#cw strained friendships

[ponywithcanines]

LOOK INTO THE SKY AND SEE THE PATTERN REFLECTING IN YOUR EYES FROM A DISTANCE MIRRORING THE STARS ARE THE ATOMS MIX IT UP LIKE A COCKTAIL

[okaydays22]

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

¨I say that is safe, Wooly¨

Danm this game was something...

[talism4niac]

Love redesigning decade old satire ocs

She's also up for adoption! https://toyhou.se/17147154.princess-pineapples-30

vvv Original Artwork from 2014 ( tw for eyestrain ) vvv

[moondirti]

cw: dubcon humping. gn reader. he’s just a little pent up guys.

gaz is absolutely the type to squeeze you into a hug that lasts a bit too long.

idk, maybe you’re his best friend or something. someone he instantly clicked with at uni and who’s stuck around despite everyone else in his life falling away like pastry crumbs. devotion that isn’t romantic nor entirely platonic in a sense, but a secret third thing that has you inviting him to stay the night when he returns home and his flat is too far a drive for someone so tired.

you greet him at your door when he arrives. he’s bulkier than when he left for deployment, fills up the arms of his t-shirt and the thighs of his pants. smells like sweat and the faint traces of his cologne (Y by yves saint laurent. you’d gotten it for his birthday.) so sexy you might as well abandon your propriety and slip a hand down the course hairs of his happy trail. but you don’t. instead, you go in for one of your patented this-isn’t-more-than-a-friendship half hugs.

which he does not take. as your one arm hooks around his neck, both of his wrap around your waist and force you to embrace him fully. it’s crushing. so tight you have to lift your head to breathe properly. he lifts you off your feet and sways you back and forth as he whispers little complaints; things about stubborn CO’s or unnecessary bloodshed. you allow it because it sounds like he needs it, this small comfort.

except it verges on longer than a few seconds. longer than proper for a pair of good uni friends. his hand kneads the flesh of your back, and his hips grind against your groin. is he hard, or is that a gun he has yet to unarm? you can’t tell, but it seems to work for him when the hard mass in his jeans catches the canyon of yours. he groans quietly, stuttered, as his thrusts gain pace. as he tightens himself like a cobra around its prey. as he plants his lips onto your neck and starts inhaling the scent of your freshly washed skin.

“…kyle?” you whisper, awkward hands flailing about behind him. your voice comes out in a strained way, vocal chords crushed against his shoulder.

“jus… give- fuck. give me a moment, mate.”

so you do. it doesn’t last much longer after that, anyway. his grinding grows brutal, knocks the little air left out of your lungs. it hurts to a degree. he’s hitting the tendon between your leg and crotch – and you’re sure it’ll be tender in the upcoming days – but you don’t voice your troubles to the man around you, who unravels at such a startling pace you know he’s too far gone to pay proper attention regardless. how else would he be bold enough to grope the plush curve of your ass? two hands latch onto it like dough, anchoring you up so the angle hits just right.

and then he starts to get sloppy. his rhythm loses pace. his stance widens and he fucking whines into your ear as a wet spot spreads across the front of his pants. you’re so dizzy that, when he lets go of you, you have to hold onto his forearm to steady yourself, blinking owlishly at the grin that stretches across his face. as if he didn’t just hump you and cream in his clothes. why are you the one caught off guard?

“thanks for that.” he winks, then pets the flyaways off your temple.

[konigsblog]

nerd!könig watching bimbo!reader have sex. 💄👛

; könig can't help but stalk you, jerking off to the sight of you having sex with your popular boyfriend.

tw/cw; non-con voyeurism, depravity, perv!könig. minors will be blocked.

photo credit: x_bruisedpeach_x on x/twitter.

könig had his eye on you for a while. he's a pervert, it's known by most that he's disgusting and depraved, pushy and desperate to lose his virginity. he's in his early twenties, attending college, with his perverted gaze landing on the dumb, little bimbo in the corner. könig finds your stupidity almost laughable, desperate to be put in a group with you for teamwork just so he can mock and taunt you.

although he wasn't aware of one thing—you have a boyfriend. he's distraught at the news. könig jerks off every night fantasising about you, daydreaming about you and your future together, and to hear this devastating news? he's fucking pissed. könig will constantly try to manipulate you into believing that your boyfriend isn't good for you, lying about him cheating on you, with the hopes that you'll break up.

könig was supposed to come over to your dorm to study together. he'd noticed how you'd been falling behind and struggling, offering to come over and help you. one thing he wasn't expecting was to finally meet your boyfriend, cracking the door open enough to peek through, watching you get fucked aggressively.

god, his cock strained and throbbed inside of his boxers. his breathing quickened and all the blood rushed to his cock suddenly. könig's dick ached, pulsing inside of the tight confines of his underwear, unfastening his belt quickly to jerk himself off. he sucked in a sharp, deep breath as he began stroking himself, listening to the sounds of your moaning and whining.

könig was envious. he should've been the one fucking your brains out, fucking you stupid. he threw his head back and grunted quietly, his girthy cock aching at his firm, tight grasp. each drag and stroke drove könig closer to his release, with pearly and milky drops of his release drooling from the head of his veiny shaft. the veins on könig's dick were prominent, his fingernails brushing over them slightly leaving könig a mess, jerking himself off sloppily, wishing to be in your boyfriend's place.

he was ridiculously jealous of your boyfriend, extremely possessive over you despite not being in a relationship, barely even in a friendship. he couldn't bear to watch any longer, closing his eyes as he finally came, shooting white strings of his release all over himself, staining the jeans he wore.

he'd be humiliated if he was ever caught, deciding to message you that he wasn't feeling great as an excuse, his cock achingly hard all night at the image of you getting fucked engraved into his mind.

