#anyways they are gay! move along!

[boxwinebaddie]

is there a reason as to why jers really did NOT like being called sweetheart?

okay, hmmm.

i think it's because he finds it...Condescending?

honey, sweetheart, angel, baby...

they're all terms of endearment, but jersey only does infearment, ergo: getting cutesy-woosty, fuzzy-wuzzy lil pet names from people, specifically adults, make him feel like you are likening him to a weak, helpless domesticated animal that's meant to submit to you, infantilizing/inferiorizing him the way you would petulant child or a blubbering baby, that you're praising him but secretly patronizing him...that you're basically belittling and looking down on him.

...when in reality, you're literally just trying to be Nice.

jersey played basketball all through high school, so he knows ALL about offense and defense, or rather:

being offensive and defensive.

like, at the grocery store, if the old checkout lady is like "do you want a bag for that, honey?" <3 kyle is like She Thinks I'm Not Strong Enough To Carry My Groceries ( aka apartment groceries that kyle is not even going to eat anyways, rip jersey's ed ) and will carry 7 huge bags to the car, huffing and puffing, cussing her out.

tldr: no matter how many times you fill the glass, jersey kyle's is always half full -- when it's not Empty -- which it usually is because again, jersey doesn't drink anything but water or red wine. he covets cynicism, thinks everyone is secretly out to get him/preying on his downfall and that no good deed goes unpunished.

more than that...jersey’s never had a Reason to be soft.

he's a machine. he doesn't know what to do with his fingers when they aren't curled around a pencil or fashioned into a fist. he doesn't think he was made to do soft things. sentimental things. to him, being gentle & loving were meant for kind people. the kind of people,

...who can love things.

and jersey does not think he can love things.

again, it's part of the jersey can't say i love you ask meme, that i think i'm just going to slowly distribute through these other ask meme answers, but i am of the belief that sixth grade pre!rm jersey either told stan he loved him and then stan died the next day or that jersey kyle was abt to tell stan he loved him and then he died...

either way...i think that traumatized the Fuck out of him.

so he was, one, never told i love you by his father...ever, doesn't think that he's meant to love things because he's a unfeeling cyborg whose only purpose in life is to Succeed, love makes you vulnerable which makes you weak which disgusts him. but mainly: he'd stopped believing in love full stop after he lost his stanley marsh...

...but now his stanely marsh is back.

and kyle's whole world is in color again.

once jerseykyle and ravenstan start dating, and even, i think, during the period of time when kyle thinks he has a crush on raven of c.d., finds that his heart, which was hard for so long...is softening. he had no reason to be kind or gentle, but now...wants to be soft and gentle.

for stan.

( he is very touch tank by quinnie coded )

like kyle doesn't care about other people or how they're handled or mishandled, but if stan even frowns, kyle is like cracking his knuckles and looking around before checking on him in the cute gentle ky vc.

someone asked me if kyle's ptsd goes after after he gets stan back, and yes...and no. it gets better, tbh i think taking the clozapine actually made his psychosis worse so when he got off that things were better, but getting stan back unlocked a new fear which is...

that constantly in danger of losing stan again.

so sometimes in the middle of the night if stan gets up to get a glass of water or pick up more cat food for curb, if kyle wakes up and sees stan not there, it'll trigger like a full blown panic attack where he's like "ohgodohgodohgod!! none of this was Real i just fucking hallucinated stan, this whole thing was a lie, stan is gone, stan is dead!! sTAN???"

and thinks he imagined the whole thing/stan is GONE again, start like yelling his name, freaking the fuck out, totally breaking down and stan just comes out of the kitchen w/ his glass and then immediately drops it and runs over like "ky, did you think i was gone again? :(" like putting a blanket over him and holding his face and giving him one million thousand kisses like "shhshhshh it's okay, calmate, cariño. </3 i’m here. i'm not going anywhere. you're safe. go back to sleep...

I Would Never Leave You."

wHICH! V SICK N TWISTED THAT STAN LEFT!! DURING THE RAVESEY DIVORCE!!! KYLES ONE TRUE FEAR!!!!!!

KILL ME

but we are not going to be miserable this ask meme!

we are going to be lovely and kind because that's how kyle is when him and stan start dating like...WHEN I TELL YOU NO ONE HAS LOVED ANYONE MORE THAN JERSEY LOVES RAVEN!!!!!

like nobody! No! ONE! NO!!!! ONE!!!!

like idc idc idc if he can't say i love you, he has trauma, and the literal trauma of losing stan is a large reason why he can't say it, but also the reason why kyle is so Attached to stan when they're dating is bc when kyle thought stan was dead he thought that he was gone forever...so now he's committed to spend every second with stan like it's his last and spend his life loving him.

ugh, i just...kyle would do ANYTHING for stan.

like he's so sweet and soft in a way he isn't with Anyone.

when stan was getting sober from alcohol and he was throwing up nonstop, fucking crying and dying with his matted hair sticking to his forehead from how much he was sweating/how feverish he was, literally shaking, so fucking miserable w/ his face pressed into the toilet seat like "kyle, i can't fucking do this. i'm not strong enough. i feel like i'm going to die. i can't i can't i CANT." :((( kyle was just like gently gliding his thumb over stan's cheek like "you can do this. you survived so much more than this. i know it hurts now, but i'm here. and i will be with you every step of the way." and kisses his forehead.

and when i tell you kyle's fear of contamination and his intense ocd has him washing his hands and spraying you with bear mace if you even breathe near him, it doesn't matter when it's stan. like he loves and cares about stan so much that he does not give a shit what happens to him or weird fluids or being sick and i'm...AAAAAAAA!

or like omg, speaking of stan getting sober, those first couple of concerts after stan stops drinking and has to do raven things or preform in front of thousands of people, he used to do shots and have to drink a lot to be comfortable out there, so he has huge panic attacks sober. and kyle just reassures him from off stage and squeezes his hand, blows a kiss & sticks his tongue out.

FR EVEN HANGING OUT WITH THEIR FRIENDS!!! bebe and tweek and kenny and craig and marj and jimmy are all on the couch and kyle and is like "baby, will you find the colander in the kitchen please?" and stan is like *squints in dyslexia* but is like "okay, be right back" but then kyle is like "wait you forgot something" and gives stan a little kiss AND EVERYONE IS LIKE "wAit yOu fOrgOt SoMEthiNg" and kyle is like "yEAH HAHAAHA REAL FUNNY ASSHOLES!!!! ITS GONNA BE REAL HARD TO LAUGH W/ YA TEETH ON THE FLOO--"

but stops midword bc stan makes a tiny whining sound like "kyyyy? i'm so sorry, but i can't find it." and kyle's face immediately softens and he's like "stan, what did i say about apoloizin' when you don't need to? i’ll be right there, sweetheart. <3" and everyones like i'LL bE RiGh-- and kyles like “tRY IT AGAIN, IDIOTS!!! SEE WHAT HAPPENS SEE--oh god, stan, don't cry!" :'c *races over*

girls, gays and theys!!! my sons are in LOOOVEEE!!! ;-;;;;

but yeah, no, when ravesey starts #hating, kyle calls stan sweetheart like alllll the time, all the little cutesy-wutzy, fuzzy-fuzzy nicknames that he claimed to hate because stan just makes his heart so warm. also jersey kyle saying "baby" in the jersey accent??? like saying sweetheart, baby, honey...I KNOW IT SOUNDS CUTE!!!

( ky does also call ravenstan zeeskeit and stan does call jersey mi sabelotodo like in his letter, btw xx )

okay, last thing, is that honestly learning how to love things and being vulnerable and soft is how he realized he wanted to be a guidance counsellor and provide support to kids like him who didn't have it growing up/being gentle with them and patient and nurturing.

the post!rm soft kyle psychology major/elem guidance counsellor era is my faaav like his character development is CRAZY!!

my comfort television shows are say yes to the dress and masterchef (which means that kyle's favorite comfort tv shows are them) and kyle is so gordon ramsey coded in that with all the adults he's screaming at them, calling them worthless and idiot sandwiches, but with kids he just like kneels all the way down and speaks sweetly to them and is like "i'm not leaving until you laugh" <3

like i think a little girl is in there one time ( i think it might be nova, who is the ravesey kid bc i had them adopt one of kyle's troubled guidance counsellor children...also she looks like this, yes i made her look like havana rose liu because i'm obsessed with her. she's a qt )

but yes, so a little girl starts crying in kyle's office and he's like patting her on the back like "it's okay to cry. don't be embarrassed -- look." then pulls out his phone and points to his lock screen and its stan in a black cd tee-shirt with all the tattoos and piercings and eyeliner in like a pair of ripped skinny jeans and the combat boots.

then jers is like "okay, so this is my boyfriend. and he cries alllll the time. over very silly things." and is like "like, the otha day we were goin' to the store and he saw this tiny little dog, even tinier than you, and she was wearin' this pink sweater and he started crying...bc he thought she was cute. like full waterworks, everything." and the little girl starts laughing and he's like "there we go! c': see, it's all gonna to be okay, my friend. take a piece of candy on your way out. see you later." and fist bumps her bUT SHE HUGS HIM AND HE'S LIKE AAA

anyways...actual angel jersey kyle...my beloved.

-uncle nina, who is leaking out of her eyeballs

#i am the jersey kyle being the softest person in rm secretly agenda #i will always be in the trenches for jersey i love him so bad #no one has loved anyone as fiercely or endlessly #than jersey loves raven like jersey kyle is a SIMP #its v unserious like i love when goth boot stan is like my feet hurt and kyles like stan i told u not to wear those and carries him anyways #like smh...does anyone hear a whip cracking #but no kyle jut doesnt like pet names bc he thinks ur looking down on him bc his brain is all hardwired for attack #but when him and stan start dating he just gets really soft and gentle and loving and idk hes really nice to little kids #its so nice i love u kyle hes so cute #i know that little girl hugged him and he sat in his office smiling for a long time and texted stan like AAAA STAN GUESS WHAT AWWW #anyways they are gay! move along! #sorry this is kind of written insanely i am very tired have like 145 asks and i am busy at work so if its spelled or worded weird #thats just the way its gotta be guys i'm sorry #my fav thing is ky verbally evsicerating someone like stopping to kiss stan on the cheek AND THEN GOING BACK LMAOO #“LETS GET ONE THING STRAIGHT AHOLE I AM GOING TO” “hi baby <33 i missed you” “AND ANOTHER THING BITCH!!!” #he is my hero lol #MY BABY MY BABY MY BAAAABY ;-; #stan on the kitchen counter while kyle cooks and hes like stan get off the counter get the fuc--baby will you please get off the counter? #like ur so cute ur distracting me ( but like totally lets him stay and feeds him all the little veggies n stands between his legs ) #they are so cute i am fucking sick

[quietwingsinthesky]

human!au raphael getting an intervention from lucifer and gabriel except it’s not an intervention, it’s a kidnapping to take them on a roadtrip vacation, and they manage to get raphael out of their bed and down the hall before they break gabriel’s nose, and lucifer (<- this was entirely his idea and he thought it was a great one) starts trying to explain what’s happening before they kick him down to the floor too, because who the fuck is that guy, they don’t know him, they don’t recognize his face or his voice since lucifer transitioned after their dad kicked him out of the house and cut contact.

and then that’s when michael shows up at the other end of the hall holding A Fucking Sword that he grabbed off the wall because their house is filled with weirdass shit, flips on the light switch to find gabriel bleeding all over his hands and the floor, lucifer flat on his back still trying to tell raphael who he is, and raphael having a panic attack because THEY WERE BEING KIDNAPPED. by their brothers. BUT STILL.

family reunion <3 (<- adam is also there. he was not supposed to be. michael snuck him in through the window because raphael doesn’t like him.)

#when the lights flick on btw lucifer stops dead trying to speak and just stares up at raphael #because raphael has also transitioned while he was kicked out. their dad was a terrible person but he wasn’t transphobic alsjfkfjks #it’s very funny to me if he was actually very supportive of his gay son and trans child and whatever gabriel is. he just also told lucifer #to fuck off for unrelated reasons. #anyway. lucifer stares at them because they look so different and even panicking and just dragged out of bed they are so pretty and he’s #suddenly hit with this overwhelming wave of both pride for them and also grief that he wasn’t there to help them transition. and then #raphael kicks him again because he moves too fast and they’re still panicking. #raphael spn #gabriel spn #michael spn #lucifer spn #poor gabriel. he didn’t even want to do this. he literally only went along with it because lucifer was going for it either way. #and he knew raphael wouldn’t recognize lucifer. hell he barely recognized lucifer. #michael also doesn’t. adam DOES because he and lucifer have fucked before. once. he is NOT telling michael that. #lucifer might if he gets grouchy enough. just to piss michael off.

[dizzybevvie]

boy how do you reblog such great things

been cultivating my dash for years. i also found most of them in my drafts

#looked at my drafts to find a Rb about my day / the boy i like (☕) BUT. IT ATE JT LMAO POST IS GONE #however i will do it here and now #SO IT WAS “CULTURE DAY” TODAY BUT MOST PPL USE IT AS NON UNIFORM DAY #I go in & see ☕ in form and go to assembly blah blah blah dont see him again until 3rd period #i sit behind him in english bc we have a room change and i have an excuse hes sososo funny and talks to me like the whole time #same as biology but he got kicked out for talking too much lol #then at lunch he disappears nd im a little bummed BUT HE APPEARS FROM THE HALL AND INVITES ME #so i go and bring my friends too and we sit while he & some younger years dance #and hes dancing and slaying etc etc all flamboyant /pos /pos /pos sometimes on the stage sometimes near us #near us he looks. fucking DEAD into my eyes and sings along to the song when its like “i know you like me” or sum #NDJSBDJSBE AHHHHH #and im sat a little away from the group but he sits with me specifically #friendgroup takes a pic without me really noticing & my friend Annabelle jokingly goes “why is Bev looking at ☕ with so much love” #I laugh it off. but ohhh ny god u have no idea. i was heart eyes motherfucker the whole time #HES SO CUTE IM SCREAAAAMING WITH THE WAY HIS KIPPAH KINDA MOVES HIS HAIR & HIS NEW GLASSES & SHIRT THAT ISNT UNIFORM SO I CAN SEE HIS WAIST #UGHFJSBSKSB MY GOD MY GOD MY GOD #hes so cool its so scary to be around him #then in PE we were meant to habe just dance for the last 2 weeks but theres been no available room #our group were in the gym but we got permission to wonder around instead #☕ says “whatre you doing?” i say “walking aimlessly” and he says “OH MY GOD PERFECT SAME LETS DO IT TOGETHER” #so him & me & my friends r walking and then im like. can we play just dance in the tennis courts #So he gets it on his phone starts playing and dibs me as a partner for Girlfriend and Timber. oh my sweet lord. #GODDD HES SO PRETTY AND FUNNY AND COOL IM OBSESSED WITH HIM OH MY GOD. #so anyway. thats the answer to your question LMAOOO #loz tag #asks #beverly says stuff #the bev is gay chronicles #☕ #like before i wasnt sure if i LIKE-LIKED him or if it was hyperfix or smthn. im now 100%sure i really really like him

[yellow-yarrow]

Ough none of my friends want to go to pride with me...

