#and every time i don’t listen to my gut i end up in fucked up situations so let’s not do that 🤍 this time

[libraford]

I know I’m a rando so apologies if this is over familiar but your work situation sounds a lot like what my friend was going through in grad school. She had been doing really well the first year, then the second year her advisor suddenly started finding all sorts of “fundamental issues” with her research project. He discouraged her from applying for grants and said her submissions were too poor to even consider. All sorts of really harsh criticisms that often contradicted each other and were hard to follow. She felt like she was going crazy. Then she learned he found a different student that he would basically be able to pay much less to do all his lab work for him, and he was clearly trying to force her out to make room for the newer cheaper student. Trust your gut, I don’t think this situation is your fault at all. Something fishy is happening with your company for sure. I’m sorry for all this trouble.

Yikes that's harsh.

Part of the reason that my crits have been so numerous and harsh is that this year I was expected to learn something new. And I understand it in concept, but I have been making mistakes that are typical of new learners. But because there was no SAFE place to make those mistakes, the pressure is on to do them correct the first time and every time.

Like with groups, right?

My first groups job I was doing really well, I thought. Up until we got to the football team, which was 45 minutes late to the location. And they lined them up by number even though we asked for tallest to shortest. And the coach said he wanted to do them by number. So I did them by number. When we got to the end of it, he saw how terrible it was to do them by number and we had to redo it by height. At this point, they're frustrated with me for not doing it right the first time. I am frustrated with them for not listening the first time and also being 45 minutes late. The tennis team was waiting for me on the other side of the school, so I did my best. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. Boss didn't like what I made for the football team and had to go back and do it again because I fucked up. I told her all of this and she said that I should have accommodated them because they're the football team and they have to have the best, even if that means waiting 45 minutes for them to arrive and making the tennis team wait 45 minutes.

My second groups job was a middle school that was asking me to do the team photo AND in between teams do candids for the yearbook. The kids were not behaving well and did not seem interested in taking a good photo, so I did my best even though the kids were fighting. Unfortunately, I made the completely reasonable mistake of leaving my aperature on too low between tasks and they ended up a little bit out of focus- which was not apparent in the camera but WAS apparent on the computer screen. This is a mistake that other people have made. I showed each photo to the coach before letting them go.

My third groups job was a class groups job, which all I had to do was follow the guide given to me. Which I did, up until about the 4th grade classes, which had their special classes going on at that time. Because of this, the number the teacher gave me was incorrect and I had to add students to rows in ways that did not reflect the guide because the other option was to disassemble the class group and reassemble it so that it reflected the guide. Teachers were rushing me to hurry up, so I made executive decisions. This was unfortunately the wrong decision. I also posed them in a way that was consistent with what my boss wanted, but not what the district specialist wanted.

On my fourth groups job, I was told all of the mistakes I had made in the previous jobs and that I need to take consideration all of the details and guides that were there for me to use because my previous jobs required her to go back and do them again, so I had better not make the same mistakes (all of which were different mistakes each time). I am upset. So to make it easier on myself, I asked the coaches if they had a specific way they would like to have them posed. The coaches, delighted that I asked, gave me their feedback on previous years and what they would like to change. And I, delighted that they had preferences, obliged. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. My boss said I did well! She was very pleased with my work. The district specialist was not! He said that I needed to follow the guide because the numbers were incorrect and that I needed to follow the numbers. He tapes a guide to the back of my slate to use. I ask my boss if she could help me next time.

On my fifth groups job, I am disheartened by the amount of criticism I've gotten but I am determined to get it right this time. My boss is present. I am placing the students with the order given to me by the specialist. I walk away to double check. She tells me that its wrong- that I shouldn't have 9 people in front. I tell her that I was using the guide. She shows me her guide. The guides are different from each other. I ask her which guide I'm supposed to use and she says 'whichever one is correct.' I ask her how I'm supposed to know which one is correct and she tells me the theory of how the placement is supposed to go instead of giving me an answer. I get a little shirty. She tells me that this is my 5th job like this, I should know how to do this by now. I start crying. She goes away for the rest of the day to do admin stuff and I handle the rest of the day fine.

My critique says that I am unable to adapt to change and I am inflexible, struggles to take criticism well or think under pressure.

So I'm expected to do well because its my third year. But I have two different supervisors who don't agree on what 'doing well' is and my progress is not seen as progress so much as 'another mistake.' If my mistakes were consistent, then that would be indicative of refusal to take criticism. But because the mistakes are different every time, that's not the case. I WANT to learn. But I would like everyone to be on the same page about what they want from me.

And when I pointed this out, I was told I was being confrontational.

So I am feeling the rage right now.

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,�� your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[ghostarii]

GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact. #hsr blade smut #hsr ren

[webslingingslasher]

hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things. 

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy. 

Needy. 

Needy, needy, needy. 

Needy, he called you needy. 

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were? 

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless. 

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind. 

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called. 

Silence drifted on the line. 

“Petey?” 

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid. 

“Peter, you there?” 

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial. 

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear. 

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?” 

You think it’s Mark. 

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second? 

Notes from future self, don’t. 

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.” 

Good? 

Good, that’s it? 

Good? 

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately. 

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign? 

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.” 

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker. 

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.” 

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him. 

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about. 

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk? 

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint. 

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.” 

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean? 

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call. 

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan. 

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.” 

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right. 

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.” 

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different. 

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him. 

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out. 

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real. 

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t. 

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door. 

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored. 

Like his four missed calls. 

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?” 

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them. 

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it. 

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind. 

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore. 

“It’s okay.” 

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said. 

“It’s…okay?” 

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.” 

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.” 

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.  

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.” 

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are. 

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended. 

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things. 

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it. 

“Don’t you have plans tonight?” 

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.” 

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy? 

Not tonight. 

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.” 

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time. 

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves. 

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.” 

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.” 

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-” 

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.” 

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?” 

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest. 

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.” 

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it. 

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?” 

You shrug, “I dunno.” 

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of. 

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands. 

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?” 

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change. 

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?” 

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed. 

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited. 

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.” 

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on. 

“So what did you mean?” 

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it. 

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much. 

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

Your eyes narrow, “liar.” 

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you. 

“Can we talk?” 

You look at him oddly, “we are?” 

“Private.” 

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it. 

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.” 

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip. 

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand. 

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair. 

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.” 

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.” 

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever. 

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.” 

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right? 

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question. 

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.” 

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears. 

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.” 

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.” 

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #my writing

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pizza night

words: 2.2k

warnings: mentions/implications of sex but no actual smut, best friend!rafe, jealousy, angst but happy ending, friends to lovers, rafe with another girl, reader sleeps with kelce

“PIZZA NIGHT!” you shout, rafe letting out a whoop as you carry in the two boxes, plain cheese for you, and a mess of toppings for rafe.

“was worried you weren't gonna show up.” rafe glances at the clock. you're only about five minutes late, only running behind because the pizza place was busy and your order wasn't ready on time.

“as if i would miss our weekly pizza night.” you roll your eyes. you've had to shift times around occasionally to make sure you get the pizza night in, like for rafes football schedule, or you having to help your parents out at a fundraiser. for the past three years, it's been every thursday night, even both getting pizza from your respective locations while you facetime when you're not both in the outer banks.

“come here.” rafe opens his arms up to you. you step into his familiar hold, strong arms wrapping around you, tugging you against his chest. you inhale his scent, so uniquely rafe.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends when both became pregnant around the same time. you did everything together. pizza nights started as plum puree, as your mom loves to joke.

“what do you wanna watch tonight?” rafe asks, knowing whatever you put on will soon become background noise to your chatting, rafe happy to listen to any gossip you have to say.

“umm…” you tap your finger against your chin as rafe plates your pizza for you, loading his plate with three slices for himself. you know he's already got your preferred drink sitting on the coffee table. “mulan.”

“sure.” rafe nods. he used to argue when he was younger. you'd want barbie swan lake or a romcom while he prefered superheroes and action. he learned throughout your friendship to just not fight it.

you immediately start to tell rafe the latest gossip, filling him in on everything he's missed since you saw him last, even though it was only two days ago.

“oh and you'll never guess!” you squeal. “callie, my friend from florida?” you see if the name jogs rafes memory, which he quickly nods. how could he forget. the one other friend that competes with him, despite you only seeing her for weeks at a time when you went to visit your grandparents in florida. “she's coming to the outer banks! she's gonna stay with us for the summer while her parents travel.”

“oh, nice.” rafe nods. he's happy for you, he really is, but he hopes she's not going to get in the way of his time with you, especially pizza night.

--

“girl, why didn’t you tell me rafe is hot as fuck?” callie giggles, looking out the window where rafe and a couple of his friends are chatting on the patio.

“ew.” you scrunch your nose up. you mean the criticism about callie finding him attractive, not about rafes looks, but callie doesn’t take it that way as she rolls her eyes.

“seriously, he’s so fine.” she slices into another lemon, handing one half to you as you squeeze it to make fresh lemonade.

you just frown. you don’t want callie to find rafe attractive and you’re not sure why the jealous feeling builds in your gut, so you quickly change the subject.

“wanna come to a party friday night? at kelces.” you question.

“oh my god, yes.” callie nods, helping you carry out cups while you bring out the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for yourself and whichever one of your friends also wants one before sitting next to rafe.

callie takes the open spot on the other side of him as the conversation instantly strikes back up. you remain quieter than normal, eyes flicking between them as you watch them interact. you’re glad they’re getting along, truly, but you feel like gouging your eyes out when callie laughs and places her hand on his bicep.

“you okay?” rafe asks after everyone else had gone home, callie having taken your car back to your place to shower while you plan on asking rafe to drive you home.

“yeah.” you put on a wide smile. “whats up?”

“you just seem quieter than usual.” rafe watches your face carefully, noting the way your face falls before you perk back up with a shake of your head.

“nope, im fine. just glad you're getting along with callie!”