[sugurusyndrome]

cw: slight exhibitionism, pervy nature

— thinking about best friend!suguru who secretly has the hots for you

best friend!suguru is down bad but he’ll never be caught dead showing it. he values your friendship tremendously but it’s also hard for him to not sneak longing glances at your body whenever he thinks you’re not looking. he’s only human after all. a flawed human, at that.

a sore liar he would be if he denied jerking off to you, whether that be thinking about a particular thing you did that day…or hearing you through your paper-thin shared wall. not his best decisions, yes he knows, but fuck if the wet sounds of your purple jelly toy squelching in and out don’t have him cumming like a teenager.

jokes that tease about you two being together? he’ll be the first to act grossed out even though he would sell his soul to have 7 minutes in your pussy heaven.

best friend!suguru ended up buying a fleshtoy just to imagine that’s you he’s sloppily fucking with trembling hands. soap, lube and precum made it all the world harder for him to keep a steady grip on the toy and he had to suck his filthy oh so filthy fingers to trap his euphoric sounds.

because you two have known each other for ages, no topic was too weird. the topic that comes up in the most in jokes? sex. because of course. you revealed to him, laughing and blushing cutely—his self-restraint deserved a medal that moment—that you liked your men vocal in bed.

what did he boldly do next time? be loud.

“fuck fuck ohh yesss” and “shit, gonna cum…gonna cum baby” echoed frequently in his bathroom. he was torn between wanting you to hear him and the mortification of being heard.

going back to the paper-thin walls, he definitely strains his ears so that he can pick up on the tempo and pretend he’s the one eliciting those whimpers.

best friend!suguru is a perv. there’s genuinely no other way to describe him. he’s volunteered to take on the laundry so just he can get his hands on your panties. tangled around his leaking dick, the crotch of your lace rubs up on his fat tip so deliciously it should be considered a major sin. eyes rolling back, he chants your name under his breath before chucking the panties into the wash.

you’re forever none the wiser.

or at least he hopes so.

[kechiwrites]

totally platonic

johnny "soap" mactavish x best friend!reader kinktober countdown, day three (recording)

synopsis: soap helps you give your ex something real to worry about. 🎥

wc: 1.6k

cw: recording / making a sex tape, revenge, allusions to potential cheating (emotional?), fem + afab!reader, anal play, fingering, creampies, unprotected sex, spitting, mentions of cunnilingus

author's note: my first forray into soap, for the anon who asked for soap helping reader get revenge...like a million years ago.

“No, no, into the camera, I don’t want the poor fuck to miss your face when you come. Fucker’s probably never seen it. Not for real anyway.” Soap squeezes at the back of your neck, just firm enough to get you to lift your face out of your pillows. Enough to get you to stare into your phone’s camera. Your eyes make a fevered, strained connection with the tiny lens and a thrill runs through you, up your spine and out of your mouth in the form of Soap’s name. 

“Yes.” He hisses digging his fingertips into the flesh at your hips, tugging you back onto his length. 

Were you your ex, in about an hour or so, you’d get a video attachment with the sparkling heart emoji you loved to use in place of a caption. Were you your ex, you’d open the video, rolling your eyes and anticipating six minutes of you crying and whimpering apologies. Instead, you’d get an eyeful of your glassy expression, your clammy face, your open mouth, mumbling incoherently while Soap’s hips smacked hard against your back side.

You’d have seen the opening moments of the video you're currently shooting where Soap had zoomed in on the puffy lips of your cunt, documenting the way his dick slid over your labia over and over until you moaned deep in your throat off screen. You would’ve heard your own empty headed pleading with Johnny to “stop teasing already” before he sunk into you proper, pushing into your pussy, letting the camera catch him stretching you open, making you take every inch while you drooled obscenities. 

Thankfully though, you aren’t your ex, so you get to experience every second of Soap painstakingly taking you apart live and in-fucking-colour. 

It hadn’t been intentional. Soap is your friend, your best friend. Either of you would proudly take a bullet for the other. You’ve spent years in each other’s company, raiding each other’s fridges, crying on each other’s shoulders, laughing at one another’s dumbass jokes. You fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Totally. Platonic. Puzzle Pieces.

What makes the whole “having sex with your best friend and recording it” thing worse (or better, if you asked Johnny), is that your ex had always doubted the innocence of yours and MacTavish’s relationship, always muttering bitterly in the presence of your friendship. He’d argued over and over that Soap was “into you” and you just “didn’t want to see it”. And maybe you hadn’t. Maybe it made things easier to not address the casual intimacy of your actions, the long hugs, the near mouth kisses, the cuddling. You didn’t even want to consider the much too frequent occasions where you’d catch him staring at your mouth, or when you’d catch yourself leering at his arms, or the sex dreams. The goddamn sex dreams. Night after accursed night of Dream You and Dream Soap going at it like animals. Fucking like it’s what you were born to do.