#ough i cant believe this #considering going there alone to look at the crowd for five minutes then moving along #i mean im going to the capital anyway so i might as well #my friends are either too 1. sick 2. tired 3. scared to go #i need to be around gay people.

[calaathmaza]

.

#i have been working on many many different arts but have had to put art on pause for a bit #i dont feel bad abt not posting but i am missing my art time :(( it is very therapeutic for me #things have been a non stop shitfest for *checks watch* two months!!! with much stress and crying and truckin along #literally truckin i just moved! big life changes #so anyway if you see me posting less for a bit thats why <3 #all will be well #more grateful than i can even put into words for the friends i have made thru these gay little goblins and elves #personal

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Well free fall was depressing.

#and lacking in substance to my tastes #yes it was artsy yes it had everything it needed yes I get it. #and I can get with moody movies but I wanted. More something. #I don't think the two dudes had a lot of chemistry and frankly I can't help but think. 'Good for him' #for moving on. Which I don't think is unsupported by the movie! #depressing moody straight guy learns to be gay kinda but only after he fucks everything up stringing everyone along #neat but god I'm sick I didn't want to watch a depressing movie and I thought I saw someone comment the other da #about how romantic this movie was #and it was on Tubi so I thought I'd check it out #I wouldn't really call it romantic at all but there's something crunchy about the relationship between the dudes. #it's depressing. It's a depressing 'I'm not gay I just fucked you' hot and cold thing #and it hurts seeing the dude put himself out there and love this guy but also their affair just kind of happens and it's meh #but like I get it. You see a dude and you get a gay vibe from him and that's enough because frankly that's rare enough #anyway. Hey everyone I watched a movie

[ladyloveandjustice]

I saw a post in the My Adventures with Superman tag claiming that Lois "finally" has a character. I really like the show and it's version of Lois too, but I want to make this clear: Lois Lane has been around for over 80 years and she's always been a distinct, dynamic character with a lot going for her, every bit as admirable as Superman. This isn't a new thing!

Like any character Lois has had some bad adaptations, but she's been a great character from the beginning, and I wanted to show off some panels from comics over the years so anyone new to Superman lore can see why she's a beloved character and the MAWS portrayal is building on that, not starting from scratch.

Lois in the golden age comics (1939 through the 1940's) was shown to be a career-driven woman who didn't take shit from anyone. This was an era where a lot of women were entering the workforce because men were serving in WWII and there was excitement and change in the air, and Lois was meant to be a reflection of that. She fought against the sexism of her boss sticking her with the advice and gossip columns because she was a woman, and she was go-getting reporter out to get a real story. From the beginning she was fearless (sometimes reckless), driven, and had no patience for Clark Kent's (feigned) cowardice (and was always full of sick burns). She never let anyone push her around.

And she's been pretty consistently like this her entire run as a character. Of course, there were some bad writers, and there was a time in the 50s when all female characters had to be marriage obsessed (Lois wasn't the only one hit with this, Wonder Woman was too), but she reverted back to her firebrand self in the 60's and 70's, and when the 80's came along, characters started getting more filled in backstories, including her- this was where we started seeing stuff about her home life, her childhood moving around as a military brat, and her troubled relationship with her father and sister. She had an interior life, inner conflict- and she still kicked ass and always got the last word in. As someone invested in journalism, she is THE coolest fictional journalist to me.

This was also when comics started focusing on Clark being who Superman WAS rather than a pure act, and we got to see their relationship really grow and Lois fall for Clark, not Superman. So here, have some panels of Lois being great and see the scope of her own personality.

Lois also has lots fun little quirks and hobbies comics readers know about- she takes her coffee a certain way, she doesn't cook much because she's so on the go (so Clark is the one who cooks in the fam), she likes to sit on Clark's desk when they're talking (this happens in other Superman media too), she REALLY likes monster trucks and Clark REALLY doesn't but will support her anyway:

Also, she's always seen through to who Clark really is:

Anyway. Have more of my favorite Lois panels because I have a lot:

also this one because I'm gay:

#lois lane #superman #my adventures with superman #dc comics #clark kent

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

#isat #in stars and time #siffrin #siffrin isat #isafrin #isat game #postgame isat #loop #isabeau #mirabelle #odile #bonnie #boniface #spoilers are only under the read more #my drawings #etoile tag

[randombush3]

you're not sorry to go

ona batlle x reader

summary: ona and you are best friends, but it's a bit more complicated than that

words: 4.5k

notes: this one is based on true events x

also let's ignore the result of my poll because i want the next part to have smut and it wasn't fitting with the vibe of this part

oh and the title is a quote from 'this side of paradise' by f. scott fitzgerald

January, nine years ago. 

Nothing about today has been out of the ordinary. 

The weekend is starting, winter drags on, and Ona is all set to train later on in the evening, provided you confirm whether or not you are willing to accompany her to the local pitch. 

Barcelona B usually allows for Fridays off, but Ona isn’t stupid. No one becomes the greatest footballer of all time by not playing more. School is beginning to bore Ona to death, and she knows that she wants what she always has: to go professional. 

“I have a plan,” she tells you confidently, glad you don’t mind sitting on the uneven, grassy sideline as she sets up her cones with determination. You hold the ball between your hands, though Ona is amused by how foreign it looks to you, and you seem to be holding her prized possession hostage so that she spills. “It sounds simple and obvious out loud, but it’s that I am going to play for Barça while you go to the university. You can introduce me to your smart friends so I can meet my wife, and you’ll have all the boys after you anyway so–” 

“Ona.” Her monologue has led her eyes to the ground, but your voice makes her head jerk upwards, not needing much authority to get her to look at you. “I’ve actually had a… realisation, of sorts,” you say with a bashful grin, chin jutting out the way it does when you are gearing up to tell her something that no one else will get to know. “Your cousin is really pretty.” 

“I’ll tell her you said that.” It’s a nice thing to say, and you are partly aware that Ona’s cousin knows who you are because she doesn’t shut up about you ever, but you can’t help the frustration that begins to bubble up inside of you.

“No, Ona,” you try again, “she’s really pretty. Like, I would kiss her.” 

Ona frowns, then. “Don’t be one of those.” She means the girls who experiment, who toe the line of liking girls but don’t, not really. She has been warned about them by her older teammates, the ones who go out for drinks and kiss girls in clubs. The budding footballer really admires them, because their advice is always good and she gets to explore her sexuality without feeling like a creep. No one in Vilassar de Mar cares much that Ona does like girls, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling judged all the same. 

You are one of her best friends, but Ona isn’t sure she can forgive you if you become someone like that. 

“I’m not! I wouldn’t do that.” Your offence is suspicious, and you have been so caught up in destroying her worries that the ball has been dropped and is now rolling towards Ona’s feet, where it is instinctively flicked upwards and caught. “I wouldn’t, Oni, because I know it’s unfair to you guys.” 

“But you want to kiss my cousin? That makes you interested in girls in general too, you know.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Ona, I think I’m gay.” 

The ball is dropped, along with her jaw, and you shift uncomfortably in your seated position, not enjoying how big of a deal she is making this out to be. 

People realise that they’re gay all the time! Why should it be any different for you? 

“Oh,” is all Ona can manage to breathe out, wondering what to do next. Although your friendship cracks the padlocks of most secrets, there is one that hasn’t ever been shared. One that now means substantially more than it did five minutes ago. 

“Say something, please,” you groan in mock annoyance, moving aside your textbooks so that you can grab Ona’s hand and pull her down on top of you. She is much stronger – she trains every day – but something about your skin touching hers injects a surge of patheticness into her well-earned muscles, and she falls, of course she does, because she always falls for you. 

…

A year passes. 

You kiss Ona’s cousin, as intended, and Ona knows the breakup is going to be rough but nothing prepares her for when it comes. 

She’s conflicted, and she’s older now. No longer left behind by her teammates, Ona gets to go out with them when they don’t have football; she gets to talk to the girls about their sex lives, she gets to be involved in it all. She has met Alexia Putellas and been treated like an equal, and she made out with her fourth ever girl last week, this time progressing past tongues and confidently letting her hands roam. 

Ona would say that she has learnt a lot since you dropped your nuclear missile, and she has managed to forget the initial hope she had felt. The secret had been near-faded. 

Until you are calling her, sending her a text when she doesn’t reach her phone quick enough.

‘Ona, I really need you.’ 

She hears nothing from her cousin – they were closer when they were younger – and that, she reasons, is why she is by your side in an instant, meeting you at the windy beach you go to when you are sad, hair damp from running and eyes a little wide as she tries to wake herself up. 

“She said she can’t do it anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain your sobs had put on it. “She said that she really likes me but that it’s not enough, and she doesn’t want to break my heart but she knows she has to.” 

Ona doesn’t get a chance to respond, because you have flung yourself into her chest before she can think of the right words to say. 

Your shoulders shake as you cry, devastating howling joining the whistles of the wind and the thrash of the waves. The sand is unsteady beneath your feet and you stumble, but Ona holds you firmly, as though she has only ever trained to hold you up. Though you feel her biceps, hard and significantly larger than the last time she had held you this way, you are too caught up in your first heartbreak to acknowledge the tiny, tiny spark between you. 

As you cry and cry and cry, Ona can’t help but feel a little bitter towards her cousin. Clearly, your affection wasn’t false and, though it was working towards the severance of your friendship, you actually cared quite a lot for her. 

Ona chooses to abstain from her jealousy because she is embarrassed that it is possible. 

She is there for you the next day, ensuring you have eaten and allowing you to sleep, but the sun soon sets and Ona vows one thing to herself: she will not take advantage of it. 

“I’m going home,” you mumble when you wake from your restless nap, rolling over into the empty space in your best friend’s bed. The sheets there are cold and unused. Ona must not have moved a muscle since you fell asleep. “My parents must be a little confused, and we have people coming over for dinner. Thank you for looking after me.” 

“No problem.” Ona nods and you awkwardly stand up. “I think I’m going out with the team tonight, but don’t hesitate to call me if… Well, if you feel sad again.” 

“It’s going to feel shit with or without you.” 

You are trying to distance her, to tell her that she can have fun. It might be an issue that your friendship only seems to work when the two of you discuss your recent conquests or latest flings, but it is not one that either of you wants to address for now. 

“I’m just making sure you know I’m here,” she defends indignantly, rolling her eyes at the glimpse of your happier self making its return. 

“Are you going to be drunk?” Your question is pointed and you should really cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently to match your tone. “Don’t you have training tomorrow?” 

“Maybe, and not tomorrow, no. I’ve been asked to join the first team the day after so they’ve given me an alternative rest day.” 

“Ona, if you get drunk, you won’t be there for me at all. You’ll have your tongue down some poor, poor girl’s throat and your phone will be dead.” You laugh from experience, having grown accustomed to how she behaves under the influence. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I swear that alcohol is what fuels your hormones. I’m not going to burden you with my fucking pathetic crying, and, well, you know me, I’ll just find a boy to talk to. I am going to be fine.” 

No one in the room is convinced. 

You swat the air between you two, telling her to get on with getting ready. “Now, enjoy your night, and tell me all about it tomorrow morning!” 

Ona wonders if you are over-compensating by insisting to hear about whoever she has gotten off with, but you are practically flying out the door the minute you have said goodbye to her family and she is stumbling around her room trying to find a clean bra. Life goes on. 

If time did not tick on its own, one of you would task yourselves with turning the hands of the clock manually. 

You try to recover from how much it fucking kills to have a girl break your heart by reminding yourself of your worth in the best way possible: male attention. They hound you, but you enjoy it. You crave it, most of the time, even if the feelings are never quite believably reciprocated. 

It annoys Ona to no end, the way you play with the boys chasing after you. She hates the push and pull, fed-up with the constant complaining from your end. Often, because Ona speaks her mind when she can, she tells you that it’s not fair on the ones who hand their hearts to you only to watch you pierce through them with sharp, I-was-never-a-lesbian nails. 

You don’t talk about her cousin. At least, not to Ona because you have been informed by some other friend that blood is thicker than water.

Or maybe it’s because Ona begins to avoid you, begins to spend more time with her teammates, who don’t hide their sexuality and who like the things she likes. (Once, in a hateful frenzy, Ona thinks to herself that the only thing the two of you have in common nowadays is that she likes you and you like you too.) 

“What happened to your best friend?” Laia Aleixandri asks thoughtfully once after training. Ona is helping her collect the water bottles the other girls had left lying around on the pitch. There have been more injuries than what’s comfortable within the first team, and maybe some of the reserves have forgotten that they are not yet professionals. “You’ve stopped talking about her.” 

“We’ve fallen out,” Ona answers, settling on that because she doesn’t know how else to describe the shift in your relationship. 

“Over what?” comes Laia’s obvious sequential question, more a due dalliance than genuine interest. Laia is one of those girls who plays to play and can sometimes be too busy to spend time with the team outside of training. Because of this, she is largely unaware of Ona’s growing reputation within the squad. As Ona has grown up, her confidence has increased. Girls like that, and they are in plentiful supply to her. She no longer needs to be drunk, but something almost certainly occurs if she is. 

“She dated my cousin and, I don’t know, the way she acted in the fall-out was horrible. She likes girls, I know she likes girls, but I think she has been scarred and her ego has been bruised. No boy has ever made her cry like that, and I think she’s traumatised. And it’s valid! I understand, completely and totally, but she is acting as though she never had a thing with my cousin and it’s annoying. It’s as if being gay is a joke to her.”

Laia senses that Ona’s not done, and she is correct to think so. 

The next wave is this: “Laia, I really don’t agree with it, and it is hurting me. It hurts to see my cousin be messed around by a straight girl, it hurts to see my best friend hate part of herself, and it hurts me because, well, it just– it just does! I can’t explain it.” She can; she doesn’t want to. Her secret is still heavily guarded and it is going to take more than Laia asking about you to get her to confess. “I just want peace for everyone involved,” she says after taking a deep, diplomatic breath. 

“Peace,” Laia repeats with a giggle. “Ona, the things I have heard about you are the opposite of ‘peace’. Aita’s been keeping me in the loop, and she says that–” 

“Okay, Laia, I don’t need a lecture.” 

What probably would have been very helpful for Ona to know is lost to the devastating final blow of her eye-roll as she jogs to the water cooler to return the bottles and head home. 

…

The reconciliation of a decade-old friendship is fast and natural. Things do not quite go back to normal, and the two of you are not as close as before, but your group of friends at school breathe out a collective sigh of relief when the ice thaws and Ona starts to turn up to their gatherings instead of the ones held by her beloved blaugranas. 

It’s a camping trip. 

