#the eye contact. the wrist flick. jesus fucking christ

[valgreaves]

can't you guys just flirt like normal people. oh my god

#tcatf #haystexts.txt #the eye contact. the wrist flick. jesus fucking christ #can you believe that val wasnt even an official li in the first book #the amount of tension here. no wonder they needed that knife

[mrkis]

above the sheets. (m.l)

PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: smut, pwp WORD COUNT: 1k

SYNOPSIS: giving mark a handjob when he's the little spoon (above the sheets)

CONTENT WARNINGS: sexual content, sub!mark, handjob, slight dirty talk, overuse of the nickname 'baby boy', slight crack at the end, pwp, kissing

“That feels so good…” Mark sighs softly, burying his head into his pillow as you press up more behind him, chin resting on his shoulder as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his underwear, fingertips ghosting over his cock which jerks at the contact. Mark pushes his hips into your hand when you fingers curl around him and your belly swirls with excitement as you feel the thickness of his cock in your hand, all big and ready for you to please.

With short and halfhearted tugs, Mark’s already losing himself to your touch, breathing uneven with light moans slipping past his lips, trying to conceal his noises by shoving his head further into his pillow and you’re smirking, your ego soaring high at the reaction he’s giving all because of you. 

“You’ve been working so hard…” You whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the skin which causes him to shiver, goosebumps raising over his neck and down his bare back. You press a gentle kiss on his shoulder blade, “You deserve a break”

“Yeah…” Mark hums, shifting around on the bed as you manage to free him from his boxers, thumbing the tip of his cock that uncontrollably leaks with precum, getting lost in his own excitement but your languid strokes leave him breathless. “Please”

“There’s no rush, baby boy” You smile at his eagerness, dragging your hand slowly up and down his cock. “Just relax for me”

Mark nods sluggishly, mouth dropping open as you gently squeeze around him, thumbing over his tip again and littering soft kisses over his shoulders. Mark’s pressing himself flush against you which helps you get a better grip and you almost coo at him, finding his desperation too cute and adorable to handle.

He’s bucking his hips to the movement of your hand, unable to keep himself still and you allow him to do as he pleases despite telling him to relax a few moments prior, finding this sight all too exotic for you to repeat your last words. 

“God—fuck” Mark gasps as you flick your wrist, his own hand coming around to rest at your leg to pull it over his hip, blunt nails pinching at your skin. You can barely see his face in the dark lighting of his bedroom, but the warmth of his cheeks against yours and the light sniffles proves that he’s feeling a little overwhelmed with your ministrations. It makes your heart flutter, your head going giddy.

“Am I making you feel good, baby boy?” You dare to ask.

“Mhm—yeah, ’s good—shit” He pants uncontrollably, rutting into your touch. “Keep going, don’t stop—fuck—please don’t stop”

Your fist works a little faster, adding pressure to his tip that has him whining loudly, pulling his face away from the pillow to try and regulate his erratic breathing, his nails digging deeper into your skin but you pay no mind to the slight sting it causes, not when you have Mark submissive in your hold.

Mark’s legs start to tremble which lets you know he’s close to cumming and you continue to stroke his cock at a reasonable pace, his free hand gripping the sheets below his body as his head begins to spiral, unable to control the movement of his hips as matches his thrusts with your tugs.

“I’m gonna c—shiiit, ‘m gonna cum. Babe, I’m gonna cum—you’re gonna make me cum—fuck, feels so good, I love you—jesus christ” Mark babbles complete nonsense, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back to yours at a awkward angle, chest heaving. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’m not going to stop, baby boy” You tell him with a smile, craning your neck to kiss the corner of his lips and you fight the urge to giggle as he tries to follow you for more. “You deserve it. You can cum. Are you going to cum for me? Are you going to make a mess of my hand and the sheets? Show me how much you can cum, Mark”

“Jesus fucking christ” Mark whines outloud at your words, his movements frantic as he chases his release before his body stills, hunching in on himself as a long drawn out moan leaves his lips, cum spurting out of his tip fast with a cry of your name.

You’re giggling softly as you continue to jerk him off to help work him through his high, feeling his cum cover your hand and drip down to the bedsheets. He’s uncontrollably making sounds, a mixture of high pitched moans, grunts and pretty little cries that leaves you tightening your thighs around his hips, pussy thumping with your own arousal but you push it to the side to focus on Mark.

His body shakes in your hold, cock pulsing with his last spurts of cum before he slumps against the bed with a heavy exhale, exhaustion completely taking over him. Your hand finally lets up on him as he whines your name, not wanting you to overstimulate him tonight which you respect, bringing your hand up to try and see the mess he had caused.

“I’m sticky” You hear him say with a pout, feeling the bed dip as he rolls over onto his back to look at you. His bangs stick to his sweaty forehead, big doe eyes peeking through the strands. “You… you made me cum really hard”

Your brow raises in amusement with a soft chuckle, “That was the plan. You did so good for me, baby boy”

Mark hums happily as you plant your lips to his in a soft kiss, his hand coming around to rest at the nape of your neck to pull you in deeper, licking and nipping at your lips desperately. But before you crawl onto his lap to fix your own little problem, Mark’s ripping away from you with a noise of disgust, face grimacing as he arches his back away from the bed.

You frown immediately at that, “What’s wrong?”

“I just realised I’m lying in my own cum… That’s kinda gross”

©mrkis

#...hello :) #nct smut #mark lee smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark smut #nct mark smut #oneshot: above the sheets

[ashley-jones]

Call me Little Sunshine

Dewdrop Ghoul x Catholic OC

Fandom: Ghost BC

OC name : Luxury Reign Jones

Soulmate AU

When a daughter of an extremely Catholic family comes into contact with a bratty ghoul, her once perf cr views of parents get torn down in the blink of an eye. With a flick of his tail, he has the girl wrapped around his finger. Her innocence just makes it so much more fun.

Warnings: Innocence kink, religious trauma, generational trauma, age gap relationship, Religion kink, slight manipulating (By parents), abusive parents, Religion shaming, finger fucking, tail fucking, degregation,knotting, breeding kink, blood play, church sex, running away from home, death, murder, Dewdrop gives amazing after care

"Amen"

The word chimed through the whole church, the preacher continuing on with his speech after the prayer. A brunette dressed in a knee length black and white dress, her hair braided separately and laying over each shoulder. Her skin was pale and silken soft, her brown eyes where shimmering lightly; sleep and exhaustion covered her soft features.

6:00 am just to come to a 2 hour long sermon. It was Sunday morning and the only thing she wanted to do was go back to sleep. She had to be back in school tomorrow morning, and instead of sleeping in she's forced to come to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening.

"Luxury pay attention.." her father snapped quietly. She looked over towards him then back up at the podium, trying to listen the best she could. But her boredom was causing her to lose full interest all over again.

Luxury never understood the whole dynamic around Jesus Christ and God. None of it made any sense to her! She couldn't believe in God nor the hatred that is caused by those that follow him. She believed in all equality, when her parents where racist and homophobic assholes! She's gotten slashed with the belt and roller for speaking her opinions.

Her mind rolled off, brown eyes shifted around slowly coming to stop after catching a glimpse of a shadow rounding the corner. It almost looked like it had a long tail with a pointed tip. Curiosity peaked her as she whispered to father asking if she could use the restroom quick, her leg bouncing to prove her need.

He glared down at her before nodding, eyes looking forward once more. Luxury stood from the chapel and made her way quietly around the corner, aiming towards the restroom to splash herself with cold water to possibly wake herself up more. But a yelp escaped her when a hand collided with her mouth body being pulled into the darkened hallway of the church, her back pressed into the person's chest.

Something curled around her thigh gripping it tightly, along with sharp claws pushing into her cheeks. "You're okay doll." a rasped voice echoed through her senses. A muffled cry escaped her, brown eyes lifting to look at the man. A silver mask covered his face, along with a black mask covering his mouth, but that didn't stop the shimmering glint of fangs.

"You looked so bored, I just had to grab your attention." he growled. Her cheeks flushed when the strange slithering thing wrapped around her thigh began pushing her skirt up. Brown eyes widening slightly, fingers catching onto his wrist that was held over her mouth.

The sound of her name escaping her parents and older brother had her whining. The tip of the tail pressed into her white cotton panties, causing a muffled pleasured whine to leave her throat. She tried to pull away, but the arm around her waist only pulled her closer with a sharp fangy smirk against her right ear.

Her panties where pushed to the side, the tip of the creatures tail pressed against her clit causing a muffled moan to escape. Her cheeks turned to a bright cherry red, head falling back against the man's slender shoulders. He was in all black, a silver mask covering his face with horns at the top. Her small hands where grasping his wrist where she could feel strong veins pressing into her silk skin.

Soon the man's hand traced down her waist and beneath her skirt, fingers replacing the tail. Middle and ring finger traced along her slick, her panties soaking which traveled down her thighs and into her stockings. Muffled moans filled the dark hallways, fingers pressing into her clit and virgin crevice.

Brown eyes rolled back, her back arching in pleasure. Her teeth actually began so king into the man's hand, but not a spec of blood was shed in doing so. If anything it seemed to excite him because he pushed his hips against her smaller frame, a deep groan escaping his throat.

Two fingers pushed into her, spreading her wife in a scissoring motion. Her body went weak but his hold on her kept her standing on weak legs. She could no longer hold back her moans and whines, brown eyes sunken in with pleasure as they bore into his bright gold one. His hand pressed into her hard, a muffled yell escaped her as her body quivered in pleasure, stomach tightening then letting lose as slick poured from her sensitive cunt.

He chuckled biting into her right ear sucking on it. He moved his hand away fixing her panties and lowering her skirt. He swiped around her getting on his knees and began cleaning her thighs up with his tongue. Her mind was so blurry she couldn't even comprehend what was happening. But her left hand slid along his shoulder gripping into the clothing causing another chuckle to escape him. "Go on sunshine.. I believe that's enough sinning for a day." he teased.

Standing up he used her away with a dark smirk appearing behind his mask. On wobbly legs she walked back towards the chapel, her father yelling out to her once he caught sight of her. She stumbled and fell to her knees whining, causing her mother to quickly usher to her side grabbing her and forcing her up onto her feet. Both parents growling and arguing with her as they left the church.

Luxury sat in class, head down against the desk eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly. No one even bother to bat eyes at her sleeping form because this was such a normal occasion. She still had perfect grades, so why bother to wake her?

She wore her school uniform - a black skirt that ended just above her knees, with a white dress shirt and black cover, a purple and white beaded rosary sat around her neck hanging loose against the desk, her thigh high socks where uneven and her Mary Janes where tightly fitted to her feet. Finally her deep brown hair was up in a high ponytail, harshly brushed through without a single care in the world.

The sound of the bell didn't even wake her, so when students got up and left with their things she still laid fast asleep. The teacher eyed her closely before shaking his head and going back to his paperwork. This was such a normal occurrence and he noticed the bruises and scars etched into skin when she would remove her blazer on hot days. She sleeps in every class, so this makes him believe she doesn't sleep at night, much less at home.

He stood up grasping a note and walking over to her desk sliding it beneath her left arm then leaving to cover the detention for the evening.

After about an hour Luxury lifted her head rubbing her eyes of sleep. She looked around taking notice of the empty classroom then the note on the desk.

'The Clergy' was written messily on the slip of paper. She rubbed her eyes once more lifting her bag up and grasping the piece of paper and walking out of the classroom. "Miss Jones." her teachers voice broke through the silence. She came to a slow stop, turning around towards him. "Mr. nihil.." she softly answered. "If I where in your situation, I would look into that church. Religious trauma is not something to stay around dear." he spoke before turning and walking away.

Her heart beat sped up, ringing in her ears as she looked down at the slip. She then sighed quietly and began walking away once more. She was stuck walking home, her parents having already come and left, and she knew she was in for it when she got home. Not like she wasn't use to this by now, it's become quite the routine if anything.

Entering the large home, quietly shutting and locking the door. She raced upstairs ignoring the sudden yells from both parents. She dropped her bag inside her room, shut the door and tightening the homemade lock that was a rope that wrapped around her door knob and went to her desk leg. She wasn't allowed locks on her door, so she had no choice but to make her own. She grabbed her phone ignoring the yells of her father as he pounded the door.

'The mysterious cult from which these strange being all stepped forth, the Clergy is the center point everything that Ghost is, was, and shall be. They remain Anonymous and powerful.'

"Ghouls.." she whispered. Flashbacks of Sunday echoed through her mind as she continued looking through photos, then came to a stop when a recognizable figure came to her screen. "Dewdrop.." she whispered.

'Fire Ghoul'

'Alpha Ghoul'

'Possible Murderer'

She flinched when her door was busted open, her father walking over and grabbing a hold of her wrist. A high pitched yelp escaped the girl, she whimpered trying to pull away. "You're hurting me!" she cried out. His hand raised and went to collide with her cheek only to be stopped by another.

"Get off of her." a dark voice growled. "Before I rip you from her." it deepened. A hand grasped her arm gently pulling her back and placing her behind a taller figure. Well he wasn't necessarily tall, but he towered over her 5'5 frame. "W-what the hell.." her father whispered. "Dewdrop.." her soft voice echoed through the bedroom.

His gold eyes lifted and moved back towards her small form, eyeing her closely. She was staring up at him with big brown eyes. They where filled with innocence but want of sin. She was his mate so of course she'd want that sinful part to enter her life.

A mate is not someone you choose, it's someone that life chooses for you. His mate just so happens to be a human girl who was forced into a chatholic family that abused and tortured her for wanting to be different. His mate had severe religious trauma and generational trauma from both parents.

And he was putting an end to it.

And if killing each of her parents in the most slow and torturous way, than he would gladly do it.

But of course he would have his mate removed and away from the scene, not wanting to traumatize her more than she already is.

Her father stared up at the man, the symbol on his chest symbolizes Satan. His horns and fangs gleaming in the dying sunlight that entered his daughters room. His 19 year old girl was standing behind the ghoul, fingers wrapped around his thin but veiny wrist. She wasn't supposed to know about these creatures! When he learned of who her soulmate was, he tried his hardest to keep her from these filthy and degrading creatures of lust and sin.

But Luxury knew he was something to her. With the way her small hand was wrapped around his wrist, to how she stayed so close to him allowing him to protect her. She knew what he was to her, despite being taught soulmates where nothing but a pathetic legend.

Her fingers trailed down his wrist, feeling along the palm of his hand before pushing her fingers between his hooking their hands together. His rings grazed her bare fingers, claws tracing delicate skin, then pushed into the back of her hand; but not hard enough to cause her any harm. His gold eyes where on her once more, but she was staring at their hands instead. The rosary around her neck glistened beautifully in the setting sun, and the beads that ran along her arm connected to him began to loosen until his claws cut through the rubber band holding them together.