“speaking of…” rafe pulls his phone out, handing it to you. “can i have her number?”

“oh… yeah.” you nod quickly, grabbing his phone and typing in her number. you have it memorized along with rafes and your mom and dads, the only ones you’ve typed in enough to know by heart. “why do you want it though?”

“i thought i’d get to know her a bit.” rafe shrugs. 

“okay.” you force a smile on your face before standing up. “im gonna walk home. see you thursday for pizza night!”

“y/n, wait-” rafe tries to call you back, but you’ve already disappeared into the house.

--

you struggle to knock on the door with the pizza boxes in your arms. usually its unlocked, or rafe is there to open it for you the second your car pulls in the driveway.

“shit.” rafe opens the door, his face pale.

“what?” you shove past him, needing to set the cardboard boxes down.

you walk into the kitchen, going to place the boxes down on the counter when you realize there is already a box sitting there, opened up with a couple slices missing. you carefully slide the boxes out of your arms onto the marble before looking at rafe.

“i-i forgot-” rafe says as you look into the living room, seeing callie sat on the couch, her eyes on the television screen as she takes a bite of pizza. 

“you forgot about our pizza night?” you question, not even trying to hide your tears this time as they form in your eyes.

“i just didn’t realize it was thursday, y/n i-”

“its fine.” you shake your head, heading towards the door. you need to leave before your emotions explode. 

“y/n, please.” rafe grabs your hand right as you reach for the doorknob.

“no.” you turn around to look at rafe, knowing that there are tears streaming down your cheeks, yet you still attempt to force a smile. “no, go. have fun with her.”

you pull out of his grasp and leave, rafe standing on the front porch watching you drive away.

--

“coming to the party?” callie asks, wearing a tiny dress with high heels, showing off her flawless legs.

“nah.” you shake your head. “im feeling kinda tired.” 

“alright.” callie frowns, but doesn’t push you any farther as she walks towards the front door, looking back once before leaving. 

you are genuinely tired. you stayed up all last night waiting to hear callie arrive back at your house from rafes. she didn’t get home until 10 in the morning the next day. you know rafe has slept with girls before, but usually when he’s way too drunk after a party, and never with a girl you considered your friend.

you turn the tv on to a random channel, just needing something to distract yourself and stop you from crying again.

hours tick by as the sun sets, your eyes burning from staring at the television and holding back tears when a sudden knock on the door makes you jump.

you stand up, hoping its rafe, hoping he’s coming to apologize and to put all his attention back on you. you feel bad when you open the door and see its topper, your face no doubt giving away your disappointment.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asks. “you aren’t at the party.” he states the obvious as you stand in your sweatpants and a flimsy tanktop.

“just not feeling it.” you shrug. 

“is it… callie and rafe?” topper asks. he doesn’t need you to confirm as tears well in your eyes.

“i-i like him. i didn’t even realize until i saw them together.” you finally admit it to yourself why you’re so upset. 

“shit.” topper pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shirt, glad for his comfort as he rubs his hand up and down your back, hoping he can help you feel better.

“i shouldn’t be telling you this…” topper sighs. “but kelce has a crush on you. if you want to go to the party and… i don’t know, make rafe jealous back.”

“he won’t get jealous.” you shake your head. “he likes her.”

topper just stares at you with a look of pity. so in your head about your friendship that you can’t even put together the pieces that rafe likes you back.

you look down at your outfit. honestly, you can’t even manage to put on anything other than your crocs, you’re not going to change into a dress and heels just to dance up on a guy you don’t even really like.

“just come wearing that.” topper says, sensing your apprehension. “im serious, you look good. it’ll show how different you are then all the other girls there.”

you look back into your house at your couch, the tv still turned on before looking back to topper. he nods at you with encouragement.

“i need to get drunk immediately.” you tell him as he laughs, pulling you out the door.

--

you let out a groan as you turn over, snuggling into water warm body is wrapped around you as sleep slowly clears from your head.

“good morning, beautiful.” kelce says, making you blink your eyes open as the memories of last night come back, of ignoring rafe and callie dancing together as you move to kelce. topper was beyond right about the outfit as you captured the eye of most of the guys there, especially rafe as he tried to get your attention, but you were up in kelces room before he could steal you away.

it felt good to sleep with kelce, but not completely right.

“morning.” you smile. kelce is handsome, especially with the warm morning light shining in on the two of you, but your heart hurts as you wish it was rafes face you were looking into.

“can i have you again?” kelce asks, reaching down to grab your ass.

“yeah.” you nod with a smile. another distraction won’t hurt.

--

“where were you?” rafe asks as you arrive home, not expecting to see him snuggled up to callie on the couch.

“sleeping with kelce.” you say with a shrug. if rafe isn’t gonna hide his relationship with callie, you certainly aren’t going to hide what you were doing either.

“he doesn’t care about you, y/n.” rafe stands up, callies face shifting to one of worry as she looks between the two of you, realization sinking in. “he just wants to sleep with you.”

“okay, and?” you laugh, a bitter, spiteful laugh. “he’s got a big dick, and maybe i just wanted to sleep with him too.” 

you stomp away towards your room, blaring music from your speaker the second you’re inside. you don’t want to hear any noise rafe and callie might make as you flop down on your bed, quickly falling asleep despite the blaring music.

--

the music being turned down wakes you up as someone sits on your bed. you groan and turn onto your back, expecting to see rafe.

“callie?” you question, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder and the suitcase sitting in your open doorway. 

you sit up quickly. “are you going to stay with rafe?”

“no.” she says with a gentle laugh and shake of her head. “im going back to florida.”

“what?” you question. 

“i didn’t mean to come between you and him. i thought you didn’t like him. i… i don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so i’m leaving. he was fun to be with, but it was never serious for either of us. he’s serious about you.”

the words sink in as you look to her with hope in your eyes. “you talked to him about it?”

“i did.” she smiles with a gentle nod, glancing towards the clock on your nightstand. “the taxi is waiting outside to take me to the airport.”

you shoot forward to wrap your arms around callie, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you.” 

“of course.” she holds you back just as tight. “come visit me in florida, okay?” 

you nod enthusiastically before she gets up to leave. 

--

“finally.” topper sighs with relief as he opens the door to tanneyhill. “i’ve been trying to get him to go over and talk to you for the past four hours.” topper pulls you inside before you can even react. “seriously, you guys just need to date already. he slept with callie, you slept with kelce, and now you’re even. go make out.” topper shoves you into the living room before fleeing.

it takes a second for rafe to look up, his eyes red with tears.

“i had no clue.” rafe shakes his head. “i had no clue you liked me. i never would have done anything with callie if i knew. i thought i’d never get to have you, so i thought settling for your friend would be the next best thing.”

“i don’t like you.” you say before quickly clarifying. “i love you, rafe.”

rafe is standing and making his way towards you so quickly that you don’t even process his movements until his lips meet yours in a fierce kiss.

you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tight to him, not allowing you to escape or leave ever again.

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[dawnagustd]

hours || jjk

⇝ title: hours ⇝ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ⇝ genre: humor, i think? | neighbors to lovers | smut | implied unestablished relationship to established relationship ⇝ summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 3k ⇝ warnings: alcohol consumption | strong language | they’re both kind of bratty but cute | mentions birth control | pussy eating | edging | fingering | unprotected sex | pull out method | cervix touching/bulging | jungkook has a lip piercing and a septum piercing | uhh he puts his nose in her coochie lol | light tit slapping | teasing | throat grabbing | dirty talk | hairstyling (wink, wink) | missionary | cum shots | squirting | slight dom!jk | nipple sucking | breath play | crying | ass worshiping | aftercare | bam makes an appearance | naked jk… yes this is a warning and you will see why | i brought up BTR, i need to apologize immediately for that | discussions about relationships | i think that’s all

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp​ and @monvante​ for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga​ for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it. 

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center. 

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail. 

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core. 

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more. 

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva. 

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room. 

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room. 

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish. 

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with. 

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail. 

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #thekpopuniverse #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #jungkook fanfics #fic: hours #sugakookitty

[bucknastysbabe]

hi cal! i love your page sm. i wanted to request more chubby bucky (i’m so obsessed & haven’t seen him in a min) also make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

HI!!!! Sorry I’ve been such a spazz and awful about my page and askbox I’m in my new era blah blah but YES! CHUBBY BUCKY! Thanks for the well wishes I’m trying to practice ~self care~ and ~time management~ mwah mwah much love. So let’s say this just in the same universe as Poolside Blues!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: body dysmorphia, obsessive thoughts, negative body talk, Muscle chub Buck, Bucky’s shit self esteem is saved by sunshine gf, holiday weight gain, Bucky being a stubborn mf, switch!Bucky, reader has empathic projection, horny texts, body worship, WE LOVE SOFT PARTS AND STRETCH MARKS ROUND HERE, teasing, sub space, daddy kink, pnv!sex, cuddles and fluff, Bucky is just a big cuddly tiger kitty

“Bucky if you stare at the scale any longer I’m going to break it. Holidays are over, you can get back to being in the gym twenty-five eight.”

Bucky eyed his petite girlfriend, frowning from the doorway to the bathroom. He palmed his stupid fucking gut and sighed, he actually had to suck in to see the number! This is why Bucky hated the holidays. Besides being cold. James Buchanan Barnes very much disliked the cold, one could assume why.

He could handle the residual un-moveable pudge leftover from Hydra’s ever consistent tinkering with his bodily functions. But then it all started with Halloween. Wanda and his girlfriend loved to bake. So he’s getting force fed cookies. Then they need to decorate, go to functions, give out candy. No time for gym.

Bucky grumbled and stepped off the scale, padding to his closet. He grumbled more, “Stupid turkey holiday.” Great yes, the holiday known for feasting. Pumpkin spiced everything in his vision. Bucky had a weakness for pumpkin, his ma made good spiced bread. He took a short vacation with his lovely little angel to the mountains. He tried to rationalize that hiking and marathon sex would make up for the amount of food he had ingested.