Their first year of bach has ended, and someone – Ona doesn’t know who – has suggested a camping trip because her grandfather’s brother owns a farm and the farm has a field and the field is far-removed enough for the smell of cigarettes and red-label whiskey to dissolve before reaching the house. 

“Are we really going?” Ona asks, making you all laugh as you haul your bags and tents along the tractor path. 

“I do think we should’ve gotten in the tractor,” you agree. Ona nods at you, thanking you for your support. 

Everyone else says it’s good fitness, and then hurls insults at Ona for the remainder of the trek because she should be the last to complain if she is going to become a professional athlete. 

It’s not as far as it seems, and the tents are set up quickly, along with some chairs, a foldable table, and a hefty stash of various bottles of alcohol. 

You start smoking the minute someone flashes their lighter, and Ona uses that as a reason to stay on the other side of the small campsite for a good hour or so. 

She stays away from you no matter how much you stare, but you watch her all the same. 

The boys you talk to are not satisfying. Some may have innocent intentions but the majority don’t, and you know that you are pretty but you are not shallow like that. You don’t even meet the boys half the time unless they corner you at school and demand a slot of your in-person attention.

The boys you talk to explain football and the gym and why they have to play FIFA until the sun rises because it will definitely help Barcelona win on the weekend. They take you for an idiot, and they hardly acknowledge that your best friend (sort of) plays for their darling club so of course you know the rules and the positions. You know that Ona is a defender, and that she is good at it. You don’t want to be patronised and you don’t care about this kind of thing unless it involves Ona. 

Therein lies the issue, actually. 

You don’t care about much unless it involves Ona. Ona, who sways to the music bursting out from the speakers just as stiffly as she always has, not exactly blessed with dancing talent but not for lack of trying. Ona, who declines alcohol tonight because she is following a summer strength and conditioning programme with the hopes of playing in the first team’s preseason matches. Ona, who looks beautiful. Always. 

Smoke billows from your cigarette, right towards the point of your focus, and, suddenly, doe-like eyes are staring back at you with a small, small smirk. She waves, as if to say that she has caught you, and you lean back on the camping chair you are slouched in, pretending to laugh at whatever your friend has just said beside you.

Later, when everyone else is knocked out from the bad quality of the whiskey, snoring comfortably in the other tents, Ona and you kiss. And once you start kissing, you don’t stop. 

Ona is good at this, you assume, because she knows exactly what to do. Contrary to popular belief, you are far more active in theory than in practice, and she surprises you a little bit. Or maybe she doesn’t, because it’s Ona and Ona is good at everything. 

You strive to match her, and you do by the time you finish school. 

Sporadic, non-committal, and in complete disregard for your friendship, the arrangement of hooking up when you feel like it sees you out of Catalonia, with Ona naturally in tow. 

Madrid CFF is happy to have her, and you quite enjoy the challenge of the Spanish capital. It’s not Barcelona, it’s not ideal, but change is good and you need space to explore who you are without watchful eyes and nosy gossipers. 

Homophobia isn’t quite a thing in your family. Your parents are not radically against gay people. In fact, you’d say they are relatively supportive. However, that doesn’t stop you from feeling some discomfort. You lived through Ona’s struggle to come out, and her parents are ever more care-free than yours. 

Madrid is a brand-new place, and word about how you are doing is easily controlled. Updates come from either you or Ona, and that means there is a filter easily applied to all anecdotes. 

Your friends know about the sex, more or less. They know, they don’t approve, but they let you guys sort it out yourselves because everyone agrees that that is just how you and Ona are. They won’t understand it and they have given up on trying to.

Both of you make half-hearted efforts to separate the arrangement from your friendship. You don’t talk much afterwards until the other has left the realm of I-am-in-love-with-you. It’s nice to be in Madrid together, but you find different social circles soon enough and then you are reaching out more for sex than friendly activities and… You stop sleeping with each other upon the footballer’s request. She wants to focus on her career, on her success. She tells you over the phone because she cannot bring herself to end whatever occurred over the last two years in person, knowing that she’d take back her decision in a heartbeat. Ona really, really likes football, and she knows that she has to become obsessed with it to get to the top; more obsessed than she is now. How can she do that if you are distracting her? 

You’re disappointed, but you respect her wishes. 

Girls in Madrid stop seeming as shiny. The world is a bit duller, because although there had been no exclusivity between you and your best friend, there had always been that guarantee that the other would be ready and waiting. Your growing misery makes studying boring, and you find answers for your emotions in a science textbook, desperately running away from the obvious truth. Less sex means that you are unhappier. It’s biology. 

It’s not a crush. 

Not on Ona. 

No. 

And it’s certainly not this not-realisation that flies you to Milan the minute a modelling agency inquires about whether you have ever thought of, well, modelling. They scout you someplace random, and your mother claims that she could have helped you start your career earlier if only you’d have been interested. 

When you explain to your best friend what you are moving for, she is oddly unsurprised and uncaring. Her reaction is sickening, because you’d have rathered her get an ego boost from having slept with a model than be so fucking apathetic. 

“I’m going to Milan, Ona,” you repeat, just in case she has not heard you. “I’m moving. We did the trial shoots last week, and they loved me. They want me to update my social media and work on building up a following, and they said that I should start learning English because I might end up in New York.” 

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She doesn’t sound like she means it, and you grow annoyed about how she is not even trying to sound enthusiastic. 

“Can’t you be happy for me? Or is it only acceptable for you to have dreams?” 

“I am happy for you, I just said that.” 

“The words left your mouth, but they definitely did not come from your heart.” 

“You’re being dramatic.” Ona rolls her eyes and the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds until the bottle it has been shoved into can no longer withstand the pressure. You haven’t argued since you moved to Madrid, which makes no sense considering you literally broke up – even if it absolutely wasn’t dating. Neither of you has processed your broken heart, and you’re pretty sure you are still too traumatised from the first girl you fell in love with to be capable of revisiting those kinds of emotions. 

Ona hasn’t had sex in weeks, and it is affecting her performance. She can’t sleep if she has the energy she does, and she can’t get through her workouts because not sleeping makes her lose her appetite and then she does not have the energy to complete them. Her coaches are worried, but they know that she is young and though almost idiotic, they mostly assume that she is repulsed by the idea of playing for a club in Madrid. They get that a lot with the Catalans that come over from La Masia, whose dreams have been delayed because the first team had thought it necessary that they gained more experience elsewhere. 

Ona has wanted to shout and scream every minute of every day, and so have you. Therefore, everything explodes. 

…

You inhale deeply, exhaling when it feels as though some of the stress has dissipated. This casting is one of the more important ones of the week. It’s odd to be judged on your appearance, to be paid for it, but it has been almost a year since you moved to Milan and you are enjoying yourself. 

You don’t miss university, and you don’t miss your parents. Your friends visit you lots, loving the idea of your career, loving the excuse to escape their dreary weekends in where they have always been. 

Milan is great. You make friends with a few other models, though they come and go depending on work, and the more experience you get, the more your following count goes up. Brands send you things, nice things, and events start extending invites to lure you into the glamour of the industry. 

Milan is great, you tell yourself on repeat. 

Milan is great, but it would be better if Ona were here. 

Milan is great, but you regret the way you left things and want to take it all back. 

Milan is great but– 

“Your fitting is tomorrow,” says the assistant, reading off her iPad. You suppress your wandering thoughts, nodding. You need this job, you need the money to pay for a flight. The agency has given you some advancements – an impressive thing, apparently – but not enough to cover the cost of the ticket to New York for the start of Fashion Week. This show will fluff out your experience, and increase your chances of walking at one of the bigger shows. 

You’ve been told that you are quite a good model; attractive, funny, with just the right amount of personality to be both a mannequin and an interesting figure. 

The lifestyle is different but good, and you realise that you’d never wanted the mundanity of studying and then working and selling your soul to some kind of tall office building. Not everyone gets the concept of living away from home, especially not those from your tight-knit community who think the city is stretching the distance slightly (the train works, you can live with your parents and have a good job – you’ve been told that a few times), but you don’t mind. You can explain it as much as you want and they would still be confused. 

You stay in touch, but you don’t stay present. 

As your career snowballs over the next two years, you pull away from your home, always on a flight, always busy. You go to LA and Paris and London, and you rent your flat in Milan out as an Airbnb whenever you’re not there. You love the city, you start to think of it as yours, and slowly but surely, everything else fades into the background. 

Apart from Ona, of course. Your friends still visit, or you meet up with them if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, and they continue to affirm just how proud they are of you. They talk about her a lot, too; about where she’s playing now, about injuries and fame and representing Spain. They know you are too stubborn to search it up for yourself, but these are the people who have grown up with you: they know you would like to be informed. 

When you hear that Ona has moved to Manchester, you don’t quite think your actions through. 

You have had enough. You miss her terribly.

Her number has changed, but someone passes it onto you. 

You: I saw that you’re playing Arsenal next week. I’ll be in London then. Do you want to get a coffee? 

Ona takes her time replying, but that is only because she wants to delay the inevitable. 

Her eyes shine and her hair is damp, but the kick-off had been early and you don’t have anything to do today. You meet her in the carpark, picking her up in a black BMW that’s sleek and shiny and 100% not yours. Her laugh is light and free as she knocks on the driver’s window and juts her thumb out, instructing you to swap. 

“I’m not getting in a car that you’re driving,” she declares seriously, though you know she has forgiven you because she would not have agreed to meet if she hadn’t. “Come on, I checked on Maps and there’s a place not too far from here that looks nice. And it’s empty, so don’t worry about the paparazzi.” 

“The paparazzi are not after me,” you shut down quickly, not wanting her to think you are a bigger deal than what you are. Successful, yes. Famous? Not so much. “One day it’ll be you worrying about them, when you’re all grown up.” 

“I’m twenty-one!” 

It comes out so whiny and childish that you burst into a fit of giggles. Ona is proud to have made you laugh. 

You don’t kiss her, but you’d like to. Then again, maybe it’s better to just be friends. 

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #barca femeni #randombush3 #pretend it's not all build up #but it is

[sleepyangelkami]

TRUTH OR DARE e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 8.7K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - it started out innocently enough. a sinless sleepover shared between two best friends, one much more experienced than the other. but nothing would have prepared the innocent girl for the events led from a simple game of truth or dare, started by ellie williams who knew exactly what she was doing.

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, oral + fingering (r. receiving), strap sucking (e. recieving), strap fucking, use of 'my dick' and 'my cock' when referring to ellie's strap, tinsey bit of humping, dom!ellie, sub!reader, innocence kink, size kink, spanking, slight age gap (17 - 19), daddy kink (oops), ellie's lowk the town whore, use of pet names, kinda overstimulation, dumbification, inexperienced reader, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie williams was known in jackson, and not only by the way everyone may think. sure, the girl certainly had been known for the amount of work she put into the town by all of it's residents and of course she was known as the cheery girl, joel millers daughter, the same girl that wouldn't even hesitate to help someone unload bags if she spotted them struggling. ellie williams was known as one of the 'glues' of the town, keeping it put together. but how she was known by the teenage girls of jackson was a very different story.

ellie was fourteen when she came to jackson, she had matured much since then and everyone could see that, especially the girls.

It was no secret that ellie williams got around, nor was it a secret that she had slept with more than half of the girls in jackson, some even straight. but what she wasn't known for, was relationships. she was a hit and dip kind of girl, the one that never stayed the night, never attached herself to anyone, she wasn't the kind of girl to be a girlfriend, and believe me when i say... she rejected too many girls to so much as begin to count.

then there was always you.

you were another one of the glues of jackson, respectful and polite, hardworking but in many different ways than ellie was. you were sweet and kind yet awfully shy, hiding into yourself for the most part. sure, you got on well with the elderlies but when it came to actually having a conversation with a teenager, you ran before you could see the light of day. even the thought of it seemed merely impossible. but that wasn't to say that you couldn't handle everyone. you often went on patrols with dina and jesse, you always helped maria and her husband, along with joel miller too. and you never hesitated to help out with the younger kids, feeling much sympathy for them seeing as they had to grow up in the apocalypse, alike you, and you knew it wasn't too peachy yourself.

then there was ellie. oh, how you loved the girl.

when she first got to jackson, you were beyond admiration, fawning over her every move. when you met her it wasn't romantic, no definitely not, but she was older than you were, so fearless of anything in her path, so good at keeping conversation with everyone she met. she was so... cool.

she had girls practically crawling all over her, she was loved, adored, you weren't jealous of the attention in the slightest. you simply admired it, the way she didn't have to move and it seemed that every girl was fawning over her. she had been with at least half of the teenagers in jackson, and it was no help that most of the girls were... well gay.

you had never really thought about it for you never thought about being in a relationship but when ellie constantly spoke about being lesbian, about all the girls she had been with and i mean.. just look at her! you knew then and there that you too had the very same liking towards girls, after all, you had never really seen yourself getting with a boy anyway, not that you had thought about it.

when ellie noticed your admiration, she instantly took you under her wing, she became the best friend you had always longed for, she and you did everything together, spending all your time with one another down to the very last minute when you finally went to sleep. more often than not, you were sleeping at your house with her. your parents always away on guard duty or even on night patrol and you obviously had the bigger house of you two, so naturally, that was where the sleepovers occured.

just like now as you dressed in your shortest shorts in your wardrobe, pretty and pink, silky and slightly flowly though rather tight against your skin as well as your small tank top, pretty and white, little flowers dotted across the fabric. there was nothing worse than those warm nights in jackson, when everyone was asleep and you were left to deal with the heat alone, no one to complain to.

luckily, you were always attached to ellie's hip.

"I'm so warm!" she groaned in front of the fan, her chin on the palm of her hand in which had been propped up on your bed by her elbow, eyes shutting closed, she couldn't stick the heat any more than you could.

"same." you mumbled, lying on your back with one arm over your eyes, the free hand fanning your face, seeing as the girl had practically hogged the fan, snatching it right from you. the short and skimpy clothes did absolutely nothing to sooth the terrible heat sticking to your skin. you were just thankful that the windows were wide open and the fan was spreading cold air across your room for there was nothing worse than legs sticking together with the heat, or sweating in your bed.

ellie sighed, moving from the fan as she propped herself up next to you, she on her stomach, you on your back, however you couldn't so much as notice her with your arm strewn across your eyes. she was in a black wife beater tank top (one of which, when she had told you the name of, you stared at her with your mouth agape stating that it couldn't be true because who on earth would name a t-shirt that) along with grey sweatpants that looked too hot for this weather. you always mocked her for this, stating that she dressed like a twelve year old boy. "let's play a game to distract ourselves from the heat." she suggested and yet... you knew that playful tone from anywhere.

lifting your elbow, you crained your head up just enough to give her a questioning look. "what kind of game?" voice light and unbothered as you slowly put your arm down, looking up at her while she, face still in her arm, looked down at you.

she grinned―no, she smirked down at your pretty face, hand moving away so she could sit up. "okay." already beginning the game. "truth or dare." your groan and you pushing an arm back around your eyes had her pushing your arm back and rolling her eyes at you. "cut the dramatics." she warned in this tone that had your stomach feeling rather strange, not that you'd ever tell her that. "c'mon, don't you trust me?"

that smirk that played on her lips would be the absolute death of you. you sat up, hair falling down over your chest to hide the shape of your nipples through your shirt... you weren't wearing a bra. you didn't think anything of it, it was just ellie, your best friend, she wouldn't care. "truth." but oh, how it drove her crazy.