Hundreds of beads sprung to the floor scattering across her bedroom. But she didn't care she felt like a missing piece of her had been placed into it's designated spot everytime she touched or was even near him. He went to grab her, to lift her up and remove her from the home, and take her back to the church with him, where he could pin her to his bed and keep her below him at all times.

But he had no choice but to stop himself, and in the blink of an eye he was gone. He left her to the harsh eyes of her father, the rough hands grabbing her now cold hand. She was pulled forward and slammed into a closet in the hallway. The closet had crucifixes and bible verses on the door. The sound of the lock made her cry out, hands smacking against the door crying and begging for her parents to let her out.

"L-Let me out!! P-please I'm sorry!" she cried. She fell back sliding down against the floor, bringing her knees to her chest crying into her knees. She began shaking wildly, tears flooding down her cheeks like a salty waterfall. She didn't understand what was going on, not even know why she deserved to be locked away.

"P-please..." she whimpered.

When you're born, a mark appears on the inner side of your right wrist. This mark resembles who and what your soulmate is. When Luxury Reign Jones was born she had the mark of a Ghoul soulmate on her wrist. Lilian Jones, Luxury's mother had once been part of the Clergy. Her parents where part of it and she followed in their footsteps, until she met her soulmate who dragged her away and introduced her to catholic religion.

Lilian always wanted her daughter to be her own person, but after a while she began pushing the same beliefs her husband pushed onto her. She saw the way the comfort look passed over her only daughters face when her fingers hooked around Dewdrop's hand. She remembers Dewdrop from when she was younger, the ghoul was a brat, an alpha ghoul, or even a fire ghoul. But he was also very protective, and would kill anyone that stopped him from getting to his mate.

So as Lilian sat in the master bedroom listening to her daughters cries and pleas to be let out of the closet, her heart shattered. "Dewdrop.. Take her.." she whispered under her breath. The sound of the door busting open, her cries coming to abrupt stop. Lilian didn't get up to check, nor did she react when she heard a window slam shut and could no longer hear her daughters cries.

Her husband would find out soon enough that he shouldn't mess with a Ghoul, much less a ghouls mate. They where deadly protective creatures, whether be ghouls or ghoullets.

You leave their mate and families alone.

"Son of a bitch!" her husband yelled out. "Where the fuck is this church Lilian?!" he yelled. "I can't remember." she simply replied. "The hell you don't! That fucking creature just took our daughter!!" he yelled. "He is a ghoul, and he is protecting his mate." she quickly replied. "You knew they would find her soon enough! You can't hide from a soulmate, no matter who or what you are!" she argued.

Luxury was placed on a large black sheeted bed, her brown eyes watching the ghoul's every movement. She watched the way his chest rose and fell at a quick pace, his one arm resting behind his back. "H-Hey..." she whispered.

"Fuck it.." she heard him growl. He turned around pushing her down onto the bed and getting on top of her. He pulled the black mask down from his mouth and pressed his lips into hers, causing a chaste whine to escape her. She kissed back, hands trailing up his arms, slowly wrapping around his neck. He lifted her slightly moving her up so that her head laid against the pillows.

Dewdrop lifted her thigh up resting her knee against his waist. Moving away he began tracing his fangs along her cheek, jawline, and towards her throat. Sharp canines sank into her silk skin, causing a whine to erupt from her lips. "Dew.." she whimpered. Licking the blood from the bite he sat up lifting her legs so they rested against his waist giving him a perfect view of her black laced panties.

"Such a naughty thing for such an innocent girl.." he teased. Her cheeks turned bright red, lips parting as she stared up at him. His claws traced the skin above her thigh highs, gold eyes staring into her own. "I-I've never don't this before.." she whispered. He couldn't help but just smile at her cuteness. "That's already sunshine, daddy's gonna take care of you." he rasped.

Clothes where scattered across the bedroom, small hands tied to the bedframe. Whines and moans filled the bedroom, sweat glittering across her skin as she gets through her 5th orgasm. He's been feasting on her for the past hour. Her thighs where shaking against his shoulders, back arched and nails cutting into the palm of her hands. "D-Dew! I c-can't!" she cried. "Yes you can Sunshine.. Just give me one more." he spoke against her.

He pressed a third finger into her pumping them in and out at a quick pace, a scream escaping her as her 6th orgasm rushed over her. Hips arching up, thighs clenching against the sides of his head. Her whole body was now shaking, and once he moved and lifted himself she craned to the side whimpering.

"Can you take more sunshine?" he gently questioned. "I wanna knot you sweetheart.. but I need your permission." he whispered in her ear. She hummed shakily, pressing her cheek over against his own, in which he smiled softly. She smiled when he started purring against her. "You can have me.." she whispered.

He sat up untying his suspenders that held her wrists against the bedframe. The moment her hands where free they went to his arms whining when he shifted her and placed himself directly between her legs. He was slow as he began guiding his oversized cock into her.

Her slick cunt swallowed him easily, but her whines of pain made him stop. Her hand began shaking against his arm, whimpers filling the air. "It's okay.." he softly said. Continuing to push into her a yelp escaping her the moment he broke her flower. The smell of virgin blood filled the room, a tear falling down her cheek which he slowly wiped away. Dewdrop didn't move, he allowed her to get use to his size and the feeling of him being inside of her.

"just let me know when you feel more comfortable." he softly spoke. After about 5 minutes she shifted, a sudden moan escaping her making him laugh softly. He wrapped her legs around his waist and slowly began thrusting in and out of her. Soft moans and rasped groans began filling the room.

His thrusts began speeding up, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the smell of sex filling the room. Luxury's back arched, her chest pressing against his, arm wrapped tightly around his neck where he was leaned down head pressed between her shoulder blade and neck. "G-gonna.." she cried. "H-hold it." he groaned out against her neck.

"I'm gonna cum inside.." he growled. "Fill you with my kits, knot you til your full of only me." he groaned. She whined, legs pulling him closer moans growing louder and louder by the minute. "Cum." he ordered. She moaned out, body craning in as she came all over him. His hips came to a stop, the feeling of something harder and bigger pushing into her made her cry into his shoulder. He groaned holding her hips tightly, neither of them moving.

His bit into her throat, feeling her small dented teeth press lightly into his own leaving hickeys along his pale skin. Blood began leaking down her shoulder and onto the pillow. And when he lifted himself blood stained his lips, which he licked away.

It was about 10 minutes when he finally pulled himself out of her. She was half asleep, head falling to the side, soft breaths leaving her. She whined when he lifted her bridal style leaving the bedroom and entering another room. She felt herself being sat down carefully, and then the sound of bath water filled her ears. Then the scent of lavender and peppermint filled the bathroom. She shifted looking at the large bathtub then up at Dewdrop who sat on the edge of the bathtub, fingers pressed into the water keeping track of the temperature.

After the tub was filled up he gently lifted her and sat her in the tub. His hand traced her cheek which she hummed staring up at him. "I'll be back, I want you to rest here." he softly ordered. She nodded sinking down until the water sat just below her chin.

He left the bathroom, but returned shortly after with a brand new set of clothing, a glass of water, and a pain pill. Once the water began to grow chilly she allow him to help her out. Despite her protests he dried her off, and began dressing her.

It was a simple shirt black skirt, a long black dress hurt and then a pair of knee high black socks. The shirt smells exactly like him, which brought her immediate comfort. He laid her down and collapsed beside her, arms pulling her body beneath the blankets and wrapping his arms tightly around her. His long tail wrapped her thigh holding her close to him. She hummed pressing herself back against him, eyes closing slowly, sleep overcoming each of her senses.

"I'll protect you Sunshine.. I love you so much." he whispered against the top of her head.

#ghost bc #ghost band #papa emeritus 4 #papa nihil #papa emeritus iii #papa emiritus ii #papa emeritus zero #papa emeritus iv #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #aether #rain ghoul #fire ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #swiss army ghoul #dewdrop ghoul x oc #ghost bc x oc #ghost bc smut #ghost smut #dewdrop smut

[yunopouts]

1,2,3 - n. jaemin

-> pairing: sadist(kinda)!jaemin x fem reader

-> genre: filth smut

-> warnings: spanking, unprotected sex, rough sex (kinda? not really tho), oral (f receiving), biting, fingering, handjob, overstimulation, squirting, creampie

-> word count: 2.1k

this is some weird shit. prepare yourselves.

The ending is where the actual filth starts (literally for like 2.3 seconds tho)

I am so sorry.

After laying in bed for literally five hours, you decided to get up and walk around your apartment. Your boyfriend was at work and you couldn’t go out because you’re living during a fucking pandemic (w/n: YES MAKE THAT SHIT REALISTIC😩), so you were stuck at home. All by yourself, with nothing to do.

You walked yourself to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbed out the juice.

“I can just drink from the carton.” You thought out loud. “No, that's kinda gross, I can’t do that.” You shook your head and just grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Thinking of what you should do, you wandered around, sipping your juice from time to time. “I don’t want to watch tv, cause I just finished doing that. Jesus Christ, this shouldn’t be that hard to do.” You whined, stamping your feet like a child throwing a tantrum to get what they want.

Heaving a sigh, you continued moping around.

“Screw this, I’m just gonna shower.” You chugged your juice and set the glass in the sink before heading to the bathroom.

-

When you walked out of the bathroom all clean, you headed to the living room- where you were unexpectedly met by your boyfriend, Jaemin, who was sitting on the couch. You stopped in the entry way, making eye contact with him and smiled when he called you over.

“How's my pretty girl doing?” he asked, looking up at you with a lazy smile. His hands traveled from your waist, around to your ass and down to the back of your thighs, sliding up and down.

“Fine, bored.” You replied with a sigh. “You okay?” you ran your fingers through his hair. Jaemin leaned forward, pressing his lips just above the waistband of your pants.

“So perfect.” He purred in response, kissing you again, slowly moving further and further down your waist. His eyes connected with yours, glassy, dark and filled with lust. From your thighs, Jaemin’s hands went up and started to tug down your pants, helping him by shimmying out of them.

Standing up, Jaemin brought you into a kiss, one that was slow yet needy at the same time. You gasped when you felt a burning sensation against your ass. Jaemin smirked against your lips, doing it again, making you moan this time.

Arms wrapping around your waist, you lead your boyfriend backwards, slow enough to get there without tripping on anything. As you kissed, Jaemin kneaded your ass, groaned into you and pressed you against his groin, where you felt his erection.

You reached your bedroom, and your boyfriend pushed you down, your back hitting the soft mattress. Practically ripping off your panties, Jaemin spread your knees apart, licking a stripe up your pussy. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy that’s so so wet for me.” He said, spreading apart your lips. The boy stared in awe at your glistening heat. “It never seizes to fascinate me at how fast you get so wet for me.”

Without warning, he shoved two fingers into your hole, savagely ramming them into you. Nothing left your mouth; nothing could leave your mouth, not even a croak. He hadn’t even actually started to fuck you; it was just with his fingers and your voice was caught in your throat.

“What?” Jaemin stopped. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you couldn’t respond as you were still trying to catch your breath.

“S-sorry, just feels good.” You managed to choke out, finally getting air back into your lungs. With a satisfied smirk, he re-inserted his fingers, but thrust at a painfully slow speed. “Jaemin, faster.” You whined.

“Ah, ah, ah~ don’t get greedy, pretty girl.” He continued with his pace, curling his fingers up from time to time. “You know how much I hate greedy people.” The boy leaned forward, placing the flat of his tongue against your clit. He moved the muscle quickly, making you cry out in pleasure. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling and running your fingers through it. “You know,” he spoke between licks. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Jaemin attached his lips to your clit and sucked before letting go of it with a ‘pop’.

“In the studio, when we were recording ‘Make A Wish’;” the thrusts of his fingers slowly increased. “When we were in the practice rooms.” He used his tongue again, swirling it around to lap up all your arousal.

“That’s… sweet.” You choked back on a moan but failed miserably.

The sweet noises you were eliciting from your clit being flicked and abused was enough to get your boyfriend grinding against the bed.

“Oh fuck.” You moved you’re hips to the feeling, needing more, to which he pulled out.

Jaemin left from your core and was now hovering above you. When you met his eyes, forcing you to witness him sucking his fingers that were practically dripping with your wetness. That action alone was enough to make you shake as your first orgasm washed over you.

Jaemin watched this happen, moaning in pleasure and delight; the fact that you came from a simple glace at him turned him on a lot..

“I got so hard that Taeyong sent me home early.” He stated. Jaemin licked his lip before almost closing all the space you had between your faces.

Almost, is the key word.

He stayed hovering, lips three centimeters away from your own. You tried to kiss him, but that made your boyfriend move backwards. When you pouted, he moved back to the same spot, smirking. “Turn around for me, beautiful.”

His tone was deep and full of mischief. It got you kind of worried, but you complied, slowly shifting your body so that your back was to him. Jaemin pressed against your back, making you feel his erection against your ass, as he brought his lips to your shoulder and kissed it lightly.

Suddenly, you felt something sharp in the same place where he kissed you and you hissed, pushing against him. He let out a throaty moan in your ear, more arousal dripping from your heat. He licked, kissed, sucked and bit his way down, littering your back with all sorts of shaped markings. When he reached the small of your back, he stopped.

He pulled away before he started to knead your ass. “You look so good from behind.” You could practically hear the smirk in his cocky tone. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

“Then do it.” You said.

“Patience, pretty girl.” He instructed, going silent for a second, before sending down the palm of his hand against your ass. You yelped in pain, shoving your face into the pillows of your shared bed.

“That’s one.” He grunt before smacking you again. “Two; three;” he continued until he reached ten, your ass stinging. “All done.” He sighed as he brought you back up, gently turning you around so that he could see your tear stained face. “Sorry, pretty girl.” He kissed your closed eyelids.

You shook your head slightly, “It felt good.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled against your forehead. Jaemin brought his pants down, revealing his clothed cock. “Help me out with this one, will you?” the boy asked you once he noticed you were staring down at the darkened spot on his underwear.

Your hand found its way into his boxers, grabbing his dick. Connecting his lips with yours, Jaemin mewled at the feeling of both your lips and your hand on him. Your thumb gently touched the tip, spreading around the precum. Your wrist worked in circular motions, sliding up and down his shaft, making the boy a moaning mess. He bucked his hips in time with your actions, letting out a shaky sigh against you.

“Shit.” Jaemin parted from your lips so he could throw his head back in pleasure. “Fuck, I’m so close.” He whined.

