered into the air as he faintly traced the head of his dick with his fingers, “Wanna feel that pretty mouth, baby.”

If you created stories, he was going to create stories. The filthiest imaginative little stories of everything he wanted to do to you, for only you to (hopefully) be privy to one day. He leaned over slightly and tugged open the drawer of his nightstand and fished around for the small clear bottle he had hidden in the back. He had no experience but he figured if he were to replicate your mouth as realistically as he could, he would need to make it as wet as possible. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten himself off to the thought of you and the small bottle of lube that he kept hidden away was of no thanks to the spiciest, hottest scenes in your romance novels. He may have been a raging virgin but he was no stranger to touch.

There had never been one time that he jerked off and didn’t think of you. It was always you. He could only imagine you crawling slowly towards him across his bed in only that white shirt and your tiny red panties as he poured a generous glob of lube into his hand before tossing the bottle haphazardly across the bed sheets. Still sitting back on his heels, Lando spread his thighs apart slightly and smeared the lube in his right hand to warm it up a bit before he was staring down at your picture in front of him and he wrapped his hand around his dick.

Lando sunk his teeth into his bottom lip with a small groan and slid his hand up the shaft of his cock slowly, savouring the soaking wet feeling from his palm. He thought of you between his legs, draped on your stomach with his shirt riding up your back so he could see the curve of your ass in those tiny lace panties and spank you as he wanted, all while you could take his dick in your warm, wet mouth. He could imagine it so well that his eyes literally fluttered as he exhaled strongly on the downstroke of his hand, dreaming about the lube being your spit instead. He wanted it so badly he was burning for it.

“Yeah, baby.” he breathed out, “Suck it.”

He moved his hand in steady strokes up and down his dick as if trying to mimic what he could only imagine your mouth would feel like. The lube smeared messily in his palm, between his fingers, and dripped down the length of his cock as he worked himself slowly but he was all too addicted to the disgusting wet squelch that it filled the room with. His breathing was heavy and his light grip he kept up pulled soft moans from his chest.

Your name fell from his lips again in a breathy whimper and he slid his hand up higher to pull little twisting strokes right around the head of his cock, his thighs physically flinching at the sensation. His head fell back with a groan and he moved his hand faster right there.

“Yeah.” he whimpered out, naturally starting to thrust up into his own touch a little, “Yes, yes, yeah, baby, fuck-”

But he slowed it down to make it last, choking out a soft cry as he dragged his hand down in long slow strokes to ease the rising pressure again and he lolled his head to the side as he peered down at your picture again resting up on his bed sheets. His breaths fell heavier and as his impatient desperation grew, he had to move to a better position.

The images in his mind followed the shift as he grabbed his phone with his left hand and could almost vividly picture you climbing on top of him as he draped himself backwards against his pillows. He craved to touch every inch of your skin for real but his imagination did him temporary justice as he pictured you unbuttoning his shirt to drape it open and give him a greedy view of your bare breasts and beautiful body. Lando bit his bottom lip again as he gave himself a few more lingering seconds of soaking up every inch of your picture in his phone before he was making a fist and lowering it down onto the tip of his dick so he could imagine what it would feel like to truly slip inside your cunt.

“Oh, God, baby.” Lando whimpered at the tight squeeze of his lubed up hand, not tearing his eyes away from your image for even a second, “Shit, you feel so good.”

But if he shut his eyes, it almost felt so real; like you were truly there in his dorm room and bouncing on his dick. The image was so vivid in his mind to the point that he could see the bounce of your breasts and the mess of your hair and the smudge of your fair makeup, your tiny lace panties simply pushed to the side. The sound of his hand on himself was easily enough replicated and he sped it up a little more with a lingering groan, his head tossed back against his pillow.

Lando’s breathy praise was spoken to no one, “Good girl. Fuck- good girl, baby, just like that.”

He took one last look at your picture on his phone before he had to drop it to reach out and grab his thigh with a strangled whimper. He knew your face better than anything so resorting to just his imagination wasn’t a difficult task and he did so gladly. Being alone, there wasn’t too much of a need to be quiet but Lando tended to anyway, only letting out the smallest little whimpers and moans between his shallow breaths as the pleasure drew through his veins.

The craving for you was so intense Lando felt almost dizzy and he fabricated you taking his whole cock deep inside you over, and over, and over, faster and faster. He choked out a little moan as his hand sped up and his head tossed back sharply against the pillows as his nails raked up his thigh in overwhelm.

“Fuuuck-”

Lando’s hand flew to his hair and he grabbed a tight handful as his hips started bucking up into his hand slightly, his moans only getting louder and he could nearly hear yours too, he swore. He just wished he could get his hands on you to grab your hips and fuck up into you or to grab your breasts and watched your face fall into pleasure. He dreamt of what your pussy felt like when you would cum around him, definitely knowing that his hand would never compare no matter how hard he tried to attempt to replicate it.

“Oh God.” he squeaked out, his voice tightening in strain as he grew closer. His jaw clenched as he raised his head up to watch his lubed up hand get faster as the tip of his aching cock leaked for orgasm, groaning through his teeth, “Yes, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Lando’s brain was flooded with your face, your body, every single one of his favourite pictures of you making up this never ending flow of stunning brilliance that he wanted to absolutely take advantage of in the best way. If you were anything like your writing, you knew how to fuck and Lando wanted all of it. Most importantly, he wanted you.

Faint sweat was forming at his hairline as he fucked up into his hand that was feverishly stroking his cock, his chest rising and falling in anticipation as he gripped the back of his hair and spread his legs a little wider. His moans were getting more pathetic, more desperate, more pleading and he couldn’t stop picturing you on top of him.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he squeaked out quickly, “Lemmy cum inside you. Please, let me cum inside you.”

He fell silent for a second, only rasping out a ‘yes’ and your name, and his hand worked him right into orgasm. His mouth fell open and his head dropped back against the pillows as a little dribble of white spurted gently from his tip and fell onto his hand followed by a second. He stroked himself slower, really pulling and twisting to get more out as his hips ground up and a good shot streaked right up his faint abs.

“Yes.” he breathed through his teeth, slowing right down, and his breath froze in his chest for a second as more leaked from his tip and he could feel his cock physically pulsing in his hand. Lando bit down on his bottom lip as he moaned out of his orgasm. “Mm, fuck.”

He took a second to steady his breathing a little - and to imagine you falling onto the bed beside him and swallowing him up in pleasurable blissed out tired kisses - and then he reached over to his night stand to grab a tissue from the box. He wiped off his hand and then grabbed another to clean up the few streaks across his stomach and the tip of his dick before throwing them into the small garbage bin beside his bed. With a little pleased smile and a soft sigh, Lando rolled over to grab his underwear from the ground and pulled them on as he got off his bed.

When he glanced back over his shoulder at the wrinkled sheets, he could only see your picture still on his phone as the true shape of your body laying there watching him get up, your cheeks flushed and hair a mess and shirt left unbuttoned to expose your chest to him. And you’d smile at him so adoringly that it honestly made his heart flutter and he wished he could really see you leaking with his cum right onto his duvet.