Fucking the way you are right now.

He clasps a hand around your nape again, squeezing before he runs his palm down your sweat slick back. Soap presses deft fingers against your sides, gripping hard and punching forward again, rocking your entire body towards the camera. He’s going painfully slow, and the heavy glide of his cock inside you is mind-numbing. There’s no way the face you’re making to the camera lens is attractive, but later, when you're cuddled against him in your bed, rewatching the video, Soap will insist it’s perfect. 

Right now though, who gives a fuck what you look like, when you can feel Johnny rearranging your insides with his dick. 

He groans, spreading your ass to get a better look at his cock disappearing into you. “Fuck me.” He draws it out, voice drunk and deep with pleasure. You look over your shoulder at him, whispering something so low it doesn’t get picked up on camera.

And Soap couldn’t have that, could he?

“Tell him.” Your hips stutter, slowing the rhythm the two of you have built, your mind is already clouded with lust, thoughts obscured by the sensation of Johnny fucking you like he hates you.

Or loves you.

You really could not give less of shit about the difference tonight,

“Tell him, sweet.” He jerks his chin at your phone, propped up against a pillow and recording every second of your debasement in the highest definition the three year old device can manage.

Shivers wrack your body but you concede, facing the camera. “I asked him to spit on me.”

“Where did you ask for it? Don’t be shy.” He goads, picking up your slack, jolting you back and forth with deep thrusts, bottoming out then withdrawing until only the flushed scarlet tip of his cock is inside you, only for him to fuck back into you, grinding against your abused walls.

“My ass.” You moan, teeth bared as you try to breathe through your impending orgasm. “I asked him to spit on my ass.” You pant the answer, ”Cause you never wanted to.”

Soap’s laugh is boisterous, vindictive and loud, and he obliges you, finally, spitting at the furl of your asshole. The sensation makes you shiver, and you clench down on him, nearly wailing when your best friend’s thumb begins rubbing insistently at the rim of your hole, spreading his spit with purpose.

“Think I can get my thumb in there?” He huffs, and bends over, his chest blanketing your back so his face is in the camera too. Soap drags the very tip of her tongue over the shell of your ear, biting down softly on your earlobe, sucking at the skin beneath it before he addresses the lens this time, “Whaddya say, Leo? Think I can get my thumb in ‘er?” He rubs his forehead against the nape of your neck before levering back up, out of frame. “I think I can.” He murmurs happily, pressing the pad of the digit against your hole, quietly urging you to push against him, to breathe easy, until you part around the finger. Your whole body just melts as you get used to it, being full. Johnny begins moving again, stroking you deep then grinding inside you, rubbing his hands over your sides, squeezing, groping, touching like he can’t believe you’re here. Like he can’t believe he gets to have you like this.

He wiggles his thumb, pulling it to the side so he can stare at how he’s filled you completely. You can practically hear him ruminating on how he was going to convince you to let him fuck you there, stretch your ass open and spill his seed where no one had before. Lay an irrefutable claim.

Or maybe that was just you.

Honestly, it really didn’t matter because the pace at which Soap is pistoning into you, making your cunt weep, made every little thought that managed to grow in your mind die almost instantaneously.

"Mm...Johnny, I'm close" you grab at the hand he has anchored to your waist. The hair on his thighs rubs against you, the friction and the feel of his balls slapping against your clit speeding you towards an orgasm for the fucking record books. And contrary to Soap's posturing, you didn't fake orgasms, who the fuck had time for that? However, the ones Leo occasionally gave you were nothing like what you felt coming. You struggled not to bite your tongue clean off as ecstasy shot through you, your breath stalling in your lungs. You flee forward when Soap presses his thumb into your ass as far as it could go, pulling his unoccupied hand out of yours so he could rub tight circles over the hood of your clit. It's too much, gratification and sensation and reckless fucking pleasure.

Look at you, running from dick. Who'da thunk it?

"Oh that's not happening." Johnny rasps, breaking his own rhythm once, then twice, abandoning your clit to pull you back onto him. "Take it. Let him see how you take it." Another, smaller, climax tears through your last bit of restraint, all caught on digital film, and you drop your head and scream, muffled by pillows while Soap gives in and comes inside you, throwing his head back, groaning at your ceiling, or God, maybe.

Either's as likely.

When he pulls out, there's a fleeting moment of silence interrupted only by the sound of synchronized heavy breathing. 

Soap bends forward again, this time grabbing your shoulders and pulling you up and against his chest, knocking your legs apart with his hand so the camera can focus on his cum leaking out of you, dripping thick and slow for the benefit of your future audience. He turns your face by your chin, pressing his mouth to yours, further flooding your senses. When his tongue traces over yours, you can literally feel you and Johnny pass the point of no return. 

“Turn it off.” Soap nods to the phone again, and you have to shake your head twice and kiss him three times before you feel cognizant enough to understand what he’s asking. You can’t stop yourself from smiling facetiously into the tiny lens before you end the recording. 

“Give it here.” 

You pass him the phone, staring at the lock screen, a half decade old photo of you and Soap in a matching halloween costume, Johnny dressed like an angel and you his complicit devil, your arms wrapped around each other. 

Leo had hated it.