"boring." she rolled her eyes, settling on the bed as she criss-crossed her legs, elbows falling on each knee. a smile suddenly spread across her face as she picked the perfect question from her mind. "what's your biggest turn on?" oh, she was jumping straight to the point? you couldn't deny the way your eyes blew wide and instantly, heat spread across your cheeks at her question.

instantly, you turned your face away, hands pushing up in a 'no' motion. "mm-mm, no, can't do this with you ellie-" though it wasn't the first time you spoke about sex. of course, ellie would always tell you every detail of her latest conquests and while you should have been disgusted, you were more intrigued, after all, ellie was your personal sex ed guide. ellie couldn't deny it either, that sick obsession with the way your eyes squinted at her, confused, innocent, oh how she would melt on the spot.

yes you can, her hands grasping at your own, stopping them from moving away. "yes you can!" the hands on your own caused you to go impossibly more red, eyes almost begging, but for what? you were still unsure.

you looked at her, eyes falling as you stared straight forward at her. "i don't even know what my biggest turn on is." but that only had the girl scoffing at you.

it was as if she could read you better than you could yourself. "yes you do!" she almost groaned out, throwing her head back, as if you were annoying her, as if you ever could.

"i don't- i guess, uhm..." you bit down on your bottom lip, thinking back to everything she had ever told you about sex, what was your biggest turn on? it was funny, you don't think you have ever thought about it until that very moment when your hands began to brush against your own skin of your arms. "probably... praise?" you mumbled, barely audible. yes, that seemed like you knew what you were talking about for ellie and jesse had explained it in great detail in front of you before, not directly to you, but you heard anyway, while you and dina were busy looking at a photo album. all you knew was that when those certain words were uttered from ellie's lips, you couldn't help but push your thighs together.

ellie smiled, a smile that had her tongue pushing between her teeth. "yeah?" almost teasing you with that look in her eye, but you knew she wasn't judging either, there was a fine line between teasing and judging, ellie would never cross past the mockery.

"yes, now shut up!" you giggled excitedly, tossing the pillow into her face. however, you remembered to take note of the fact that your parents were home tonight and you didn't wish to make too much noise, otherwise they may come in and the last thing you needed was them overhearing this conversation.

ellie caught the pillow, chuckling as she set it aside, grinning at the funny look on your face. what you thought was awkward, what she thought was downright adorable. "your turn." she nodded at you.

you sat up straighter, moving your hands to stretch out your arms. "truth or dare, els?" the position you were in was anything but comfortable, straining your back.

"fuck it." she spoke, pushing her back up against your many pillows on the bed, you were envious of her. "i'll go with truth too."

now it was your turn to roll your eyes, seeing as she had called you boring for doing the exact thing she was doing now. "hmm, lemme see." you placed a finger on your chin, jokingly, though you were, in fact, in deep thought. you wondered what you'd ask her, there were many questions you wished to ask her before, all about the same topic she just loved to bring up, sex, but you weren't as outgoing nor as confident as she was so when you asked, you were sure it sounded too awkward, not as 'seductive' as she. "what does shower sex feel like?" you suddenly questioned, like an inquisitive student to her teacher.

ellie laughed in your face. "what?"

"what?" you threw your hands up in defence, though you couldn't deny the heat that spread across your cheeks and the embarrassment through your body. "i wanna know and you're like... the sex god?" and now you were really embarrassed.

ellie barked out laughter, throwing her head back again as her hand came down on her stomach, after all, you had called her a sex god, despite the way you meant it. "fuck, i can't!" turning over on her stomach, burying her face into your many plush pillows.

your cheeks were stained crimson. "that's not what i meant!" you protested, simply meaning that she knew so much, not that she was that good. you kicked her leg and just as you were about to toss a pillow at her, you realised you had no more. "just answer the question and save me my pride." hiding your face away in your hands.

"your pride is swallowed, angel." sitting up straight with a simple grin on her face, however, you didn't remove your hands from your own. "it feels good." you peeked through your fingers, she saw that and grinned. she slowly lowered her hand, your eyes watched as her her fingers came down to trace the skin of your leg, you ignored the goosebumps it left, she didn't. "usually starts off with... little massages, gets you all relaxed, you know?" she was practically whispering, suddenly, her body seemed so much closer. "and when you're all relaxed like that, soaking in hot water, the smell of soaps... everything's just so much better." her eyes moved up to your own, your hands had fallen by your side, you gulped gently, a smirk returned on her lips. "truth or dare, angel?"

your body almost let out a whimper, instead, your lips pressed into a thin line. there was a feeling in your throat, though, one that screamed at you to make a noise. but you knew you couldn't, of course you couldn't. "dare." you mumbled, exciting and yet surprising yourself.

you must have surprised ellie too, judging by her face, you definitely did. "oh... someone's confident." shock washing from her face almost instantly, she was well prepared, you weren't. "hmm... okay, I dare you to call me the nickname of my choosing for the rest of the game." okay, you thought, lips turning upwards as you nodded, that wouldn't be hard at all. "and if you mess up... i get to spank you." shrugging as she moved her body backwards, back against the pillows once again.

your eyes blew wide and your mouth fell agape, and yet still, ellie seemed completely unphased. "that's completely absurd el-" she watched you, her mouth opening, waiting for you to mess up. you glared at her. "what's the damn nickname." you grumbled, eyes cast down, though you couldn't deny the sudden excitement rumbling in your stomach, yet also nervousness, itching at the back of your throat once more.

"drop the attitude, will you, bun?" leaning forward again. she knew she could turn the situation around for the worst and she would, why wouldn't she? it was ellie williams for god sake. "the nicknames' daddy." and that was your final straw, eyes almost popping out of your skull. "something wrong? can't handle a simple dare?"

"no." you deadpanned, eyes squinting at her. "i can handle it just fine... daddy." the word seemed foreign, weird, you internally cringed and while ellie smirked, she didn't say another word, she'd wait to embarrass you about it later. "your turn, truth or dare?"

with sudden confidence, one of which it seemed she always had, she answered the question rather swiftly. "dare." without so much as hesitating.

"i dare you to...." looking around the room, you had to get her back but in what way? your eyes suddenly fell on your wardrobe and a grin spread across your face. "show me your polaroids." sure, it was your room but in a box at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind all your clothes and hidden away was all ellie's 'things'. at first, when the girl had practically begged you to keep all of her 'sex things' in your wardrobe, you instantly shut her down, shaking your head and stating that you wouldn't have her strap or other slutty belongings hidden away in your room. however, when she told you the story of joel threatening to tear her room apart to find what he was looking for, you couldn't exactly say no. your parents never entered your room without consent, let alone searched it. it was a place ellie knew her stuff would be safe, and you were her best and friend and oh how you admired her, how could you say no?

ellie stared at you momentarily. "fine." she moved her hands underneath her and made her way over to the wardrobe, opening it and fishing her hands in behind your clothing. you sat on the bed, watching as she opened the box, grasping the polaroid pictures and pushing the box back behind your clothes again, covering it altogether. "now." tossing them onto the bed, right next to you. "do with them, what you please."

you ignored her poor use of grammar and picked up the one closest to your leg while grimacing. you didn't want to look at photos of ellie and her sex buddies but you wanted her to care, to suddenly get nervous and anxious, to twitch and blush the way you do. but she never did, an amused look on her face as she watched yours. you flipped over the polaroid, eyes turning wide. there sat a picture between your finger tips, something strapped into ellie and... inside someone else. you couldn't see the strap really for it was plunged too deep inside some blonde girl, one of which ellie was tugging the hair of. "ew." the look on your face doing nothing to hide the pure distaste you had or the photograph. "who even is that?"

you're question caused the girl to turn around, settling herself right next to you. your knees that were propped up slowly slipped and she took a hold of the polaroid only she didn't take it from your hands, instead she placed hers on top of yours to turn it her way. "no idea." she shrugged and you placed the picture back on the bed.

"what do you mean?" you all but stretched out your sentence. "you just look at someone and say 'you're hot, I wanna have sex with you' and that's... it?" it baffled you, how you could just have sex with a nobody, someone you had no connection to at all, a face you couldn't even remember.

ellie shrugged her shoulders once more. "pretty much." she shrugged her shoulders. you gave the polaroids a look of slight disgust as she picked them up off the bed, rolling her eyes. huffing, she found her way back to the box, placing them back inside before seating herself back onto the bed. "truth of dare."

"truth." deciding that the last dare was much too far, you needed to get it back to the normal tension, not this one for it was much too hot, you couldn't handle it. then again, ellie was anything but casual, she was sure to make this hard for you.

she looked as though she had already planned this out, which she had, a thousand times in her head. "who's the first person you fantasised about?" eyes going wide for a moment as she grinned at you. yes, she surely was not going to make it easy.

you. the simple answer, to the simple question however none of this was truly simple, so you answered. "katy perry, obviously." rolling your eyes as if she had known this already, which she had, she just didn't know that it was a lie.

"oh, come on." she placed her hands on her knees to stabilize herself. "you saw her showing a little too much skin in one magazine and your frigid ass went ballistic." it was true, you had seen her in a magazine one day on patrol and you simply stared, a little starstruck.

"shut up, that's so not true." but oh how it was. you were a prude, at least that was what the teenage boys called you. you didn't engage in any 'activities' nor did you hear much about them unless it were from ellie, but seeing something? well it was graphic enough for your eyes to blow as wide as saucers. "truth or dare?"

"truth." ellie answered almost instantly, without missing a beat.

"stop copying me." you rolled your eyes at her. "uhhh..." rocking forward and backwards with your hands on your knees. "do you think anyone could ever think of... me that way?" tilting your head, sudden insecurities slapping you right in the face. you didn't wish to sound whiny, or insecure but it was ellie williams, she was your best friend and she knew you better than anyone and she had probably the most experience in the entire town, she'd know if you were capable.

"y/n l/n!" she almost shouted, a wide smile stretched across her face, she fawned shock. "are you asking me if i think you're hot."

"my god." you groaned, shoving your face right into a pillow because ellie williams truly never knew when to be serious, and you hated the way every time she laughed, your face felt hot and flush. the sound of a knock on the door caused you both to stop, heads instantly whipping towards the door. "come in!" you yelled out to your parents, you knew it was them for there was no one else home.

"hi, sweetheart." in came your mother, a smile on her wrinkled face, you made an effort to smile back. "hi, ellie." she was met with a wave before she turned back to her daughter. "me and your father are going out for night patrol now, alright? you and ellie might fancy watching a movie down in the living room now that you have the dvd player all to yourselves."

"okay, thank you, mom." you rose from your bed, giving her a short hug. you were touchy like that, especially with your parents, always making sure to give them hugs whenever you saw them, it was just the way you were. "love you, you and dad be safe, okay?"

"always are." she grinned, placing a chaste kiss on your head. "see you later." and just like that, the night turned around, maybe for the better, maybe for the worst, you weren't too sure. all you knew was that at one minute you were sitting in your bedroom, clenching your legs together and ignoring your scratchy throat with your parents downstairs and the next they were gone further beyond the walls while you and ellie sat on the couch, watching some shitty western movie she had borrowed from she and joel's house before, she never did give it back.

for the entire movie, you sat at one end of the couch, curled up with your head laying on the arm rest, knees almost against your chest while ellie sat at the other, legs spread wide and her elbow resting against the back of the couch, fingers toying with the bottom of her mullet like hair.

the rest of the night passed by smoothly. after the movie, you and ellie had agreed to go to bed seeing as you were both awfully tired. however, upon slipping into bed, the lights off and curtain drawn, you realised you weren't actually tired, no, for it was only mere fake tiredness from staring at all of those pixels on the screen.

you stared into the black abyss, ignoring the awfully silent room. you turned, uncomfortable so that now you weren't facing the wall but ellie's back. but you knew from the lack of snores filling the room that ellie too was not asleep for she usually snored rather loud. she sensed you turning around and undoubtedly did the same, eyes open. she gave you a grin. "hi." she whispered into the dark.

you couldn't help but give a toothy smile back. "hi." whispering back, though you weren't sure why you were whispering for it was just you two in the entire house. perhaps it was the dark making you feel as though you should be asleep, so you gently turned around, flicking on the small lampshade next to your bed before plopping back to your original space, huffing out a breath. your eyes fell on ellie's in which were tracing your entire body over. "what?" you giggled.

but she looked up at you with an almost baffled look. the light illuminated her skin and it seemed to make her impossibly more pretty despite the fact you could barely see her face through the darkness. her hand came to your face, two fingers pushing your hair behind your ear. "people think of you like that." she whispered, answering your truth question from much earlier. "i know they do." she knew she did. "truth your dare, baby?"

you ignored the way your stomach twisted in nerves and your cheeks felt as though they were on fire. "We're playing that game again?" almost groaning as if you didn't want this, as if your heart wasn't in your mouth, as if there wasn't something pooling in your underwear.

ellie's mouth turned upwards into a little smirk. "we never stopped." she spoke in an agonisingly teasing tone as she moved her face closer to your own. if she moved another inch or two, your noses would be touching. "so, truth or dare?"

you found your own hands fumbling with one another. "truth." answering, attempting to start it off easily, however, ellie wouldn't make it easy for you, you knew that.

her fingers moved to your arm, stroking up and down your exposed skin due to your white spaghetti strap top. "do you touch yourself a lot?" her voice a low mumble, you wondered how she could say it so casually, as if she wasn't effected by the spoken words, and that alone seemed as though it were impossible.

your cheeks flamed a hot crimson colour. you would have protested, stating that it were too inappropriate to speak of, but you didn't, why? you didn't know. but you didn't protest, you couldn't because you knew deep down that you had dreamed of this moment since you met her. "sometimes..." you muttered back, voice wavering. "not a lot." but on the nights you did, it was a feeling unlike you ever could have imagined.

"yeah?" you nodded your head dumbly. "how?"

and as badly as you wished to answer, as badly as you wanted her to know everything, you couldn't for your embarrassment prohibited you from it. "it's not your turn." you mumbled, embarrassment thick in your veins as the girls lips curled upwards once more. "truth or dare?"

you wanted her to pick dare, you wanted to choose something completely wild but you knew she wouldn't because for every question in this game, she's chosen the very same as you did. "truth." she responded swiftly.

"have... you ever thought of me like that?" had she ever fantasized about you, is what you wanted to know, what you needed to know. you needed to know if she felt the same, if she too spent her nights with dirty thoughts occupying her mind. dirty thoughts about you, like the ones you had about her.