Three more strokes and the deed was done; Jaemin’s cock was twitching in your hand as you let him ride out his orgasm.

“You’re still hard.” You stated, staring at his dick, that was still very hard.

“Didn’t I explicitly tell you how fucking horny I was today?” he glanced at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, right.” You recalled. “Get on with it then.” Jaemin let out a laugh, kissing you once again before moving back on top of you.

Just like he did before with his fingers, Jaemin pushed into you with out warning, leaving you breathless once again. He thrust in and out of you slowly, thoroughly enjoying your pleads to go faster.

“You’re such a good girl.” He growled, placing a finger on your clit, rubbing harsh circles as he pumped in and out of you at a pace that satisfied you. A hand slid up your torso, finding its place around one of your breasts. He squeezed it a bit and played with the nipple, rolling it in between two fingers. “God, I love you.”

Jaemins cock felt so good. It filled all the space available in your pussy and your walls always clenched around him, whether you meant to do it or not.

The boy let go of your tit and pulled your hips impossibly closer to his, leaning in, fucking you faster and deeper than before. He pushed your waist down, squeezing so hard that you were sure to have marks from his nails later. Lowering your eyes ever so slightly, you watched how your boyfriends’ eyes were trained on what was poking out every so often when he plowed back into you. The tips of your fingers traced the area in which he was looking at so intently, making him moan loudly.

“Do you like it when I fuck you hard like this.” He asked, finally connecting your eyes again. “Fuck, I can see where my dick hits you.” You bit your lip and nodded, grabbing at his arm and giving it a light squeeze, letting him know that you were close.

“Do it.” He huffed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Jaemin fucked you through your second orgasm, but continued to rail you, like nothing had happened.

“No more.” You whined in protest, clawing at his back as he adjusted his position.

“Haven’t cum.” He remarked.

Twelve minutes more and Jaemin was still at it, fucking you nice and hard.

After a while, the pain and pleasure of cumming for a third time had finally come to an end when his snapping hips had come to a sputtering stop, allowing himself to release inside you. Jaemin bit into your nape as he came, your fingers slowly drawing small patterns on his back. He pulled out, somehow still hard, but at least not fully.

When he rolled off top of you, he brought you into his legs, spreading them open and keeping them that way, using his own legs. Traveling to your cum filled hole, his fingers entered you, slowly pumping in and out. His left hand found itself at your clit, adding more stimulation to your already overstimulated heat.

“Fuck, Jaemin.” You yelped, writhing in his arms.

“We both know what you want, pretty girl.” He spoke in a condescending tone. “So be quiet for me until I give it to you.” He nipped at your earlobe. You complied, moaning instead of a worded answer. “That’s my girl.” You felt him smirk against the skin of your neck.

The motions his fingers were making on your clit soon became bigger and stronger; the fingers in your hole sometimes pulling out to smear his cum on the rest of your pussy, re-inserting themselves afterwards.

The wetness of your pussy and his cum mixing together made the filthiest of noises, but to Jaemin, your moans were all he could hear, sending him into orbit, causing his fingers to move quicker and quicker.

You tried inhaling, but barely any air actually made it into your lungs.

“J-Jae-” you gasped. In your ear was a deep chuckle, meaning Jaemin probably came back to earth when he heard the heavenly noises coming from your pussy.

“Fuck, scream my fucking name.” hands working at the speed of light as you came.

And this time you came hard.

Harder than you have before.

So hard that you squirt, juices leaking everywhere on your sheets.

As you screamed, like Jaemin said, his voice raised too, laughing out in amazement.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Was all you heard him say before passing out.

#na jaemin #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct drabbles #this is so fucking filthy for no reason im sorry

[marie-hoe]

Eating Out

Chris Evans x Reader 

Warnings: Smut, 18+, oral- female receiving, edging mentions

Requested: Yes, I did get carried away slightly in my opinion, but the idea of him loving to eat her out is still there

I'm posting this early, it was queued for Thursday because I wrote another two-part Stucky smut for Thirsty Thursday... it's mob!Stucky.

Can I request a Chris one shot or headcannon please where the reader is surprised at how much he loves to eat her out and ask for a taste because her past boyfriends were so turned off at the idea and never pleasured her that way? Thank you!

masterlist

He eats you out like your his last meal

his tongue feverishly going from lapping at the juices pooling from your cunt to licking and flicking your clit

he sticks his tongue as far into you as he can reach it, loves feeling your pussy clench around it as he wiggles it around the warm, wet walls

moaning into you as your hips buck wildly in pleasure, hips desperate to hold you in place

he loves to watch you watching him as he laps at your wet cunt like he's never had a drink in his life

He has you gasping for air, eyes completely dark and lust filled as you watch every move the man- who takes you to Sunday brunch with his family but turns into a pussy-hungry savage over the slightest sight of you- makes

"come on baby, give it to me"

"make a mess on my face baby"

"ride my face baby girl"

"so fucking wet baby, taste so good"

oh, loves having you ride his face. jesus

his hands grabbing your ass harshly as the angle allows him a little more ease in slipping his tongue into your silk walls

and the ease sitting up gives you to grind your pussy into his face, feeling the burn and itch of his beard along your cunt and insides of your thighs

oh, and the sight from his pov... jesus christ: he can see the curvature of each breast, slightly covering your face if you've got your head back, the thump of your heart in your chest and the way your head down and around to watch his actions

so you're back on your back now, and he's just laid casually on his stomach between your legs, obviously devouring you. He's been at it for like half an hour, every time you get close to your climax, he pulls away, leaving you untouched, starved, and delirious.

He loves edging you so he can eat you longer, gives more play time.

When he finally does let you come—for the first time you're not off the hook yet— he looks at every inch of your body as you come, studying every detail of you as if he could forget the image. Watching as the cum oozes out of your cunt and slides slowly down to your ass.

He'll reach out, wiping it up with his fingers as he immediately gets back to work, sticking his tongue back in your hole. "Wanna taste baby? Sweetest thing you'll ever have," he mutters against you as he brings the fingers straight into your mouth

The sight of you cleaning his fingers off, licking around them as your hands grabbed his wrist and sucking them into your mouth as if you were imagining they were his cock, made his cock grow very hard and uncomfortable in his pants

so he'd just lean back for a moment and undo his zipper to pull it out, just to give it more room, before laying back down and focusing solely on you and you pretty pussy.

But now, he's subconsciously rutting his hips into the mattress  when he makes eye contact with you with his tongue deep within you

so now you’re seeing: him with his beard scratching your thighs and labia, hands wrapped around your thighs to pull you closer to his mouth, tongue deep within your wet walls as it licks around the crevices and laps at the juices, and his hips rubbing his swollen, hard cock into the mattress completely subconsciously, maybe he’s even unaware at how obvious his rutting is, he’s just trying to gain a little bit of frictionI

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans headcanon #chris evans x reader #smut #written by marie

[marvelous-harry]

for blurb night could you do something where harry and flossie are training her how to go down on flossie how she likes, give blowjobs etc + degradation but like loving degradation pls :)

"What if I'm no good at it?" I asked as I glanced up at Harry before looking at Florence that was kneeling next to me.

"You'll practice and learn, baby. You might be a natural," Florence said while grabbing the hair tie around her wrist and gathered all my hair, and tied it up so it wouldn't get in the way.

"But what if I don't like it?" I asked shyly, blushing under their gazes.

"Then you don't like it. I won't force you to suck me off if you hate it, babe," Harry said reassuringly.

I looked up at him before looking at his cock. I'd never actually sucked cock before. Been fucked by them a few times but after getting with Flossie, I thought I'd go my whole life without sucking one. Then Harry had come into our lives and cock sucking was a possibility again.

"Can I touch it?" I asked while looking at Harry.

"Yes you can, such a polite little good girl aren't you? Asking so nicely" Harry replied and shifted his legs further apart.

I looked over at Flo to check that it was okay and when she did a little nod, I scooted forward so I was kneeling between his legs. Reaching my hand up, I wrapped my fingers around his cock gently and tugged on it like I'd seen people do in films and on TV.

Harry moaned quietly. "That's it," he breathed out.

When Harry moaned, I shuddered in pleasure and just knew I needed to make him moan again, and again, and again. Stroking him faster, I kept glancing at his face to see the little twitches.

"Loosen your grip a little, take it nice and easy. Not going to cum yet," Harry said after I did a fast and hard tug.

Taking my hand off him, I licked my lips. "Want to suck it now," I said made eye contact with him.

"Okay," he chuckled. "Open up and take the head in your mouth. And be mindful of your teeth," Harry said and gave his cock a few strokes.

"I know!" I replied and huffed, pretending that I knew that I was somehow supposed to hide away my teeth while taking him in my mouth. "What if I have to sneeze?" I mused.

"Please pull off quickly so you don't bite my dick off," Harry chuckled.

I hummed. "Okay," taking his cock into my hand again, I licked at the head curiously. The taste wasn't bad at all so I went in for a few more licks before taking the cock head fully into my mouth and sucked on it.

"Fucking hell," Harry groaned.

Florence chuckled. "What can I say? She's very eager to learn and please," she said as she got up and sat next to Harry, seeing as you clearly didn't need as much guidance as you'd asked for. She leaned in closer to him, whispering into his ear. "and don't be afraid to guide her and be a little rough, she loves it,"

I leaned against Harry's leg and flicked my tongue over the slit on the cock head and moaned when I tasted the precum drops that were on there.

"You look like you belong there, darling. On your knees and with his cock in your mouth," Florence said while stroking my cheek. "Brace," she said, giving me a tiny warning before she slapped my cheek.

Shivering as the pain went straight to my pussy, I moaned loudly and took more of Harry in my mouth.

"Good girl, you're going to be such a good cock sucker aren't you? Going to beg to be on your knees all day and night long?" Florence teased.

I nodded around Harry's cock before moving my head up and down while sucking as hard as I could.

"Fuck, babe," Harry moaned as he gripped my hair. "Relax your throat and let me move you. If you need to stop, tap my leg three times," he said.

Looking up at him, I relaxed my throat the best I could while resting my hands on my thighs.

Harry grabbed onto my jaw with his free hand and started moving my head back and forth, pushing his cock further and further in each time.

"Bet you're dripping right now. Quite spoiled for choice now aren't you? Such a lucky slut to have a pussy and a cock to suck on," Florence said as she smirked.

I moaned and moved my hand over my pussy and gave it a little rub.

"Hey! None of that. Hands behind your back now," Harry said quickly as he let go of my jaw, pulled me off his cock, and gave me a slap to my other cheek.

Whimpering, I put my hands behind my back and looked at his cock.

"You want it back in your mouth?" Harry asked, holding me back with his grip on my hair when I tried to move closer.

"Yeah," I whined and pouted.

"Ask me," Harry said simply.

I whined louder and tried to move closer again but he kept holding me back. "Can I suck you again?" I asked finally.

"You can ask better than that, ask me like you mean it," he scoffed.

"Please, Harry. Want to suck your cock, please!" I begged and looked at him pleadingly.

"Why should I let you?" he asked while smirking.

I let out a little frustrated cry. "Cause I want to suck your cock, please! I want to taste you again and feel you inside my mouth! Please!" I begged.

"You our little cock slut, hmm? Going to wrap your pretty lips around my cock and let me fuck your face till I cum?" Harry teased as he used his free hand to stroke himself.

"Yeah," I moaned and stared at his cock, seeing a little drop of precum on the tip of his cock. "Please, let me suck your cock, sir, please. You can fuck my face if you want, just please," I whimpered and strained against his hold again.

"Since you asked so nicely," he said and pulled me close, shoving his cock into my mouth. We both moaned loudly as he started moving my head up and down.

"Your throat feels so good, such a good little cock sucker," he panted.

"Going to buy a polaroid camera and show you just what you look like this. Getting used so good so you have saliva running down your lips, red cheeks from getting slapped and your pussy dripping just from knowing you're a good little whore," Florence said.

I gripped my own hands tightly and shuddered at the thought, moaning around Harry's cock. Both of them chuckled.

"Remember, tap three times if you need me to stop," Harry said as he pushed his cock all the way in, hitting the back of my throat.

Gagging slightly, I blushed as I felt his pubes against my face. He pulled me off slightly before doing the same thing again. Moaning around him, I breathed in the smell of him.

"Jesus Christ," He groaned loudly and thrust into my mouth, shooting his cum down my throat. He let go of my hair and jaw after pulling me off him before he fell back on the bed. "Fuck,"

Florence looked at me proudly and wiped some of the drool off my cheek. "Good girl," she praised me.

I licked my lips and looked at his cock. "Again?" I asked hopefully.

#harry styles blurbs #harry/florence/reader

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I Wish I Could Leave This Alone (I Know How Much You Want Me To)

Babe Heffron x Reader (plus guest) One Shot

Summary: Babe’s birthday gift to you has an unexpected party crasher

Warnings: smut, angst, infidelity (?), reader overthinking while getting dicked down, I wrote this and immediately posted it so it will be edited at some point

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babe’s kiss was soft, but his touch was not.

 You couldn’t help the groan that escaped from the back of your throat as one of his hands gripped tightly at your hip, and when he smiled against your lips you couldn’t help but feel like you’d had done something to amuse him.

 “What?” you pant, leaning back at the waist to break the kiss and frowning at his smirk. 

 He chuckled warmly as he walked you backward towards your bed, the hand at your hip finding its way under your shirt and up against your sternum.

 “Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” he asked playfully, and you immediately felt guilty. 

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.” 

 Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.” 

 A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

 “Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

 He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

 “I remembered, by the way.”

 Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

 His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

 “I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about. 

 Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

 “Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

 “What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

 “Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

 With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark. 

 “And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

 Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

 “Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

 “Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

 The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

 “It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

 Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

 “Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

 “Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

 “Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

 Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

 “C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

 Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

 “God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before. 

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

 But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

 “Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window. 

 You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

 He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

 “How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

 “And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

 He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

 “Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

 Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

 He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

 “Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

 You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

 With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

 “Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

 The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face. 

 Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

 Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

 “Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

 “Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

 Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

 Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

 A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

 Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

 You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

 When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window. 

 Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

 Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

 A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow. 

 And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

 Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

 You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

 Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face. 

 A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

 You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

 You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

 You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

 But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission. 

 He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

 It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it. 

 You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on. 

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

 You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

 In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head. 

 I really am a monster.

 But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe. 

 You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

 “Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them. 

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

 As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

 You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

 Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity. 

 Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

 “Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

 “I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you. 

 But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

 You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

 Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back. 

 Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you. 

 The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

 As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go. 

 He didn’t want you to be his,  wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did. 

 All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

 “Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe. 