“Aaaaand send.” Soap sing-songs, tapping at the screen of your phone a few times before he chucks the device to the floor, ignoring your indignant yelp of protest. “How long do you think we have before he opens it?” 

“Long enough for you to eat me out?” You flop back on your bed, propped up on your bent elbows. 

“Then we’d best get started.”

Soap barely gets the chance to touch his tongue to your clit when your phone starts to buzz furiously.

god i hope this anon sees this, i started working on it the day they requested it but totally forgot it was FOR someone and got stuck in my perfectionist k-hole.

support city girls with spit kinks, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

[dumplingsfordays]

the phone call

pairing - Megumi x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - you call Megumi one night in hopes of changing your relationship from being best friends to lovers and it ends very unexpectedly.

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), mutual masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), bffs to lovers, reader has female genitalia, swearing, timeskip to all characters 18+, one (1) mention of voyeurism + hair pulling + tummy bulge

note - back (sorta?) from my hiatus but I won't post content as frequently. sorry to all you beautiful people who submitted asks 😭😭 I'll make sure to do those fics asap b/c y'all are honestly lovely and overall really respectful and I appreciate it! thank you sm for being patient w/ little old me <33

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Quiet sighs escaped Megumi's lips in tandem with the soft breeze outside, whistling against the glass windowpanes. Moonlight drifted across his fair cheek like a silvery veil, making his pale skin glow slightly, and his long eyelashes, a trait that wasn't his favorite but one that almost every girl constantly pointed out with jealousy, fluttered when they met the edge of the light. And then, in the peaceful summer night-

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The raven-haired man sat up in his bed with sudden urgency, hand moving quickly to his phone on the nightstand and picking up.

"Hey, 'Mimi," your sleepy, half-awake voice came from the speaker. "Sorry to bother you but it's kinda important."

Upon hearing your voice, he relaxes - he lays back down and stares at the blank, white ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, I just wanted to talk to you about something..."

God, your sleep-laced voice was so gentle, sweet, alluring, even. He couldn't help but sneak a hand towards his abdomen to lay it on his stomach.

"Hey, 'Mimi, you there?" You ask all of a sudden.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm listening, don't worry."

You must be at your desk working, then, he thought, since you're up this late. Wait, no -- he heard the shuffling of bedsheets or something similar a moment ago. That was you, right? Were you also in bed? Did you also have the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips? Was your hand also laid down on your abdomen? Was it slowly creeping further and further down, until-

He shakes his head, rousing himself from his thoughts.

God, Megumi, what the hell are you thinking? They're your best friend, nobody thinks about their best friend getting off!

...Well, something about that scene was... arousing, almost, to him. The mere thought of you, laying on silk bedsheets and rubbing your clit to his voice, sent a shiver up his spine and he snaked his hand under his boxers. Well, guess he was doing this.

"So, um..." you continued, sighing, "I was thinking. I know that it's probably too late into the night to even be discussing this, but..."

"Yeah?"

He lets out a small grunt afterwards as his fingers come into contact with the sensitive skin of the tip of his semi-erect length.

"...are you okay, 'Mimi? Are you working out or something?"

"Ah, no, I'm just..."

Just, you know, casually touching myself to the sound of your voice. Nothing wrong with that at all. There's definitely nothing wrong with jacking off to your best friend's voice.

"Just, um. Moving my, uh..." His eyes glance around the room and lock onto the bedside table. "My table."

There's a small lilt to your voice as you laugh softly and clear your throat before speaking, and Megumi swears that he just got lightheaded from the rush of blood to his nether region.

"Okay... I was just thinking about, well... this. Our friendship."

He tries not to sound too strained and breathy when he replies, starting to slowly move his fist up and down his leaking cock. "What about it?"

"Well, I think that, um.. you're a really nice person. And I really like you. And recently, I was thinking about what it would be like if we, um..."

You pause, biting your lip. Should you really finish your sentence? What if he takes it the wrong way?

"You can say it. I won't judge, y/n."

"Thank you..." you laugh briefly and breathlessly, fidgeting with the skin on your torso. His words were innocent, but it was the tone in which he was speaking that made your thighs twitch slightly and your mouth dry up. Christ, Megumi always made you feel things that you knew you shouldn't be feeling towards a friend who probably only liked you as one. "I, well... I was thinking that it would be nice if we hung out at some point. Maybe, like... go out on a date, or something... I understand if you don't like me in that way, or if you're too sleepy to decide yet, but I just wanted to put that out there..."

His eyes widen a bit as he hears the word "date", and he subconsciously tightens his grip around himself, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. So you were interested in him, too.

"I'd... I'd love to."

He forces down a quiet groan as he hears the pitch of your voice rise slightly in excitement. Unbeknownst to him, your hand slides down your lower abdomen, gliding across your upper thigh.

"R-really? You're not kidding or anything, right? I mean, like... please don't worry about making me feel good about myself or anything, just..."

You hear him laugh softly on the other end, which makes that spot between your legs throb even more intensely.

"Of course," Megumi replies, trying to sound as put-together as he can. "I won't lie to you about stuff like that."

Smiling, you sigh in relief and your hand comes into contact with your inner thigh. After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice a little deeper.

"So.. anything fun happen recently in your life? Any new books you've read, or interesting gossip you've heard?"