In his underwear, Lando slipped out of his room into the silent suite that was still missing his roommate and helped himself to the bathroom sink to wash his hands. He took one last look in the mirror, brushing his hand over his once styled hair, and then returned to his room and closed the door behind him.

Lando smiled at your picture that was still on his phone screen when he returned and he sat back down on his bed and slouched back against the headboard as he closed the photos app and removed do not disturb from settings. Instagram popped up with two notifications and Lando’s guess was correct that it was his two friends waiting for him. Since he hadn’t been able to properly talk to George yet since he was eating, he opened his messages first.

georgerussell63: I’m back! georgerussell63: She just left you a little treat for after class lmao georgerussell63: I’m surprised I didn’t come back to spicy messages from you georgerussell63: Who are you and what have you done with Lando? georgerussell63: Haha

Then, a few minutes later, his friend’s casual banter shifted into the kind of messages Lando dreaded to read.

georgerussell63: Mate, wait did you see? :/ georgerussell63: Wait probably not because I know you have him blocked georgerussell63: Do you want to know? georgerussell63: Idk where you are but I’ll just tell you anyway georgerussell63: It’s HIS shirt that she’s wearing :/ georgerussell63: Hello??

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment and he shifted in place at the sudden feeling of a sharp blade piercing his chest ached his heart. He rubbed his hand over his chest and then worded a simple response.

landonorris: What the fuck

He swiped out of his conversation with George and opened Alex’s to see similar messages waiting for him.

alex_albon: Oh my God mate alex_albon: Ok warning now, you’re not going to like this alex_albon: She reposted HIS story on hers alex_albon: He was at the photoshoot and it’s his shirt she’s wearing in the post alex_albon: I’m literally so angry for you alex_albon: Lando? alex_albon: Hope you didn’t drown

Lando didn’t know what to say other than a repeat of,

landonorris: What the fuck

It had been a few months since you had publicly announced that you were dating some random influencer guy that Lando had barely heard about. Another thing he’d never admit? That he cried four times that day over it. It was a part of you that he should have been supportive of knowing that if you were happy then he should be happy, but it honestly just made him feel like trash, like some irrelevant stupid fanboy, and completely hopeless in love. In fact, to put it truthfully, Lando loathed the sight of your boyfriend. He loathed the sound of his name. He never would dream to hate another human being but your boyfriend pushed him pretty damn close to that.

Lando just knew you could do so much better.

You could do so much better with him.

georgerussell63: I’m so sorry mate alex_albon: I’m so sorry buddy alex_albon: I will literally fight this man for you

Lando suddenly felt so dirty but not in the way that he had planned as the concept of having been staring at you in his shirt and jerking off to you in his shirt suddenly made him want to throw up. Cheeks pink with anger, Lando did the only thing he could honestly do in that moment: rant to his best friends in their group chat.

landonorris: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me landonorris: Why is he literally everywhere landonorris: Why is he all over her all the fucking time??? landonorris: Does he not have a job??? landonorris: Can I not have one nice thing?? landonorris: These were her best pictures yet and he fucking ruined them landonorris: Why is she wearing his shirt in a photoshoot? landonorris: WHY WAS HE EVEN THERE?? georgerussell63: This is so fucked alex_albon: I’m literally pissed off too alex_albon: I couldn’t even tell you what this man's job is georgerussell63: Don’t worry Lan you’re gonna get to her some day and she’s going to fall all over you 🤍 georgerussell63: You’re literally perfect for each other she just doesn’t know you yet alex_albon: But she will!! georgerussell63: Hell yeah she will alex_albon: He may be someone she’s in love with now but you’re gonna be the one she’s in love with forever georgerussell63: Oof Albono spitting facts 🔥 landonorris: Like what does he have that’s so great landonorris: He’s brunette?? landonorris: Oh wow nice georgerussell63: Is now the time to mention that so are you? landonorris: Whatever mate I’m desperate landonorris: It fucking hurts and I hate that it hurts georgerussell63: It’s gonna make you stronger georgerussell63: Like Kelly Clarkson said lol alex_albon: You’re gonna be so strong it’ll be like WWE level gains up in here 💪🏼💪🏼 georgerussell63: She’s gonna be all over those guns mate georgerussell63: Unbelievably sexy 🥵 landonorris: Omfg guys 😂😂 alex_albon: Ripping through shirts kind of strong georgerussell63: Absolutely demolishing weak boyfriends kind of strong landonorris: Might go to shake his hand like a gentleman and -oops sorry didn’t mean to break your arm mate georgerussell63: PFFFF LMFAO alex_albon: HAHA dkm omggg georgerussell63: 1000% alex_albon: Plus you can race and what kind of girl doesn’t literally swoon over a guy that can race fast cars landonorris: Bro barely landonorris: Talking about not even getting past F4 is not the way to impress a girl georgerussell63: Fuck F4 mate alex_albon: What do they know about talent georgerussell63: Yeah and you’ve got serious skill georgerussell63: Fly to Monaco and drive circles around that woman alex_albon: And bring us too!! georgerussell63: That’s a given

Lando smiled lightly to himself and slid farther down on his bed as his friends eased his conscious like it was their day jobs. His heart beat for you, that was undeniable, and there was a second of any day that went by where he wasn’t thinking about how to get to you.

landonorris: Next book tour idc I’m lining up at 4am to meet her landonorris: I bet she smells so good alex_albon: Siiiimp georgerussell63: Just please don’t say that to her face

PART TWO

Tag list: @brettlorenzi3

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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musical-shit-show · 2 months

Text

electric touch

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (“are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”) and #86 (“they don’t need to know.”) from Prompt List 2

Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,363

Author’s Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. That’s about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)

“What’s that?”

You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.

You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.

“What, you didn’t have eyeliner in heaven?” you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.

He shook his head, “Why would we need makeup in a place where everyone’s fuckin’ perfect and poised 24/7?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?

Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.

“Ugh, what is with you, dude?”

His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was…thinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.

“It looks…good.” he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, “I guess I never really noticed it before.” You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.

Ever since he turned up on the hotel’s doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didn’t know; it didn’t particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.

He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.

“Do you…do you want me to put some on you?”

He blinked stupidly. “I’m not gay, toots,” he deadpanned, “Despite what that little spider twink downstairs thinks—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, “But makeup transcends sexuality.” He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.

Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.

Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

He was already ashamed of himself for asking Lucifer’s brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.

Although you were a sinner too, you didn’t judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.

It scared him, though he’d never let you know that. He’d rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.

Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.

“You know,” you drawled, “some of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“And,” you added, “A lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.” He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.

“Ugh, fine,” he whined, “You’re lucky I’m bored, sugartits.” He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.

You couldn’t dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.

You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t get a good look down your shirt.

He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.

Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.

Fuck.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. “Almost done,” you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.

You couldn’t help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained rather…angelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Ah, okay, open up,” you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.