 He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

 With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

 Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

 “Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

 Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

 Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

 “I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

 If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber​ @tvserie-s-world​

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #ron speirs x reader #babe heffron imagines #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

#ted nivision #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison

[hotdamnhunnam]

Do What You’re Told

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Here’s Part 4 of our dirty adventures with Dom!Jax... featuring more smutty kinks from requests that came in, and some fluffy aftercare at the end! (Recommend reading Parts 1-3 before this final installment – links above! *Note that if Part 3 was too dark/degrading for you, Part 4 is a bit less intense, more like Parts 1 and 2. And the fluff at the end is SUPER FLUFFY, so there’s that too!*)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, edging, squirting, punishment, praise kink, spanking, rough sex, dom!Jax, dom to the fucking max, PLUS AFTERCARE AND LOVE AND FLUFF AND STUFF!!

Word Count: ~2.7k

... Continued from Part 3 [Read Here]

... And I’m gonna make sure it hurts.

You’re already in pain, at the force of his words. But this isn’t a game; there is more, so much more, still in store. And you’re both getting off on this absolute fucking torture.

Where you lie with your senses deprived—rendered blind, muffled mouth and hands tied—all your focus descends to the ache between your shaking thighs. You’re so desperate and wet that it feels like you’re actually going to die. And you honestly might. That’s how badly you need Jax’s dick to destroy you, to fill up your cunt and fulfill all the needs even deeper inside...

As he always does, Jax reads your mind. Leans in closer, lips ghosting across the soft skin of your neck with each word that he says, which feels fucking divine. “Bet you’re dying to cum. Aren’t you, bitch. Do you think you deserve such a privilege?”

Shaking your head, you continue to tremble like mad; you can feel Jax’s body weight shift on the bed. He’s on all fours on top of you now, primal and powerful as an animal ready to pounce, as that damn mouth begins drifting down. His slick tongue traces over your collarbone, making you moan, dipping into the hollow of your gasping throat, and then—holy shit—down to your tits.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he gushes, and the praise has you giddy with bliss. It was so unexpected, given that his dirty talk up till this moment has been downright wicked. As much as you love it, and need it, apparently praise is a whole other kink for you, too. If he’s looking to get you all heated, this shit is the ticket. “The way you surrender so sweetly.... completely... the way you submit. All tied up for me... desperate and needy... mmm, so fucking slutty. So pretty.”

Through his words, Jax keeps licking and nipping all over the sensitive flesh of your tits. Feels so good it hurts, blowing your senses to bits. Then those damn hands of his start to wander all over your body, his every move skillful and steady. The heat of the moment has both of you heaving and sweaty. He knows just how badly you need him to fuck you already.

“I bet I could get you to cum in a second,” he reckons. “One flick of my tongue on that dripping wet cunt. Would you like that, slut? That what you want?”

You groan into your gag, on the edge of your climax already and not sure if you can hold back...

Yet you’ll have to. Your right to cum doesn’t belong to you. Never has. That power and that privilege, like every other part of you, belongs to Jax.

The moment his fingers reach down to brush over your pussy and finally make contact... it feels as if every damn cell in your body is under attack. God, just a feather of a touch and you’re already turned to mush. Your pulse pounds in your skull like waves crashing, limbs thrashing, impulsively arching your back...

But that’s too fucking bad. Jax is not having that. “You don’t get to cum till I say you can. Understand?”

Fuck, it hurts just to summon the strength to obey his command...

His thumb circles over your clit, as he pushes two thick fingers suddenly into your slit. “Ughh—you’re so fucking soaked, holy shit...” he explosively grunts. Reaching up with his free hand, he roughly gropes one of your tits. “Yeah, that’s it. Be a good little cunt. Don’t you dare fucking cum. Or there’s gonna be some fucking serious punishment.”

That sounds like fucking hell. But also heaven, if you’re honest with yourself. Jesus Christ, Jax Teller has fucked you over so well.

Though you know that your role is to do what you’re told, you just can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to have Jax fucking punish your holes. You feel guilty and filthy for even imagining breaking commandments on purpose. Your job is to worship, obey, be of service. But if the consequence for disobedience is punishment... and if punishment is what you really want... isn’t it worth it?

Next thing you know, Jax’s sinful mouth slides further down your bare torso and starts to go dangerously low. And you’re no longer able to think; you have lost all control over every damn thing. When his tongue glosses over your throbbing wet cunt, you explode, on the instant, although you know you don’t deserve it. His mouth on your clit is pure magic—he’s too fucking perfect...

“Fucking shit,” Jax growls under his breath as your juices splash onto his beautiful face. You just wish you could watch, as he buries his face in your crotch. He’s unable to stop, lapping up every drop; always did love the way that you taste. “Look at that. Dirty slut. Fucking squirting all over the place. Didn’t I tell you to do as I say?” 

Yes, sir, but there was just no fucking way... you’re still riding so high, from how hard you just came, unable to reply, or to even remember your name.

“You think this is a game?” he snarls as he suddenly shifts higher up over your helpless body. Aggressively snatching the panties that he had stuffed into your mouth, yanking them out, to gag you with his tongue in its place, in a kiss that devours your face, letting you taste your own soaking shame. The flavor of just how disobedient you had been, how fucking naughty. “Like the way you taste? Yeah, you like sucking your pussy juice off of my face? Filthy bitch. Bet you want to get punished. Well, if that’s the game, this is how we’re gonna play.”

He then swiftly unfastens the ropes at your wrists, and manhandles you into another position of total submission: facedown on the bed with your ass in the air as he grabs a handful of your hair in his dominant fist. God, you can’t fucking wait to get punished like this. From where he kneels behind you, his massive cock grinds up against your ass crack, as he pulls your hair violently back.

“Now I want you to keep fucking count. Nice and loud. You got that?” he rasps, as the nails of his other hand scrape in a line down your sharply arched spine, then dig into the flesh of your ass. Ugh, you want this so bad... Jax still has more to say, before he dishes out the first smack. “And with each count, you’re gonna tell me and show me just how sorry you are for the stupid mistake you just made. For the rule you decided to break. Bitch, whatever I give, you will take.”

“Yes—yes, sir...!” you answer, grateful now that the gag is removed from your lips, so that you can express just how badly you want this.

“You’re gonna convince me that you’ve learned your place. Learned to do as I say. Better scream loud and clear,” Jax growls into your ear, “because if I don’t like what I hear... then you don’t get to cum for a whole fucking year.”

Before you can even react to the notion of that, his hand finally comes down on your ass with the first brutal smack.

“Fuck...!” you groan, your mind totally blown upon impact.

“That’s not a number, you pathetic little cunt.”

“One!” you shout, rushing then to spout desperate apologies out of your mouth, just as he had demanded. “I’m so fucking sorry for being so naughty, it won’t ever happen again, I’m so sorry...”

His hand comes down harder now. “Stupid slut. Sorry what.”

“S-sorry, sir!” you stammer, heart thudding like a damn jackhammer. “Sir, I’m so sorry...”

“Lost count already?”

“Two!” you scream, though by now he is onto the third, and he’s making them hurt. “Three! Three, sir, thank you for spanking me!”

“Mmm, that’s a good little whore. You want more?”

“Yes sir, please...” you can barely support your own weight on your knees. But you don’t dare collapse, desperate to stay in perfect position for each set of slaps. “F-fuck... four...!”

“What’s your purpose in life, whore?”

“To serve you, sir! You fucking own me; I’m yours... I’m a fucktoy that only exists for your pleasure... sir, I promise I won’t disobey orders, ever again... never...”

Time becomes a complete fucking blur. You can barely remember the numbers, but Jax keeps on dishing out smacks, each one savage and stronger, and somehow you keep track, for this is exactly what feeds both your hungers. Then at some point he finally aligns his huge cock with your crack, once he cannot hold back any longer.

“You think you’re ready for this dick?” he teases, rubbing the leaking pink tip against your swollen pussy lips, loving the way your cunt squeezes and drips. “You fucking better be, you dirty little bitch. You’ve fucking earned it.”

At this point you’re lucky to manage to form any words. “Oh fuck—shit... thank you, sir...”

He spreads apart your legs, then leans down lower now, soft lips grazing the back of your neck. You can feel the sweat drip from his brow, and the devilish smirk on his mouth with the words that he says. “Don’t thank me yet. This cock is gonna knock you dead.”

And that is exactly what happens next. Jax Teller’s monster cock rips through your dripping wet pussy and tears it to shreds. This is more than just sex—this is wreckage, in every damn sense, and you’re pretty sure your body just shattered into a million pieces and scattered all over the bed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, to the beat of your heart. And yet somehow this feeling of being so broken apart... feels like everything coming together.

You come undone just as soon as it starts. And don’t want it to end, ever. You’ve never felt such intense, painfully perfect pleasure. Stars flutter across your vision as you give yourself over in utter submission to Jax Fucking Teller. The way that he owns you is so raw and rough and yet so full of love. This sensation of absolute bliss... God, you honestly want him to just keep on fucking you, loving you like this, forever.

But no matter how endless your love is, the body has limits, of course—even yours—even his, despite what a damn sex god he is. So the sex is over in a matter of minutes. Maybe seconds. Whatever. Same difference.

But the aftereffects... this fucking afterglow... like, whoa. You stare into the black emptiness of your blindfold and are pretty sure you can see through to the heavens and count all the stars in a row. Jax is the only star that matters, though. The sun itself, your literal angel, his love the only heaven you will ever need to know...

Your mind is so blown that you’re barely sure what’s happening on earth, but you can sense his presence as he gently turns you over on your side, lifting the blindfold from your eyes, settling into place then to embrace you from behind, kissing your shoulders and your neck and cheek and every inch of you that he can find, for everything you’re worth, a hundred shades of soft and slow.

His warm hands soothe the skin of your wrists, massaging the faint marks from the ropes that he’d tied, as his loving lips soothe to the core of your soul with each kiss. Loving you back to life, after you had so blissfully basically died. Fucked to death in a way that fulfilled you so deeply inside.

“You are so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect,” he whispers it over and over again, as he kisses your face and your neck, words imprinting against every inch of your skin. Every cell of your body melts into his touch. “I love you, Y/N. Love you so fucking much.”

You would say the words back, but your heart is so full that you fear it might crack. So you let yourself stay in the haven of his sturdy forearms, so safe and so warm, and just bask in the love that you’re feeling from Jax. For he always knew just how much you love him, too. Never needed to ask.

Once some time has passed, Jax finally lets up his kisses-and-cuddles attack and lies back to relax, one hand lazily stroking your back. “You need anything, babe? Say the word and it’s yours,” he murmurs. “If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna have to surprise you. You know, read your mind like I always do.”

You turn around now to lie down on your other side, leaning in toward him so you can gaze up at his gorgeous face. “Really? Like on our first date when you ordered the one ice cream flavor I happen to hate?”

He rolls his blue eyes with a laugh and a sigh. “Hey, you know you liked it once you tried it—don’t tell me that wasn’t the best thing you ever ate...”

Smiling and cuddling into his chest, you press your lips against it in a soft kiss as you fondly reminisce. “You had me slobbering all over something better by the time the date was over, so I guess it didn’t matter anyway.”

“Damn straight,” he agrees, pulling you toward him more closely. “But seriously—I don’t know, doughnuts and coffee? Pizza and a movie? Full-body massage and braid your hair? You know I’m all about the service, darlin’, so my middle name is aftercare. Or we could sit and talk about our feelings? Maybe take a nice long hot shower together...?”

All of those things sound fucking amazing... but right now there’s one thing that feels even better. “Just shut up and hold me, Teller.”

He’s more than glad to go along with that. “Okay, babe. Whatever you say.”

In light of what had gone down earlier today, you can’t help but reply in a playful way, taking on a theatrical tone of command and control. “That’s right, Jackson. Do what you’re told.”

He laughs again, the laugh that lights up your entire world. “Guess that line’s never gonna get old... you know, outside the bedroom I promise that’s gonna be my role.”

You know Jax will never forgive himself for what had happened, no matter how quick you had been to forgive him. “To listen? Be submissive and obedient?”

“Mm-hmm. Always. No matter what stupid shit I might say in the moment. My alpha male ego rears up now and then, but I promise I won’t disrespect you like that again, ever again,” he vows, holding you even closer now. “Deep down you know I’m your bitch, Y/N. You are my queen. Always have been.”

God, you could die from just how much you love him. The way Jax just admitted he’s totally pussy-whipped by you is really adorable, but on some level you want to devote yourself to him in real life as well—while still being a strong independent woman, self-sufficient and respectable. There’s no use in trying to hide it or fight it. “Well, let’s not let it get too one-sided... we can talk more about respect in our relationship and all that shit some other day. But for now let’s agree that when it comes to sex, you will always be king, okay?”

Your man is totally on board with that plan. “Sure thing. Gives my alpha male ego a great way to play, and you seem to be... into it...”

“Maybe, a little bit.”

“Baby, you love that shit. Almost as much as I love you.”

“Yeah, guess I do. Love you, too.”

For the next several hours the two of you cuddle up under the covers, melt into each other, and make out like innocent lovers. The slut in you can’t help but wonder how long it will take till he’s ready to play king again... but you’ll wait till he makes the first move. And will happily just keep on cuddling till then. Because with you and Jax Teller, the only thing that’s better than the sex has always been the love.

***************

And that’s the end of this fic!!!! I really hope you enjoyed this, and would LOVE to hear if you did! ❤️

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[yikesharringrove]

Oooh spin the usual narrative around and maybe Steve got some really cool tattoos on his back after high school and Billy is just being all sweet on him later and notices them and LOVES them and is all like "ride me and show me" and won't let Steve finish until he describes all his tatts on his back

Smut

-

Billy hadn’t been in Hawkins, Indiana for about three years.

He had fled pretty much as soon as he got that diploma, had packed up his car the night before, tossed his stupid cap and gown in the trunk, and just fucking left.

But here he was, ready to watch Max and the rest of her brats graduate.

He was standing, feeling weird in his best shirt, sweating under the Hawkins sun.

And there was Steve Harrington. Of course he would come for his kids, was probably gonna tear up as they made their way across the stage. He could see Steve’s big hair sitting close to the front, with Henderson’s mom, looking just the same.

He spent the entire ceremony glaring holes in the back of Steve’s head, only looked up when Maxine Elizabeth Mayfield stomped across the stage, rolling her eyes as Susan and Neil made a big to-do somewhere in the crowd.

Then went right back to staring at Harrington.

He looked good.

Like, still looked as hot as he did in high school, but he looked,

he looked like a man.

He had shot stubble along his jaw, and he looked a little more filled out.