Tony Stark of course had a grandiose Thanksgiving celebration. Bucky tried to keep it light, he did, he really did. But every refusal got sad eyes or downright offense. The former winter soldier was belly up by the end of the night, all gym plans out the window.

Christmas fared no better. His best gal absolutely adored Christmas. It was the first holiday she’d experience not as an asset to Hydra, just like Bucky. So instead of RUNNING or LIFTING, the Brunette was shopping and ice skating. He’d already gone up a size in clothes December 3rd to be exact. Bucky correctly guessed he would go up another post-Christmas.

He’d whinge and rant to Steve, the blondie listening and telling Bucky to chill— it’s not like anyone thought it was bad. Bucky exasperatedly shouted, “I’m like a goddamn balloon! I don’t need to be on missions like this! I’m going to Bruce, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Bruce didn’t help either. Just said once he got back into a routine it would come off and he’d be at his regular weight. Refused to give Bucky Ozempic either. Some kinda doctor he was, his patient was obviously distraught.

“Are you dressed yet?,” she hollered.

“Give me a second!,” Bucky pouted.

He was going to pout today. Go to gym, get anger out, and pout. So he shimmied on some catastrophically tight basketball shorts and the biggest shirt he could find. Luckily it covered him up. May or may not have been a panic buy. Bucky cursed some more sitting on his bench to lace up his shoes, stupid gut getting in the way.

Red faced and irritated he snarked, “Happy now princess? I’m going to the gym, nothing is stopping me, I will be going to work out.” She grinned and watched him grab his bag, slapping a round ass cheek on his way out. Bucky shuddered at the wobble. Her familiar rasp rang out, “Nice ass baby! Go get em!”

He was too old for this. Technically his girl was ten years his junior if you took off the cryogenic time. He loved her dearly, always bubbly, somehow remained optimistic after all she’d been through. But the little freak liked Bucky’s pudge, loved it. Always grabbing up on it.

Bucky took the stairs to the gym. He needed it. The brunette thought with a smirk that if he had a nickel for every time he had to remove her hands from his ‘handles of love’ he would’ve been a millionaire back during the Depression. He grimaced at the feeling of his chubby tummy and thick thighs.

Finally. He’d made it. Gym time.

Not a soul in sight, Bucky could just relax and get his frustrations out. With a fuck-ton of a cardio and some toning exercises— really didn’t need any muscle to bulk him out more. He felt a bit peaceful for once, a strange bravado coming over him. The soldier stretched his unused muscles and did a bit of breathing exercises.

God, he already felt lighter. Maybe. Maybe he would take a picture and see if the camera made him look different. Bucky’s therapist already hammered him about his ‘body dysmorphia and negative self-image’.

Taking a peak about and tying his hair half up, Bucky propped the camera at a flattering angle and yanked off his shirt. He refused to look in a mirror for the holidays unless he was clothed. Fiddling with the inane controls, the man finally had the thing on a timer. He pulled off his shirt and tried to pose, straighten up his back again.

The flash went off and he ran to the phone, hit send, then sat down on a nearby bench to look fully. The brunette had to keep his ‘body positive!’ thoughts at the forefront. His chest and legs looked good. Face didn’t look too puffy thanks beard.

Disgust picked the earlier bravado up and hulk smashed it. Buck’s eyes were glued to his rounded belly and fat hips, a muffin over those horrid shorts. There, oh my god, there were stretchmarks on him? Bucky never had stretchmarks! Not the red kind! But there they were— mocking him. Ragged lines on his hips and sections of stomach.

He deleted the picture, feeling horrid. He should run more. But not before the pings blowing up his phone. She was strange and texted in 5 different messages that could’ve been sent in one singular text.

“Babbbbyyyy omg you’re so hot”

“Fuck, I’m getting all flustered in this debrief.”

“Look at that pretty body. Wanna lick those pretty stripes, tiger.”

“I’m so horny lmfao get your ass back to the room in 30. I’m gonna fucking ride you so goddamn hard.”

Bucky blinked a bit, feeling himself perk up. He still was a overblown balloon, but at-least the weirdo he loved enjoyed it. “Tiger huh,” he murmured, scratching at the sensitive marks. Bucky had a time limit now, snatching his gear up and stuffing it into a bag, hustling down the stairs to his room.

“Hey Buck,” Sam’s voice was a blur as Bucky entered his room. He smirked a bit hearing a muffled, “Weird ass.” The super soldier kept his mind on the prize— getting the daylights fucked out of him by his girls. Nope he wasn’t going to pay attention to the chafe on the inside of his thighs one bit. Okay...maybe he’d powder the area after the shower.

All he had to do was wait now. Wait. Not get nerved about his very naked body. He felt like a pile of exposed lard but it’ll be okay. Yep. Bucky would be fine. Pussy would fix his problems. As long as she played nice and didn’t tease. That rendered Bucky into a teary, babbling mess. Either he was always a masochist or Hydra made him into one but God— sometimes when she got mean he saw stars.

The door busted open, Bucky feeling relief at her grinning face. She gently closed it behind her, stripping easily while throwing her panties at him. He caught the material, moaning softly as she growled, “See what you did to me in the middle of that debrief? Had to cut it short my pheromones were so bad.”

Bucky inspected the panties, eyes fluttering at the slick wetting the cloth. He gripped and inhaled, hand flying down to soothe his cock. A lithe body crawled to the end of the bed, the soldier flushing as she seated herself in between his thighs. Keeping him in fucking missionary, her manicured nails spreading him a bit. He gasped, body jolting at the exposure.

Her perky tits heaved as she groped at his thighs and slid down to get handfuls of his round ass. Bucky threw his head back and moaned, “W-What are you up to?” Earlier mentioned pheromones were making his body keyed up and sensitive, pupils likely swallowing up blue eyes. She leaned forward, taught body against his cock.

“Mmm- I don’t know really. You just looked so delicious,” she kissed his belly and cooed, “I know you’re upset with yourself right now, Buck, you’re fucking gorgeous. Holiday weight or not. But I’ll even go to the gym with you, know I’ve been a distraction.”

Bucky slurred a name, hands reaching for her waist, she was so sweet. He sighed, “I enjoyed you as my distraction, best disss-traction everrr. Fuck you’re makin’ me horny babydoll.” She crawled up his bigger body to plant a kiss on Bucky’s swollen lips before sliding back to her place. His cock leaked when she giggled, “I know, poor baby’s all achy for me. But I wanna do something first.”

She slid palms up and down Bucky’s muscled arms, soothing him a little. Then the she-devil gripped his chunky love-handles and shook, watching with poorly-disguised glee. Bucky whined, “Baaaby, stoppp, it’s awful!”

“Think of them as tiger stripes, they’ll fade out when you drop weight,” she dug under where his belly hung a bit and traced at his most sensitive stretch marks. Bucky let out an indecent noise, thrusting up into her sweet touch. The fellow avenger cooed, “S’that feel good tiger? Need some lotion. Pretty boy.”

Bucky outright whimpered when her hand wrapped around his weepy cock, already slick from copious pre. She slowly moved her hand, praising him. Pretty boy, smart, handsome, good, kind, helpful.

He was going to bust a nut before anything happened. Bucky barked, “B-babe, stop! Stop!” Her pretty brows knitted together, hand jerking away as she asked, “What’s wrong bub?” He panted, “Gimme a second, w-wanna fuck you so baaaad.” She gently stroked the outside of thick muscled thighs, padded with love in her opinion.

“Thought I was going to ride you?,” she asked, face beginning to flush.

Bucky shook his head, managing to push himself up to get face-to-face. His soft body filled the tight space between them, making her whimper now. Bucky used one hand to caress the side of her face, the other massaging her pretty tit. Long lashes fluttered, her lips falling open.

Score. He managed to somewhat fumble through the pheromone fog.

Bucky rumbled, “Nuh-uh, all this talk about my body and you don’t want me to pin you down and fill your pretty pussy up? Hm sweetheart?” He punctuated the sentence with a deep kiss, the sweet thing easily giving up to him. It was fun when she played mean but Bucky had more experience— he could play his girl like a fucking fiddle.

“C’mon,” smack, “use your,” smack, “words baby,” smack smack. She didn’t want to stop kissing, sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away. She blushed, embarrassed on how fast the situation had flipped. His girl whined, “Yeah, c’mon fuck me, fuck me full daddy.” He grinned and laid back, strong arms pulling her atop him.

She squealed, eyes widening. Bucky purred, “You know what to do, Daddy’ll let you on top.” He bit his swollen lip again watching the tip of his clock get swallowed by molten heat, the pair of them shuddering in ecstasy. Her little hands planted on his chest, panting and whining at the fullness. He’d get to work, holding that pretty waist and fucking up into her tight cunt.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out and laying atop his body, gasping, “Y’feel so good! Ah! Soft and oh god s’fucking hard!” Bucky sucked at her neck and thrust into her with downright pornographic slaps. He grunted and gasped, legs wonderfully getting another workout.

He murmured into her ear, a hand stilling all that writhing the poor thing was doing, “Yeah doll? Daddy fucking you good? Feels good to lay on Daddy and get your pussy pounded huh?” She sobbed, clenching and spilling tears on his neck, “Yes daddy! Yes! Don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck, s’rubbing my clit! I love you Daddy!”

Bucky’s eyes crossed for a second. What?

The evil flab that curses his very existence is a free clit rubber? He moaned in delight. Bucky changed their position some to milk out that new fact. Might as well abuse it before it’s gone. His baby was clinging to him now, mewling his name, pussy spasming sporadically. Bucky tilted her head up, melting at her pretty eyes. He rasped, “Come for Daddy baby, know you’re close, let go babydoll.”

He was grinding the tip of his cock into her soft spot while cooing at her. She hiccuped on a sob, the entirety of lean frame tightening down on him. His baby was a lot stronger than she looked. He could feel her core clamp and soak his cock, sending Bucky reeling into his own orgasm with a hoarse shout. He whimpered at the feeling of his balls drawing painfully tight, emptying all he had pent up.