Your head tilts to the side as a scenario pops into your head at his words. Him, laying next to you, whispering into your ear as his fingers caress your--

"Nope..." you laugh, a little shakily due to the intrusive thought. "But there was this one thi--"

He makes a quiet noise of pleasure and you choke, your fingers finally touching your slick cunny and rubbing it gently.

"...M-Mimi, did you... are you...?"

"Christ, I'm sorry, I-- fuck. I'm sorry, y/n, I didn't-- God, I..." he sighs, regret clear in his tone as he apologizes. "You probably think I'm some creep or something now. Feel free to cancel the date, I don't deserve it anyway after all this."

You swallow and you feel your face redden in embarrassment before answering, whispering.

"Actually, I... I, um, I'm not mad. I-I'm doing the same."

"What?"

His reply is instantaneous, his voice a mix of nervousness, shock, surprise, with the undeniable tinge of arousal. You were going to be the death of him someday.

"I-I'm doing the same. I know it's weird, I..." you trail off, sighing. "I'm sorry too."

"Can we..."

Megumi's trembling all over now, his cock unfathomably hard and standing up at attention in his fist, which begins to pump up and down a little more rapidly. You can hear it very faintly from your phone and you practically gush at the sound.

"...can we, um... keep doing this? And talking? I just... I think that since you're interested in me and I in you, we can satisfy our urges, I guess..."

"Please," you shiver, voice getting softer and more desperate as he talks.

"Fu-uck..." he groans out, biting his lip and looking down at himself. He decides to finally remove his boxers and strokes himself under the blanket, leaning into his phone's microphone as he pants softly.

You, in your own bed, whimper at the expletive -- you knew his voice was attractive, but this? Him swearing, and in that rough yet pleading tone, too, made you unimaginably wet.

"Can you... can you describe it? Please?" you choke out, toes curling as your fingers press against your clit slightly.

You hear him groan at your words again before he replies.

"I-It's standing up real tall 'n warm, sweetheart... it's fucking throbbing, all for you... God, I just wanna bend you over and... shit... just shove my cock into your tight pussy..."

You moan quietly as you imagine the absolute filth of the scenario, how deep his thick cock'll reach inside you... he'll probably be thrusting into you so hard that people on the street will hear the rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from the window of your bedroom all the way up on the fifth floor. And, oh, God, what if he grabs your hair and pulls on it, twisting your back and pulling his face closer to yours to meet you in an intense kiss, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining in this passionate dance for control?

"You're gonna feel so good around me, baby... maybe clench as I play with your clit and press my hand to your stomach to feel that little dent of my cock... you're gonna feel so fucking warm and wet around me..." Megumi groans loudly as his hand does a particularly satisfying stroke around his length, smearing slightly sticky precum in his fist. "Christ, I can already imagine it... I'm so fucking close..."

"Me too," you cry out, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin and thighs quivering from the electrifying pleasure. "I'll feel so good, 'Mimi, so full..."

His fist travels up to his tip, continuing the up-and-down motion as he moans shakily. "y/n-- I-I'm gonna-- fuck, think I'm gonna come--"

You whimper in reply, toes curling and forearm flexing. At long last, that wave of heat crashes down on you both, him groaning shamelessly as thick cum spurts from the red tip and onto his fist, and you gasping for air, moaning as you reach your respective peaks. Your body trembles as you're thrown around mercilessly by your orgasm and he can tell very clearly by your voice -- it's high-pitched, desperate, and borderline wanton.

As you both calm down from your highs, the movements of your hands and arms gradually slowing down, you giggle breathlessly.

"This was... ah, certainly something..."

You hear his voice, deep and comforting as he chuckles, through your phone speaker.

"Indeed it was."

"...But we're still going on that date, right?"

Megumi laughs. "Obviously."

[inkyquince]

Thinking about being fwb with the older gen when they were younger.

cw. uhhhh. not much. implied rough sex, a mind break on eden's side, neglect of emotional stuff but some is implied, stalker-y obsessive harper, remy get the idea to start the underground farm from you and general friends with benefits stuff.

characters. bailey. eden. harper. briar. remy.

For Bailey, its a need to release stress, and you just happen to be the one person in the friendship group he could stand enough to not just spend extra time with, but spend it bending you over the back of his bed frame and railing you, all the while you can hear giggling from behind the door. He doesn't give a shit, he knows that the walls are thin in the orphanage, but this isn't for you. If you happen to cum, then, hey, it makes you tighten up around his cock and makes his own orgasm just a bit better. Don't think so much about how he offers you a smoke afterwards, when he refuses to even share his sacred, battered packet of ciggies with Eden. Don't start thinking he's soft. But maybe you should feel grateful that when you message for him to come over, he actually replies to you. Most of the others get ignored.

For Eden, it started out as pity. Probably the last of the group to loose his virginity, with Bailey snarking that he knows for a fact that Eden spends most of his time at night jerking his cock. He's just too intimidating for anyone at school to give him a chance, and the boys in the locker room have noticed how fucking fat his cock is anyway. There was a betting pool to see how long until he snapped. So what if it was pity. So what if his gaze thrilled you as you slowly took off your shirt in front of him, slowly unbuttoning as his grip on his knees tightened, his knuckles whitening. So what if by the time you tucked your thumbs into your underwear, his erection was straining against his jeans. It started as pity, for your friend to finally loose his v-card, and went on to Eden ripping at your clothes every time you two were alone, wrestling your body down onto his fat cock, bullying your hole, your friendship grated down into veiled attention around the others, and desperate rutting each second you two were alone.