He was waiting for Max, standing with her mother off to the side when Steve turned, and noticed Billy.

His eyes went wide, and he began making his way over.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Long time no see.” He pulled Billy into a hug, a tight, sweet good-smelling hug. “You look good, man.” He smiled brightly at Billy.

“Yeah, Harrington. You too.” And he did.

“Hey, uh, all the kids are having a little shindig at The Byers’, I’d love to catch up with you.” He rubbed down Billy’s arm, made him so much fucking hotter than the bright sun.

-

The kids’ party was a nice barbecue in the Byers’ backyard.

They were all running around, getting in food fights and being stupid idiots.

Billy can respect that, the last summer before leaving all your friends.

Billy didn’t really have friends to leave, though. Just kinda, left, one day.

He kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, watched the way he smiled and laughed with the kids, the way his eyes kept flicking back to Billy.

The sun was beginning to set when Steve came over to the stairs Billy was perched on, two beers in hand.

He gave Billy one, settling right next to him.

“So, what have you been up to? Been, what three years?” Billy had left the day he graduated, hopped in his car and didn’t stop ‘till he saw the ocean.

“Moved back home. I’m working at a garage, now.” Steve gave him another nice smile. “Saving up to maybe go to school, or get a house or something.” He shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “What about you? Got a girlfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not really, dating right now.” A slow grin spread over Billy’s face.

“Just fuckin’?” Steve’s cheeks went red, but he didn’t deny anything. “Yeah, me too, Harrington.”

Steve laughed, pushing at his rolled up shirt sleeve.

It was just under his elbow, and Billy zeroes in on dark black ink winding down to an elegant curl on the side of his elbow.

“Any good stories?” Billy licked over his teeth.

He had stopped pretending in California, didn’t really want to here either.

“Well, I mean, there was this one guy, just absolute maniac. He had this thing about getting caught, so we’d go out to shitty bars, see how long it took before we got kicked out. We got away with a lot at most of ‘em, though.”

He watched Steve carefully, didn’t even see a twitch.

And then,

“Oh, I was kinda seeing a guy like that.” Billy’s brain shorted out. “There’s a gay bar down the block from my place in Chicago, and he’d take me out on the dance floor, and this one night, we just about fucked before someone noticed what we were doin’. It was kinda fun.”

Billy’s mind was racing, pictured pulling Steve onto a crowded dance floor, pushing his hands down his pants, fingering him, letting him rut against his thigh until he cums in his pants.

“So you, you’re gay?”

“Bi, actually. Figured that one out right away after movin’.”

“Yeah? Let your queer little flag fly?”

“It’s been fun.” Steve shrugged. Billy licked his lips, had an idea.

“Y’know, you coulda been havin’ fun way before you moved.” He leaned into Steve’s space, looking at him through his lashes.

Steve’s cheeks went red.

“It’s not too late, is it?” Billy stood up, tugging his keys out of his jeans pocket.

“I got a shitty motel room bed with your name on it, Pretty Boy.” Steve scrambled behind him, tossing himself into the passenger seat of his car.

He grinned at Billy.

-

Billy drove like a bat outta Hell, getting Steve to his motel room as fast as possible.

He led him inside, slamming Steve against the door the minute they got in.

He kissed Steve roughly, licking inside his mouth.

Steve moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons on Billy’s shirt.

Billy pulled him, shoving him onto the bed, taking Steve’s shirt off in turn.

And there was the ink.

It curled down both of Steve’s arms, leading from his back.

“Holy shit.” Billy traced on of the curling tendrils. “Never begged you for a tattoo type.” Steve shrugged, his eyes flicking down to trail over Billy’s body.

“I like it.”

“Can I see?” Steve pushed on him gently, but then he got an idea. “Wait,” he grinned at Steve. “Ride me and let me see them.” Steve smiled devilishly back up at him.

He pushed Billy, swapped their positions.

He was straddling his waist, could feel how hard Billy was underneath him.

“Only if you get me all ready.”

Billy undid Steve’s belt, tearing his khakis open.

Steve sat up, awkwardly wiggling out of them to sit back down, completely naked on Billy’s lap. He took Billy’s hand, kept direct eye contact as he sucked on Billy’s fingers.

He was like a fucking pornstar, his eyes going all dark and sultry as he licked over Billy’s fingers, sucked them into his mouth.

“Jesus, Stevie. You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Steve smirked at him, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, guiding Billy’s hand around his hips, leaning forward over Billy.

“Go ahead.” Billy jostled him a little closer, rubbing his spit slick fingers over his hole.

He pushed one inside.

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned, so loud and pretty.

“God, wished we had done this years ago.” Billy was now pumping his finger in and out of Steve.

“I was pretty repressed back then. Don’t know if I would’ve done this.” Billy eased in another finger. Steve took him so well.

“Then, glad I got here just in time.”

“Welcome to my slutty phase.” He grinned at Billy, grinding his hips back and forth on his fingers.

Billy spread his fingers, scissoring them open and closed, getting him open. Steve squirmed a little.

“Just like,” he took Billy’s wrist, shoving his fingers in deeper. Billy curled his fingers. “Oh, yeah.” He started tossing his ass back, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers. “Fuck.”

He collapsed forward, burying his face in Billy’s neck.

Billy tried to get a look at the dark ink covering him from neck to upper ass cheek.

“I’m I’m ready.” Steve bat Billy’s hand away, turning around.

He lined up Billy’s cock, sinking down on it.

Billy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groaned. Steve felt like Heaven.

He looked over his shoulder, tossing him a wry smile. Billy clung to his hips.

“Like what you see?”

The tattoo was beautiful.

It was an intricate monster, tall and skeletal, a face like a flower, opened up with rows and rows of horrible teeth. There appeared to be black smoke coming from behind the monster, delicate furls of something, maybe vines? They climber up Steve’s shoulders, wrapped around his arms.

It shouldn’t have been sexy, staring at this thing while Steve bounced on his cock, but it was Steve bouncing on his cock, tossing his head back and moaning.

“What do you think?”

“I think, you don’t get to cum until I tell you all my thoughts on this art.” Steve moaned loudly. “This fuckin’, fuckin’ monster. Black ink looks real pretty on you, Baby.”

Steve turned again to look over his shoulder.

“Tell me about it.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be turned on, lookin’ at this thing. It’s like, it’s like it’s screaming at me.” Steve shuddered. Billy didn’t know if it was a good shudder or a bad one. “I can, I can see the saliva in it’s mouth.”

And then Steve stopped, panting heavily.

He pulled off of Billy, turning to face him again.

“Sorry, that’s just, you know, not the best dirty talk material.” Billy grinned at him.

In one swift motion he rolled on top of Steve, slamming his way back inside of him.

“You want good material? You want me to tell you about how often I jerked off to you in high school? Pictured how pretty your lips would look around my cock? Thought about how tight your little hole would be?”

That was apparently the stuff.

Steve’s eyes were wide, his hair wild on the pillow behind him. He was panting shallowly, just accepting what Billy was giving him.

“Thought about taking you all kindsa ways. Thought about bendin’ you over in the showers after P.E. and just fucking you right there, in front of everyone.”

Steve’s back arched beautifully, and his thighs trembled against Billy’s sides as he came, thick white spunk sticking their stomachs together.

“Yeah? That get you going? The idea of people watching, of being made my bitch?”

“Jesus, Billy, I already finished.” His cock gave a flimsy little kick as if proving his point.

“Yeah, now I’m getting myself off.” Steve laughed at him, shifting his hips to let Billy drive in deeper.

“That what get you there? Pining me down? Making me your bitch?” Billy moved a little faster, a little rougher. “Now’s your chance, Tiger. Gimme your cum, ruin me.”

Billy bit down on Steve’s neck, made him yelp as he bucked his hips, cumming inside of him.

He breathed for a minute, rolling off of Steve.

Steve stretched like a cat, wincing slightly.

“Lemme see your art again. Was a little distracted with the sight of my dick in your ass.” Steve laughed, rolling over onto his stomach.

Billy traced the monster’s mouth with light fingers.

“It’s cool.”

“Will Byers drew it. Kind of reminds me to, you know, put the past behind me. I know it’s cheesy but,” he shrugged, trailing off.

“Sometimes cheesy works.” Steve’s cheek was smushed against the pillow as he studied Billy.

“What’s it like being back in Hawkins? Must be weird coming back after being gone.”

“Nah. Nothing’s really changed. Weirder coming in blind that first time.” He traced one of the black vines. “I thought you were in Chicago?”

“I am. Only moved out there about six months ago. Didn’t get into college or anything, so I’ve been working shitty jobs, saving up some money. Thinking about running away some more. Get further away.”

“You’re always welcome in California. I got a pull out couch.” He licked over his teeth. “Or you could share my bed.”

“Are you asking me to give you sex in exchange for a place to stay?”

“You did say you’re in your slutty phase.” Steve laughed, burying his face in the pillow.

“We’ll see if I get desperate enough to get outta here to take you up on that offer.”

“You could drive back with me. Stay for awhile, fly back. See if you like it.”

High school Billy would be creaming in his pants right about now, asking Steve Harrington to run away to California with him.

Steve looked at him, his face unreadable.

“I could go for a little adventure.”

#this turned into something......else #i didn't know what to pick for the tattoo so i went demogorgon but then #figured steve prolly wouldnt want THAT brought up while he was getting dicked into next week. #yikes writes #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

[samwrights]

Also (I did another ask so you can take your time) something nsfw with Iwa? Like you’re really close to Oikawa and he basically try to get you a boyfriend but every date is terrible to the point that one night you said to Iwa that you’re not “good looking” enough for someone to stay and then BAM he’s in the mood “Iwa praising you” 👀👀👀

Let’s just change No Filter Friday to Fuck Iwaizumi Friday

Warning: consumption of alcohol, language, praising, groping, slight dub-con (?)

“Dude, I am so fucking sick of this shit.” You snarl, barging into the shared apartment of Oikawa Tōru and Iwaizumi Hajime. Not necessarily an estranged occurrence, considering you and Oikawa were best friends. Even more so than the aforementioned roommates. The latter is sitting on their couch, perking up a little when you slam the weighted front door to the apartment. “Where the fuck is shittykawa?”

“Uh, he went out?” Iwaizumi flicks the television to pause the show he’s watching before peeling himself off the couch. For a moment, the ace stands still, watching you pace around his apartment tugging at your own hair while each step is accompanied the clomping of your heels against the hardwood. “What did he do now?”

“He keeps setting me up on these bunk ass blind dates and they all turn out to be fucking dicks!” Without permission or prompting, you all but stomp over towards their stainless steel fridge, grabbing the first beer bottle you set your sights on. Looking at the label, you scoffed. What college kid, athletes no less, stocked their fridge with heavy beers such as stouts?

Whatever, alcohol is alcohol.

Unceremoniously, you crack off the cap before pulling the the bulbous opening to your lips and taking rapid, unyielding glugs of the syrupy ale. Slamming the now half empty bottle on the granite counter, you wipe the residue, along with your nude inner lipstick off the back of your hand. “Who’d he set you up with this time? It was supposed to be Miya Atsumu tonight, right?”

“Yes,” you seethe, “he basically said that Tōru was wasting his time trying to find someone stupid enough to date me.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. While it wasn’t what Atsumu said verbatim, he may as well have. To be more accurate, he more so said that Tōru was never going to find anyone that met your standards and the whole blind date thing was just wasted efforts.

“You know that’s not true, [name].” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, arms still folded over his broad chest as he slinks into the kitchen beside you as down the rest of the stout and fiend for another bottle. He made a mental note to bill you later.

“At this rate, maybe he’s got a point. Maybe I expect way too much for an ugly bitch.” You let out a laugh before allowing the tiny bubbles of the alcohol to fill your throat instead.

“Oh come on,” he groans, rolling his olive eyes in addition to his whole head, “you know you’re hot—don’t start that whole act.” The words leave his lips so nonchalantly, so uncaring even, making you choke on the liquid until the brown ale is sputtering out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?” In response, Iwaizumi just quirks a brow once again in confusion. Did he not realize what he just said or...?

“What?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, did you just call me hot?” Oh. Did you not know that? What an insane concept.

“Yeah? That’s a known fact?” Huh. That was news to you. Why was he acting so casual about of it? Judging the look on your face, Iwaizumi realizes you’re entirely unaware of this little campus-wide fact. “[name], why do you think Oikawa carries a list of people that are dying to date you?”

Huh? “What? N-no, t-that’s not—“

“Oikawa hasn’t been setting you up, he’s been setting them up with you because they all beg him for a chance with you.”

Then there’s silence. A long, awkward silence that can’t even be tampered off with you languidly sipping at the stolen stout. “I’m still waiting for you to say psyche,” you admit. The ace groans, rolling his eyes again before snatching one of your wrists and dragging you back to the foyer. The two of you are standing in front of the large, entryway mirror with Iwaizumi standing behind you and the two of you locking eyes in the mirror.

“You’re the one girl on campus that nobody can touch,” he starts off slowly, pulling your hair away from where it had fallen over your shoulders so that your locks didn’t obstruct his view. “Of course, the first thing everyone notices is your face. Specifically, your lips.” As he speaks, he plants one hand at your waist, the other coming to have his digits ghost over your full, plump lips, still covered in lipstick despite you trying to remove the dry residue earlier.

“W-what are you—“

“Personally, I really like your collarbones.” Iwaizumi interrupts, tracing his fingers along the taut flesh before cupping one of your breasts over the velvet black crop top you were wearing. “Surprised you went with a push up bra, today. You don’t need it.” Your face burns beet red as he gives said tit a reassuring squeeze before stepping closer and pulling your back flush against his broad chest.

Iwaizumi leans closer, eye contact remaining through the mirror as his heady breaths fan out over your neck. His hand drags down roughly from your breast, down your stomach before grabbing your ass over your dark washed denim. “You really don’t feel everyone staring at your ass everyday? Or wonder why I walk behind you and Oikawa on the way to class?”

“I thought you didn’t like being around the both of us.”

“Nah, I just wanted to look at your butt.” Iwaizumi’s hand gives your behind one more squeeze in addition to his lips anchoring themselves at the base of your neck. But something isn’t making sense to you, even through the cloudy haze of lust washing over you as he gropes.

“Y-you said everyone’s been asking Oikawa to set them up with me, so what about you?” A snort leaves his nostrils, accompanied with laughter rumbling in his throat and it doesn’t go over your head that you can feel him. You can feel the vibration of his skin against yours as he suckles on your neck, marking his newfound territory, no doubt. You feel the shaking of his chest as he’s pressed against your clothed back. You can feel his hardening erection through his jeans, threatening to break through the zipper as it presses into your lower back—you can feel all of him with only thin clothing acting as a barrier.