They laid in a pile of sweat and spend, probably love. She was still subbed out, nuzzling into Bucky, only making a soft noise when his soft cock slid out. The brunette guessed it was his turn to return her earlier favor. He felt like the man of the hour. Crazy little kitten thought her geriatric overweight cyborg assassin was hot. Even with the holiday pounds.

So he pressed little kisses, rubbed her back, waxed poetic nonsense of his love for her. Bucky was a lover boy back in the day, just a little rusty, not like his Babygirl was on planet Earth right now anyways. She murmured into his neck with a dopey smile, “Tiger.”

Once again, crazy fellow asset saving Bucky’s wavering self-esteem. How lucky was he?

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #fluff and smut

[g4sstationdr-gs]

Blood Splattered Teardrops

ghostface!sam x reader. reader is afab. warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), finger sucking, knife-play, blindfolding, blood, murder, obsession, manipulation.

word count - 5,397

NOT PROOFREAD

a/n; this took so long for no reason and is low key bad but..

Chapter Three

You dial Sam’s number and wait anxiously for him to pick up. Your mind is racing and you don’t know how you didn’t piece it together sooner. Sam finally picks up and you sit up straight. “Y/N?” He says and his voice comes out concerned. “Sam, I know who did it.” You say and Sam feels his blood run cold. “What?” He asks, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I know who killed Josh.” You stand up and start to pace around your room. “It was him. The guy from last night. He was there.”

You say. He nervously shifts his body as he listens to your response. He doesn’t think you know that it’s him. Right? Sure, it’s slightly suspicious that he ran off and didn’t come back for a while, but he has a good excuse.

“He was there? Are you alright?” He asks, worry evident in tone. He knows you’re fine, he didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t bring himself to ever hurt you. You give a simple ‘mhm’ on the other end of the line and he lets out a sigh of relief. “Well how do you know he was there? Did you see him?” He asks

You feel yourself blush and you clear you throat “um.. I know he was there because we kind of… had sex?” You say in the form of a question. You brace yourself for his reaction, which you know it’s going to be good. He’s probably make his way to your house to yell at you.

“You did what?” His tone is full of anger and shock. “Are you fucking crazy?!” He yells into the phone and you have to hold it away from you a bit. You tell his chest his heaving as he breathes based on the way he’s huffing into the phone. “Y/N. Were talking about someone that broke into your house is possibly stalking you and killed Josh! And you.. what? Wanted to get laid so bad you chose him?” His tone irritated.

You stop your pacing and your brows furrow. Did he just say that to you? “Excuse me? You have no idea what’s going in my head right now! Why would you say that?” You yell back at him. Where is this coming from? Sam doesn’t usually talk like this so it’s shocking to you.

He scoffs. “That’s honestly sad. I’ve done everything I can to comfort you and try to keep you safe and you go and sleep with him.” He throws the insult at you. You feel anger bubble in your gut. You’re very rarely angry at Sam, but right now he’s acting like a dick. You take a deep breath to collect yourself before you yell at him.

“What is your problem? I can do anything that I want.” You say sternly. You expected some sort of a reaction out of him, but never this. “Can we talk about how he killed someone and not about how we had sex!” You just want to talk to him about it so you can figure out what to do next. Obviously the cops are going to talk to you both soon and you want to communicate with him.

You hear him scoff. “Sure. Was it before or after he fucked you?” He says smugly. That was the last straw for you. You hang up the phone and turn it on silent. You angrily toss it onto the dresser and flop down onto your bed. You feel like screaming and cussing him out but you don’t have the energy. You don’t know where all this is coming from, but it’s pissing you off.

You decide that you just need to sleep it off and that you’ll talk about it in the morning when he picks you up. You roll over and turn the desk lamp off, and the dark takes over your room. You close your eyes and try to sleep but your mind is consumed with the events that went down.

All you can think about is the way he kissed you. The way he touched you. The feeling of his hands on you, the way his lips felt against yours. You huff and turn over to the other side. You shouldn’t be thinking about it. It should be just a one and done thing, but you’re dwelling on it. Every time you close your eyes you think about it. You know it’s going to be a long night of restless sleep.

You wake up in the morning with a headache and you can feel the bags under your eyes. You throw the covers off of you and sluggishly walk to the bathroom. You brush your teeth and do the normal things you do to get ready for school. Your mom has breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen. You eat it and take some medicine for your headache. You make your way outside to wait for Sam.

Some time passes and he hasn’t shown up yet. You chew on your bottom lip and look up and down the street, expecting to see him. He’s ten minutes late at this point and you’re at risk of being late for school. “Asshole.” You say and go back inside the house to have your mom drive you to school. You know how stubborn Sam could be, but you also know that he’ll talk to you eventually. You arrive at school and thank your mom.

You start to search around for Sam, but you can’t find him. You want to talk to him about what happened at the party and on the phone, but since he didn’t pick you up this morning you couldn’t. You get the feeling that he’s avoiding you after last night. You sigh and you round the corner when you spot him, except it’s not what you expected to see. He’s making out with Taylor, one of the popular girls in your grade. You freeze and you feel you heart drop. He has his hands on her waist and he’s holding her against him. You feel your chest burn with jealously, which surprises you.

You’ve always felt something when it came to Sam, but you’ve always brushed it off and saw it as a certain connection you two have as best friends. Now you’re realizing the full truth. You have feelings for him. Your heart pumps in your chest as you stare at Sam kissing her. Any hope you had of him liking you disappears. You wanted to talk things out with him but he wants to make out with some girl.

You turn on your heel, your sneakers screeching along the floor as you do so. You know that Sam most likely heard it, and is looking at you right now, but you don’t care. It shouldn’t matter to you, you had sex with some other guy and you had the right to. Just like Sam has the right to kiss anyone he wants. That’s what’s frustrating you. You know that you shouldn’t react like this, but you are.

You walk into your class room and immediately everyone starts staring at you. You hear the hushed words and take in the looks os disgust and some of sympathy. You take a seat at your desk and try to focus on getting your stuff out of you bag. The whispers continue and you feel your eyes burn with tears.

“She definitely killed him. She was the last one seen with him. plus, he texted her. The cops have all the proof they need.” One of the girls, Jessi whispers. Everyone looks at you and start whispering to one another. You know the way it must seem to everyone. If you weren’t a victim yourself, you’d probably blame you too.

You sigh and lay your head down. The past few days have been a blur of events and emotions. You’re tired and wish things would go back to the way they were before. Sam sits next to you in this class, but right now you’re not all that excited to see him. You already feel the headache forming again and know it’s going to be a long day.

The bell rings and you hear Sam sit in the seat next to you. You look up at the teacher as she starts to teach the class. You can feel Sam’s eyes on you, but you don’t look at him. You’re shaking your leg anxiously and he notices that. You just want to get out of here and go home. “Y/N.” Sam whispers and you turn your head slightly to look out of the corner of your eyes.

He’s holding out a piece of paper in your direction. You glance towards the teacher and you take it from him. You open it and you read it. “I’m sorry.” It says. With a little sad face next to it. You look over at him and he gives you a pouty face. You roll your eyes and look back towards the teacher. A few seconds later another piece of paper is thrown on your desk.

You open this one with a sigh and your heart squeezes when you read it. “I’m serious. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Can we talk?” You look over at him and he mouths “please.” You look back at the paper and flip it over. You write “After class” on it and hand it to him. You see him grin and shove it in his pocket.

You focus on class the rest of the time. Knowing that you’re going to talk to Sam after eases your anxiety a bit. He gives giving you notes that has doodles on them and you can’t help but smile. You can’t be mad at him for too long, and you know he’s truly sorry for what he said. The class comes to an end and you gather your things.

Sam is waiting outside of the classroom for you. He smiles and walks you to your locker. He opens his mouth to speak when you feel someone bump into you, causing you to drop your things. You look up and see Leigh, one of Jessi’s friends snickering. You roll your eyes and bend down to pick them up when you hear one of them mutter “murderer.” Before walking away.

Sam tenses and glares at them. You straighten again and press your head against the locker door. “What was that about? Have they been bothering you?” He asks. You can tell by his tone and how tense he is that he’s mad. You nod and grab your textbook from the top of your locker. “They were whispering about me before last class started. It doesn’t matter, everyone is gonna talk and point fingers.” You say quietly before you turn to him.

He leans against the locker and smiles softly at you. “I really am sorry for what I said last night. I was just worried and stressed out and I said stuff before I thought about it. You didn’t deserve that, I know that you’re just as scared and confused as everyone else. You don’t have to explain yourself unless you really want to. I won’t ask questions, as long as you’re safe.” He says. You can tell that it’s slightly awkward for him to apologize, because he doesn’t do it often. That just makes it all the more real. You smile at him. “Thank you. I appreciate it. And I am safe. Don’t worry.” You shut your locker.

“Just don’t leave me hanging in my driveway again to make out with Taylor.” You say and you watch as the smile on his face drops. He runs his hand through his hair. “About that-“ You cut him off by shaking your head. “It’s fine. I don’t want to hear about it. I’ll see you later.” You turn to go to your next class and leave Sam standing there. You’re glad you got to talk but you’re still slightly hurt.

Sam watches as you walk away until you disappear from view. He turns his attention to the girls that were bothering you earlier. He walks in their direction. He passes by them and he mutters “Sluts.” They both gasp and look at him. He just smirks and walks away. He knows who he’s going after next.

In your next class you’re talking to your friends Ellie and Cata when a police officer walks in and ask to speak with you. You knew it was coming sooner or later but it’s still embarrassing when the room goes silent everyone looks at you. Cata gives you a smile and whispers “good luck.” You smile back and get up to follow the officer.

He brings you into the office where the principal and another officer is. You sit down and give your statement. “Me and Josh were together at the beginning of the party, i’d say for like two or three hours. Then my friend came and got me to show me something outside. That’s when Josh was alone-“ The officer cuts you off. “Which friend?” He asks.