"all the time." She mumbled and your heart dropped to your ass. "sometimes when i'm... with someone-" her hand still stroking up your arm. "i have to imagine it's you to finish- no, not sometimes." she corrected. "every single fucking time." and you didn't know how to breathe. "truth or dare?"

thankfully, ellie had moved it right on, so you could be free of those smothering thoughts, the ones that had your thighs clenching together right now. "dare." because if you choose truth, she'd simply ask you the very same thing she did beforehand. 'how' did you touch yourself, that was something you didn't know if you were ready to say or not.

ellie's lips curved upwards into a smug smirk. you had walked right into her trap. "show me how you touch yourself." and this was worse. way way worse.

"wha-" suddenly all your breath had left your lungs. "i can't just-"

but ellie was quick to cut you off. "a dare is a dare, angel." shrugging her shoulders as she sat up, you followed in suit. "unless you're too scared." she shrugged her shoulders and if there was one thing you hated more than this situation altogether it was backing down to ellie, her thinking that you were 'scared' even when you were.

you huffed out, staring at her with her big dopey smile spread across her face. "fine." you spoke, voice wobbling once more. "but you can't make fun of me."

"me?" ellie fawned shock. "I'd never." and you rolled your eyes at that one. "whenever you're ready, baby." you'd never be ready but there was a certain haze over the room, a certain gloss over your eyes that told you to do it, maybe it was your cunt talking, you didn't much care, simply huffing out a breath as you prepared yourself. nothing would prepare you for this moment, the moment you had fantasized about since you were twelve. you moved to grab a pillow, a pink, satin one to be exact. ellie couldn't stop her smirk, you have got to be kidding me, she thought, unable to contain her smug features. you truly had no idea what you were doing. you couldn't look at her, not when you lowered yourself down onto the pillow, still clad in your pink shorts that pushed out by your ass. "it's okay, honey, take your time." her soothing voice actually helped and you finally lowered yourself down onto the pillow which you had done a thousand times before... but now that there was someone watching, you couldn't contain your nervousness.

you let out a shaky breath as your hands fell down, grasping at the pillow to hold it in place. ellie watched your small form get comfortable before rutting your hips forward. at first, you were met with mere ruts, small pathetic breaths until finally, the sensation began to built up in your tummy. maybe it was because of the pillow or maybe it was because she was watching. you don't know what possessed you but it was almost as if you had forgotten she was in the room with you. you rolled your hips against the pillow again and again, this time with more force and much faster, no stops in between. a mewl fell from your lips as you pushed your ass out again, the friction from the pillow against your clit was... good but surely not enough.

luckily for you, ellie could see right through you. she knew you better than anyone and she knew just how to make you feel good. "poor baby." she cooed causing you to rut your hips again, pathetic whimper falling from your lips. "you've never came with this, have you?" you eventually slowed to a stop, the feeling of her hand on your thigh enough to cause the heat in your panties to pool further. you shook your head, holding back an embarrassed whimper. she moved up, lips against your ear. "need daddy to help you feel good?" you had forgotten all about the nickname from before but hearing it roll of her tongue, uttered from her lips, you found yourself audibly whining as you nodded your head swiftly. she placed a chaste kiss against your neck. "words, bun."

"need you to help me." your voice turned into a whine, one you had never heard from your own lips, in fact, you had never heard anybody so needy, you were almost embarrassed. almost. the haze over your eyes stopped you from feeling like that. "please." ellie had enough.

she was quick to flip you over, pushing the pillow from underneath you and out onto your bedroom floor. she wasn't hovering over you for a second before she had dipped her head down, roughly kissing your lips. this was the first kiss you had ever recieved and you found yourself never wanting something more. her hands were on your waist, yours around her neck as you pushed your head up to kiss against her lips just as roughly, needy, sloppily. she herself couldn't get enough. making out with you had been what she dreamed of since she had become friends with you and now she was here, she wasn't going to let you go easily.

ellie didn't know how to tell you something, so instead, she let you feel it. she grinded her core against yours allowing you to feel the strap already strapped to her beneath her sweatpants. you gasped at her, mouth detatching from her own. "when did you-" shocked as you felt it grind against your core, letting out a whimper that cut you off instantly.

she breathed heavily against your lips, a grin on her face. "when you went to the bathroom." she stated as if it were some little secret she had been dying to share with you. you couldn't contain your noises as she grinded against you again, this time slower, raking up your shorts as she did. "fuck, need to take these off you." she spoke, pulling at your pink shorts. "can i take them off you, angel?"

"please." you whined, watching as she nodded her head, moving her hands so she could grasp at the waistband, pulling it clean off you and simply leaving you with your white cotton panties on, a very much so obvious wet patch on them.

"fuck." she grunted, tossing the shorts somewhere on the ground, presumedly with the pillow. "all worked up already?" she moved her hand, finger gently tracing over the circle on your panties, your little wet patch that drove her absolutely insane, almost over the edge.

you weren't stupid, you knew what happened next and you simply couldn't wait. "please." you begged, whimpering into thin air as you bucked your hips forward. "please just t-touch me." and ellie waited, you knew what she was waiting for so you didn't keep her waiting long, after all, you didn't much like to wait either. "please, daddy." words almost a whispered whine.

"good girl." she praised, grasping at your panties so she could pull them down your legs. you shifted, squirming as your core met the cold air of the bedroom. ellie shoved the panties into her sweatpants pocket, you didn't bother say a word, too busy waiting in anticipation for what she would do next. ellie's eyes met your core, a small grunt leaving her mouth as she dipped her fingers down. her head turned up, watching your face contort at the feeling of her fingers pressing against your lips, one finger sliding through to collect the slick. she turned her head back down, pulling her fingers away and spreading them, looking at your slick that coated it, she found herself laughing. "fuck, you're so wet, aren't you?" you didn't wish to respond, hands falling on your face to cover your blushed cheeks. "nuh-uh, none of that." pushing her clean hand up to pull your own away, you stared at her with crimson cheeks. "use your words." she whispered against your ear, placing a kiss right beneath the lobe. "use your words or i'll stop."

you whined with your lips shut at that. "a-all for you." you mumbled out embarrassingly but you never took your eyes off of her.

she hummed, a smirk on her lips. "I'm sure." she pushed her fingers back down again, pointer finger rubbing tight circles around your clit, she watched as you moaned out, flushed cheek against her shoulder as she practically hovered over your side. she did it again and again, watching your face change and listening to your pathetic little mewls falling from your lips. the sight was straight up pornographic. so, of course, the girl just had to push you even further. she moved her middle finger, lining it up with your core and plunged a finger in.

"oh my god!" you held onto her biscep, listening to her laugh as she pumped the finger in and out of you, you had never done anything like this before. you should have been scared, but you were too busy thinking about the feeling building up in your stomach, the one that was familiar yet oh so foreign. you had felt good before but this... this was very different.

"yeah? you like that, hm?" almost teasing tone as she pushed another finger in causing you to squeal loudly. the feeling of her two slender yet very long fingers pumping in and out of you caused many different sounds to fall from your lips, ellie wondered how many she'd be able to get out of you. she picked up her pace, sliding them in and out with ease as they were coated in your thick juices. she thanked god you were so wet, it made it so much easier to play with your pussy. though, she did hope god was nowhere near that bedroom in that given moment. "feels good, angel?"

you whined, nodding your head. "s-so good." you clutched at her shirt, hoping for something to bring you back down to earth, but it wouldn't work. on the contrary, it only fuelled her to go faster. "i think, i'm gonna-"

you had never orgasmed before, but this was the best you had ever felt. surely, this was how it felt to being close. and ellie could tell you were too for your core clenched around her fingers, practically swallowing them whole. "i know, angel, it's okay." she moved her thumb up, rubbing circles against your clit as she continued to move her fingers in and out of your tight hole, she wondered how on earth her strap was supposed to fit inside there. "let go f'me, bunny." and you did. there were a string of moans leaving your mouth, including... her name. she smirked up at you, knowing you hadn't the slightest clue of the mistake you made by moaning out her name. however, she was sure to have fun with it nonetheless.

she waited until you came down from your high, until your moans had just turned to harsh breaths, quick pants as you laid on your back, blinking heavily. never in your life had you ever felt so good, your core almost felt strange without her fingers inside of it. you had gotten a taste, you needed so so much more, you needed everything.

you felt ellie bend her head down, pressing chaste kisses against your neck as you breathed out another pant, eyes chasing hers. she returned her face towards yours, a knowing smirk plastered on it, your brows furrowed. "think you called me by the wrong name, honey." your jaw went slack at the realisation. "games not over yet." at the same time as fear entered your body, excitement ran through it.

ellie was quick to move, pushing you instantly so that you were draped across her lap, she manhandled you, as if you were a toy, so easy to pick up and toss around. and in her eyes, you truly were. after all, she had picked you up and thrown you across her lap as if you were, in fact, a doll. "wait." you whined out, suddenly scared. you knew that you had agreed to the dare but the thought of her hand coming in contact with your ass, the thought of her hurting you, it was rather scary. " 'm sorry daddy." you cried out pathetically, as if it would save you now.

"i know you are, bunny." her hand came down on your bare ass gently, rubbing along your skin as if you were a china doll made of glass, she grinned as you practically held onto her leg. you almost thought that she was going to let you off, but you knew better. "that's why daddys gonna be really nice to you tonight. i'll only give you five, 'kay?" you nodded your head despite your wobbling lip, this earned a small swat to your bottom. "words, angel."

"okay, daddy." mumbling out adorably as you held onto ellie as much as you could, scared that if you let go she'd disappear. your eyes shut close together at the feeling of her hand lifting from your ass. you squinted them close, ready for heavy impact and well.. pain. but as her hand came down, slapping your skin harshly, you didn't feel all too much in pain. it was a sort of elevating, almost gratifying feeling. you wondered, why would something that was suppose to cause pain, actually cause pleasure? or, was that the whole point in the first place? your thoughts of rambling were cut off by another slap. you flinched, despite the feeling of pleasure, it still stung and you could only imagine how red your ass would be now. you flinched in her lap, causing her large hand to have to hold you in place so you didn't move. you whined out as the third hit came down on your pretty skin. ellie smirked to herself, her plan working out gracefully.

she rubbed your skin once more, placing a chaste kiss on the bottom of your back before returning. "you're doin' so good for daddy, baby, you'll get a reward later, m'kay?" but this time, she didn't offer you a chance to respond, didn't even give you time to do so for she was spanking you once more. you wondered if this was her plan all along, why she had ever bothered to play truth or dare in the first place. but despite ellie's wild imagination about you, and about this very moment, you across her lap and her own hand spanking you, she didn't actually intend for it to go this far, however, she loved it more than she could ever explain. "one more, bun." and that was it, one more sharp stinging slap as you flinched once more, teary eyed and pouty lips as the girl allowed you to crawl into her lap.

ellie's lips were far from a pout herself, on the contrary, there was a pretty smile playing on it. she pushed your hair behind your ear. "was so good for daddy, weren't you baby?" you nodded your head as you pushed it into the crook of her neck. she began to rock her hips slightly, knowing that her strap was bumping against your already soaked and sensitive pussy. "yeah, my good girl." rubbing your sides up and down. "what do you say i give you that reward now, hm?" you sat in her lap, nodding your head briskly.

it didn't take long to get to where you were. sitting on your knees completely naked in front of ellie who too was now completely naked all except for the strap that was strapped to her lower half, dangling in front of you as your mouth completely covered it. it was neon pink, pretty and... very long. your eyes were shut as your tongue felt around the silicone toy, whimpering as it hit the back of your throat.

ellie had earlier stated that she was going to fuck you with it and of course with big eyes and a watering mouth, you indefinitely agreed to it but when she told you that you'd need to prepare first, you had no idea what she was talking about. you were scared, nervous, completely gone timid, worried you'd mess up in some way. nonetheless, when you finally had her strap in your mouth, you couldn't get enough.

ellie was sitting on the bed, legs spread apart as if she were man spreading while you knelt on the ground, hands holding onto her thighs after she had guided the toy in between your lips. you moaned into it as she pushed your head down further. her hand had somehow would up at the back of your head, fingers interlacing your locks of hair.

she pushed your head down on the strap, bobbing it so that the strap moved, bumping against her own clit. "fuck, just like that." her voice tight, her throat closing up. but she could feel it, the stimulation becoming oh so much, so she forced your head up, allowing you to stop. you watched her closely, moving your head away so that a string of spit connected your lips with her strap. "fuck, baby, y'look so pretty like this." she mumbled, her thumb swiping across your glossy lips, she groaned, she couldn't get enough. "c'mere." patting the bed as she too readied herself.

" 'kay." you mumbled, standing up on your wobbly legs. you felt them become like jelly beneath you, whether it was from your first orgasm, whether it was due to the spanking you had recieved from earlier or it was simply because you had been on your knees for rather long, or perhaps it was a combination of them all. you sat yourself on the bed, instantly becoming attacked by ellie's kisses.

her hand came up to sooth your cheek, fingers softly padding against your lithe skin. she sloppily kissed you, hot, open mouthed and messy kisses. you moaned into it, finding it hard to kiss back, the heat in your core suddenly returning as you felt your own hand sitting between your legs, you found yourself almost grinding on it. you couldn't take it, though, not when you felt so high and yet recieved no friction in where you needed it the most.

ellie noticed this, however, she never scolded you, instead she simply pushed your shoulders back gently. the kiss was detatched as you found your body falling limp against the mattress beneath you. however, the girl instantly towered over your frame, lips pushing down to meet your own. there was a sense of need, one of desperation as you kissed her back, finding your lips completely chasing her own.

she made a move to stand her hands on either side of your head, trapping you while she also lined herself up, making it easy to slip in, but she didn't. she moved one hand down, not breaking the kiss as she slightly pumped the silicone dick, lining it up with your entrance but only allowing the tip to tease at your hole. you whined out harshly, grasping at her shoulders and looking up at her with big doey eyes.

"what's wrong baby?" she asked in such a condescending voice, knowing how desperately you needed her. but how dumb you felt now, you couldn't even speak, words becoming a complete mush inside your brain. "c'mon, can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is, bunny." fingers stroking at your inner thigh.

you simply couldn't help it anymore, despite as dumb as you felt. "please, daddy, please— need it so bad, please, just want you in me please, please!" you were a babbling, waffling mess as you tried anything you could, even bucking your own hips in hopes of slipping her strap in further.

her lips came down to kiss against your neck, cutting off your babbles with a whimper. "as you wish, love." and slowly, she entered. you moaned out, wincing slightly as your hands clawed at her bare back, not so much as covered in a bra by now. you couldn't help the way you clenched around it, sensitive area already so stimulated. you felt dumb, completely and utterly fucked out by just her fingers. "fuck." she grunted, her head bent down low to meet the crook of your neck, hovering over you as her strap made it's way inside. "fuck, that hurt?" but you didn't respond, simply shaking your head with an 'mm-mm' because, truly, it was all you could muster.

however, it did hurt, just a slight stinging feeling but it soon went away. ellie could tell this, despite your answer because ellie knew you better than you knew yourself and she certainly knew your body. so, she didn't move for a brief moment, allowing you to collect yourself and breathe a breath out. "c-can you move?" you asked feebly, you knew she was awaiting your command, but you found it so incredibly hard to ask, you knew you shouldn't feel so embarrassed. after all, it was ellie, your best friend, the girl you had been so utterly in love with since you laid eyes upon her. there was no one you'd rather be doing this with.