Satan help you. He looked hot.

You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. “Damn babe, I must look pretty good if you’re giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shhhh,” he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you might’ve had a crush on when you were still living.

You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.

“Are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“Fuck, I do look good,” he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?

You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. “Only in your dreams,” you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasn’t visible. Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “They don’t need to know,” he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. “It can be our little secret.”

His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.

You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.

“Charlie’s expecting me,” you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, “Something about more trust exercises—” you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.

He didn’t seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, “But teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.”

You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didn’t matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew you’d be seeing him there later anyways.

Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.

------

thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

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loveharlow · 2 months

Text

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally.

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped.

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’.

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight.

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter.

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued.

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice.

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him.

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat.

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range.

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly.

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house.

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat.

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior.

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled.

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself.

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement.

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook.

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered.

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall.

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke.

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum.

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John.

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’.

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.”

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.”

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort.

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father.

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however.

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'.

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly.

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad.

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!”

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.”

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you.

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

“NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”.

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you.

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open.

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde.

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried.

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool.

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up.

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed.

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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garfunklefield · 7 days

Note

hiii ^^ can u write ab how perverted each JJK man is? plz plz plz includ choso!!!!! i luv my little bbg

Dirty Little Pervert!

HOW PERVERTED ARE THEY?

[Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, and Toji]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, fem!dom!reader [Gojo], sub!Gojo, anal fingering, dumbification, public sex, dub-con, exhibitionism, slave play, pet/master, hair pulling, degradation, spanking/flogging, bratty!reader [Nanami], brat taming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, sex toys, Choso's is really sweet, hunter/prey, consensual non-consensual [Toji] breeding kink, biting, blood play [blood drinking] Word count: 1941 DESC: How perverted are each JJK man on a scale from 1 to 5?

I actually had so much fun with this! I've never done a multi-fic before I'd love to do more!

This is not my most well written fic but hey it's something!

Satoru Gojo: ★★✩✩✩ Submissive/Dominant

Satoru Gojo was the most pathetic man you had ever been with. You had never heard a man cry and whimper more than him, which was strange because when you first met him you had him completely wrong. From the way he acted and from how he presented himself, you pegged him for a dominant guy who liked to fuck submissive girls. You initially thought it would be a problem, being a dom yourself. So it surprised you when you heard him casually admit to being a sub.

“I like a real dominant woman. Someone who can fuck my smug attitude outta me.” That was all he needed to say. Because soon that’s exactly what you did.

You just used your fingers, pumping them in and out of his tight little hole. He was already so sensitive that’s all he needed to become a slobbering and filthy mess. You watched as the boy you knew as cocky and conceded fall apart, whimpering and crying out that he wanted more.

“You like that slut?” You smirked, arching your fingers to touch his sensitive prostate. Satoru moaned, nodding his head against the bed. Both of his hands were gripping the sheets and his back arched as he felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his cock. He’d already cum several times, writhing around in it. But he still wanted more. And not to mention, you wouldn’t let him leave until you milked him completely and utterly dry.

“M-mommy.. Please.. F-f.. mmm… shit.. Mm-fuck.. Fuck.. fuck me… p-please!” He sobbed into the cushion, jerking his hips to the sensation. It wasn’t long before he felt it get too intense and he spilled out again onto the bed, screaming out with pleasure. He threw his head up and arched even more that he possibly could. All from your plush little fingers. You hadn’t even begun to stroke his cock or fondle his balls and he was completely and utterly gone. He was in a haze, fucked dumb from your digits.

“More…” he rasped, looking over at you with his tongue sticking out, “I want… more..”

Suguru Geto: ★★★★✩ Exhibitionist and slave play

Suguru wasn’t one for hiding his perverted nature. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you both came home from a late day at the office and he was beginning to pull down your pencil skirt. One hand pulled at the hem while the other used little force to push you stomach-first against the hood of his car. You let out a breathy gasp and turned back to him, trying to see what exactly he was doing.

“Suguru?” You asked, trying to get an idea as to what was about to happen. You didn’t want to admit but you were already soaking wet. You knew with the nature of your relationship he didn’t need to ask, if your master wanted to fuck you you knew to oblige. No matter where you two were.

He pressed his raging boner against your ass and let that speak volumes. He hadn’t been able to concentrate without thinking about fucking you in public. He wanted everyone to hear you moan that he was yours and no one could ever fuck you like that. He wanted you to cry and choke on his cum as he pounded into from the back. Suguru wanted everyone to know who owned you.

Your skirt came off and fell down to your ankles, revealing your underwear. He inhaled sharply and pulled his cock out from his slacks, letting it hit your fat ass with a small noise. It was within seconds that he was inside you. You gasped and arched your back, feeling one of his hands on the small of your back and the other grabbing your hair, pulling you back to him.

“You like that, huh? Whore? Little pathetic slut?” Suguru spat in your ear, making your pussy throb in between your legs. You were the most self-respectable girl, never letting anything get to you. But in your sex life… you were a different person. You were a total slut for your husband, doing anything and everything to please him.

Kento Nanami: ★★★✩✩ Spanking and Brat taming

Kento wasn’t a very perverted guy at all, he’d only ever really think about that stuff when he was with you. You never pegged him for the guy who was into going to fetish bars or doing ACID on a Tuesday night, and you were right. However, you didn’t account for the fact he had his own kinks and ways of pleasuring himself. He never admitted but he enjoyed his fair share of BDSM, only with the right person of course. When you came in, with your bratty nature and your big innocent eyes… he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to cum on your tits and force you to lick it off or give you a piece of his mind after a long day of work, fucking into you with no care for your own personal boundaries at all. But… he restrained himself enough to limit his kinks to a select few things.

So you found yourself, bent over on his lap with a flogger in his hand, while his other lifted up your pink skirt. Of course, you didn’t wear underwear. He had gotten used to the fact you were the pervert in this relationship, doing everything to get a rise out of him. And it worked. You had been able to make him so sexually frustrated it was pissing him off. He needed to tame you and make you bend to his will over and over, and over again.

Of course, it would only make you behave for about a week before you started to test his patience again, and then the cycle would repeat. And god he loved it.

“Okay dirty girl,” he spoke gently, “Remember if you stop counting I start over,” and with one fell swoop the flogger smacked your ass. You let out a whimper and threw your head back, counting the first number.

After a few more spanks from the flogger you hazily looked over at him, drool pooling on your bottom lip and dripping onto the floor, “I.. mm.. I forgot… my place,” you let out a hiss as Kento frowned and raised his hand, slapping your ass with enough force to make you cry out. “Mm! I’m sorry!” You let out a sob before he smacked it again, “D-daddy Mm.. mm sorry!”

“You’re going to show me how sorry you really are, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as you, looking you over as your body shook. You didn’t realize it but he was so incredibly hard it was becoming painful for him.