“Oikawa said I wasn’t allowed to even try. Something about being the third wheel,” he mumbles, traveling to the other side of your neck. This time his attention is significantly less as he takes the hand anchored at your waist to pull your chin towards him, eye contact solidifying in real time rather than being held together through a mirror. “I really wanna kiss you.”

“So do it.” And that’s all he needs. All the permission he needed before allowing his mouth to all but swallow your own, his tongue ravaging the inside of your cavern and unleashing years of pent up desire and depravity. You turn on your heel, pushing yourself to be chest to chest with Iwaizumi, draping your arms over him to clutch at the fabric of his shirt covering his torso.

Iwaizumi presses harder into you, forcing you to stumble into the mirror as his tongue massages the roof of his mouth. His large hands, no longer satisfied with feeling fabric in them, start stripping you of your shirt and bra hastily before throwing them onto the floor. “So fucking pretty, baby.” The ace mumbles, olive green eyes locked with yours as he takes one nipple into his mouth. “I’ve fantasized about this every day for years.” A moan escapes your lungs, though you’re unsure if the admission is the cause or the ministrations themselves.

“I-Iwa...”

“Don’t wanna fantasize anymore,” he drawls, tongue swirling around the pebble of your hardened nipple, “lemme fuck your pretty pussy, baby. Wanna feel you nice and tight around my dick.” Your hands frantically clutch at the back of his shirt, shedding the fabric hastily before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down along with his boxers.

Iwaizumi Hajime has a pretty cock. Who knew? It’s a beautiful amalgam of olive toned skin blushed bright red, weeping precum and screaming for relief.

Despite the minimal preparatory work, Iwaizumi learns that you’re absolutely soaked as he peels your underwear off and plunges his cock in with no preamble because Jesus Christ, he needs to stuff his length as far in as he can possibly go. “Holy shit,” he drawls.

For just a moment, the two of you are still, save for the way your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you both try to catch your breath. Iwaizumi is grinning, canines poking out as he grins, and despite the events that lead to his dick being buried inside you, there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes the dusty olive hue seem to shine like peridots. As he finally feels oxygen returning to his brain and settling the dizziness that overwhelms him, he lets out a soft laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” but you know by his tone there’s more to it than just nothing, “never thought I’d get to say I’m the one fucking the sexiest girl on campus.” By the way the walls of your warmth momentarily clench around his length before relaxing again, Iwa knew he’d done something right. Apparently the praise was going straight from your ears to your pussy. “So fucking tight, too.” He adds, moving his hips slightly to allow the weight of his dick to pressure your nerves. The slow movements in addition to his lips that were now latched onto your collarbones made you dizzy, made you want to scream. “Lemme hear your voice, baby,”

If that was supposed to be a warning, the warning did little to prepare you for the intensity of his hips bucking into yours rapidly and ferociously. Thank god or whoever was up there that Iwaizumi was holding you in place because surely you would have slid to the ground with the way your feet were nearly dangling above the floor. On every withdrawal of his cock, a breathy whine leaves your lips, wordlessly begging and crying for more. “Be a good girl and wrap your legs around me, ‘kay?” The ace manages out between his own pants. You could only oblige.

The slightest shift allows the curve of his dick to nuzzle and nestle along your g-spot ever so slightly, teasingly coaxing your walls to tighten to prolong the feeling of Iwaizumi filling you whole. The entire time, the only sounds leaving your lips are broken sobs of the name of the man fucking you while he is spewing every filthy thought that came to mind. “You feel so fucking good around me, baby.”

“Want you to cum in me,” you mumble, nestling your face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder while laying limp in his control.

“Yeah, gonna take my cum like a good girl?” In response, you could only nod because words were just not a thing right now. “I asked you a question, baby girl.”

“Yes!” You cry out, unaware of the sound of the locks turning not even three feet from the two of your entangled bodies as Oikawa opens the door to the apartment.

“Iwa, I’m—oh what the fuck guys.”

#samwrights #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu!! #nsfhq #no filter fridays #haikyuu iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi is perf bf #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter nineteen.

wc: 1,974. original publish date: november 20, 2020. 

There is an inevitable happiness that comes with falling in love. When all the worries and doubts and insecurities are stripped away, what is left is the knee-shaking nervousness, the stomach-wrenching elation, the childishly giddy happiness. Sometimes it feels like falling asleep at midnight or waking up with a smile. Sometimes it feels like standing thigh-deep in an icy ocean, waiting for a wave that never crashes. Sometimes all there is to be done is to wait for the wave to crash.

JFK's smile falls, but he tries to hide it from Van Gogh. Why didn't he say it back? Is he going to say it back?

All Van Gogh can do is stare up into JFK's green eyes, waiting for him to say something else. To change the subject. To take his response as something positive. To let it satisfy him. To move on.

A weak wave fizzes against the shoreline. The ocean draws back and the world is silent.

"I love you, Vincent," Kennedy says again, less sure of himself this time.

Van Gogh swallows, and there is a pause in conversation. "I am falling down a rabbit hole that I didn't even know existed and it's longer and darker than the one I fell through to get here."

Sometimes answers only make half a bit of sense. Sometimes that has to be good enough.

"And what's it like?" John asks. "The rabbit hole, that is."

"It's dark," Vincent replies on an exhale, never breaking eye contact.

Now Kennedy swallows. His grip on Van Gogh never loosens. "Do you like it there?"

"No," Vincent replies too quickly. "I want to fall through it. To feel my feet on the ground."

"You're afraid of the dark," JFK states.

"I'm afraid of the dark," Vinnie agrees.

A wave slams up against the boys' legs, more powerful than the first one. It fizzes out against the shore, spitting sea foam across the sand.

"Kiss me," Vincent says. "Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like we're in love."

"We are in love," JFK protests, but his voice is small.

Van Gogh stares up at John, his eye contact so intense that JFK thinks about breaking it. He blinks, and for a split second, he considers turning his head away. But he doesn't. He sees it through.

"It's really dark in here."

"And you're afraid of the dark."

Van Gogh wraps his arms around the taller boy's neck and pulls his face down so their lips meet. He doesn't pull back when he should. He waits to break the kiss until he's sucked every last bit of saltwater off of JFK's lips. He only opens his eyes when he hears another wave fizz against the sand.

"Do you want to leave?" Jack asks when Van Gogh finally lets him go.

Vincent breaks eye contact for the first time. "I want my sketchbook."

JFK's lips twitch. All of this, and it's still not enough for him. All of this, and all he wants is his fucking sketchbook.

"I don't know where it is," John replies.

Van Gogh looks out across the water. He mumbles in response. "But I know that's not true."

"I think we should go," JFK suggests, ignoring the boy's comment.

"Go where?"

"Home."

Vincent sticks his gaze back onto JFK. "Do you even still want our home?"

JFK furrows his eyebrows. "Of course I do."

Van Gogh retreats his touch from JFK and wraps his arms around himself. "And I want out of this rabbit hole."

"So come home," Kennedy begs.

"Do you want me there?"

Kennedy sighs, realising too late how exasperated he sounds. "Yes, Vinnie, I want you there. After all of this, and you think I'd just cast you aside?"

Vincent takes a second to find his voice. "Yes."

JFK lets his guard down, suddenly remembering who he's dealing with. He was given half a person to work with. He'd thought he was special enough to make the boy whole. But it's not like anyone sells missing pieces for people. The ocean draws back after a wave, and an undercurrent tugs against the hem of JFK's t-shirt.

"You said you believed me when I told you I wouldn't leave."

Van Gogh inhales. "You don't get to be mad at me over this."

"I'm not-" JFK sighs. "I'm not mad at you. I just think you could make this a little easier on me."

Vincent scoffs. "A little easier on you? Are you fucking kidding me? You're Mr. Big Shot Jock! Everyone is in love with you! I mean- god! You're ten times more attractive than me! We don't look like a couple! We don't look like we belong together! You have so many other options, and you're mad at me because I can't trust that you're different from everyone else? That you won't pick up and leave when I become too much to handle? When you decide you don't want me anymore? Jesus Christ, Jack. I thought you knew better. I thought you said you could do this. I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into, but I guess not."

JFK goes silent for longer than he knows he should. A wave crashes, stubborn enough to make Van Gogh wobble. The calm before the storm is ending.

"I do know what I'm getting into. But I wish you had a little more faith in yourself."

"Self-doubt is taught," Vincent counters.

Kennedy shrugs. "Maybe. But it's also fixable."

Van Gogh scoffs again, looking away from the boy. "You say fixable like you mean curable. Like it's a disease."

"Change is a choice."

"I know that."

JFK sighs. "So are you going to make it?"

Vincent swallows, returning his attention to John. His quicksand eyes are full, and not of light. His lip quivers. His skin goes pale, but it's not because of the water. His gaze is glossed over, like he's not really here. Like he's thinking. Like he's remembering.

"No one else ever made that choice for me. I was always the one who had to make the choice for them."

JFK nods. "So you're tired of making it."

"So I don't think I should have to."

"You're better than them."

Van Gogh shivers. "I'm freezing."

"Let's get out of the water."

Vincent agrees, and JFK guides him back to land. He holds the shorter boy's shoulder, pulling him close and making sure he doesn't fall in any holes. The ocean's currents are unpredictable. The sand beneath their feet could give out at any moment.

The boys step out of the water, their legs pale and bumpy from the cold. The sand is rough against their ankles, harsher than when they were in the water. Van Gogh bends down to pick up a seashell discarded onto the shoreline by the waves, a jagged crack etched down the middle. He bends it until he breaks. Vincent keeps one half of the shell and gives the other to JFK.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

Van Gogh answers in a low voice, "Just hold it."

John obeys, too nervous to say anything else. It shocks him that he'd forgotten about this part of his best friend -- the part where he withholds details, doesn't share everything that's on his mind. Vincent never gives out the final puzzle piece. Not anymore, at least. He used to give it out, but he never got it back. It was taken away from him, like all the people who ever left.

They walk down the beach, the foamy waves licking at their feet. They keep a foot in between them -- just enough distance to be separate but not enough to feel alone. JFK bends down after walking a few more yards. His eye is caught by a smooth and shiny black rock, flat enough to close his hand around.

"What's that?" Vincent asks, holding his seashell half close to his chest.

Kennedy's gaze flicks over to the boy. "It's a skipping stone."

Van Gogh chuckles. "I never learned how to skip."

JFK examines the rock in his hand, holding it close to his face and turning it over before his eyes. "Me neither. I just always sort of knew."

Vincent shrugs. "Could you show me?"

Something inside JFK lurches and tells him not to say anything. Going down to the river just outside of town to skip stones with his foster dads was part of his childhood. He hadn't met Van Gogh yet. Doesn't he have to keep their lives separate somehow?

But Vincent looks so hopeful, so genuinely interested. JFK nods softly.

"To be honest, I don't know how to explain it," John admits.

Van Gogh smiles politely. "You never were very good at explaining."

Kennedy nods in agreement. "I'm trying to get better," he replies, begging Vincent to meet his gaze.

The shorter boy locks his eyes with JFK's. "Are you trying for me, or for you?"

"Does it matter?"

Van Gogh takes a deep breath. "I guess not."

JFK nods, satisfied with the boy's answer. He turns toward the water, and Vincent does the same. "Okay, so first, you've gotta get a flat rock."

"Like the one you have," Van Gogh comments.

"Exactly. And then, you sort of hold it in between your thumb and your middle finger, like this," he shows the boy. "And, like, rest the rock on your index finger. But bend it. See how I'm doing that?"

Vincent nods to show that he understands.

"And then you wanna face the water, but angle your body the slightest bit. And really what you're doing is flicking your wrist. It doesn't come from your hand. It's from your wrist."

JFK lets the rock fly, and both boys watch as it skips over the water three times. It probably would've gone farther, had they been standing closer to the water. It's still impressive to Van Gogh, though, who's never seen anyone do that before. He seems to be bewildered by everything the boy does.

"You wanna try now?" John asks, turning to the boy.

Van Gogh shakes his head. "No. I want to go home."

JFK frowns. "But you wanted me to teach you."

"No, I asked you to show me," Vincent shrugs weakly. "And besides, I couldn't do it like you can."

The taller boy's frown deepens. "I wouldn't expect it to be perfect the first time around. What I just did -- that took years of practice. A lot of weekends of my dads taking me down to the river to practice and me being horrible. Nothing is perfect on the first try."

"Why are you mad at me right now?" Vincent asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm not mad, Vincent. I just don't know why you do this."

"Why I do what? I'm not doing anything."

JFK sighs, and this time he doesn't care how exasperated he sounds. "That's my point. A lot of things come easily to you. All your art and your grades in school and stuff -- you've never struggled with any of that. You've become so accustomed to just being good at everything that you never try anything new because the worst thing in the world is to be bad at something."

Van Gogh's jaw clenches. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

The world is still, except for the low waves of the ocean. The fizzing and drawing back of the water fills up the boys' ears. Finally, Vincent speaks, his voice so quiet it's a miracle it drowns out the ocean.

"Teach me how to drive a car."

"I already said I would-"

"Teach me how to drive your car," Van Gogh clarifies, and his face is so stoically serious that all JFK can do is swallow.

"Then let's go," he replies. "I'll teach you how to drive a car."

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #writing #limitless.

[witcherslittledove]

All Tied Up

Joey Batey/Henry Cavill RPF - Also on AO3

Rating: E

Summary: All of the things Joey had expected from his first day back on set, he hadn't expected to spend the morning in a harness and chained up. And he really hadn't expected Henry to be staring at him like that. It was going to be a hard day.

CW: Light spoilers for Blood of Elves, bondage, references to torture (for Jaskier not Joey), exhibitionism, masturbation, hand jobs, frottage, multiple orgasms

Thanks to @jaskiertheflowertwink for being my beta!

__________

Joey tugged at the cuffs of Jaskier’s doublet, it felt strange to be back on set after so many months away, trapped in his flat with Madeleine. Luckily, Jaskier was an easy character to settle into, almost like a second skin. The bard was eager to come out and play, taking the edge off of Joey’s anxiety. With Jaskier, he almost forgot how much he fucking hated other people. Still, not even Jaskier could save him from first day nerves, and Lauren hadn’t started his shoot off easy. Joey was diving straight into a torture scene, and he would be spending the majority of the day hung up from the ceiling in ropes and shackles, waiting for darling Anya to come and save him. It wouldn’t be real of course, there would be harnesses and all sorts of wires to make sure he wasn’t injured, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. The harness was already bulking out his costume, and chafing the insides of his thighs.