It was obvious that Harper had wanted this for so long. Everyone could tell that the freak had such a crush on you. Always so attentive, popping up at your elbow, wanting to carry your books, saying you smelt nice that day, that he'll help tutor you, asking you if you want to go with him for ice cream after class. But you had to give credit where it's due, he was smart. Just one bad break up, and his selfless offerings of helping you feel better. That's all it took for him to take his rightful place between your thighs, getting to enjoy your needy riding, your kisses, the way you'd clench around his fingers when the dipped into your underwear during class. He encourages you to use him, use him, use him all you want, for stress relief, for any kinks you want to try. He likes it all, as long as he gets to touch you.

Briar just likes sex. He fucking loves it. In the future, he might tire of it, and just enjoy the delicacies of life paid for by bought sex, but not yet. You know you're just one of a rotation, but it feels different... At least to you. Sharing a group of friends, one night getting too drunk, and suddenly his tongue is dragging against your hole, being told you to squeal all you like, maybe someone from the party will hear you and come to see what's happening. Then Briar messaging you to come to him from then on. He likes watching you hump his cock, introducing you to the amass of sex toys he has, sharing a double ended dildo while he tortures your nipples with bites and harsh sucks. He makes no secret of his other conquests, people he also enjoys having sex with, but there's something about being the only one that can lean against him at a group hang out, his thumb rubbing small circles into your thigh, as the others argue on how to split the bill.

It starts with Remy just wanting it out of the way. Everything in his life is planned out meticulously, and once he hits 19, he quietly registers that most people his age are loosing their virginity, consenting or not. He will inherit the estate in his late twenties, he'll graduate from university early, and he'll make his mark on the town like his family has done for generations, with the riding school, with the investments. He'll find something that's uniquely him. But in the meantime, he'll hit the average amount of milestones that his peers do. You just happened to be the least objectionable to loose his virginity to. Between you and Wren, you're the one that'll be nice and submissive and let him enjoy himself however he likes, without some boneheaded suggestion of doing something stupid. So, he gets to take you to the estate, to fuck you on a bed more expensive than anything you could ever afford again. It's good. He likes it. But one day, in the fields with the others, overlooking some rinky dink farm with a family of red heads trying to make it nice, you do something. He's eating an apple, leaning against a tree, with you sitting by his feet with Wren's head in your lap, letting you braid his already too long hair. There's a crunch. He looks down and you cheekily took a bite out of the apple, smiling up at him. It itches his brain just right. He extends it to your mouth and watches as you laugh and take another bite. You become more of a pet from then on. Eating out of his hand, getting fucked in the ass, with a stirring fixation rousing in his stomach when he thinks back on how sweet you looked, eating his apple. Almost like one of the cows on the farm down below.

[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

[morphodae]

Edgar Redmond | Headcanons

Including: general, relationship (x reader)

cw: perhaps slight manga spoilers

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🪻x 🦉 x 🌱 x

General:

With a leniency towards rules and regulations, this is primarily due to his social upbringing and status. As a child, I imagine he was rarely told 'no' and thus got away with petty pranks and was able to sneak sweets… things like that.

Edgar’s tendency to get away with most anything drove his neighbor and childhood friend, Lawrence Bluewer, almost mad. Either way, the two found a way to make the friendship work even as opposites and even into their young adult years.

Raised in nobility and high esteem, Edgar does still have standards he holds himself and others to. It’s more of the sign of the societal norm at the time, though his outlook on life and people tended to lean more towards untraditional than anything.

With such an outlook, Edgar became rather tolerant of others and often looked past “unconventional” appearances, personalities, and sometimes even status. Yes, he’s a rich boy, but even so, he feels he has no right to judge others for being “different.” After all, isn’t he a little bit similar?

Relationship:

I’ll be honest, Edgar screams commitment issues. It’s evident in his statement that he’d rather not stick to one partner, but I also feel it’s much deeper than that.

There’s definitely a reason for it, and if we look at Maurice Cole’s betrayal of his trust, and Edgar’s words along the lines of “I can’t believe I let myself be a poor judge of character again,” then we can assume his trust has been broken at least more than once in the past. Namely, think of the situation with Derrick Arden.

So when it comes to falling for someone deeply and genuinely… he’s scared out of his wits. Of course, he has the looks, the wealth, the charm — but in his mind, all that is meaningless when his heart yearns for another yet simultaneously fears the worst.

Edgar is, unsurprisingly, a true romantic at heart. Has he wooed numerous people in the past? Yes. But when his feelings for someone are genuine, it’s quite an enigma. He will put on a faux persona like normal but his closest friends may pick up on how unusual his behavior is. Just why is Edgar so… strained in his advances towards this person? Or worse yet — he fails to make a move. He’s hardly ever denied acting upon pursing a fling before, so his friends become suspicious.

It takes a long, long time for Edgar to open up. And I mean, genuinely. A part of him isn’t sure where the genuine part of him is in regards to romance and trust; so giving that to someone who stole his heart is something that will take time and effort. It’s nothing the other person has done, it’s all on Edgar. Once he figures out his inner turmoil, he will be a rather genuine, teasing, charming and flirtatious partner to have.