Choso Kamo: ★✩✩✩✩ Mutual masturbation

Choso actually isn’t that much of a pervert! Choso had never found himself interested in BDSM or crazy sex. He preferred the romantic aspect of a relationship over the sexual, which he was very glad you did too. There was nothing he really wanted to try or had a desire to do. All he really wanted was to be close to you in any way possible. So maybe there was one thing. He wanted to see how you pleasured yourself when you were all alone. He wanted to see how you touched yourself to the thought of him, and he wanted to show you how he touched himself to you.

When he suggested the idea you thought it was really sweet and agreed. It made him happy to think you wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be with you. You watched as your boyfriend shyly peered over at your exposed pussy, glistening just for him. You placed your small vibrator over your clit, letting out a faint sigh at the new sensation. Just watching you begin to please yourself made a small jolt of electricity travel through his cock.

“Baby…” You cooed, motioning for him to lay beside you. Choso nodded and laid back, resting his head against your shoulder, “You wanna touch yourself too?”

“Mmhm…” He nodded, looking down at his growing erection. It took a few seconds before he was freed from his pants and sopping wet from his precum. He shyly placed his hand around his shaft and stroked upwards, before focussing on his tip. You watched him with a curious expression, slowly rubbing circles around your clit with your bullet vibrator. You let out a small moan as you watched him massage the slit on his tip, before going back to stroking his length again. All the while, his eyes were on you. Your face and the cute expressions you were making.

This felt more intimate than sex. A way to be close to one another without truly touching each other. Even though he longed desperately to touch some part of you, that’s why he was leaning his side against yours. Your warmth and your smell were so comforting, it was all he needed to masturbate near you. He really, really loved you.

Toji Zenin: ★★★★★★ Hunter/prey and CNC

Toji wins. Toji fucking wins. He’s the most perverted man you’ve ever met. The first thing he asked you when you walked up to him at that bar was your bra size, and that same night he was taking it off with one hand. Your relationship was purely sexual from the moment it began and you both loved it. You would do any kink or any weird thing he suggested, as he would for you. As long as it meant he got to breed your pretty pussy in the end.

Today you both had decided on something… out of the norm. It was dead of night, maybe 3 AM? And you were in a lovely wooded area, running for your life. Behind you, you heard something chasing after you. Maybe it was a beast, maybe it was a man, you couldn’t tell. Toji was supposed to be chasing you, but it had been so long since you had seen him that you weren’t sure what was behind you anymore. You looked down at your surroundings but it was pitch black, the only thing you could see were a few branches in front of you. You still saw them yet you tripped.

You fell face-first into a pile of leaves, scrambling when you heard… growling. A large hand grabbed your shirt and you gasped, struggling against it. You could barely see, you didn’t realize he had leaned down and began to bite you. You let out a cry, “Agh! S-stop!” You continued to struggle, whimpering when the man behind you broke skin and started to suck on the blood seeping from your neck.

“Pretty thing. Shame… M’ gonna fuck you so good,” Toji whispered, throwing you back into the ground. He was giving you a chance to run, to escape. But you didn’t want to. It was so fun to role play, to pretend you were in any real danger. You knew even though your relationship was sexual he’d kill for you and your tight pussy.

“Please…” You cried as you felt your pants rip from the top down, exposing your ass, “Leave me alone…” You buried your head into the leaves, a large hand grabbing your hair and pulling you up.

“I said I’m gonna fuck you good. Now stay quiet you fucking brat,” Toji pushed you down, making you squeal in pain as he slapped your ass a few times. Your skin stung and you knew this was just the beginning of a long sexual experience with your lovely sneaky link, Toji.

#gojou satoru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #choso kamo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #x reader smut #x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Note

Tiny Vox part 2?

Idk if you'll use this but I just want to give it to you.

I kind of headcannon tiny vox the be dumber, because the unprepared small body can't load all his data very well. So I imagine Vox, being stupidly in love, trying the help them when they are doing the dishes or working on their hobby bit he is just making more of a mess and smiling dumbly in love. Like when reader likes to draw heb grabs a random coloured pencil and bring it to them. You know just adorable but unhelpful.

Pocket-sized Partner: VoxPet™️ Care Guide

Tiny!Vox x Reader

A/N: So uhhh- here's a teeny little Headcanon thing while I write the continuation for the VoxPet series because I love smol TV guy. That and I'm starting to slightly feel the burnout, well- I can't tell if that's the right term since I'm starting to look at my ideas and realize that they're starting to lack the coherence and polish they used to. ANYWAY! Here's a Headcanon list for the small guy before I post the continuation for it- so I hope you guys enjoy! Happy reading!

So given Vox's mostly bionic/mechanical biology, it makes sense that he doesn't necessarily regenerate the same as other more organic(flesh-based) sinners.

Instead, he has spare bodies to upload his consciousness and switch into if the one he's using gets damaged and needs repairs or is just not worth saving.

Hence he has a couple spares lying around.

It's just in this instance, the only spare he had left was in a less than desirable condition-

And the others were still broken or just beyond repair.

Having a his brain be it's own practical digital entity also plays into this, I'd think in his paranoia he'd have copies of his own data stored in cloud servers all over the pride ring too.

So it won't be easy should someone try to get rid of him.

Anyway, back to the body switching.

So this new body Vox took is a very underpowered and overutilized little thing.

Imagine running a Skyrim with over a thousand mods on the highest graphics using a 7 year old dell laptop.

Yeah. That's what Vox is currently doing.

The small body is already running at full capacity with his overload of data and it's not even all of it.

Just the basic necessities like his personality and habits.

Like, what make Vox- vox.

Everything else like his schedules, alarms, work, etc.

They're just uploaded to a cloud server with the rest of his complete data.

Oh I forgot to mention, in his haste to make this tiny cute form-

He totally forgot to give it the ability to form even basic speech patterns.

Hence the squeaking and beeping.

He actually can't talk, not that the small body would even have any more processing room if he did do that.

Vox merely figured that you'd probably find some enjoyment anyway in his predicament until the new spare parts arrived and he didn't want to keep moving around dripping coolant and blood accompanied by some sparking wires.

Let's not even mention the cracked screen.

His face being messed up was probably the least of his issues there too.

So you kind of had to take care of him as that small little guy in that hastily put together body.

Also, because it's so underpowered and practically at it's peak use-

Vox can't actually really use his powers much.

Which he didn't realize only until after he flipped out when Velvette and Valentino found him when the staff were panicking from him suddenly going AWOL.

In this tiny body, he only has his generally human memorization skills to recall important things.

Not his flawless computer memory, which was lumped in with the data this body couldn't hold.

He did thank his lucky stars that you weren't so upset about the state he was in though.

You'd often flip the hell out when he got hurt or just had blatant disregard for his own wellbeing.

I mean, when you can switch bodies like the socks on your feet would you be careful too?

I wouldn't, I'd try every single way to die just out of sheer curiosity and boredom-

Anyway, after you got over the initial shock of seeing your boyfriend all plushie sized and everything-

You better bet he got fucking spoiled.

Literally like a chihuahua in a purse moment.