" 'course i can, baby." pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before she began to move.

it began slow, the way her hips slowly pulled out, not the full way, of course, then slowly pushing back in. the pace began to pick up after that and her thrust was a little more powerful. her eyes strained down on where you met, she couldn't help the groans that left her lips at your pitiful whimpers, the ones in which it awfully hard to stop herself from letting go completely.

but soon after she found you both comfortable. she did, in fact, let go.

she was soon enough slamming her hips against your own. it didn't take long, for her self control to be thrown right out of the window. she didn't stop her swift pace at anything. the room had a lingering smell of sex, there were beads of sweat on both your foreheads. "fuck, yeah, taking my dick so well." she grunted out, shoving her strap into your pussy further, allowing it to reach your g spot as you moaned out loudly.

your legs had soon found themselves wrapped around her waist, her hand on the bottom of your lower back as you found your own arms holding her shoulders close. she could feel your tits against her own, pushing up against her as she fucked you with everything she could, free had on your thigh, prodding and squishing at the loose fat while her strap pumped into your tight hole. you were a babbling mess, moaning and mewling, fast whimpers falling from your lips and all rather loud. but how could you fight it? when her 'dick' felt so good inside of you, when she pumped it so hard yet so delicately. you felt as though you were on fire, you were sure, there was no better feeling than this. you felt so good that you couldn't even form coherent sentences.

with your whines and mewls she only picked up her pace, strap bumping against her clit as she fucked you hard, practically fucking you right into the mattress. "you like my cock?" she panted out, heavy and quick. she took your mewl and went with it, a big smirk plastered onto her face. "fuck, yeah you like daddy's cock." and you couldn't even deny it, for it was very true.

there was a feeling building up in your stomach, one of which had you screaming. you knew exactly what it was, for you had felt it the same way you did beforehand, the very same feeling you felt when her fingers were buried into your tight hole. and ellie too, could feel her own stomach building up with tension. she glanced down, to where her strap disappeared inside your tiny hole, a creamy ring sitting at the base of where you connected. down to every girl she had ever fucked, this was undoubtedly the best. she had never felt so euphoric in her entire life.

your high pitched whine, attempt to babble out words, it alerted ellie just what who was coming. "i know, i know." shushing you like a baby as he held onto you as tight as she could, her knuckles turning a white colour instead of her naturally olive skin. she too let out more grunts than she could afford, barely able to keep her noises contained as she rammed her hips against yours. "come f'me, angel, come on daddy's cock." and that was it, once again you were falling apart like mush in her hands.

the sight of you, turning to putty in her very own arms, she couldn't help herself, she too felt herself letting go. she turned her hips into sloppy slaps against your body, lips chasing yours as she attempted to kiss you hard yet messily, you could barely kiss back, however you did your very best, wanting nothing more than to please ellie.

finally, she slipped her silicone strap outside of you, turning to lay on her side as she still held you in her arms. your own hands came up to grasp her strong bicep, tired and droopy eyes not bothering to so much as look up at her. you couldn't move, too dumb, too fucked out, you couldn't so much as utter a word. at that, ellie grinned a wide grin, knowing only two orgasms had you so fucked out and overstimulated, she felt pride booming in her chest for after all, she did that. "truth or dare, baby?" she joked causing you to roll your eyes.

with all the energy you could, you shoved her chest a little. "shut up." you mumbled before sticking your head right between her arms and her chest, allowing yourself to burrow.

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[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #misa rodriguez

[yanderestarangel]

hello! i just found your blog and i've been obsessed with your writing <33 can i request a smut with a poly relationship with johnny and kenshi. i feel like they'd be so drastically different but work so well together in bed

HEADKANONKS MK1 | KENSHI TAKAHASHI X JOHNNY CAGE X READER

TW: afab anatomy, fluff, soft headcanons, threesome, smut, nsfw, double penetration, blowjob, kenshi and Johnny make out with each other, gay sex, anal sex, vibrators, ice play, switch!reader, sub!johnny, dom!kenshi, daddykink.

♡ A relationship with both of them at the same time would be quite an adventure. Kenshi is the balance between you and Johnny - he knows that if he leaves you two alone, you and Johnny might do crazy things and end up in jail, like the time you two accidentally set one of Johnny's cars on fire on a public street. -Kenshi had to pay the two of you bail, with Johnny's money of course -

♡ The three of you have a group on WhatsApp, everything you need to talk about you will talk about in that chat, be it gossip, news or even asking where each one is, when the other is away, you named your boyfriend's contact as "gay son " and "thot daughter" - I don't even need to say who is who, right? -

♡ Kenshi has the love language serving, showing that he cares about you and Johnny, if you ask to be carried or a glass of water or anything within his reach, he will do it.

Example: You, Kenshi and Johnny watching a movie on Saturday night, on Cage's king size bed, Kenshi on the left side, you in the middle and Johnny lying on your thighs as he took Kenshi's hand too. You felt thirsty but were too lazy to get up and help yourself, soon turning to Takahashi.

"-Can you get me a glass of water, my love?" -You asked calmly, smiling at the man who just waved and stood up.

"-Can you get it for me too baby girl?" -Johnny said laughing to Kenshi who gave the middle finger in response to the actor.

"-What's up Takahashi? I'm your boyfriend too!" -Cage said in response, as he looked at you pouting, you soon asked Kenshi to bring it to Johnny too, and he obeyed - he was already going to do it anyway, but he loved seeing Johnny beg and get angry and you knew it, affectionately in your other partner's hair.

♡ Johnny Cage has a different language, he likes to spend money on you and Kenshi, shopping in luxurious malls, sports cars, branded watches, everything you and Kenshi imagine and want is yours, just ask and Cage will move mountains if it takes to see you two smile.

♡ You live in Johnny's mansion, in the same room, in the same bed. If you're not used to sharing a bed, it's best to get used to it. Johnny will hug you, suffocating you on his chest, it's an uncontrollable and involuntary gesture of his, while placing one of his muscular thighs on top of you. Kenshi sleeps straight, with his stomach up, but sometimes he will also do the same as Johnny with you - you could barely breathe due to the weight of them together -

♡ Kenshi lends you his clothes, but tells you not to pass them on to Johnny, which you disobey and do the opposite, sometimes Johnny himself asks you to take Takahashi's shirts for him to wear, all to tease the poor swordsman.

"-I thought I asked for my shirt for you to wear, not Cage." -Kenshi said, laughing aside, watching Johnny parade around the house in his red satin shirt.

"-This blouse looks better on me than on you Takahashi, that's why our dear (Y/N) lent it to me." -Johnny said, giving you a kiss, and then another one with Kenshi, making him agree and not be angry with you two.

♡ Johnny will always take you two to his awards, he doesn't care about judgement, he has two extremely hot partners by his side, why would he be embarrassed?

♡ Kenshi and Johnny get along well, that is, your relationship has almost no fights, if you are insecure about something, especially with them being together more and leaving you out, they will sit down and talk, it's a little scary because it was The first time you saw Johnny was extremely serious, saying that he loves you equally as he loves Kenshi, and that he would never leave either of you for anything.

♡ They can work very well together in bed to give you pleasure, Kenshi loves being rougher and more dominant, watching you squirm and beg for him, Johnhy makes you excited and satiates you at the same time, he can't contain his dick in his pants. seeing you beg so beautifully for him and Kenshi to fuck you.

♡ Johnny likes to fuck your pussy with his fingers and tongue, while Kenshi loves watching you squirm, Johnny's fingers go on your clit while Takahashi pushes his dick into your pussy, both of them smiling as he sees you moan and turn into a crying mess. Cage would help Kenshi's dick enter you further or even suck Takahashi's dick while lying on your belly, to help lubricate the way.

♡ They both like to give double blowjobs, that is, your poor mouth will have both of their cocks at the same time, while they both smile and moan in unison, kissing each other sometimes while praising you for taking their cock so well.

♡ The three of you like to tease each other outside too, using vibrators. You would use a small internal oval, inside your pussy. Johnny would use it on his dick and inside him, while Kenshi used one only on his dick, the adrenaline was not knowing who would activate the speed or increase it, ending with Kenshi fucking Johnny while Johnny fucked you hard - Kenshi between Johnny's legs and you sitting down with your pussy in the movie star's mouth.

♡ They also like to do double penetration, with Kenshi going in your ass and Cage in your pussy, they accelerate the rhythm together, holding you between the two of them, while Johnny praises you, Kenshi degrades you...

♡ Kenshi will play with ice on your nipples, while Johnny used the cube to rub it on your clit, while you were blindfolded, completely at the mercy of both of them - you would have to guess which dick was entering your pussy at that moment, Kenshi's or Johnny's , both are thick and big, so you would have to use maximum touch to find out -

♡ When one or the other is tired, you can fuck him, you can always turn to your other partner. If Kenshi is too tired Johnny will fuck you on the mattress moaning and whimpering while Takahashi sleeps. If Johnny is too tired, Kenshi will fuck you all over the mansion and record the fuck for Cage to watch later - and obviously tease him -

♡ Johnny will also want to be fucked by you, don't have a dick? just grab a strap on and fuck his ass, he'll whimper at you while calling you "daddy/mommy" muffled by Kenshi's dick in his mouth.

Johnny smirks against your clit, his tongue swirling and flicking expertly, his lips occasionally sucking gently. The sensation sends shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Meanwhile, Kenshi groans softly as you take him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. His hand finds its way to your hair, gripping it gently, guiding your movements. You can feel the intensity building in both of them, their desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

Johnny, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses along your inner thigh, slowly moves up your body, his eyes locked with yours. He positions himself between your thighs, his erection pressing against your entrance. Kenshi, still enjoying the lust of your mouth, watches with an intense gaze. Johnny, lost in the waves of pleasure, moans deeply, his grip on your hips tightening. As Kenshi's thrusts grow more intense, he leans over Johnny, his voice dripping with domination.

"-You're such a greedy little slut, Johnny..." Kenshi sneers, his tone laced. "-Taking pleasure from both ends, unable to get enough. Look at you, being fucked like the naughty little whore you are." A mischievous smile tugs at your lips as you witness Kenshi pulling out of Johnny, leaving him panting and needy. You lock eyes with Johnny. Slowly, you lower yourself onto his hard cock, your tightness enveloping him completely.

Johnny's eyes widen with pleasure as he fills you, his grip on your hips tightening in an attempt to control his own urges. You move your body in slow, tantalizing motions, savoring the feeling of him deep inside you.

Meanwhile, Kenshi positions himself behind Johnny once again, his hands firmly gripping his hips. With a single fluid motion, he pushes back into Johnny's willing ass, eliciting a chorus of mixed moans and gasps from all three of you. Johnny's body trembles, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he nears the edge of pleasure. He looks up at you with a mix of desire and desperation, his voice strained as he fights for control. "-Please...please let me cum. I need to release, to feel the warmth of your pussy and the grip of Kenshi's dick..."

Kenshi, his grip on your breasts tightening, thrusts into Johnny with a renewed vigor, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through all of you. Your eyes lock with Johnny's, a knowing smirk on your face as you give him permission to release. "-Cum for us, Johnny. Coat me with your warmth and feel the pleasure surge through you as Kenshi fills your tight ass."

With a final thrust, he pours his lust into your awaiting pussy, moaning out your name in ecstasy.

Simultaneously, Kenshi finds his release inside Johnny's willing ass, his body shuddering with pleasure and fulfillment. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, the sensation of being filled from both ends heightening your own pleasure.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #mortal kombat #tw smut #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #mk johnny cage #johnny cage smut #johnny cage imagine #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi x reader #kenshi mortal kombat #kenshi takahashi #mk kenshi #kenshi takahashi smut #kenshi takahashi x johnny cage x reader #johnny x kenshi #johnny x kenshi x reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 kenshi takahashi x reader #mk1 johnny cage #mk1 headkanons #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat x you

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (prologue) "session zero"

gif by me

pairing: javier peña/shane morrissey (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel) rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 1.6k content: unprotected p in a, one (1) use of the word "daddy" (this is gay porn what do you expect), shane being the biggest goth twink, javier being a good dom, swearing, smoking dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~

series masterlist

Javier Peña was good at his job.

“Fuck, harder–”

Really good.

He got millions of views on his page every month, and made enough to be comfortable as well as spend a little extra if he wanted to. He also got to have sex as frequently as he wanted because of that. He wasn’t bound to a schedule, but he filmed often just because he liked to. 

“J-Javi, I’m gonna come, please.” The cute young thing below him moaned weakly and turned back to Javier, looking up at him with the biggest and wettest eyes. That would probably be the thumbnail of the video.

“Yeah?” He grunted, a smirk plastered on his lips. He lifted a hand and landed a hard slap against the young man’s right cheek, the left one gripped tightly in Javier’s free hand. The young man – Shane – whimpered and trembled below him, arching his back to fuck himself on Javier’s cock. “Mmm, si lo eres,” Javier hummed, rubbing Shane’s tattooed side comfortingly. He landed another loud slap against Shane’s tender flesh and watched the skin ripple with heat in his eyes. (Yes, you are.)

Javier made it a point to take care of whoever he was doing a scene with. Especially if they were pretty green. This was only Shane’s second ever official one, after a scene where he gave Din a blowjob. He leaned over Shane’s clammy skin, pressing chest to back and tangled his fingers into Shane’s sweaty, dyed black locks. “You doin’ okay?” When he asked, the hairs above his lip tickled Shane’s ear a little. His voice was soft enough that the mics or cameras wouldn’t pick up on it. He kept up the pace of his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the mostly-empty “bedroom”. 

Shane bit his lip, eyebrows downturned in pleasure and nodded as subtly as he could. He let out a weak grunt, a single tear falling from one of his eyes. “J-Javi–! There!”

Javier grinned and kissed along Shane's shoulder blades before he gripped the younger man’s hips tightly and started slamming into him, angling directly where Shane needed him most. Shane’s head hung heavily between his arms as he put most of his weight on his elbows. The chains and earrings he wore clanged against each other with every rhythmic beat of Javier’s hips, making him moan and whine louder. 

“C’mon, pretty boy,” Javier grunted, pressing a large hand to Shane’s lower back to keep him steady. “C’mon.”