“Sam. He brought me outside to show me the stars. Then he went back inside to get us drinks and didn’t come back, so I went inside again. I actually don’t know where he went..” You say and your mind starts to race. Where did Sam go? Before you can dwell on it anymore the officer asks you what you did when you went back inside.

You take a breath. “I started looking for Sam when I got a text from Josh. He was telling me to go upstairs, so I did. But it wasn’t actually Josh up there. It was someone else, I don’t know who because they were wearing a mask.” You say and the officers exchange a look. “Are you the girl who was attacked the other night?” One of them asks and you nod.

You watch as the officer writes something on his sheet. You’re starting to get anxious. “What happened when you saw the person?” The officer asks. You don’t know if you should tell the truth, because it’ll look bad on your part to say you had sex with someone who tried to attack you. They’ll think you’re crazy, and maybe you are. You shift in the seat. “I um.. I ran. And I hid. After a while I finally went back downstairs and that’s when Sam found me again, and took me home.” You finish speaking and wait for the officer to stop writing.

He looks up and he dismisses you from the office. You walk out and you feel too anxious to go back home. You ask the front desk lady to call your mom to come pick you up. Your head hurts, you’re shaking and you want to cry. When your mom arrives she feels your forehead to see if you’re sick and helps you put your stuff in the car. The car ride is silent on the way home. She understands you’re stressed and scared, and you don’t have to explain it to her. You know that when you get home, you’re going to take the best nap of your life.

Nothing happens over the next few days. Theres been no other killings, or not spotting of the masked man. Everyone thinks that maybe he got scared he was going to get caught and stopped. But you have a feeling in your gut that it’s not even close to the end. Your mom snaps you out of your thoughts when she calls your name. You look up at her and she hands you a cookie. “Me and your father have to go to one of our friends birthday gathering tomorrow night. You’ll be safe, correct? You now know the password to the weapons safe.” She says and looks at you with a pointed look.

You smile and take a bite of the cookie. “I’ll call Sam over to hangout with me.” You say and she smirks. “About Sam. You’re with him a lot. Do you.. like him?” You blush and choke on the cookie. “Mom!” You yell and cover your face. She laughs and leans against the counter. “What? I’m just asking. You have other friends you know? Not just Sam.” She says and gives you another look.

You shake your head and get off of the stool. “I’m going to my room.” You say and you hear her laughing as you go up the stairs. You call Sam when you get up there and ask if he can come over tomorrow night. “Yeah I can. But I might be an hour or two late because I have to help my dad with the stupid house. You’ll be okay for a few right?” He asks. The thought of being alone scares you a bit. But you won’t tell him that.

“Yeah, I should be fine. Thanks, Sam.” You say and you hang up the phone. You bite the inside of your lip as you think of the possibilities of the man showing up. If he hasn’t been around, maybe he hasn’t had a motive to show up? You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. You know thinking about it will only stress you out. Sam will be there for you. And he’d be able to get there before anything happened. Right?

The next night rolls around and your parents leave for the party. You wait up in your room to get the call from Sam that he’s on his way. You play some music and read a book to distract yourself from the feeling you have. You keep looking towards the door and the window anxiously. You sigh and put the book down, knowing you’re not going to be able to focus on it. Time is stretching on as you wait for Sam. He’s usually done with his part of the work quickly.

Instead of Sam hammering away at his fathers house he’s staring at Jessi Minks as she backs away from him in fear. He grips the knife in his hand as he stalks towards her. His mask is already stained with the blood from Leigh, who he’d killed previously.

Jessi tries to back away slowly and look for a way out. She tries to run to the left but Sam swings the knife at her, and it cuts her arm. She stumbles backwards and trips over the table. Sam takes it as an opportunity to grab her. He yanks her towards him and stabs her in the gut. She lets out a cry of pain and Sam leans down into her ear.

“You bitches don’t know how to be nice to anyone, do you? All you do is tear down other girls who are more successful than you, because all you’re busy doing is sleeping around. You want to be a whore so bad, now you’re getting treated like one.” He twists the knife and she lets out a choked yell.

“You fucked with the wrong girl.” He growls before he pulls the knife out. Blood splatters onto the ground and he drops her. Her body hits the floor and blood pools around her. He steps over her body and makes his way out of her house, and towards yours.

You hear the doorbell ring and you jump up. You rush down the stairs and without even thinking, you open the door. Of course you expect to see Sam there but it in fact, is not Sam. Your eyes widen and the masked man tilts his head. “Hi princess.” He says and you go to slam the door.

He puts his foot in between the door frame and he shakes his head, almost disappointingly. “Come on baby. I thought you liked me.” He says and you back away from the door. You notice the blood on his mask and you swallow in fear. “You- you killed someone else.” You say hesitantly.

He chuckles and walks into the house. “Yeah, all for you.” He says and he walks towards you. You continue to back away. “What? You’re still scared of me? I won’t hurt you.” He says lowly and he creeps towards you.

“You couldn’t catch me if I ran.” You say and you stare him down. He chuckles darkly and he stops walking “You think I couldn’t catch you? Really?” He asks and you nod.

He steps back and gestures to the door. “Go ahead then. Run. I’ll give you a head start.”

You eye him and the door. He could easily kill you, you both know that and he’s made it obvious. “Go on.” He says. He starts t get impatient with you standing there, so he starts counting. You suddenly take off towards the door. You swing it open and jump the steps off the porch.

You run to the side of the house and into the backyard. There’s woods covering the area behind your house so you decide to run into them. You don’t know how much of a head start he gave you but if you can get deep enough to hide and still figure a way to get back then you think everything will be okay.

You run until it feels like your lungs are going to collapse. You lead against a large tree and try to slow your breathing and listen for any footsteps. You peak around the tree but it’s too dark to really see anything. You heart is pounding and your hands are shaking. Your breathing finally slows and you look around for a way back.

If you can make it back and call Sam, maybe he could be there before the man comes back. You go to step out from behind the tree when you feel a hand on your wrist. You’re pulled backwards and into his chest. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips. “Found you. I told you i would, maybe you should listen to me more.” He pulls you closer to him.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask as his hands slide up your body. “Because you’re mine.” He says. His voice is raspy and full of possession. “You can’t deny you felt something the other night. Other than the two orgasms I gave you.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “You think this is exciting. You find it thrilling being chased around like this. Having someone completely obsessed with you.” He whispers. His hand slides up to your jaw, tilting your head back. The top of your head rests against his chest as you look up at him.

His hand slides up slightly more until his fingers brush your bottom lip. “You want someone to want you. and i want you. Come on Angel, let me love you. I promise you won’t regret it.” You shake your head. “You’ve killed people- you could hurt me, i can’t date you.” You say. You’re starting to question reality and morals.

He flips you around so you’re facing him and he backs you into a tree. “I killed them for you. Everything i do is for you. I’d never hurt you. I just want to love you.” You look into the masks eyes as he speaks. His words are making your heart skip a beat. He’s right, all you want to be is wanted. If he wants you… then what’s the harm? You doubt you’ll ever fall in love with him, but you can act like it.

“Okay..” You whisper and his hands tighten on your waist. “but no more killing.” You say and he nods. “Alright baby. Unless they do something do you that i don’t like.” He brushes your hair back. You open your mouth to speak but he puts his hand over it. “Don’t argue.” He says lowly.

You put your hand on his wrist and guide his hand away from his mouth. You’re still scared. You have a feeling you always will be. “Do you know which way it is to go back?” You ask him and he turns to look at he the woods around you. “No. but let’s figure it out together, yeah?” He says and he grabs your hand.

You follow him through the woods and back to your house. You know that this is a terrible idea and you should turn him into the police, but some part of you is telling you not to. “Um.. you need to be gone soon because my friend will be here anytime now and he won’t be very happy.” As soon as you say that you realize you probably shouldn’t have. You don’t know hoe he’ll react to another man behind around you.

You tense. “Please don’t hurt him- he’s my best friend, and i promise that he’s not into me.” You panic and rush the words out. He chuckles and shake his head. “I won’t. i’m just gonna take you home then i’ll leave.” He says and you let out a sigh of relief.

He guides you back to your house and you’re surprised that he actually knew the way. He brings you inside and up to your room. He shuts the door and he picks you up. You gasp and place your hands on his shoulders.

He drops you onto your bed and he hovers over you. “You gotta trust me if were gonna make this work, you still look scared of me.” He says and you chew on your bottom lip. “I am. it’s probably going to take me a while to trust you.” You reach your hand up to his mask.

“I don’t even know what to call you, you won’t tell me your name.” You whisper. Your fingers brush against the mask. “Obviously your mask is a ghost of some sort, and the news is calling you Ghostface. So do I call you that? Or Ghost for short?” You ask and he shrugs.

“I like Ghost. It’s unique to you, and I’d like anything you called me.” He says as he places his hand on your thigh. “Would you ever show me what you look like?” You tilt your head slightly and run your hand down the mask until it rests on his chest. You can feel his heart pounding. “One day.” He whispers.

His fingers find your fave and they brush over your cheek. “but for now..” He says and pulls something out of his pocket. You look at it and it’s a piece of cloth. Almost like a blindfold? “This is going on you.” He places it over your eyes and almost as if he senes your panic he shushes you.

“It’s fine. You’re okay.” He says softly as he ties it behind your head. You hear rustling and you feel around for his hands. You find one and you grip onto it. You feel him shift his body, then his lips are pressed to yours. His lips are soft and warm, and they fit perfectly against yours.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you part your lips more. You two quickly find a rhythm in kissing each other. He slides one of his hands up your thigh and to the bottom of your shorts. His fingers slowly inch their way to your core.

He presses them onto you through your shorts and your jolt. He breaks the kiss and moves them to your jaw and down your neck. His fingers rub up and down, hitting your clit every time but not giving it the attention you need. You spread your legs more and he smirks against your neck.