Y'all know those build a bear clothes and accessories?

Yeah no you'd dress Vox up and down in those tiny things and he just couldn't stop you.

He could figure out how to delete all the photos you'd taken when he got back to normal.

But if being treated like a doll was all it took for you to just drown him in kisses and hugs-

You better bet this man would go ahead and pull something like this again.

Plus the compulsion to just aggressively cuddle the life out of him-

Well he's already dead but the point stands.

He can't help but soak up your affection like a thirsty sponge though.

You do eventually realize that he actually has to be plugged in to recharge though.

Plugged in by a port on the back of his teeny head.

What, where did you think he'd put it?

You're glad that Vox tends to leave all sorts of cords of different lengths around your apartment.

Something to do with his work?

You had half a brain to tie him up with those said cords sometimes-

It was irritating at first but after you organized them to keep, at least you didn't dispose of them since you needed them now-

For once the hardware spaghetti was actually useful.

And thank goodness for the long wire, because he'd become extremely clingy after all the attention and affection you'd given him.

Tiny dude was sitting on your lap being pet and coddled while charging.

All while you were reading a book.

Yep. He was a spoiled little shit.

You also realized that he didn't need to eat because of the charging thing-

But he could if he wanted to.

As proven when Vox just took a small part of your meal and slowly ate it.

It wasn't even a full bite for you but it looked comically big in his tiny hands.

He installed a proper digestive system but not a text to speech thing.

Sometimes you wondered if your boyfriend's priorities were a little more wayside that you originally took them for.

He was so cute trying to help you with the dishes though.

Couldn't really do much because of how small he was-

Not to mention the fact you didn't even want to risk any more damage to him since electronics and water are generally not a good mix-

But he tried, and you'd count him being adorable as helpful emotional support anyway.

Even if he really didn't do anything aside from play with the bubbles and smile cutely at you.

If he didn't have an empire and corporation to run you might actually just keep him like this-

Even when you were looking over at some documents his secretary sent over to sign-

You guessed it was because Vel mentioned that Vox was in your care for the time being.

He was wobbling around holding a pen that was probably half his size.

Again cute as hell, but an unhelpful distraction-

Now when you went to sleep?

You plugged Vox in again and just cuddled him against your chest.

The same thing happens when he "sleeps" whether big or in this form anyway.

Screen dims and then his company logo screensaver pops up.

Anyway, I say sleep in quotations because Vox doesn't actually sleep in the conventional sense.

It's just one of the many ways he can physically recharge.

So if he does sleep it's often by choice or because he just passes out.

If he wanted to keep going physically, Vox could just directly connect himself into a power outlet and not ever run out of juice.

Mentally though- it's why he actually needs our version of sleep.

Or periods of system shutdown where he can actually mentally recuperate.

Otherwise he'd be a cracked out delirious mf hyped up on caffeine.

Which he is sometimes regardless.

Either way, you'd pet and cuddle him until he fell asleep before you would also succumb to slumber.

When you woke up though, he somehow ended up cuddling your face.

You had no idea when that even happened.

He greeted you with a happy beep and a heart on his tiny face when you woke up though.

It was probably selfish as hell but now you really wanted to keep him like this just a little longer-

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 2 months

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway.

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous.

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue?

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it.

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down.

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest.

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you.

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck.

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long.

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call.

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet.

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t.

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

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transmutationisms · 9 months

Note

okay so i’ve never really grasped this, might as well ask now — how exactly does the cyberspace & nft stuff mine resources? i’ve heard the basics (i.e. crypto mining uses energy and what not) but i’ve never been able to understand how internet connects to real resources. could you sort of explain that (along the lines with the spam email post) in a simpler way?

ok, put very simply: it's easy for people who only interact with the internet as users to treat 'cyberspace' or 'the virtual world' as immaterial. i type something out on my phone, it lives in the screen. intuitively, it feels less real and physical than writing the same words down on a piece of paper with a pencil. this is an illusion. the internet is real and physical; digital technology is not an escape from the use of natural resources to create products. my phone, its charger, the data storage facility, a laptop: all of these things are physical objects. the internet does not exist without computers; it is a network of networks that requires real, physical devices and cables in order to store, transmit, and access all of the data we use every time we load a webpage or save a text document.

this is one of google's data centres—part of the physical network of servers and cables that google operates. these are real objects made of real materials that need to be obtained through labour and then manufactured into these products through labour. the more data we use, the more capacity the physical network must have. google operates dozens of these data centres and potentially millions of servers (there is no official number). running these facilities takes electricity, cooling technologies (servers get hot), and more human labour. now think about how many other companies exist that store or transmit data. this entire network exists physically.

when you look at a server, or a phone, or a laptop, you might be glossing over a very simple truth that many of us train ourselves not to see: these objects themselves are made of materials that have supply chains! for example, cobalt, used in (among other things) lithium-ion batteries, has a notoriously brutal supply chain relying on horrific mining practices (including child labour), particularly in the congo. lithium mining, too, is known to have a massive environmental toll; the list goes on. dangerous and exploitative working conditions, as well as the environmental costs of resource extraction, are primarily and immediately borne by those who are already most brutally oppressed under capitalism: poor workers in the global south, indigenous people, &c. this is imperialism in action. digital technologies cannot exist without resources, and tech companies (like all capitalist firms!) are profitable because they exploit labour.

all commodities require resources and labour to make and distribute. digital technology is no different. these are material objects with material histories and contexts. nothing about the internet is immaterial, from the electromagnetic waves of wi-fi communication to the devices we use to scroll tumblr. it is, in fact, only by a fantastical sleight-of-hand that we can look at and interact with these objects and still consider the internet to be anything but real resources.

#tech

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 6

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, plushophilia

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

William Afton pretending to be Steve Raglan looks at the phone number scrawled on the slip of paper in front of him on the desk blotter and sighs.

It’s the number for the place where his wife is staying.

There’s a framed picture on the desk of himself and his bride and her daughter. He stares at your face when he dials the number.

It takes someone a minute to answer, another few to locate your mother. Steve glances at the clock. His lunch break is rapidly disappearing. He always spends it in his office unless his spouse forces him to be social.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Steve! I tried calling you last night.”

“Really? Sorry I missed your call. I went out to get something for dinner.”

“You’re not doing takeout every night, are you?”

“No, not at all. Just haven’t made the effort to do shopping for the week yet. I’ll take care of that this weekend. Tell me how your trip is going.”

He winds the phone cord around his index finger and half listens to your mother babble. He’s thinking about you kneeling in front of him in the office at the pizzeria. Holding you on the couch. Falling asleep with you in his arms. Waking up the same way, too.

“Steve? Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry the connection isn’t great. These phones, you know.”

“I asked how things are going with you and my daughter.”

“Oh, fine. We’re getting along fine. You don’t need to worry.” She absolutely should be worried.

“Well, I miss you.”