It will truly take someone special to cause Edgar to commit. But, I don’t believe it’s as hard as you might think. He needs to work on his trust and commitment and if someone is patient and willing, then all would fall into place.

Additionally, I also see Edgar falling deeply for someone (gradually) who has absolutely zero interest in him and brushes off his advances like dust on their shoulder. It would drive him insane… in all the best ways possible. But as with any sort of game, playing hard to get with him may only serve to exacerbate his trust issues.

After leaving Weston, he would love more than anything for someone to stay by his side through it all. He doesn’t feel deserving of any love, deep down, (not after his crimes) and needs to know someone can give him the loyalty his soul desperately craves.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sharing audio (no visuals) of my roommate having sex with online friends?

CW for Sexual content

I (18x) have a roommate (19f) who tends to have.. a lot of sex. She genuinely thinks I don't know, because every time I've tried to confront her about it or ask her to maybe at least warn me so I could leave the apartment, she denies it and says she's only ever done it when I'm not there. This is obviously a lie.

A few days ago, I frankly got sick of it and decided to record the sound of it from my room. There's no visuals obviously because 1 we have different rooms and 2 it's usually late night/early morning so even if we shared a room it'd be pitch black. It was stupidly loud. Despite the fact that my phone has a bad mic, it was very clearly able to pick up the sound of her getting railed to hell and back. The bed creaking, her moaning like crazy, him dirty talking- everything. They were ridiculously loud and had woken me up because of it, which was why I snapped and decided to record it in the first place. It was around 4-5 am when this happened.

I shared the video with some online friends, people who don't know and most likely will never know my roommate on any sort of level other than what they hear about her through me- I don't even say her name, just refer to her as my roommate. No names are said in the audio, and the bed creaking is so loud that you can't really distinguish their voices from just any other straight couple banging. That is to say, there is such a degree of separation that I didn't see it as too big of a deal to share.

Despite this, one friend of mine said that it was incredibly messed up to share the audio regardless of the fact that they will never be able to use it against her, saying it was an invasion of her privacy and whatnot. Another friend piped up and said it wasn't too big of a deal and named some of the reasoning from above. This hasn't been a friendship-ending argument, but it definitely caused a bit of a strain on the group for the past few days, and I'm conflicted. I've since deleted the video both from the server I posted it in as well as my phone, since I didn't want to take any chances in case it was genuinely a horrible thing to do, but again, I'm really not sure. Am I the asshole?

TL;DR My roommate has really loud sex that wakes me up around 4-5 am and I record the audio of it, sending it to a server full of people who will never know her or be able to use it against her in order to rant. Some friends think that it was a horrible violence of privacy, but others think the degrees of separation were enough to not make it bad. AITA for recording and sending it to the server?

What are these acronyms?

[shuenkio]

I only need you | 💕 chulso.

Paring: Ni-ki x male!reader

Genre: Fluff, enemies (not really) to lover trope.

Cw: brat word.

Summary: He wants you but he is denying when you are there for him.

Non proof read/wc:1.0k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

A|N: I know I have written a lot of school tropes but I'm still writing here with him, also I wrote this in my sleep so... It's a lil cringe.

Befriending the bad boy, Ni-ki, was your worst mistake. But that wasn't the end of it. The universe seemed to conspire to keep the two of you together, making it impossible to escape each other.Was it fate or coincidence? It didn’t matter, because wherever you went, Ni-ki was always there too.

Not only have you been classmates with him for five years, but even in 12th grade, he’s still there. Your name and his always seem to be side by side for a reason. It’s a good thing neither of you are the top students vying for the top spot on the board, but that doesn’t mean your friendship with him is all sweet and nice.

Behind it all, you hate his aura and the way he acts towards you. Some days, he annoys you non-stop, never letting you breathe or relax. Other days, he's unexpectedly nice, giving you free snacks or leaving his lunch under your desk. Mixed signals. Despite all the things you hate about Ni-ki, he's the opposite of you.

He might act all tough and come across as an annoying loser toward you, but deep down, he craves your attention. Yet, did he have the courage to confess that to you? Who would be foolish enough to reveal their true feelings to their one and only friend and crush, especially someone they are so close to? Such a confession could change everything. He prefers to keep things low-key, which is why he sometimes does things that send those strange, fluttering sensations through your stomach. Instead of words, he leaves his feelings in the little gestures—a snack here, a lunchbox there, or a fleeting touch that lingers longer than it should.

One day, he accidentally fell down the stairs, sustaining minor injuries to his leg and nose. Ni-ki was swiftly sent to the nurse's office, and the news spread through the classroom like wildfire. You dismissed it as just another instance of his clumsiness, thinking there was nothing to worry about. However, when a friend told you that Ni-ki needed you and was refusing treatment from the nurse, you quickly denied any involvement and refused to be his caretaker.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the nurse's office, having been dragged there by your friends after a few stern lectures from them. You can't fathom why they care so much about him that they would go to such lengths to pull you out of class and deposit you here. All you get from them is a simple, "He needs you." Out of all people, it had to be you? You sigh, feeling the weight of their expectations. With a resigned breath, you push yourself to go in, deciding to repay him for all the small kindnesses he's shown you—the snacks, obviously.