He pulls away from you and repositions you to where your head is on the pillows. He moves down to where he’s laying on his stomach, in between you legs. HIs fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down. He groans when he sees your panties. You expect him to pull them down next, but when you feel something cold press into your hip bone, you know what he’s doing.

He pushes the knife under the fabric and jerks it up so it cuts your panties off. He presses the knife to your clit next and you gasp at the cold sensation, your back arching slightly. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your thighs.

His hand reaches up and his thumb and index fingers grip your chin to pull your mouth open. The next thing you know he’s shoving his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” He says and you listen. Your lips wrap around his fingers and your tongue swirls over them. He groans again. “Yeah.. just like that, baby. Can’t wait till that’s my fucking cock.” He says.

His words pull a moan out of you. He moves his fingers deeper into your mouth and his head dips down to your core. He presses his tongue flat against your folds and then licks up until he reaches your clit. You moan again and grind your hips into his face.

His lips wrap around your clit, and his tongue swirls. The pleasure you feel is so intense that it almost makes you want to cry. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and brings them down to push inside of you. His fingers curl into you and he flicks your clit rhythmically.

“oh god-“ You reach down to touch his head. You’re expecting to feel the fabric of his mask but you’re met with the feeling of his hair. You grip it and tug slightly. He grunts against you and that only makes you grind into him again.

"That's it, darling," he praises, his voice thick with desire. As your moans intensify, he continues to curl his two fingers inside you, stretching and filling you while maintaining his assault on your clit with his tongue.

His other hand coming to rest on your thigh as he leans into the pressure of your hips. "Fuck, you're so tight.” His fingers move in and out of you in time with his tongue's assault, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You gasp and moan. “Don’t stop- please don’t stop i’m close.” Your fingers continue to tug at his hair the pleasure intensifies. "Cum for me, baby," he groans. "Let me feel your pleasure." His tongue laps hungrily at your clit, his fingers flexing inside you.

Your thighs close around his head and yours tilts back in a loud moan. Your pussy clenches his fingers as you cum. His rhythm slows down until you calm down and he stops. He pulls his fingers out and he kisses your clit softly. You jolt at the over sensitive feeling.

“I’ll be right back.” He says as he gets up from the bed and walks to your bathroom. You hear the water start running and assume he’s getting a warm washcloth. Your phone dings with a text from whom you think it Sam. You’re too scared to take the blindfold off. You sit up and watch as he comes back out of the bathroom.

He comes back over to you and you feel the wash cloth press against you. “I didn’t have enough time to do this last time.” He says and he gently wipes you clean. He puts the mask back on and unties the blindfold. He hands you your phone. “He’ll be here in fifteen.” His voice is teasing.

You watch as he picks up your shorts and your ripped panties. He slips the panties into his pocket and your lips part in shock. He slips your shorts back onto you and taps your thigh lightly. “There. Now don’t let him touch you, or i will kill him.” He says sternly. Before you can protest he covers your eyes and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Bye Angel.” He mutters and leaves. Just like all the other times you’re left there confused and conflicted. This is going to be one big secret that you don’t know if you’ll be able to keep. You slide off your bed and walk to the mirror. You fix your complexion to make it seem like you didn’t just get done coming over someone’s face.

When you hear Sam pull into the driveway and come to front door, you know it’s going to be a night of acting like everything’s fine.

#sam monroe #ghostface #sam monroe x reader #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #life as a house #hayden christensen x reader

[princessbrunette]

alright. i know. i literally gave you an anakin prompt already. but☝️ ..i’m here with another one.

modern!anakin running one of those tumblr porn blogs to talk about his nasty little fantasies. (not sure you remember this, but i wrote him posting “i like doing evil things to pretty girls.” while ago as an example of that behavior) and you happen to follow him. maybe you interact with him because you’re intrigued by his gross language and you reach out (maybe you swap some pics, and agree to meet). not sure how you’d wanna play it but ! i thought you’d wanna know about it

i think what’s so sexy about him doing this is he’s like… oddly nonchalant about it? he’ll mutual you, but never come onto you in a sexual or creepy way bc he’s a people pleaser and cares too much about people thinking he’s a weirdo. instead he just sends you memes relating to something you posted about one time just to show he listens, you know?

and like duh, he wants to fuck you, he’s a guy with a dick. but it’s better just to befriend you first, right? doesn’t wanna be a douche about it.

but then the two of you start talking properly outside of just memes, and calling, and flirting, and oh god — you’re one of those people. falling for someone online. someone who wouldn’t care that much to fly out to see you right? right?

he ends up in your city, and suddenly you’re picking him up from the airport ?? and you’re thinking jesus christ, yeah i’ve seen pictures of him and he’s very good looking but that’s gotta be… altered in some way right? there’s no way someone that fine runs a tumblr blog that depraved… and soon all 6ft- what, 4? of him is walking towards you in the airport, smiling so friendly and opening his sculpted arms for a hug and you’re just ????? fuck my life ??????

so the two of you go out to a bar, and literally one glass of wine in each and you’re giving him the big doe fuck me eyes, talking so much you don’t even think to get a second drink, the chemistry buzzing through your bones and up your skirt. he didn’t think he’d be getting lucky this fast, jesus — he booked to be here for like 2 weeks so he can really milk it out of you. poor thing was just too needy for it.

you’re blabbering how you’ve never done this before, having some guy fly out and fucking him on the first night when you leave the bar arm in arm, headed straight for his hotel. you think he might crumble under the pressure, again — who runs a blog that depraved and actually knows how to do all the stuff they talk about? but he’s so calm, collected, chuckling at your eagerness, reiterating one million times that there doesn’t ’have to’ be anything. not to feel pressured to do anything just because he flew out. great, so he’s a good guy too. you’re surprised your arousal wasn’t running down your legs like a faucet.

he knows his stuff, and it shows back in the hotel room, bringing you a glass of water even though you had one glass, telling you to drink it, forcing every form of consent out of you because he needs to know you want this like he does. even so, so much kissing once you start — giving you time to back out, giving you time to get so drooly and desperate you’re humping his lap and nearly crying.

anakin soothes you. “what do you want baby? flew out here just to see this pretty face, lemme give you what you want sweet girl just gotta tell me.” muttering it against your lips like he’s casting a spell.

“wanna — wanna do all the stuff you wrote about. thought about it every night.” you mewl, your tits heaving against his strong chest. there’s that low chuckle again, pretty smile lines on his cheeks you can’t help but kiss.

“mm, i remember a few you liked a lot. what was that one about having you on my lap, dick all in your guts, just rubbing that pretty clit ‘til you cream all over it. something like that, right baby?” his hands are massaging your hips and god — yes, yes yes whatever you say, nodding so hard your head might come off.

safe to say he keeps his word, showing you everything he knows.

#hanasnx #modern!anakin prompt #modern!anakin #modern!anakin smut

[deeversuswords]

a/n: no inspiration? take a shower (joking, or maybe not?). ended up drafting a 3.6k words oneshot that'll probably end up not as one, but two chapters, and I'm so excited about it.

so, here's a small peek at this bakugou katsuki x reader, exes to lovers (there'll be two smut scenes too 👀). hoping my words flow 'cause damn are they letting me down with my wip long fic...

When Katsuki had lost you, he had lost and never felt like he won anymore. When you had walked out through the door, belongings packed, you took a fundamental part of himself with you. Two years later, and his ability to love another was nowhere to be found. He functioned. Crawled through life and achieved. But not once did he stop looking for the traces of you. Still, his efforts were in vain. He never found you again.

The universe refused to answer that one burning wish he had for reasons he no longer understood. Was he bound to feel like this forever? Empty in your absence? Cold when another warmed his bed? Incomplete, despite being almost certain that someone out there had to fit with him? A torment. Every single fucking day. From morning to night, night to morning. Awake or lost in dreams—better yet, nightmares. He dreamed of you so often, his subconscious rubbing the what-ifs in his face. He should’ve kicked his fear of losing you to the curb and showed you off to the whole world instead. Like you deserved. Years and years, he had boasted of being strong, as being the best. Yet when it came to you, he was weak. Weak because life taught him early on how fleeting it could be. One moment here, gone in the next. That thought was rooted in his subconscious, and while it wasn’t an excuse, it made him act out more times than he could count. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we be seen together without all this stupid disguise?” you would ask and his response would always be the same pathetic excuse, “You wanna paint a target on your back that bad?” And you would give him this confused look that never failed to feel like a gut punch before saying, “…I can take care of myself, Kat. You made sure of it. Besides, you’d never let anything happen to me.” "What if I'm not there? What if I am and you end up getting hurt because I didn't see it coming?" would be his argument that rang true to both of you. But it was those what-ifs that bred insecurities, and before he knew it, with tear-stained cheeks and in a small voice, you had said, “I’m just not enough for you, Katsuki. I tried and I failed. I’m tired.” He, too, had tried to stop you, to express his fear. You refused to listen, too fed up with him, too sick of being his “dirty little secret” as you so bluntly put it. His “dirty little secret” you remained for he never talked about you with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends. His heartbreak was his and his only, and Katsuki gladly succumbed to it. He deserved the punishment—to drown in regrets and shame. Katsuki hurt you, his missing half, his person who loved him for him. So, when whatever the hell aligned so that behind the door where his hookup for the night was supposed to be stood you, the last two years flashed before his very eyes. And then, he could swear his whole fucking world exploded in color and light; though, that might’ve just been his heart finally, finally beating in the now.

#dee's wips #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #fanfic wip #reader insert #bnha wip

[bookshelf-dust]

Hello! May I request headcannons of Billy Hargrove with a GN!reader who is a sarcastic bitch around everyone else but around him they are a goofball and total sweetheart.

Please and thank you!

billy hargrove headcanons

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 559

warnings: swearing, jason carver, mentions of smoking

a/n: hi my sweet! thank you for your request! i haven’t done any headcanons in quite awhile, and i’m feeling a little iffy about these, so i really hope they turned out okay and that they’re what you’d hoped for! <333

————

-Billy found himself drawn to you the moment he saw you snap at Jason Carver. It was over. He was completely done for.