“Yeah, we miss you too.” He doesn’t. Not even remotely. He wishes he could cut your mother right out of that picture on the desk. Cut her right out of his life. End the charade and just keep you all to himself. He can handle the home life doldrums with you there. They don’t bother him like they used to when it’s just the two of you.

He finds himself enjoying taking care of you.

“I’ll call you on Saturday afternoon.”

“Okay sounds good. Have fun. Take care.”

“I lo—”

He hangs up the phone. Leans back in his chair and sighs, pulling off his glasses and scrubbing a hand over his face. Glances at the clock again and lifts the phone back off the hook and dials a four digit extension number.

“Is my next client here yet? Yeah, no, I know it’s fifteen minutes early. Go ahead and send them in.”

***

You’re sitting on your bed with your legs folded, still wearing your school uniform, a notebook in your lap and a textbook on the bed.

It’s getting late.

Well past time when your stepfather should be home.

You’ve already tried calling the office. No answer. You can only assume he’s left for the day. So where was he?

It’s difficult to concentrate on something as mundane as quadratic equations when the memories of the previous night keep flooding your mind. The previous three nights. Strange to think it’s only been three. Such a scant amount.

You lift your pencil and set it back down, looking at the clock again. What if something bad had happened? Steve should have been back at least two hours ago.

Your bedroom is at the back of the house so you don’t hear the car when it pulls into the driveway. You think you hear the front door open and close and you sigh in relief. He’s home. He’s okay.

You hear his even tread up the carpeted stairs. Your cracked door is pushed open the remainder of the way. Steve leans, letting his upper arm and shoulder gently strike the door frame to rest against it.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“I was worried. You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Work got a little crazy. And then I picked us up groceries. Enough to get us through the weekend. We can deal with next week when it gets here.”

He looks a little tired, you think. Almost…you’re not sure. You’ve never seen your stepfather wear this look before. A sort of melancholy.

“You doing your homework?” He pushes off the door frame and walks over to stand next to the bed. You nod. “That’s my good girl.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Princess. Just a little tired.” He begins to gently comb his fingers through your hair as you tip your head to look up at him.

“I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah. I missed you too.” He bends to kiss your mouth. You grab his tie, unfolding your legs, the notebook tumbling out of your lap as you struggle to kneel on the mattress’ springy surface, trying to get closer to him. He drags the comforter off the bed and your school things are dumped to the floor. “I miss the taste of you in my mouth,” he pants, climbing onto the bed with you. It’s a twin, three sizes smaller than the king one in the master bedroom. “Let me have you, sweet girl.” He pulls until you’re lying supine beneath him. Lifts your skirt and kisses you through your panties. He gently bites on the material at the crotch and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it, moaning against you.

Your body had begun responding to his presence the instant he had appeared. You’re conditioned for this now; trained for it. Your entrance waters in anticipation for your stepfather’s sinful kisses.

Steve shoves the material impatiently to one side, holding it with his thumb and licks. You moan and arch against him, burying a hand in his graying hair. His glasses have gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere.

“My God, you’re wet baby girl,” he observes. He flicks his tongue against your clit and you feel a finger ease inside of you.

You hiss in pleasure. This is what you want. What you need. A second figure begins to be added. This is new but your body is eager to accommodate. Stretching. So much fluid leaking from you. His saliva now adding to the slick of your arousal.

“Yes, Daddy. It feels so good…”

Suction on your fuck button as he finishes violating you with the pair of digits. He’s in. Your hips gyrate. It’s a natural response, the way evolution assured that the species would propagate. Your body knows what it’s made for.

“Fuck me, Daddy. I need you to fuck me.” You like the fingers but you want his cock. You’re not afraid anymore. You want him buried inside you, crushing you from above on the outside.

“Soon, baby girl,” he murmurs, mouth pulling off your clit with a soft pop. “I’m going to fuck you so hard. Fill you up every night when I get home. Send you to school every day with another load still dripping out of you.” He wrenches the panties further to one side and buries his face in your pussy. Withdraws the fingers and thrusts his tongue in, alternating between them. Lets his fingers curl around the crotch of the fabric he’s holding so his freed thumb can press your nub against the bone beneath, stroking in circles.

Your thighs are shaking. He’s got you so close. His hair is damp in your clenched fingers. He’s working up a sweat eating you out. “Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.” He slurps between your lips and tongues your bundle of nerves again, his fingers pounding into you.

You explode, quivering against your stepfather, pushing his head against you more tightly. You feel the puffs of air exchange from his nostrils, the encouraging moans extending the pleasure. His fingers finally exit your canal and you relax your grip on Steve’s hair, letting him breathe easier.

“I think suffocating in your pussy is probably one of the best ways I could perish.”

“Sorry, was I too—”

“—No. You were perfect. You’re always perfect.” He releases his hold of your panties and climbs back over you to kiss you, the taste of your cunt heavy on his tongue.

“I want to make you feel good, too.”

“Later, baby. This was just an aperitif.”

You frown. “What’s that?”

“Like an appetizer only it’s alcohol instead of food. It’s meant to stimulate your appetite.” He plants a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth and flops next to you. His tall frame is really too much for this bed.

“Oh. That’s kind of hot.”

Steve grins and sighs, swiping at the dampness of you still clinging to his beard. “Everything about you is, baby girl.” He looks happier now. Sated. More content. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll start dinner, okay? I picked up everything you asked for yesterday.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anything for my daughter.” He reaches for one of your hands and brings it to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently.

***

William places the dish of foil wrapped Russet potatoes on the oven rack and shuts the door, setting the timer on the stove. You’re at the sink, washing and cutting vegetables for the salad.

He’s going to give them twenty minutes or so before he starts on the rest of the meal.

You look up at him and smile softly. You’ve showered with him and are wearing one of his tshirts. He loves where the hem hits your thigh, the way the material flows over your body. He’s tempted for another round but he doesn’t want to spoil dinner. He was going to wait.

He asks you about school. The details of your day, the things he’s missed. And he’s surprised that he actually cares about these things. He wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy.

William looks at the time and decides now is the moment to begin. He shoves his shirt sleeves up and gets started on the steaks, seasoning them with salt and pepper, getting the cast iron seasoned skillet hot. He feels you watching him after you’ve finished and he smiles as he lays down the meat to sear. “You like watching me cook.”

“I do. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…I would have liked to see you in the restaurant, back in the day. It’s too bad it closed.”

“Yes, it is.” The red meat sizzles and its aroma fills the air. Your mother usually is the one to cook. He wonders why you don’t cook with her, indulging in your obvious culinary curiosity. But he’s not going to ask. Not now. He doesn’t want to mention her and have that wedge between you two evenings in a row.

Afton flips the steaks and repeats the searing process. Reduced the heat when he thinks enough time has elapsed and adds in butter and rosemary and thyme. The oven beeps, signaling the potatoes are ready. He’s gotten sour cream and butter and chives to top them with. You set the table. You’re in your mother’s seat again. It’s yours, now.

Everything is cooked perfectly. The warm

food is comforting. He rests a palm on your knee, nothing sexual really, just letting you feel his presence beside you. The intimacy the two of you share.