 And after the mess of the pandemic, Joey wasn’t sure how he felt about losing control and being trapped for the afternoon. It unnerved him. He wanted to be free, and thought of the shackles around his wrists just… nope.

 “Hey?” Henry came up from behind him, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 “What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” Joey mumbled, staring up at the set. “First day back and all. It’s like being back at school.”

 “You’ll be fine, Joey. You’re an incredible actor and I couldn’t ask for a better bard,” Henry reassured him, his voice low and gravelly in Joey’s ear. It was unreasonably hot. Honestly, Joey knew that Henry was fucking Superman but did he really have to be so godlike, and on top of that he was a complete dork.

 Perhaps Joey could invite him to a D&D game once they were done shooting season two. Would that be too weird? It was probably too weird. They were just colleagues. Christ, Joey hadn’t even seen Henry since they’d finished promoting the show the year before. He really needed to get a grip, and ignore Jaskier’s voice in the back of his head. They were not best friends, and Henry would not want to play a shitty Dungeons and Dragons game with him.

 Okay. Not shitty. His games were pretty fucking brilliant, but Henry would be too busy with his PC games, and his War Hammer and whatever cooler nerd stuff that he got up to in between his work outs and eating far too many chicken breasts and smoothies.

 Jesus Christ, he missed Madeleine.

 He didn’t say any of that aloud, no, that was for the safety of his own thoughts, racing at a million miles per hour. Instead, he channeled Jaskier and laughed, hiding his anxiety behind the more confident mask that had fooled millions of people into loving him. “Now, now, witcher,” he teased. “We both know you don’t mean that, what was it you said? If life could give me one blessing.”

 “Oh fuck that, we’ve both read the books,” Henry groused, rolling his eyes.

 His very, very blue eyes. He was in full make-up except for the yellow contacts and it was just weird to see Henry’s eyes looking back at him from Geralt’s face. It was confusing. Were they Henry and Joey right now? Or Geralt and Jaskier?

 Perhaps a weird blend of the two.

 And it was only the first fucking day.

 Joey chuckled, “Yeah, talking of which, why are you here, Henry? I don’t recall Geralt being Jaskier’s Prince Charming in this scene.”

 Henry shrugged. “It’s your first day, I wanted to see how you are.”

 Joey swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, and he flicked his fringe from his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wanted to run his hands through his hair but the poor hair and make-up team would have his balls in a vice if he tried. It was bad enough that he kept pulling at his costume, but luckily he seemed to have made fidgeting into a characteristic for Jaskier. He grinned, settling back into the character more than ever. “So, you came to see me all tied up?”

 Henry, the bastard, winked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 Joey squeaked, feeling his cheeks heat up beneath the make-up. He tried to laugh it off but holy fucking cock balls… was Henry actually flirting with him? And about bondage of all things. Fuck. He was not going to survive the day, not if Henry was watching him.

 No. It was going to be fine. He was an actor, a professional. He wasn’t going to get hard on set just because his unfairly attractive co-star was watching him. The harness was uncomfortable. He’d probably be in pain and there would be an entire crew watching him. There was absolutely no reason to get hard.

 So… naturally… he got hard.

 Getting into the rigging was awkward and possibly the least sexy thing he had ever done in his entire life, which was really saying something. The shackles around his wrist didn’t hurt at first but his arms became tired quickly. He opted to stay in the rigging as much as he could between takes though. It was better for continuity and, well, if he was being truly honest with himself, he was enjoying the way Henry looked at him. It was intense, not dissimilar to how Geralt looked at Yennefer whenever she entered the room, but this time that burning desire wasn’t directed at Anya, it was directed at him… and Henry wasn’t acting.

 It was all incredibly distracting, but having Henry there made him completely forget about his previous anxiety of being tied up for the morning. Something about the other actor’s presence was grounding and Joey trusted Henry not to let him get hurt, more than he trusted the crew, which was completely stupid and probably the result from some teenage crush. He was lucky that he only flubbed his lines a couple of times, and by the time Yennefer flew into the room, he was aching and desperate to return to his trailer.

 He’d never been so grateful for Jaskier’s baggy clothes.

 “Ah, umm, Lauren?” he stammered, rubbing his wrists. They were sore, and he really needed to stretch out his arms, maybe have a nap too. Fuck, he was really out of shape. Lockdown had really been a curse. “Can we take a breather?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck and giving the showrunner a sheepish smile. “I umm.. I need a break.”

 “Oh yeah, sure. You’ve done brilliant work today, Joey. Let’s take a half hour everyone!”

 Joey all but ran back to his trailer, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to hide his erection as best he could. Occasionally he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back so that if anyone saw him then they would think he just needed to recover from the physical exertion of being strung up like a puppet for most of the morning. He was sure that he looked like a state, his doublet was torn and bloody and his shirt barely covering his torso. The makeup team had had far too much fun spraying him with fake blood and dirt. He hadn’t been allowed to shave for a couple of days and heavy film makeup was caked on his face, making him seem bloodied and bruised. His lips itched from where they had been made to look split…

 And everyone was staring at him.

 Fuck.

 He supposed he was usually the one that wasn’t covered in shit. The worst he’d had was the djinn wound from season one, but normally he was all bright doublets and smiles. Sometimes a little bit mucky, but nothing like this.

 And Jesus Christ, he really needed a wank.

 Why on god’s earth had Henry been staring at him like that? Did the bastard know how it affected him? He probably knew. Fuck, cocking shit balls! He was in trouble. Joey was still trying to break into the industry, if fucking Superman lodged a sexual harassment complaint against him then he was done for. He’d never work again…

 But then again, Henry hadn’t been looking at him like he was angry. No, he’d been looking at him like he wanted to eat Joey alive, get down on his knees and get his mouth around Joey’s cock whilst he’d still been suspended in the rigging, the shackles caught around his wrists, unable to move…

 “Fucking cock!” Joey slammed through the door to his trailer, fiddling with the fastenings of Jaskier’s trousers as soon as he was inside. His cock was already leaking in his boxers, throbbing and desperate for relief. He bit back a moan as he thumbed the slit, collecting the precum on his fingers and sliding it down the length of his cock. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and he closed his eyes, picturing Henry’s blue eyes, dark and wanting, his pretty pink lips stretched around Joey’s cock.

 He barely managed to stumble to the bed, his legs shaking, head already spinning. It wasn’t going to take him long, he’d been far too keyed up all morning, and with Henry at the forefront of his mind, he was tumbling towards his orgasm faster than he would have liked. Joey moaned, biting his lip as he stroked his cock, the memories of the day fuelling his fantasies. It felt so fucking good and soon he felt a familiar tug at his core.

 “Joey, are you alright?”

 “Shit!” Joey gasped as he came all over his hand, but the pleasure seeped from his body, leaving him feeling hollow and dissatisfied, “For fuck’s sake, Henry! Fucking knock!”

 Henry was staring back at him, blue eyes, silver hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looking like a fucking god. The bastard smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow. Joey had a sinking feeling in his chest.

 “You- you did knock?”

 Henry chuckled, his low gravelly laugh that sent shivers down Joey’s spine. There was a reason he spent much of their time on set trying to make Henry laugh. It was a gorgeous and beautiful sound, and Joey was completely addicted. He would quite happily spend the rest of his life trying to make Henry laugh… although that made him sound a lot more infatuated than he actually was, right?

 They were just friends.

 And Henry was a very attractive friend, friend? Co-star? Fuck!

 “I am      so    sorry, Henry,” Joey whined, pulling a pillow in front of his face to try and hide his embarrassment but Henry wasn’t having any of it. He sat down next to Joey on the bed, gently pulling the pillow from his hands.

 “Don’t apologise,” he said hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have walked in. I heard you moaning. It wasn’t exactly a hard jump to make… pun intended.”

 Despite himself, Joey snorted and whacked Henry on the arm with his clean hand. “You arse!”

 “What?”

 “I’m actually dying of embarrassment and you’re making dick jokes!”

 Henry smirked. “Sorry, I thought you’d be up to it.”

 “Fuck off!”

 “Oh come now, Joey.. it’s just a joke.”

 Joey whined. “I hate you.”

 And then Henry was suddenly in his space, so close that he could feel the warm tingle of the other actor’s breath on his cheeks. Lips brushed against his ear, and despite already cumming, he felt heat prickle over his skin and he mouth was dry. “I don’t think you do,” Henry whispered, his voice dropping to a low base, not dissimilar to the accent he used for Geralt.

 Joey took a shaky breath, very aware that his cock was still on display, covered in his spend, already twitching, trying to get hard again. “What- What are you doing, Henry?”

 “Tell me to stop, Joey, I’ll leave and we never have to talk about it,” Henry breathed, pressing a kiss to Joey’s neck, nosing along his jaw.

 “I-I… no. Don’t stop…”

 “Seeing you today, chained up, Christ, Joey. It was so fucking hot, and then you were hard. I bet you could hardly resist cumming in your pants like a fucking teenager, and with everyone watching you,” Henry growled in his ear, the actors fingers now stroking along Joey’s thighs, higher, creeping closer to his slowly hardening cock. Joey whined, pressing his head into Henry’s shoulder, “but I think you like that, don’t you Joey?”

 His cheeks flushed red, burning hot right up to his ears. “Fuck off.”

 “Or was it just me watching you?”

 “Hnnng.”

 “Can I touch you?” Henry asked, his voice sounding almost as wrecked as Joey felt, “We don’t have long but, god, I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked into the reading room that first day all those years ago.”

 “Wh-what?”

 “You seemed so shy, then you started reading and you just melted into Jaskier’s character. It was fucking amazing. You’re amazing.”

 Joey whimpered. “Henry, please.”

 And then Henry’s hand finally wrapped around his cock. The effect was instantaneous. Joey keened, bucking into Henry’s hand as his second orgasm began to build, his poor cock already sensitive but he was craving more, he wanted to feel that overwhelming pleasure that had been so cruelly stolen from him. Henry covered Joey’s hand with his own, gathering a mess of sticky white fluid and then continued to stroke down the length of Joey’s cock.

 “Can I kiss you?”

 “Hmm.. uh huh.. Yup,” Joey stammered, lost to his pleasure, his head feeling hazy, almost floaty, but he didn’t need anymore words as Henry’s lips crashed against his. Moans and grunts and gasps were muffled by the kiss, and Henry shifted on the bed so he was sitting over Joey, one of Joey’s legs pressed against his clothed cock.

 If Joey had any more sense left in him, he might have offered to get Henry off at the same time, but he was too far gone, babbling nonsense in between kisses, curses, moans, wordless cries. Henry seemed more than happy to thrust against his leg, grunting as he moved to suck kisses onto Joey’s neck.

 “Henry, god! Oh fuck!” Joey keened, his back arching off the bed. “I-I… fuck!”

 His eyes squeezed shut as he came, sparks flying across his vision and his head rolled back onto the pillow. His energy seemed to drain as the waves of pleasure took over his body, Henry’s hand stroking him through his orgasm, still rutting against his leg until he came with a strangled moan. Henry collapsed on top of Joey, breathing heavily, silver strands of hair getting in Joey’s mouth and eyes.

 “Urgh, get off me,” he groaned. “Heavy and you have so much fucking hair!”

 “Blame Sapkowski,” Henry grumbled but rolled over, lying next to him on the bed.

 They both stared up at the ceiling, panting as they tried to catch their breaths. It should have felt weird, fucking his apparently not straight co-star in the middle of takes… but, well, it sort of just felt right?

 Joey laughed, turning to face Henry. “Make-up are gonna kill us.”

 “Costume too,” the other actor groaned.

 “And Lauren if we don’t get back…”

 “Yeah.”

 Their eyes met and it was no use. They both reached for each other, their lips meeting once more in a feverish kiss. It wouldn’t hurt if they were a little late… right?

#joey batey/henry cavill #joey/henry #the witcher rpf #rpf

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP ONE  - CCU THEATER. SUCCESS.

PLAYERS:

THE GOLDEN BOY - Harvey Hargrove. THE HEARTBREAK KID - Casey Russell. THE  BABY - Casey Russell. THE FALLEN ANGEL - Alice Alder. THE WANNABE - Virginia Ann Virginia.. THE CLASSIC - Libby Logan.

PERKS EARNED:

SELFLESS BITCH: A drunken Virginia Virginia sacrificed herself for her friends! Aw. Maybe she does have a heart underneath all those boobs. Due to her efforts, Virginia has earned the right to remove herself! If the gang ever gets caught in a sticky situation, any lasting effects will not apply to Virginia. This can save her from broken bones, getting in trouble, or even death - but beware! This perk can only be used once. 

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

-LIBBY WAS TAKEN BY THE KILLERS.  -VIRGINIA SACRIFICED HERSELF TO THE KILLERS. -CASEY INJURED A KILLER.  -RORY WAS HIT OVER THE HEAD.

THE NARRATOR: It might not have been a quiet night, maybe not even uneventful, but the Gang found themselves grateful, at least, that the Candy Girl hadn’t shown her face. It was nearing midnight now, and with only Paulie Virginia checking on the kids before they fell asleep on the sand, and Lucas Bright left straggling on the beach with the Gang, they were sure to turn-in soon. 

They were gathered around the bonfire, talking and laughing - almost even letting their guards down - but the screech of three white vans pulling up to the shore interrupted every little conversation taking place around the bonfire. They didn’t want to think anything of it at first… College kids in this town were wild, and they were all piling back into town this week, after all. But when a group of masked, hooded figures with baseball bats, and kitchen knives galore began making their way out of the vehicles, and onto the beach - what were they supposed to do but worry?

OFFICER PAULIE VIRGINIA:  “Hey! Stop right there!”

THE NARRATOR: It was almost instinctual for the rookie to go right into barking cop voice, even with no back up  - stupid, of course - but another ‘Candy Girl’ stunt was the last thing he was going to let happen on his watch. The man reaches for the taser in his belt, just like he was trained to do, but just as he gets it free, the blur of a body rushing forward - Lucas Bright - distracts him for a split enough second to fumble. 

Paulie almost yells for Lucas to stop, but before he can get the words off of his tongue, the Bright kid nearly runs headfirst into one of the masked figures' fists. It’s shocking how hard he falls - makes Paulie wonder if he’s okay - but before he can wonder too much, he realizes too late that one of the hooded figures has gotten the jump on him. He’s half expecting the figure to reach for his taser - the oh shit moment of the century - but when Paulie feels a baseball bat connect with his ribcage… He almost wishes he had been tased. Might have hurt less.

CANDY GIRL: “Hello, my little freaks and geeks! Did you miss me and my little friends? Because I think tonight is about to get a little more fun.”