Pre-cum dripped onto the sheets from Shane’s throbbing cock as it swung between his legs, lightly slapping against his lower tummy. Shane let out one last pathetic whimper before he stilled and came hard, thick ropes hitting the sheets and head thrown back, mouth open in an obscene O. Perhaps a little overdone, but Javier didn’t think the young man was faking anything. He’ll get there.

Shane’s entire body trembled as he looked back at Javier. “I-inside,” he panted. “Please.”

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, pretty boy?” Javier grinned, hips still moving rhythmically.

Shane’s cock twitched in overstimulation, but he nodded anyway, whining weakly.

Javier knew his own body better than anything in the world, so he knew that it would only take a few more strokes and he’d be finished. “C’mere,” he grunted, gripping onto Shane’s torso to heave him up onto his knees so he could press Shane’s back to his front. Shane wailed as Javier sped up the beat of his hips, now only focused on getting what Max, the director, called “the money shot”. Even if he’d done this a hundred times, it always felt good, and a depraved little part of him loved seeing himself stake a claim over his scene partner.

Javier let out a punched out breath, grunting as his hips stilled, then moved in a slight staccato, pumping Shane’s ass full of his cum. “Fuck,” he groaned, rolling his hips in slow waves until the last drop left his cock. Shane let out a weak sob as a final, pitiful spurt of his own cum landed on the sheets in front of them. Javier hummed and gently laid Shane down on his side away from the mess, and slowly turned him onto his stomach a little.

One of the camera men got closer to zoom in on Javier’s cum trickling out of Shane’s cute little hole, Javier’s big hands spreading his cheeks. “Good boy,” Javier hummed happily, teasingly prodding at the top of Shane’s puffy, used rim. Shane giggled shyly as he looked back at Javier, a blush high on his cheeks. His eyeliner and mascara was completely ruined, faint tracks running down his cheeks.

“Thank you, daddy,” Shane recited shyly, biting his lip.

“And, cut! Very good, boys.” Max’s booming voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Javier’s shoulders deflated a little, a tired smile crossing his features. “You alright, kid?” He asked, voice rough. 

Shane smiled and nodded up at him, that deep blush still present. “Y-yeah. You’re amazing, Javier.”

Javier snorted and held a hand out for him as he stood from the bed. Slowly, Shane crawled off the bed, the cum trickling down the back of his thighs. Javier took him by the hand over to the small rack of robes and handed him one. “Thank you. You weren’t so bad yourself. They’re gonna love that face of yours,” he winked, nudging Shane’s chin with the knuckle on his index finger.

Shane smiled shyly and nodded, eyes downcast. “You’ve got a scene with Joel tomorrow, right?”

Joel. He was an interesting one. Javier had done a scene with him before and it went… really well. It’s one of Javier’s most viewed videos on his page. Javier doesn’t get a chance to bottom very often, and if he does, it’s usually with Pero or Dave. But after Joel… Well, he had to take a couple days off after that one. He didn’t get to talk to Joel much after their scene, but he seemed to… change once Max called cut. He wasn’t quite so… intense. While filming, Joel seemed to shift into a completely different person; he was all grunts and furrowed brows and some of the filthiest dirty talk Javier had ever heard. It was one of the first times Javier actually felt… submissive. Small, but not in a bad way. Like Joel would take care of him. Javier may play the part of the aloof, dominant top, but he likes being held sometimes too. The idea of getting to do that again was attractive to him, but more than that, he wanted to see if he could get a chance to properly talk to Joel. He seemed almost as new as Shane, but showcased it in a completely different way.

Javier cleared his throat and nodded, tying his own robe around his waist. “I do,” he hummed, turning toward one of the assistants, a young red headed girl whose name he couldn’t place at the moment, and motioned for a cigarette. She nodded and took off toward where he left his things.

Shane sighed dreamily, “I wanna do a scene with him.”

Javier smirked and laughed lowly. “Maybe get some more under your belt and you will. Think he’d like you,” he winked.

“Your cigarettes, Javi,” the assistant – Amy, that was her name – said, tapping the yellow pack against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he nodded once toward her, hitting the bottom of the pack against his hand a few times before turning it around and doing the same thing there. He pulled one out and lit it after he stuck the butt in his mouth. Lighting up, he sucked in the smoke and exhaled, his mind clearing already.

“I feel like I should be flattered,” Shane giggled, sipping on some water as he sat, one leg draped over the other. “Needing a cigarette after our scene. How very 70s of you.”

Javier rolled his eyes, but smirked, roughing up the kid’s hair playfully. “Yeah, yeah. You were good.”

“Javi, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Javier turned to Max Phillips, the director and owner of the website, and nodded. “Course,” he mumbled, the cigarette hanging from between his lips. “What’s up?”

Max pulled Javier to a secluded room, which made Javier raise a brow. Max waved him off and smiled. “Just wanted to tell you that the last scene you did? With Marcus? Just hit 2 mill last night.”

“Shit, really? People must really like the FBI/DEA storyline,” he hummed, part amused, part sarcastic.

“Yeah, so we’re thinking of doing a second part. Like a followup, where–”

“When?”

“How’s tomorrow?”

Javier frowned. This is the part of his job where he got to pull rank a little. He didn’t normally, but he really wanted to do that scene with Joel. He wasn’t going to miss his chance to pick Joel’s brain a little. 

“What about Monday? I’ve got a scene with Joel tomorrow.”

Max exhaled, like he knew it was coming, and rested his hands on his hips, popping a knee dramatically. “You sure?”

Javier nodded. “‘M sure. I know my job, Max. And I haven’t done a scene with Joel in a while,” He paused. “You can’t argue with the numbers my last one with him pulled.” He knew exactly which buttons to push with Max. His relationship with his boss was fine, but Max could be a real douchebag at times. Javier wasn’t afraid of him or anything, but he also didn’t want to get reprimanded at best, or lose his job at worst.

Max chewed on his bottom lip for a minute. “Fuck,” he sighed. “Alright, fine. Still wanna do the one with Marcus?”

Javier nodded, a triumphant little smile on his face. “Course. He’s got a pretty cock.”

“Very true. Alright, go get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier nodded, sucking another drag off his cigarette. His stomach grumbled and he groaned. Maybe he’ll get Chinese tonight.

#javier peña #shane dio morrissey #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #dio morrissey #dio morrissey fanfiction #dio morrissey fic #narcos au #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #oaksfics

[artificial-transmutations]

Hey I'm George. I am a 26 civil engineer working in a big company but it si not what i expected. It is so boring and I am only doing it since it ws what is expected of me. I wish you could transform me into a hot stripper or porn star cause that's has always been my secret dream. I don't wanna be transformed into an object.

Transformation Letters - The gay club

Even writing the letter to the unknown company has been an act of rebellion. All your life, you have been doing what was expected of you. You finished school with good grades and enrolled in an engineering degree program.

The first years were alright. It was still interesting, and you enjoyed the classes, but slowly you had to come to the realization that perhaps, engineering wasn't quite for you. The work was getting more and more monotonous, and the tasks were less and less creative. Regardless, you graduated with an acceptable degree and got a job in the field as a civil engineer.

Now, almost three years later, you are sitting in a small office cubicle, doing the same stuff that you did in the last few years.

"I hate it here.", you think and look at the blueprints on the wall. They are supposed to be "motivating", showing what your company builds. To you, however, they are nothing more than a reminder that the work is dull and unfulfilling.

As you get up and grab the coffee from the machine, you realize just how much of a rut your life has fallen into. Looking at the calendar on the wall, you recognize another thing: It's your birthday today. Yay. 26 wasted years, at least in your opinion. You don't have many friends or family, but for once, you decide to celebrate a bit on your own. You are going to visit a club tonight.

Some hours later, you find yourself in a gay nightclub. You are not out or anything, but your sexuality has been a matter of fact to you for some years now, so visiting a gay bar is on your bucket list anyway. The thumbing music surrounds you, making it near impossible to talk to anyone and even though it feels kind of exciting to be in such a location, you can't help but feeling kind of lonely and displaced here. Seeing all those hot guys dancing makes it terribly obvious for you that you are way too uptight to ever move your body to the music like that.

But... Perhaps you should just... try?

The thought is entirely alien to you, but... strangely appealing. So, you just try to dance to the music.

At first, it feels very awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you relax. And, to your big surprise, you actually manage to move your body along with the beat. As your self-confidence grows, so does the speed and forcefulness of your movements. Before you know it, you have attracted the attention of a group of three men. Normally, being the center of attention would be something you despise, but right now it feels liberating and right. So right, in fact, that you do something crazy! The stage is empty right now, and, following these strange new impulses, you climb onto the stage and begin to dance to the music. You are still wearing your work attire and it is quickly becoming way too warm as you move your body. So, without thinking, you slowly begin to unbutton your shirt.

To your amazement, the crowd begins to cheer and applaud. It is like a wave of acceptance and approval washes over you, and the more buttons you undo, the more enthusiastic the cheering becomes. It is somehow getting easier and easier to follow the beat. Both your sense of rhythm as well as your physical fitness seem to increase and moving to the music quickly becomes a second nature for you. When you have finally unbuttoned your shirt, you slide out of it and spin it around your hand a few times before throwing it into the crowd. A bunch of hands shoot up, and the shirt quickly disappears. You keep moving to the music, now only wearing a white undershirt, which sticks to your skin and reveals your well-toned body. You have been working out once in a while, trying to keep yourself fit with mediocre success, but even you are a bit surprised how well your body looks right now. Your muscles are defined and bulging and when you pull the undershirt off as well, the cheers rise to an almost deafening level.

It feels like a wave of energy rushes through your body. You can barely think straight and the only thing you can focus on is the music and the movement. You have already gotten used to being the center of attention, but now, even more people join the crowd around you. They are staring at your body, and you can clearly make out their lust and admiration, making you smile. The next thing to go, is, of course, your pants, which you slowly peel off and, as with the shirt, throw them into the crowd, where they disappear as well.

Your movements are becoming faster and faster, and soon, you have almost completely shed your clothes, revealing your athletic and lean body, now shining with sweat. Your ample bulge is thinly veiled by your pair of bright blue briefs that do their best to set your assets, both your dick and your ass, into scene...

***

Hey, I’m Elias, a 22yo bartender with a French and Linguistics degree at University, though sometimes I wish I could trade smarts for sports and strength. I don’t think I’m unattractive, I never have much problem getting attention from guys at the club, but I feel like guys just look at me like I’m another pale twink with brown hair and hazel eyes. I don’t want to be an object, I like being a man: I just want to be more manly. Muscles and beard, I want to look powerful and have other guys be jealous of me.

It's a usual Friday evening for you, and you are tending bar in the towns gay club as usual. It's not too bad - your twinkish body usually gets you some tips, and today is no different. There are times, however, that you wish you were just a bit more... manly. Of course, everyone always wants to be what they are not. But seeing those sexy guys every day, made of beef and manliness makes you almost hate your thin and slender form. That is, after all, what made you write that letter some weeks ago, even though you already forgot about it by now.

All of a sudden, one of the club's visitors climbs onto the stage. Even though it's empty right now, people aren't supposed to go up there, for insurance reasons. Apparently, nobody else has noticed, so you decide to handle the situation yourself. You tell your colleague on the bar that you will be right back and then make your way to the stage.

The guy who has climbed up there seems to be some kind of office worker and is apparently completely focused on dancing. You just want to tell him to come down from the stage when he begins to unbutton his shirt in the rhythm of the music. Having forgotten what you meant to do for a moment, you stare, mesmerized at the guy on stage slowly getting out of his shirt. He looks quite attractive and moves his body like a pro. The crowd notices the show, and slowly, the whole scene becomes the focus of attention. The office guy has now spun his shirt around and thrown it into the crowd, which has now grown considerably. You have to admit, the whole show and the guy look kind of sexy. Not your usual type, he has more of a lean and athletic body that is revealed more and more with every move he takes. Still, he is good.

Next to you, directly in front of the stage, one of the red faux leather chairs has just become free, as the guy who sat in it went to get some drinks. The crowd is moving constantly and, without really thinking, you take a seat there. The office worker is still dancing, his sweaty body almost glowing, and his bulge looks impressively large, even in the low lighting of the club. You can feel yourself getting hard, and through your suit pants, you feel yourself up discreetly.

Actually.

Fuck discreetly. You rub your crotch through your pants while your eyes are still glued to the stripper on stage. Your mind is slowly going blank. You don't notice how the other bar patrons slowly stop moving to the music and gather around the stage instead, watching the office guy perform. You are completely entranced, unable to think, just staring at the spectacle in front of you, while your cock strains against the fabric of your pants.

Actually, your cock is not the only thing straining against your clothes. It is as if all your body is expanding, in every direction, all at once: Your shoulders, your arms, and your legs widen and grow thicker, while your ass and muscles swell. At the same time, the first hints of stubble and beard hairs break through your skin.

Your suit feels constricting, and you consider getting up to go to the bathroom to get out of them. But...

Actually.

Fuck modesty. With more raw strength than elegance, you remove your clothing while you still can. Your body continues to grow stronger and stronger and when your chest is bared, your nipples have hardened to the point where they seem like small pebbles.

It feels so fucking good to just get out of the clothes that are becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. You watch with a superior smile as hair also grows on your chest and abs, as well as on your legs and arms, making your whole torso look furry.

When your pants are gone, your underwear is the only piece of clothing left on you.

And fuck, that's getting really tight!

But, as you watch, it is morphing into a different material. What was once a pair of cotton boxer briefs quickly becomes a pair of black shiny leather underwear, pronouncing the growing bulge of your hard cock. The bulge is, of course, not only growing because you're rock-hard: Also, inside the alien pair of leather underwear, your member is growing bigger and bigger with each throb, slowly becoming a true monster cock.

Other parts of you don't seem to be stopping growing larger as well: Your biceps are more than impressive right now, your forearms look like you can crush a watermelon with them and your thighs are as thick as tree trunks.

As the music keeps playing, the hair on your body grows denser and longer. You now have a manly full beard, and, as you cross your strong arms behind your head, a thick bush of hair emerges from each of your armpits, flooding the direct vicinity with your manly stench.

You grin as you look up to the stripper, who is just about to shed his pair of blue underwear and lick your lips. After the show, you're gonna take him home and breed him!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #transformationletter

[sylveon-and-velveon]

Playing "4 Big Guys" around the slashers

Shitpost idea has been made, so here XD

This will include: Michael Myers {OG & RZ}, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees, Billy Lenz, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Tiffany Valentine

Feel free to request any shitpost writing prompt ideas you can think of in my asks, I love silly non-serious ideas XD

Given the music is VERY adult related, this is 18+ ONLY

OG Michael Myers

Ain't gonna lie, the second you play that song he's probably staring at you instantly. Anger? Disappointment? Cursing your entire family and possible future children? Who knows! It's Michael-Fucking-Myers baby!!!

He's not used to anything sexual overall so hearing a song openly sing about gay sex, and in such a detailed way, would worry him. Not for the singer, no- more on your taste in music.