“That was so yummy. Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course, Princess. You deserve it.”

You offer to load the dishwasher and he puts the leftovers into storage in the fridge. There’s not much, just some salad. You’d both been hungry. After he’s finished wiping down the kitchen he joins you on the couch, carrying a pair of filled wine glasses. You sip the pale gold liquid and flip through the channels until you find a horror movie to watch, looking a question at your stepfather.

“Whatever you want to watch is fine, baby.”

On screen, he sees a knife sink into flesh and the bloom of crimson brings back so many memories.

Night four has come and is quickly fading away.

***

You’re in your bedroom, setting out your school uniform clothes for the morning when Steve enters.

You can count the number of times you’ve been in here with him on one hand. It’s not a space he normally intrudes in. This is the second time tonight.

“I’m almost ready,” you say. You’re drowsy from the wine. Maybe slightly tipsy. You’d only had two glasses. Your stepfather had drunk at least twice that amount.

His gaze wanders to the lineup of stuffed animals on the shelf beneath the window. “Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one did you use. You know, you had mentioned before…” He points to the shelf. The new yellow rabbit your stepfather had retrieved for you from the claw machine is front and center.

“Oh,” you blush. “Um, the rabbit on the end. The ears are easy to hold…” You can’t finish the sentence. It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed about something like masturbating at this point, when Steve had been eating you out a foot away just a few hours ago.

“Did you ever want a toy? A vibrator, or…”

“I never really thought about it, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll get you one someday. To tide you over if I’m not around. But not until I’ve had you,” he says, stepping closer. He’s looking at you with lidded eyes that have gone completely black.

“Okay, Daddy,�� you say softly.

He reaches for the plush bunny. It’s white with a soft pink bow. Button eyes and nose and a stitched mouth. He holds it out to you, clutching it by the ear. “Show me how you touch yourself. I want to see.”

You swallow nervously. “I haven’t really done that in a while.”

“Baby girl,” he says, and there’s a warning there. He’s not asking. He’s telling. The tenderness from earlier has vanished.

“Okay.” You take the rabbit and set it on the bed, about to climb in when he halts you.

“Without the panties on.”

You slowly lift the hem of the borrowed shirt and reach for the waistband. This pair has little pink hearts on it. You push them down and step out of them, leaving them on the floor in a crumpled pile.

You settle into the center of the bed and Steve sits on the side, his body angled to face you. You reach for the rabbit plush and position it between your legs, lifting your hips so the torso and lower legs are tucked beneath you and the face rests against your crotch, the point of its nose poised nearly level with your clit.

The synthetic fur against your bare flesh feels amazing. Why hadn’t you tried this sooner?

You cross your ankles and the stuffed bunny draws tightly against your body. You wind one of the ears around your hand, reminding you of winding your hand around Steve’s tie. Your body grinds against the plush, the bed creaking softly with the movements.

He rests a palm on your thigh, feeling the muscles shifting beneath the skin. Your eyes are locked with his.

“Does it feel good, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Your stepfather pulls his erection from his pajama pants and begins stroking. You can’t see exactly all of what he’s doing at this angle but you can hear his palm stroking, the sound of skin brushing skin, see the motions of his arm.

The fabric and fur is damp between your legs. There are times when the nose pushes just right, where the seam lines up perfectly and your sensitive nub is mashed, sparking the nerves within. The gyrating motion continues. Your breathing is more rapid. More of a pant. You’re still staring into your stepdad’s blown pupils. The swishing sounds of Steve rubbing his cock match the rate of your respirations.

His hand leaves your thigh and he climbs into bed with you, positioning himself over you, still stroking, bracing himself with his forearm and knees so he hovers just above. He kisses you and says your name. The hand holding the rabbit ear is cramped. You ignore the discomfort, your hips still rolling, pressing your pussy agains the plush.

“My sweet girl,” he says. “My daughter.”

Your core throbs and aches. You’re getting close again. “I’m yours, Daddy. Only yours.”

Raglan groans. His movements on his dick are more frantic now. He’s nearing his own release.

“I want you to cum all over me, Daddy.” You whimper. Nearly there. Every grind digs against your clit perfectly.

“You want it, baby? Want me to paint you with it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love the way your hot cum feels on me. Oh, Daddy, it’s…I’m…” You arch off the bed as your stepfather’s hot seed spurts over your chest, soaking into the fabric. His head drops down and he kisses you through the remainder of your shared orgasm.

A half hour later you’re back in his bed with a clean shirt and no panties, tucked beside him. You’re so drowsy now. Satisfied. Steve’s breathing is already slowing as he drifts off to sleep.

The fourth night ends.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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courtingchaos · 11 months

Text

There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson Fluff #My Work #My Fic

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arainmorn-art · 1 year

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Franny-boo and her big little brother Edgey is clearly used to it. In their dynamic Miles's emotional stability just shines through, he is her rock, he has a wide warm chest for her to cry into, I love it.

When I was playing AA2, oh gee, how much I disliked Franziska because she was violent and rude towards my himbo babies Phoenix and Gumshoe. I even was pissed that the Judge is so spineless he could not stop this little girl to whip people in the courtroom! But... ungh. Of course I was touched when she cried in front of Miles. And in AA3 I got warmer feelings for her. And in AAI she was adorable. And when she met Debest in AAI2, oh, oh, it was so satysfing when she whipped him x) And when you think a bit longer about her backstory, that she's lost her dad, almost lost her brother, tried to fulfil unrealistic expectations of being a personified perfection most of her life...

So... yeah. I almost like this little dominatrix :D What I've used: • craft paper sketchbook • acrylic markers: white, blue metallic, golden • water-based markers or felt-pens • pencil, black and white pens, ballpoint pen, calligraphy liners • a tiny bit of digital touch (the one with Edgey is coloured digitally) Oh man, it was such a mess on my fingers to mix white and metallic blue acrylic markers on her hair. And altogether trying to paint the skin with waterbased feltpens over white acrylic, baaaaaaaaa, was a pain. I've drawn unnatural skin colours for Undertale and Steven Universe characters like this before, but now I'm figuring how to use the same technique with real skin tones. I love craft paper, but man, it's tricky! The last sketch with Edgey was digitally painted though, as I've almost ruined the lineart with not dry enough acrylic on the same spread sheet, aaaa. Plus there're too many little detailes to easily mess it up with white marker x)

And I've enjoyed drawing Franziska too much. I object. She is still a rude little beast. You will not grow in me, Franziska. I will resist your tsundere charms.

But it was fun.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

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Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 28 You trying to get me fired?

NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: Office AU/Lawyer AU, Office romance/sex, co-workers, sexual tension, voyeurism, fingering, dirty talk, the whole office definitely heard, unprotected PiV (wrap it up folks). Let me know if I missed anything!

Unproofed, yolo I needed to get it posted.

Word count: 1578

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You saunter into Miguel’s office, blouse undone just enough to show off your cleavage and a whisper of your pale blue lace bra. Your tight pencil skirt hugs your hips as you drop the take-away box of empanadas on the desk.