-Jason had said something about “a group of freaks” in the cafeteria one day, and you’d been close enough to catch it.

“Jason, why don’t you shut your fucking mouth? No one’s dragging you for playing basketball and making it your only personality trait. If you don’t want to play their game, then don’t. Stop being a dick about it.”

-Billy had laughed and gone back to finishing his cigarette, but been enthralled by you following that. Not that he ever had the guts to act on it.

-He’d seen the way you acted when you had to do group work in class. When other students would ask you to do something particularly effort-heavy and you’d respond, “Why, so you don’t have to?”

-But when you work together with him, and you realize he’s not a total dick and he’s going to do his part, you’re sweet as fucking pie. You let him share pens with you. Pens!

-Every sarcastic and/or bitchy comment you make brings Billy immense joy.

“I don’t know, can I?”

“Well maybe if you got your head out of your ass, then you could figure it out.”

“Get fucked, Carver.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Daddy’s money wasn’t enough to prevent you from being a dumbass too?”

-Sometimes when Billy feels that you’re going to say something you probably shouldn’t, he’ll put his hands on your shoulders, or on your waist, and gently pull you away. He’s never had to do that before. He finds that he prefers when you don’t get yourself in trouble. That just means there will be less time for him to spend with you.

-Billy learns very quickly that you use tickling as a defense mechanism.

“Don’t make me do it, Hargrove.”

-The second he starts teasing you, or asking when he’s gonna get a kiss—anything that might make you flustered—you’re threatening to tickle him. He learned the hard way that you’re relentless.

-It was also through tickling that he learned how much he loves your laugh. You’ve got him cornered in his bed, and when he finally relents and asks for you to quit, you laugh triumphantly. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

-He lets you braid his hair. Will sit for however long you want because he knows lots of things have probably pissed you off today.

-Has you sit in his car after school and bitch about the events of your day while he smokes and provides commentary. Asks what he can do to make it better just to make you go all shy.

-The first time you meet Max, Billy immediately regrets it. The sarcasm fucking radiates throughout the room and he knows the two of you are going to gang up on him. You do.

-He brings you over and goes to get something, only to come back and you’re gone. You’re in Max’s room, listening to her bitch and riling her you, encouraging her to go on.

-Also, if you tell Billy to shut it, he will.

-Basically with the both of you it ends up being double the scary dog privileges.

-You put up with his shit, and he puts up with yours. There’s nothing more you could’ve asked for.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove hc #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff #savannah’s headcanons

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 5

i’m sorry i wasn’t here, not just tonight, but every day. i haven’t been here. i know that now.

i know that you just needed me to listen, to hear you. 

maybe you should take a break. and… get help.

where did you find that kind of courage?

i thought if i just kept my head down and followed the rules, everything would be fine.

these people kill with false hope.

sometimes what's painful in the moment is what gets you where you need to go.

i enjoy being better at things than everyone else.

i haven’t felt at home in this world.

remember, i’m still betting on you.

okay, but what about me? i’m not ready.

i would give anything to not give a shit, but i do.

time to forgive yourself, kid. you got a future. you gotta see that now.

some nights are so damn dark. and then they still manage to get darker. 

every time i try to make something right, i always hurt someone.

it’s like i was living for the first time. and once you feel that, you’ll do anything to keep feeling it.

i don’t want you guys to die for me.

i got my rep as the strong, silent type to think about.

we have to be brave in this life we have, simply to exist now.

they can’t hurt me. there’s no one left that i love.

fuck you, you really hurt my feelings.

all we have is what we carry on our backs.

do you trust me or not?

that’s the thing. if they don’t know it was a lie, they get to just live.

i wanted to be brave. i wanted to be more like you.

i’m not brave. i’m a shit person who does shit things because i don’t give a single shit about anything.

so you feel like you didn’t do enough then, now you have to do everything for everyone.

your head is shoved so far up the future’s ass, you’ve completely abandoned the now.

i haven't had a family in a long time, but i have one now.

i fucked it up because i’m fucked up.

you want me to be scared of you. but i’m not.

you shouldn’t come in here. it’s not safe. i’m not safe.

you’re like the most put together person i know.

you can be charming when you’re not angry or hungry.

i didn’t ask for you to rescue me. you did that, for you. 

i’m normal. this is what normal looks like when you’ve had my fucking life.

i don't think it's something you get away with. you still have to live with what you've done.

i’m in this now, and i need to know everything. you owe me that.

how come you never choose me?

you had the guts to do something brave. 

people go through all sorts of stuff, bad things, and they don’t tell anybody.

i worry myself, too.

i just know that i need to make my life count. it’s all i can do.

might’ve been shitty parents, but they’re still your parents.

when we get there, we’ll be different. we’ll be ready. 

you missed me that much?

a lot of hope is dangerous.

i don’t wanna be who everybody thinks i am here. 

it’s the things we love most that destroy us.

you're a good person even with all your bad qualities.

see? we’re good together.

you really think the world’s gonna end?

i’d like for the time i have left on this earth to mean something.

i don’t give a shit anymore. i just want to be a good person.

what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?

i guess we both got what we wanted.

you’re a fucking creep, i’m a fucking catch.

we walked into the darkest place there was, but we did it together.

you’re not bored. your heart’s broken.

i don’t pity you, like at all. i wish i was like you.

she took me straight into the fog of war.

you don’t know everything. and you can’t control me.

you can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me. 

you’re fucking badass.

i love you. can you handle me saying that?

i make a habit of expecting the worst so i won’t get hurt.

i know this is too little, too late, but i’d really like us to be friends.

i sure hope you catch me when i fall. 

why focus on what’s wrong and not what’s right?

your lies, you can’t even keep track of them.

love is a kind of killing, and none of us get out alive.

maybe something good can come from something bad.

there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls. 

remember half an hour ago when you wanted to murder me? 

that’s all we are the whole time, shells with nothing inside.

please, can you just talk to me? anything you need, just say the word.

i keep blaming everyone, but it was me. it was my fault.

yeah, maybe fire and gasoline can hang out.

it is so easy to find yourself in dark places.

what’s right is that i feel something for you that i just don’t feel anywhere else with anyone else.

i’m going to have to take that risk.

you said it yourself, you don’t remember what happened. is it so hard for you to believe you might be innocent? 

you know what the worst part is? i really thought i had good instincts.

you’re right, you don’t owe me shit, but i’m asking you anyway. 

i could’ve been nicer. i could’ve been less of a monster.

we grew apart from each other. we’re two different people now.

you’re both sad and lonely. you’re a perfect match.

maybe we just needed to work through the bad to get to the good.

you were right. everything is cursed.

god, you are so gruesome. 

you take me for everything i’m worth.

it’s okay if you’re scared.

are you trying to get me to forgive and forget?

#sentence prompts #* #ask meme #ask prompts #rp ask meme #rp sentence memes #rp starters #sentence starters #rp sentence starters #meme

[moeyynorris]

I Feel My Shadow Dissolving

Let’s Make Trouble in the Dream World - Part 3

Max Verstappen x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader

Warnings: Emotions related to a break-up/end of relationship, cheating (kind of?), fluff (kissing).

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, sorry. I hope you like it!

Master List

You sat at the cramped make-up desk in your dressing room, eager to get the caked-on make-up off your face. Sure, it still looked great, but it felt like a concrete mask. Yuck.

Just as you reached for a make-up wipe, you heard a knock on the door. You shrugged in your seat, anticipating Max and his empty congratulations. After your show, and the feelings that plagued you as you sang your heart out, you realized that he was no longer the man for you. The three time F1 champion of the world was no longer the man you loved.

With a deep sigh, you checked your phone, spotting a text from Max. You swiped to reveal the message just as another knock sounded.

“Coming! Just a sec!” you blurted. Then, you narrowed your eyes on the screen.

Max:

I will see you at the hotel. I know Craig was going to give you a ride. I want to get enough sleep for the race tomorrow. Be safe.

Your brow furrowed at the tone of the message. It wasn’t unlike Max lately to have you find your way back, so you weren’t super surprised. But, if Max wasn’t the one knocking on your door, then who…

The door slowly creaked open and a light voice called out as you turned. “Y/N?” It was Charles. Honestly, he was the last person you expected to come see you after the show, but it was definitely not unwelcome.

“Oh, hey Charles. Uh, Thanks for coming to the show. How did you like it?” You stood from your seat and face the Ferrari driver. He smiled and chuckled ever so lightly.

God, if you thought he looked good under the stage lights, he looked even better in the dimmed fluorescent glow of your dressing room. The jeans he was sporting fit every hint of a curve perfectly, and his very fitted shirt was short of obscene. His hair was tousled in the most delicious way, and the best part was that you knew he didn’t mean for it to fall that way.

In this moment, he was a Greek statue. He was perfection.

Charles licked his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The show was spectacular. I have to admit I had never really listened to your music. I didn’t think it was my style, and I just didn’t know you were so talented.” He took a step forward as he continued. “The fact that I got to hear it live first made it so much more… special.” He smiled at you, obviously realizing he was ranting. “I loved it, Y/N. I really did.”

You nodded and smiled, touched by the honestly in his words.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope the others weren’t too rowdy for you,” you chuckled. She shook his head.

“Oh, no. I actually got a few payback pictures if I ever need them.” You both laughed as you leaned against the counter.

Charles let out a humorous sigh, then peered around the room. He furrowed his brow.

“Where is Max? Surely he would want to be here to congratulate you on a performance like that?” Your gut sank at his words. And before you could hide your reaction, the expression was already painted across your face. You sighed deeply and shrugged.

“He wanted to get sleep for the race tomorrow.” You nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had never been able to kick.