You reluctantly step inside, fearing your friends' teasing if you don’t. As you approach Ni-ki, you see him lying on the bed with an ice bag on his leg, stubbornly refusing treatment. Standing face to face with him, you can't hide your disbelief as you question why he’s acting like a child. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks flushing a soft red. It feels like you've hit a nerve. Taking a deep breath, you hop onto the bed and sit beside his waist, folding your hands together like an exasperated parent.

"Yo, what's this all about?" you ask, avoiding his eyes, knowing you'd be mortified if you did.

"I didn't call you an idiot; those students made it up," Ni-ki mumbles, his lips tight, refusing to admit the truth. An uncomfortable silence fills the room. As you glance around for the nurse, your eyes land on a male nurse, and suddenly, everything clicks.

"You should’ve told me sooner; why are you acting all tough?" you say, leaving the bed to discuss the situation with the nurse. Ni-ki strains to eavesdrop, but all he hears is unintelligible murmuring, as if he were listening to white noise. He furrows his brows, trying to process what’s happening, replaying memories in his mind, but finding no clue about your next move.

With a cold smirk and an evil gaze, you roll up your sleeves and approach him. A chill runs down his spine as he gulps, attempting to muster rage, but failing miserably. He's speechless as you wrap your arms around his torso, cupping his face to keep his focus on you. Distracting him, you allow the nurse to examine and treat his leg without any tantrums from this ungrateful brat.

"Look at me, Ni-ki. Don’t you see? I'm right here. Don’t you like it?" you say, cringing internally, but knowing it's the quickest way to get through this. Ni-ki's world seems to stop as he looks into your eyes, captivated by your face. He acts cool and bratty to avoid being babied, but with you, it’s different.Since childhood, he’s been terrified of male doctors and nurses after a wrong injection left him bedridden for a month.

You witnessed it, and your memory clicks, understanding his behavior.

"*Sigh, if you're scared, just hug me or squeeze my hand, Chulso. Don’t think twice," you reassure. His tongue tied, your use of his old nickname makes him choke up even more. Without a word, his eyes widen, and he buries his face in your chest, pulling you closer in a swift motion, hugging your waistband affectionately.

"Ashh, you know too much about me."

"We're more than friends, Chulso; I’ve even seen you naked before," you tease.

"Don’t even start. And yes, I could make our friendship more than that."

"You switch quickly, I see. But what else do you have? Nothing surprises me."

"I'm going to make everyone believe you're my boyfriend from now on."

"What are you saying?"

"You two should get a room, you kids"

the nurse interjects.

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to the owner of dividers: Anitalenia

🗣️ I admit I use chat gpt for more visualize (my idea is purely mine, only add small visualize&better words) because... I'm suck, (sorry not sorry)

[charliewrites99]

If this show was made in early 2010s, a clearly gay Edwin and an almost as clearly bi Charles would be feeling the strain in their friendship because they both fell in love with Crystal and are now competing for her affection only for Niko to turn up to be Edwin's love interest which would make Crystal jealous even though she never expressed liking Edwin turning her into the fandom villian.

Jenny is also there but she dies in 6 episodes for the crime of being a lesbian on CW.

[griefabyss69]

Quiet Nights

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

[ AO3 ]

Week Two: Soft and Slow, Backseat, Clothes On WC: 7,771 | Rated: E | CW: Semi-public sex, mentions of drunk sex with a past lover, mentions of recent argument

When Eddie and Steve get stranded by the side of the road, Eddie jokes about how they could fill their time until morning. Steve takes him up on it.

Excerpt

Nothing about this night should be ideal—or even something Eddie should ever want to replicate—but despite being stranded on the side of the highway in Steve's car, fresh off of a screaming match over shit they were both wrong about...

Eddie's happy.

It's a warm summer night, so Steve has the windows rolled down, and if Eddie trusts his watch it's past midnight now. Maybe that means something—if he wants to get superstitious about it—you know; a new day, a fresh start, all of that shit.

"Should we try to sleep soon?" Steve asks, picking at the key chain hanging from the ignition. It's well loved, made of bright threads like a friendship bracelet, but wide and short.

Eddie's not necessarily feeling restless, but he has a boulder of energy rolling around inside, and he knows trying to lay still and attempting something as fickle as falling asleep will just make it angry.

They had already spent plenty of time stretching their legs, so despite the nice weather and empty road, Eddie's happy to sit in the car for a while. He likes Steve's car, despite the fact that it crapped out on them so far away from home. To be honest, he thinks he also likes the ringing silence too, after a day of city shopping and the loud radio and the yelling.

God, the yelling.

He's never seen Steve yell before, not for real, not that he can remember. He must've really gotten to him—not that the way to get under his skin hadn't already been made easy by exhaustion and the car dying—but he doesn't even regret it.

Every new way he can see Steve is good, if he leaves out tragic extremes.

Maybe it's not fair of him after Steve was forced to see Eddie in a new way himself last year—nearly eaten alive, nearly dead. But sue him, he doesn’t want any more tragedy even if it’s something novel.

"You can sleep if you want, I'll try not to think too loud," Eddie says, giving Steve what he hopes is a friendly smile and not a product of the strained monster in his heart.

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm not that tired," he says. "I'm just... I dunno. What do we do now?"