“Layla said you haven’t moved from your desk since seven this morning, thought I’d make sure you aren’t going to keel over at the three o’clock.”

Miguel doesn’t look up from his computer screens, lost in the legal brief you know is up on both his monitors. His one hand is scribbling away on one of those artists tablets that allow you to draw digitally. But instead of creating art, he’s annotating evidence and marking pages to go back to with you after the meeting.

“You’re welcome, hijo de puta.”

You grumble under your breath as you turn to walk out, your hand is on the doorknob as you hear the growl from behind you.

“You tryin’ to get me fired muñeca?”

There it is.

You hear the hungry rasp in his voice accented by the sound of his desk chair being rolled back; it hits the wall with a crack, and you smile to yourself. Is today the day you finally get Miguel to snap? To take what you both know is his, and only his?

You twist the doorknob, pulling the door open only for it to be slammed shut. A broad palm slaps against the wood as you feel him crowd you from behind.

“Couldn’t have just asked me to fuck you like a good girl, could you?” Miguel’s lips ghost along your exposed neck, his breath fanning across your skin in short, hot bursts.

“You know I’m not one to beg, Miggy.”

“God, you’re fucking annoying.”

Miguel says, almost softly, as he slides his free hand down your thigh, dragging it back up slowly before slipping his thick fingers under the hem of your skirt. You struggle to stay still, heart pounding in your chest as your cunt throbs in anticipation.

“Careful, we’ve got that meeting later.”

You purr as you feel the fabric strain as he yanks it up. You moan softly as he licks a stripe up the column of your neck, and you feel his lips pull up into a smirk against your skin. The sound of your skirt tearing makes you hiss, and you try to push back against Miguel.

“Don’t be a brat, I know you have another outfit in your office down the hall.”

He pushes you flat against the door now, your cheek pressed against the hard surface as he pins you with his large form. You can feel the press of his cock against the seam of your ass, and you whimper as he rips the rest of the fabric away.

“Look at that.” Miguel purrs as he pulls your lacy panties down just enough to expose your dripping core to the air-conditioned chill of the office. You cry out as he runs his knuckles through your wet folds, gathering your slick over his fingers.

“You finally gonna give in and fuck me, Miguel? Taken you long enough.”

“Mierda, can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” He grunts as he pushes two thick fingers inside you, giving you no time to adjust. The burn is sinful, and you can’t help but whimper at the stretch. You grind back against his hand instinctively as he fucks you with his fingers. curling them up to press into your g-spot.

“Miggy, fuck, better than I could have imagined.”

“Oh?” He presses you up against the door with his whole body as he picks up the pace, the breath is forced out of your lungs as he smothers you with his body, “You been thinking about how I’d fuck you muñeca? How often, tell me.”

“Fuck.” You groan as he grinds his palm against your aching clit. You’re pinned under him, completely at his mercy as he unravels you with his thick fingers and scathing tone.

“Answer me.”

His hand stills inside you and you whine at the lack of friction. You try and move against him, but you’re pinned too tightly against the door. Your walls flutter around his fingers buried inside you and he hums in approval as he licks a flat, broad stripe against your skin, driving you closer to the edge.

“All the fucking time.” You wheeze through clenched teeth and that only makes him laugh, a low, barking sound.

“Fucking slut, you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“You fucking know I do Miggy, been trying to get you to do this for months.”

You’re rewarded for your sass with a sharp, loud crack, as Miguel spanks you hard with his free hand, the pain sending ripples of pleasure straight to your core.

“I’m a firm believer in consent baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t use your words to ask for it like a good girl.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You grumble as your fingers scrape on the lacquered wood of the door.

“Well?”

“Miguel, please, put your cock in me.” You bite through your pride as you beg. You’re so close, and all you want is for him to finally give in to you. Fuck you like you deserve, pressed against his office door like a whore.

His fingers leave you and you groan in protest at the way your pussy clenches around nothing, the emptiness maddening as you try and squirm against him. Relief washes over you as you hear the clink of his belt mere seconds before he nudges his head against your entrance from behind.

“Was that so hard?” He scoffs as he asks with all the smugness you deserve as he notches himself at your needy core, holding himself there for a few agonising seconds before he eases into you.

“Fu-uck.” Is all you can muster as he drives his thick length inside. You pant and moan at the burning stretch of his thick cock. He takes his time, filling you up, pausing, letting you adjust, before pressing into your once more.

“Such a tight little cunt, been holding out on me.” Miguel growls as he finally fills you to the hilt, both of you panting and gasping as he sits heavily inside you.

“Please, Miguel, fuck me.”

“There it is.”

Miguel’s fingers press firm marks into your hips as he pulls almost all the way out and you whimper at the way his cock rakes through your slick walls. You let your hand fall to your clit, not caring if Miguel’s ego would be bruised or not, you’re beyond letting men, even men like Miguel, from dictating your pleasure.

“Fucking dirty girl, I love it,” He growls as he notices what you’re doing, “Was going to take it slow, touch you myself, but I love that you just take what you fuckin’ want.”

Miguel starts to thrust into you harder, pulling almost all the way out, before snapping his hips forward to fill you to the brim. You cry out as pleasure arcs through you like tongues of flame, a desperate push and pull as you let him use you.

“Where do you want me?”

He pants against the column of your neck as his pace quickens, his thrusts getting sloppy as he kneads the swell of your ass, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips press into your flesh.

“Inside, I’ve got an implant, come inside me, please.” You whine as your fingers press just right on your clit as you rub frantically against the swollen bundle of nerves.

Miguel groans low in your ear as he fucks you so hard the door rattles violently beneath you. But you don’t care about who hears, you’re sure half the office are rolling their eyes as they hear the evidence of your months-long sexual tension finally coming to fruition.

“Fuck going to come, fill this sweet little-!” Miguel’s sentence is cut off by the guttural snarl that rips from his lips as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You cry out as the blinding rush of your orgasm rips through you, your cunt clenching around Miguel’s cock as you milk him dry. You pant heavily into the air as Miguel presses soft, tender kisses to your shoulder as you both come down from your high.

Eventually Miguel breaks the silence.

“So, you still keep that pant suit in the second desk drawer?”

“Of course you fucking know where it is.” You huff out a laugh as he eases out of you, his spend already trickling down your leg.

“When are you going to learn muñeca? You can’t hide a thing from me.”

“Asshole.” You groan as you use your torn skirt to clean up the worse of the mess before sliding your panties back into place.

“Got that right, now stay put.” He smirks at you as he eases the door open to slip through, giving you the dignity of not being laid bare to the office floor.

“Not like I can go anywhere!” You shout after him and you shake your head as the door clicks shut behind him. You shuffle over to his desk and perch on the edge, looking over at the screens to see a hand written message on a blank document.

Stop being so stubborn, and we can do this again sometime.

“Asshole.” You say to yourself, already formulating a plan to get back at him.

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