“Well, it is an afternoon race, but I guess he is someone who needs a lot of sleep?” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better. It’s not like the fact that Max wasn’t there really bothered you. If anything, it solidified the weird feelings you had towards him over the last few… weeks? You sucked in a breath thinking about how long it had actually been.

It didn’t fucking matter. What mattered was where you were at that moment.

You offered Charles a smile and huffed a laugh.

“He hasn’t been here the last, geez, I don’t even know how many times now. He’s usually at the show, but after, it’s hit or miss.” You shrugged again. “I mean, there will be a million more shows.” Desperate to change the subject, you nodded towards the door and grinned.

“So, was that your first concert?” Charles’ cheeks reddened a little.

“My first one like that! The music I usually like is a little, well, calmer than that. Not that there was anything wrong with—“

“I know what you mean. I’ve heard a few of the songs you’ve shared on posts. It’s mellow, not anything like this. That’s why I’m even more thrilled that you liked this show.” You played air guitar for a second and chuckled.

Charles shrugged his shoulders and met your gaze. “Well, the fact that it was you made it even better.” Your stomach nearly flipped at his words.

‘What—“

“I just mean that it was special to see someone I know and care about on that stage.” His cheeks reddened as he peered off to his left. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re an important person in my life. Sure, you’re the partner of a fellow driver, but—“

“That’s debatable.” You didn’t realize you had said the words aloud until Charles reacted. His eyes widened as they locked on you. His whole body tensed for moment, is what almost seemed like a mixture of anger and… maybe relief?

“What are you saying?” Charles’ voice was soft, soothing. You sighed as you plopped back down on your stool.

“Max and I haven’t been right for a while. I mean, the intention is there, but the actual feelings behind it aren’t anymore. I really hit me on that stage tonight, when I was singing. Those words were written about him when I first wrote them, but now, they aren’t. It’s almost like they are meant for someone else now.” You stiffened at your lack of a filter. “I don’t even know why the fuck I’m telling you this.”

Charles sat on the make-up stand in front of you and sighed. He was closer than you expected, his legs almost brushing yours. You peered up at him as he reach out for your arm.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Y/N. But, sometimes our gut tries to tell our brain what is really best for us. And, now, I think that is what yours is trying to do.” His hand gently grazed down your arm, making its way to your hand. He curled his fingers around your palm as he rubbed circles on the back if your hand with his thumb.

“Well, I guess you’re right. I’ve been feeling it for a while, but pushing it off, not wanting to believe it.” You crossed your legs and nibbled nervously on your bottom lip.

Charles nodded ever so slightly as he listened, still holding your hand in his. He squeezed it gently, as if trying to soothe you. But, the weird part was that you didn’t really need to be soothed. You weren’t upset by the love lost between you and Max. He had his busy life, you and yours, and there wasn’t much in between. Sure, when you first started seeing each other, there was something there. Max was sweet and romantic for the first year or so. But, then everything just crumbled. You couldn’t remember a specific instance when it started. But, tonight was the affirmation that there was nothing between you anymore.

Charles tugged on your hand gently, waking you from your thoughts. You sighed and looked up at him, unable to hold back a smile as his eyes met yours.

“Y/N, you mentioned that your song seemed like it was meant for someone else now.” You heart nearly punched out of your chest. “Is there someone in particular?”

You slowly nodded, trying to calm your heart rate. “Yeah, Charles. You.”

Charles leaned back slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting the words that left your mouth. You knew better, by how he was holding your hand. No, he knew what you were going to say. What surprised him was the fact that you actually said it. Honestly, you were just as surprised.

You gasped lightly as Charles quickly stood, pulling you up with him. You rose to your feet, and found yourself pressed lightly against Charles’ chest. He was warm, the scent of cologne filling your senses.

Charles quickly took a step back and sucked in a shallow breath, still staring at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that—“

You cut him off with a kiss. You had no idea what had compelled you to do it, but it just happened.

Your heart pounded again as Charles kissed you back, his arm snaking around the small of your back as he pulled you against him. His warm lips encased yours gently, yet passionately, while his free hand found the back of your neck. You melted into his touch, taking in the comfort and passion heating in your chest.

Charles’ fingers snaked through your hair, coaxing a breathy whimper from the back of your throat. His lips curled into a smirk against yours, making your stomach flip.

There was something natural about bring held by Charles. It felt like something you had experienced for years, like it was something you were meant to do. Sure, that could just be your brain getting all sappy, but you couldn’t dismiss your feelings now. After all, they got you here in the first place.

Charles’ phone pinged loudly in his pocket. He slowly pulled his lips from yours, smiling as he gazed down at you.

“That would be Carlos. He is driving me back.” You froze for a moment, furrowing your brow.

“He’s been waiting for you all this time?” Charles chuckled.

“I told him I was going to find the restroom, and say goodbye if I can find you.” Charles winked, or at least attempted to. “For all he knows, I’ve been in the bathroom.”

You huffed a chuckle. “I don’t think he would believe that.” Charles laughed with you, just shaking his head.

“What he doesn’t know right now won’t hurt, right?” You nodded in agreement, then leaned back in one more time for a quick kiss.

“You should go meet up with him. I’ll see you tomorrow at the race.” The grin on your face wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “Craig is going to drive me back.”

Charles nodded, matching your grin. “You have my phone number right?” You nodded. “Please let me know that you are back safe. It’s late.” Your stomach swirled at his words.

“I will.”

After one more nod from the Ferrari driver, you watched him walk out of your dressing room. A few moments after he left, you plopped yourself down on your stool, wondering what the hell came next. You turned and looked at yourself in the mirror. Whatever your next move was, it was going to happen after your got all of that make-up off.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #Charles Leclerc fluff #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!groupie!reader, rough sex ( with protection ), bathroom sex, dub con for a second, toya releases some built up frustrations, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ you are too sweet! i’m just happy you like my writing 🥺 please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Hh… hhaa… hhhuuhh..”

it was hard to focus on anything but Toya’s panting against the shell of your ear, punctuating each fervent thrust of his hips that smashes your body against the stall. it shakes to the rhythm of his aggressive fucking, and so do you. pinned between his body and the quivering, rust and graffiti littered cubicle, your legs shook, the muscles in your calves bulging as burning as you stand on your tippy toes, your panties around your ankles.

your nails had been so cute, manicured to perfection once upon a time, but now they ground against the wall, chips of paint from it gathering under the acrylics, and you mewl, your eyelids fluttering. you could feel every, solid inch that he pounded into you, twisting your guts into tight knots, sending blaring warnings to your brain.

“S-slow..d-UH!”

you can’t even get the request out before both of his hands grip your hips, pulling you back with more urgency. your ass ripples violently as your skin smacks against his groin, and he grunts. your knees tuck together, posing yourself in the most awkward position yet, the balls of your feet sore, but it was the only way that you could ensure that you wouldn’t crumble against the force of his rapid-fire drilling. “T-too f-fast…!! T—too h—haa—!”

your forehead smears against the stall, your eyes bleary and struggling to focus on your thighs as they jiggle each time you’re filled to your limit. you could see your juices drooling, sticking to your thighs and dripping from his base on to the floor between your bodies. it was embarrassing, how you were already soaked by the time Vivid Bad Squad finished their set, and you’d been oh so eager to pull him into the bathroom at the Live House. now, it seemed, the harder he fucked you, the wetter you got.

“T—Toya—!” you reach down with one hand, rubbing your swollen clit, your fingers bumping against his slippery base. you’re reminded of the rubber you’d brought, and that you’d slipped on him right before he plunged inside. it had tightened significantly, as his throbbing cock had swollen with the desire for release.

you’d never imagined he would be this rough, and began to wonder if he was always so aggressive, or if you’d just caught him on a bad day ( or a really, really good one ).

“You don’t really… want me to slow down.” he muttered it into your hair, broken into ragged breaths, his svelte digits gripping the supple flesh of your hips. they dig in, as if to emphasize his point. “You’re— sloppy wet when I fuck you this fast… this hard… just, uhh, listen to you…”

you close your eyes under the rush of furious euphoria, rubbing your button in erratic, mini tornados. you could hear the sound of your own sex, squelching when he delved deep, clenching around him desperately.

he was right.

he fucked you like he hated your pussy and you were loving it.

“You only… want me to slow down… because you’re going to cum hard if I don’t…” each word is broken by a heavy, hot breath in your ear, the subtle growl in his normally gentle tone forcing the hair on your arms and the back of your neck to stand on end. you strum yourself faster, trying to match his rhythm, biting hard on your lip and nod, speechless. he sounds too good, and feels too good deep inside you, for you to beg for any respite anymore. “Rub harder,” he demands, breathlessly. one of his hands runs up between your shoulder blades to grasp your hair at the back of your head and angle it back towards him. it elicits a squeak from your O shaped lips, feeling his grip tighten and the tug send a subtle burn through your roots, “you get… tighter… keep doing it…”

you pinch your sensitive clit between your fingers, moaning out loud as you torture yourself for his pleasure, your other hand dragging your nails down a Vivid Bad Squad flyer taped to the stall, ripping it down. the paper flutters to the floor and is soon trampled under your feet. “G-gonna- c-cum…!!” you gasp for breath, your fingers abusing your poor, little clit, and the endless bullying of your internal nerves as his cock pummels through your canal has you dancing back and forth on your toes, squirming, milking him.

“Don’t tap out,” Toya moans, burying his face in between your shoulders as his hips piston, unrelenting. his voice is muffled, his open mouth forming the syllables against the fabric of your top, but he doesn’t pucker to kiss you. “Even after you cum… don’t stop clenching until I finish.”

#reupload bc I want nonnie to see it and be happy 🥺 #toya x reader #toya x you #toya smut #toya aoyagi smut #toya aoyagi x reader #pjsk toya #toya aoyagi x you #toya aoyagi #pjsk #pjsk x reader #pjsk x you #pjsk smut #project sekai x reader #project sekai #project sekai x you #project sekai smut #colorful stage #colorful stage x you #hatsune miku: colorful stage