And don't even get me started on when he hears about shit being involved. The second he hears that being mentioned he's turning off the music entirely, patting your head, and dragging you away so you'll listen to something he likes instead to cleanse that weird mind of yours. Like... Kate Bush or something.

He'd like Kate Bush right? He looks like a Kate Bush enjoyer.

RZ Michael Myers

Judging you, hard. Though he ain't saying it. His aura is practically smellable he's judging you so hard.

Does he like it? No. It's loud, obnoxious, and profound filled. Ignoring the obvious "gay sex and other weirdness" part, the volume of the music reminds him of his childhood.

He's smashing the device the music is coming from. He doesn't care if it's your MP3 all the way to a damn TV or Alexa, he's smashing that shit to pieces if it means he doesn't need to hear it anymore.

What would he put on instead? Calming ambient noises that play for hours on end on YouTube. It's the exact opposite of whatever hellscape you just played. It's better.

Brahms Heelshire

Well first of all it ain't classical, so that's a point on the "I Hate This" list.

Second it's not a piano.

Third it's literally "4 Big Guys"-

Not only is this poor man confused about everything the singer is saying, I highly doubt his parents explained LGBTQ+ to him, he's also hating how loud it is.

"Who puts things up their ass?" - Brahms Heelshire 2024

You turn off the music yourself when he practically begs you to.

You're probably tryna hold in your laughter while he's sitting on the floor trying to figure out what the fuck he just heard.

Jason Voorhees

Is there a bigger word for "traumatized"? Because that man earns it.

You're lucky af, if his mom was live she'd hit you with a crowbar so fast- Not kill you tho, she wouldn't dare hurt her boy.

But yeah, he's not saying anything, nor moving. Bro's too traumatized. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE-

You better give him his teddy he fucking deserves it TmT

Laughing his ass off until the shit is mentioned, even this horny gremlin has his limits.

Can you tell I hate shit kinks? XD

He'd want an apology for you blasting that song so far to that section. But no music! He hates Christmas songs, they're so repetitive and they all sound the same anyway.

Bake him a cake, the more unique the better. His favourite so far is red velvet with cream cheese frosting!

Then when he's finished eating you're getting railed by him not longer after, man's not changed. Not now, not ever.

Freddy Krueger

You can play this entire song with this man on REPEAT and he'd be fine with it.

I'd be surprised if he didn't given his track record and.... slicing open his skin to reveal green "blood" and maggots crawling out.

Would he laugh the first time? ABSOLUTELY!

Would he jokingly sing along, probably.

But he would TOTALLY play this song when going after his victims sometimes. Imagine dying and the last thing you hear is:

"4 BIG GUYS AND THEY GRAB ON MY THIGHS-"

Stu Macher & Billy Loomis

Billy is concerned for your wellbeing. Especially when you start singing it at full force with Stu joining in not long after.

Yeah Stu is enjoying this to the max!

Finds it hilarious, who the fuck wouldn't when you've got humour more broken than Brahms' doll-

But seeing you enjoying yourself to this.... absurdity, at least makes Billy calm down from worry. Now he's just concerned your taste in music may infiltrate your taste in movies.

I doubt the man's used to hearing music.... imagine this being his first time hearing it-

OMG he'd probably think this is normal for music.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? XD

If it's not his first time hearing music though? No concern, laughter, nothing. He's neutral, given that this is something that makes you a little chaotic gremlin.

He's happy seeing you comfortable enough around to be a "gremlin" as you call it.

Bubba Sawyer

Don't traumatize him more than he's been already!!

Sure he doesn't realise it, or the fact he's used to it, but the poor guy's already traumatized-

Though he's probably more confused in the whole scheme of things. I mean, he knows what sex is. But just the surface of it.

So he's probably just learnt way too much in such a short period of time.

Oh lord what have you done-

Harry Warden

Okay first of all, why is there no GIF of this man? WTF????

Second; man's from the mines, man's old fashioned, you've probably just thrown way too much modern shit in his face way too quickly that he's just staring at you, the music video, and then the floor.

Poor miner is so confused, especially when the "cum starts spraying".

Oh god he'll probably think it's like dust from the mines spraying everywhere.

Fucking hell that's a vision-

Tiffany Valentine

Finds it amusing? Yes.

Judging? Not as much as you'd expect.

Girl's been through a wild ride, hearing you blast out "4 Big Guys" from your phone wouldn't be the most shocking thing in the world.

Hell. she'd probably encourage you to start singing along to it XD

Oh she's gonna use that song to torture someone with it. She doesn't know how yet, but she's got the idea in her head now

#slasher #slasher x reader #slashers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #rz michael myers #rz myers x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhes x reader #billy lenz #black christmas #billy lenz x reader #freddy krueger #freddy krueger x reader #stu macher #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #harry warden x reader #harry warden #tiffany valentine

[sanjisboyfie]

eren first meeting his roommate

aka ; eren yeager having a gay awakening <3

-> might be a series? idk i love roommate eren a lot so probably will be a series LMFAO also also there's really no obvious romance here, it's just silent admiration and crushes

also eren is very much puppy-like and high energy in this one hashtag sorry if u love emo eren, he will NOT be emo here!!! hashtag no regrets.

eren yeager x male reader

— eren was dead broke. his ass definitely did not have enough money for either dorming on campus or off campus, but off campus was the cheaper option. and since he went to a college so far away from home, it would be too big of a hassle to commute. so him and his parents compromised by giving him an "allowance" every month, which would basically pay for a third of rent. but that meant he had to use his own money to pay the next third, then find someone else to pay the final third. ( 1/3 being paid by his parents, 1/3 being paid by him, 1/3 being paid by a lifesavior roommate, aka you!!!!!)

— it was very odd to see eren, who on first impressions seemed like an intimidating individual, sit you down at the empty kitchen table and beg you, literally beg you with his hands in praying form, to room with him. he was very, very obviously desperate to find someone else to live with.

"please, i will be good - i've heard from all my friends i'm a great person to live with, my mouth will vouch (he is a terrible person to live with, but if he has to do more household chores in order to get a roommate he will). i will let you speak to my own mother and father, they will vouch and say-"

"i believe you, eren, why are you crying?"

"PLEASE LIVE WITH ME!!!"

that's an exaggeration of what happened...he didn't actually start crying, but his begging was insistent and borderline pathetic.

— in the end, you agreed !!! paying 1/3 of rent was better than paying 1/2 + the place wasn't in a terrible location, it was close to school, and was a pretty good size for two bedrooms. since eren was already settled in, he helped you move in. and that was when you were given a free GUN SHOW because damn was this man working hard in lifting your many boxes of belongings. it was almost like he wore a tight shirt on purpose, just to show off. he very adamanently told you that you didn't need to hire movers and he'd do all the heavy lifting, along with muttering about how they were "scammers" with how much they charged.

"eren, i can lift some of these-"

"no, please, consider this my thanks for moving in with me," eren grunted, holding a huge box of your clothes with relative ease. he was sweating, but that was because this was probably the third box of heavy stuff he had to carry from the car to the building.

he was wearing a beige shirt that hugged his muscular form, emphasizing every single ripple underneath the fabric. and as you two stood in the elevator (thank god the building had an elevator or else eren would have had to carry all the boxes up three flights of stairs), the only sound in the metallic box was eren's heavy breathing.

his muscular chest (boobs) were moving up and down as he tried catching his breath, his hands lifting to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the collar of his shirt.

your eyes watched each of his movements carefully before you snapped out of it with the dinging of the elevator to tell you you were on your floor. you got out of elevator first, holding your arm to the door to prevent it from closing on him.

he shot you a smile in thanks before proceeding to easily lift up the box (it was at least over 50 pounds, mind you) and walk ahead to the room.

what you didn't know was that eren's cheeks were burning red as he had felt your stare on him earlier and it made him feel shy. you didn't have to know that he was purposely flexing harder with each cardboard box he had to lift. it was his own subtly way of trying to impress you, anyway.

it was flustering to know that it was somewhat working.

— after all the boxes were situated inside of the small apartment, he went to put all of your utilities away, like your own set of utensils, plates that you bought to share, and a couple of mugs. meanwhile, you went to your room to personalize and unpack all of your clothing. as eren was occupied working in the kitche, he felt himself smiling to himself as he carefull put away any of your belongings in the shelves. he felt himself laughing at one of your comedic mugs, a ceramic figure that took the shape of a chubby cat. the tail of the animal curved into being the handle and a funny expression was painted onto the cat's face.

"what's so funny, yeager?" you challenged, stretching your hands above head, "you think my mugs are funny?"

eren laughed, putting it away intot he cupboard and turning to look at you, "i think they're cute, they're also fitting,"

you made a face of uncertainty, which only made eren's grin go wider, "alright, you'll see."

"i'll see what?"

"you'll see — when i get you your own mug, you'll learn to appreciate it more,"

"oh, god, please don't." eren said, leaning against the counter on his elbow and staring at you, who were sitting on the other side, "for your first night here, you want me to treat us to take out? the chinese place down the road is really good,"

he watched your expression carefully. wordlessly, you walked around the counter and to the fridge. once you opened it, it took you a total of three seconds before you looked back at eren with a grimace.

"the only thing in here is ketchup and mayo..."

"those are the condiments i use to eat my fast food with," eren shrugged, making you only become more flabbergasted. "what??"

"oh my god, let's finish unpacking later, we need to go buy groceries,"

"but you didn't answer my question on dinner?"

"i'll make dinner — you save more money buying groceries and making meals out of them instead of buying takeout everynight, eren," you lectured, making him tilt his head in thought. he supposed you were right, so he didn't argue against going grocery shopping.

as you announced you were just going to change quickly, he then thought about it for a second longer. then a blush fell on his face as he imagined you at the kitchen, cooking a meal for just him and you.

god, was he really developing a crush on his roommate that just moved in?

— the grocery shopping turned unserious very fast. bring eren to any public environment and he won't be able to stay on track for a second. you didn't really know eren that well (it sounds silly to say that considering you are now living with him, but prior to agreeing to be his roommate, he really was just a stranger to you), so to see his more childish side bleeding through his cold exterior was a good change of pace. he was a very goofy guy, making funny faces at babies with the intent of making them cry, and would easily get distracted. he had tried dragging you off to the pokemon card wall several times when all you needed were groceries.

"did you see the way its face scrunched up?" he grinned in excitement before focusing on mimicking the expression a baby he tormented made. you laughed at the face he was making before smacking his shoulders.

"be nicer! they're just babies, eren," you softly scolded, weak chuckles escaping from you.

"just babies that make funny faces," eren laughed, switching from standing at your left side to your right side repeatedly as you stood in front of the produce section, "what even are you going to make tonight?"

"hm, how about pasta? you like pasta?" eren nodded his head in affirmation, "i was just going to buy some staple fruits and vegetables too, though, in case we get hungry for snacks,"

"snacks? i can run to the chips section too then! what chips do you want?" eren said, very excited to go to his second favorite section of the store (the junk food aisles).

"just get me a bag of f/c," you requested politely, making him nod like an eager puppy and run off.

you finished going down the list of basic ingrediants for a white sauce pasta, while also grabbing anything that you could use for other dishes in the future.

just as you turned around to your now full cart of vegetables, sauces, fruits, and meat, eren came bounding back towards you. this time, he was now holding five bags of chips, in his mouth he was carrying a single packet of pokemon cards, and in his fingers he was desperately holding a lottery ticket.

"look! we can open up a pack of pokemon cards, i got you one too, it's in my pocket though, since i figured you wouldn't want my spit on it, and then i also have a lottery ticket. i have a feeling we will win it big! and if we do, we won't have to pay rent for like five months!"

"eren, what the fuck? i thought you were just getting chips,"

the accused man pouted at the tone you were taking with him, dropping his arms into the car to free them of the five bags of chips, "i was!! but look, i'll pay for the lottery ticket, chips, and pokemon cards! c'mon, it'll be fun to open the cards together and everything!"

he almost pouted at you, can you belive this guy? pouted at you with begging puppy dog eyes. you almost smooshed his face with the palm of your head, but restrained yourself.

"fine, let's just go and pay,"

eren grinned in achievement, pumping his fist into the air, "c'mon, i wanna open these on the ride home!" he said, referring to the pokemon cards.

"alright, alright, i don't know anything about them though, so you're just gonna have to tell me what's good or not,"

"if it's shiny and reflective, give it to me, that's all you need to know," eren said dismissively. he swiftly took your spot behind the cart, pushing it with ease and only allowing you to walk beside him. "what pasta are you cooking for tonight?"

"i bought alfredo sauce, so i'll just add in some vegetables and to the pasta and make...chicken alfredo? if that's alright with you," eren almost salivated at the thought. he simply nodded his head eagerly, the bangs around his face bouncing at the movement.

"sounds delicious! man, i really lucked out with you as my roomie, huh? we're gonna make a great pair!" he threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer as he said this, an innocent grin on his face.

— that night, the two of you sat on foldable chairs watching tv. eren's parents gave you two as a house warming gift. it was small, but it was working so that was all that mattered. eren and you laughed at the tv screen until the late hours, where you both agreed to finally call it a night.

"should i make breakfast tomorrow morning? or are you gonna be in clases by the time i get up?"

eren frowned, "i have classes all day tomorrow, from 8 in the morning to 7 at night, so you don't have to worry about making too many servings,"

you nodded in understanding, "alright, then, i'll see you when you get back then,"

eren and you were about to break off to your own rooms, but he called out to you one last time, "uhm, what time are you gonna be in classes?"

"i only have one class tomorrow, 1 to 3:15," his face brightened up, which instinctively made you smile at him in return.

"we can go get lunch together then," he offered, "there's a good place that has burgers, it's like a ten minute walk from the main campus. i have a break in between classes at 4? if that's okay with you, of course,"

you grinned so wide that it almost hurt your cheeks. eren was a really nice guy, he was going out of his way to just get to know you better and spend some time with you, "yeah, that sounds perfect. meet me at the bus stop that's right outside the main hall and we can walk together,"

"okay, yeah!" eren nodded his head repeatedly, the bangs on the side of his head once again moving at such rapid mvoement. "then, i'll text you tomorrow when i get out of class!"

"sure, that sounds good." there was a pause and you pivotted your torso to turn away from the smiling brunette, "good night, eren,"

the man blinked and nodded his head, also turning away, calling out a, "goodnight, [name]," very quickly.

and the two of you fell asleep with grins on both of your faces. eren had brought the blanket up to his face, as if he was paranoid that there were someone watching his blushing face only redden. your smile was really, really handsome, his heart felt like it was in his throat everytime he remembered it.

#attack on titan x male reader #eren x male reader #eren yeager x male reader #eren x reader #eren yaeger x reader #roommate eren #roommate eren series!! maybe #who knows #roommate eren x male reader #roommate eren x reader #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagines #eren imagines #eren headcanons #eren yaeger headcanons #male reader #attack on titan male reader #roommate eren male reader