THE NARRATOR: ...Uh oh. Maybe I spoke too soon about the Candy Girl not showing her face. 

It doesn’t take long to get the gang tied up - not with the threat of knives, and Paulie’s discarded taser at the hooded groups disposal - and the ringleader of this little group, the one bouncing around telling everyone what to do, seems absolutely giddy with her capture. What else are you supposed to expect from faceless psychos, though, right?

CANDY GIRL: ““Here’s the game tonight, losers! We’re gonna split you up and see if you can pass our little trials. Those who do? They get to go home tonight! Those who don’t…. Well, you might end up closer to Lux than you thought you were before.”

THE NARRATOR: Candy turns toward one of the other masked figures - one that seems like her Helper - flicking her chin toward the Gang. It’s a cue, and that much becomes clear when one-by-one, each of them has a hood slipped over their face, obstructing their view nearly completely.

CANDY GIRL: “But first, we’re going on a little trip!”

THE NARRATOR: It’s hard for the Gang to know just how they’ve been split up, but as they’re pushed forward toward the parking lot - the sound of Paulie’s and Lucas’s far-off groaning in their ears - they know one thing. They’re completely fucked, and there’s nothing they can do about it with their hands tied behind their backs… Especially not when they’re about to be shoved into the back of those fucking vans.

Nobody’s really sure how long they’ve been driving - they’re all too terrified to try and keep count - but by the time the van finally slows to a stop, they’re all dragged right back out onto solid ground, and into… some old building. Just where, is the question.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE BEEN TAKEN BY THE CANDY GIRL TO CCU FOR A NIGHT OF FUN. DON’T DIE!

THE NARRATOR: Maybe it’s the way they had to file between cramped rows, bumping into seats that left bruises blooming over their thighs; maybe it’s the echo of their footsteps, bouncing off of the walls like music. Either way, those who had ever stepped foot into the CCU theater - nearly all of them, considering every field trip they had been to to watch some semi-professional production of Bye Bye Birdie - know right where they are at that moment.

 It’s a comforting place for some - one that induces only stress, or indifference to others - but it’s hard to imagine that it won’t be a place that brings anxiety after tonight; just as tainted as the boardwalk, or even walking along Lux’s and Harvey’s block might be. Now is no time to think about how they might feel in the future, though -- if they even make it that far. No, they’re going to have to make it through tonight first.

They’re led onto the stage like prized pigs, ready to be blue-ribboned - but once they’re situated, the hoods that cover the gang’s faces come off; they even cut the ropes off from around their wrists. It might be stupid, but the knives, and baseball bats manage to keep everyone in their place; hearts racing in anticipation of what might come next.

The theater is mostly dark, save for a couple of spotlights that shine down onto the stage, highlighting the Gang like the stars of Candy’s show. There are props scattered about - sets, hanging sheets, costumes! It almost looks more like a storage closet than the grandiose CCU theater, but as they try to get their bearings, the two figures heading the circle - Candy and her supposed assistant - jolt them back into reality with a clap of their hands.

CANDY GIRL: “Like I said, we’re gonna play a little game tonight, boys and girls! But, you’re all oh-so-familiar with games, aren’t you? Especially after our special little stunt at the boardwalk.”

THE NARRATOR: Her voice could almost be considered familiar, but nobody in the room really knows where to place the memory of it. Did she actually sound like that recording on the beach? Was she someone they knew? The gang just looks at each other from any angle that they can; making eye contact at whatever cost, as if it might help them all jog their memory to know they’re on the same page. They don’t get another chance to listen, though, as the other figure - leader two - begins speaking.

CANDY'S LITTLE HELPER:  “She’s written some riddles!”

THE NARRATOR: They pull a sheet of paper from their pocket.

CANDY GIRL: “And you’re going to solve them! Don’t worry about the doors -”

THE NARRATOR: The movement is clearly rehearsed as a number of their captors - five, if you’re counting - head toward the row of carved, flourishing doors at the back of the theater.  Three of them leave, but the other two begin looping chains through the antique handles, locking them into the auditorium with absolutely no escape.

VIRGINIA ANN: The last however many minutes Virginia had been captured were maybe the worst moments of her life. They were just supposed to have a fun bonfire but of course a fun bonfire turned into watching her brother get hit with a baseball bat, be captured by a bunch of weirdos, and end up at the theatre as another "fun" game. She wanted to get up and leave, but someone would stop her, wouldn't they? "Why the hell are you doing this?" Was what Virginia first asked. She doubt she'd get any sort of answer and hey, maybe they'd sew her mouth shut for even speaking. "We didn't do anything."

ALICE ALDER: On any other given day, if she were to be having a conversation — or even just be stuck in the same room with Virginia! — hilarity would be bound to ensue (in one of the worst ways, but nonetheless…). But this? What was this? Her almost bestie… betraying her again! “Dude, what the fuck?” A futile question that would get no answer — but asked on instinct! “The 'beach bash' wasn’t enough?”

RORY COLLINS: It was happening again. She had gone white as a sheet when she saw the masked figures on the beach, and hadn't managed to regain any color yet. "Guys, I really don't think they're going to answer," she swallowed hard and tracked the psychos' every movement. Rory hesitated. "They didn't last time."

CANDY'S LITTLE HELPER: “--God, can you people shut up for two minutes? We’re kind of, like - in the middle of something!”

THE NARRATOR: Candy’s little Helper interrupts the conversations with an annoyed tone, as if they’re the ones inconveniencing her night. It’s strange, how nonchalant it is, but Candy just huffs in annoyance as she looks at her ‘assistant.’ Shoulders dropping a little as she breaks character to reprimand her.

CANDY GIRL: “Jesus christ, can you just say your fucking lines? It’s not that hard,”

CANDY'S LITTLE HELPER: “They’re -”

CANDY GIRL: “Seriously?”

THE NARRATOR: The masked figure hesitates.

CANDY'S LITTLE HELPER:  “Fine! You need three keys, and three, exactly!

CANDY GIRL: “Or you’ll spend the night -”

THE NARRATOR: Maybe it’s the fear of the moment that kept all of their eyes focused on the two masked figures interacting with them - tunnel vision, of sorts - but it only makes the loud squish of blade entering flesh even louder than it should have been. The group of them flinching before Candy even has a chance to start shrieking through the pain of the knife in her side.

It was almost unbelievable that it had happened at first - did it even make sense that the Candy Girl’s henchmen were turning on her?  - but the blood splashing against the stage floor had to have been proof enough that it wasn’t just some fucked up group hallucination. This was an attack - one that hadn’t seemed expected by either the Candy Girl or her little helper.

CANDY'S LITTLE HELPER:  “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

THE NARRATOR: Fair question. And the attacker should have heard it, as loud as the second-not-so-in-charge-figure shrieked - but the knife-wielder didn’t even flinch as he dragged Candy toward back off of the stage and toward one of the many staircases that led to the balconies; blood pouring from the wound in her side all the while.

The other mask - Candy’s little helper - almost considers running for it, throws the note from her hands in anticipation of getting the fuck out of there…  but she hardly gets a chance when her own attacker - the other one of the maniacs who had chained the door - comes from behind her and squeezes their hulking arms around her fame. They have their own knife; one that plunges directly into her chest, but the Gang doesn’t have much time to watch as they drag her off in the same direction.

What.

The.

Fuck.

There’s only a moment of hesitation - it had all happened so quickly - but the gang wastes no more time before fleeing to opposite sides of the theater. The sound of both of the women’s dying screams echo across through the space, shaking all of them to their core… but they all know one thing: they need to get their hands on that riddle.

If they’re locked in, then it might be their only way of getting out.

MAKE A CHOICE: ALICE, VIRGINIA, AND LIBBY ARE HIDDEN IN THE WINGS OF THE THEATER. HARVEY, RORY, AND CASEY ARE DUCKING BEHIND A ROW OF SEATS.

CASEY RUSSELL: All bad things seem to come in threes. And if it wasn't solely going to be a black eye that would be the highlight of his evening, it was going to be this. He calls it survivor's instinct in the scramble when he ambles over behind the seats, even though he's pretty sure he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. For a moment his gaze lands solely on Harvey. It's been ages since they've played on the same team. But... somewhere between life and death, they surely had to put some degree of their differences aside right? "Do we have any ideas?" He whispers, "I don't really fancy ending up being like whoever the fuck that was."

HARVEY HARGROVE: Once upon a time, in the distant remains of the far-off evening that had been only a few hours before, Harvey had assumed this wasn't going to happen. But here they were and here was... Whatever the hell this is. Joy of joys. It wasn't easy pulling his focus from Libby and Rory, where his eyes seemed to stray automatically in an attempt to find reassurance that wasn't coming. He did though, and turned to Casey. "We can't go at once. There's too many of us, we'd be noticed far too quickly."

 MAKE A CHOICE: HARVEY IS RIGHT. SOMEBODY IN THE WINGS MUST RETRIEVE THE RIDDLE. IT IS THEIR ONLY HOPE OF GETTING OUT: WHO WILL IT BE?

LIBBY LOGAN: Libby can't hear either of her friends cramped into the rows of theater seats, but as her heart races in her chest - as the alcohol pulses through her veins - somehow, she knows it's up to her to retrieve the riddle on center stage. That had been the way out of the whole Carousel Cove situation, right? She doesn't even say anything to Virginia or Alice as she darts forwards, fingertips outstretched. Libby just hopes she can get back without alerting the killers upstairs.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS!

THE NARRATOR: Every step sounds too-loud, even masked by the sound of screams, but somehow they manage to make their way back onto the stage where the riddle was thrown by Candy’s little Helper. They get their hands on the blood soaked paper; the breath leaves their lungs as the sound of screaming begins to die - no pun intended - out. It’s not completely obvious what they should do next, but they make eye contact with their friends hidden in the wings; those hidden in the seats. 

They’re never going to make it out of this without each other, so they better think fast. 

They hear the sound of the killers beginning to stir from the steps near the balconies, and just like that a plan forms in their freaky little hive mind. Someone needs to distract the killers while everyone else gets upstairs. But who will it be?

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEBODY MUST DISTRACT THE KILLERS WHILE THEIR FRIENDS GET UPSTAIRS. SHOULD THEY THROW SOMETHING ACROSS THE ROOM [PROBLEM SOLVING],  SNEAK ACROSS THE ROOM AND KNOCK SOMETHING OVER, [BRAVERY] OR SHOULD SOMEONE TRY MESSING WITH THE LIGHTBOARD? [PERCEPTION]

HARVEY HARGROVE: He turned his head, locking eyes with Libby at center stage. A slow nod of the head was the only sign he gave before he stood up and began to move as quietly as he could towards the other side of the theatre. There was always shit offstage in these places, right? Surely there would be something over there that could get the focus off of Libby (if it didn't, he'd rain hellfire down, that he promised himself). Each step brought him closer and closer to the vague shape of a light and when he was beside it, he turned back, grinned at his friends as best he could, picked up the light, and threw it.

MAKE A CHOICE: FAILURE!

THE NARRATOR: It was a long shot, but as soon as the stage light crashes against the floor, only one of the killers turns their head to investigate. The other? Well, their gaze lands directly on little Libby Lou. 

It’s hardly a split second before they cross the theater toward her, and as hard as Libby tries to fight, it’s no use - the threat of the knife, and the feeling of it’s handle knocking against the side of their face is enough to give the killer the upper hand… At least they have time to throw the riddle in the general direction of their friends before they’re dragged away toward the balconies staircase.

It’s enough of a distraction to get everyone else safe, if even for a moment.  They have to get the hell out of there, and save Libby... if there’s even time. They all book it as fast as they can, and somehow they manage to make it into the dressing rooms beneath the stage - one of them even manages to grab the riddle, silently hoping it wasn’t Libby's last gift to them all. 

At least it might actually save them. 

Their hearts are pounding loud enough in their chests that they might swear they could all count each other’s heartbeats. Now is no time to check up on each other, though - not as they lay the first riddle out in front of them.

If you want the key, you’ll have to find Me,

I’m a keeper of the law, you see.

I might be a pawn - I saw Pepper get diced, 

Are you feeling naughty? Then here’s some advice: 

I’ll name a story, no I’ll name three -

All from the Bard,

So be careful with thee.

A tragedy I’m not, 

In love? I could be. 

Pick only one…

Pray it’s the right movie.

MAKE A CHOICE: ALICE HAS BEEN GRABBED. DO YOU TRY TO SAVE THEM? 

CASEY WAS SUCCESSFUL IN SAVING ALICE. HE INJURES THE KILLER, AND THE GANG RUNS TO HIDE IN THE AISLES.

MAKE A CHOICE: RORY IS RETRIEVING THE FIRST KEY. 

RORY COLLINS:  "I'll go," Rory balls her trembling hands into fists at her side. They have to save Libby, so she's going to do whatever it takes. She creeps towards the band pit as quietly as she can, and lowers herself in to look for the key.

THE NARRATOR: Rory runs with all of her might, the gang all sneaking close behind to watch her back, but with the correct location, it’s not hard to find the key taped against the wall of the orchestra pit, along with the next part of the riddle. With the sheet of paper, they make it back to their friends, and lay out the clue to get to the next key.

 If you want to get out, don’t Twist and Shout, 

It’s not the Candy Man locking you out. 

If you feel Clueless, then here’s your clue -

You can find Me behind door number two. 

How to know you’re close? Just think of the times, 

The 90’s are ending, but oh, how it thrives!

Once you’re through, don’t look any further - 

Your key can be found in the one with no murder.

CASEY RUSSELL: "Okay... I think I've got this." Was that more for the group's sake or his own? It's with a deep breath after they work it out that he readies himself for the run to the prop closet before taking off. He may be drunk beyond belief, but he's determined to reach their key as he runs.

THE NARRATOR: Casey and the gang sprint hard toward the prop closet, somehow managing to duck past the killers to get a good look in the massive room. It takes a minute or two, but soon Casey has the key and another little sheet of paper. 

 It should be easy to get back to his friends now that are waiting in the wings, but before he can even turn around, he feels hands grasping around his limbs and yanking him back toward the staircase. He has to fight, but he can't do it alone.

MAKE A CHOICE: DOES SOMEBODY WANT TO SAVE THEIR FRIEND, OR LET THEM DROP THE KEY? 

RORY COLLINS: She doesn't even think when she sees the masked figure grabbing Casey. She just moves. Rory sprints forwards and hits the attacker as hard as she can.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS! 

THE NARRATOR: It’s a great effort, and though Rory doesn't manage to do much real damage - and gets hit over the head hard enough to draw blood - she's still successful in getting her  friend the hell away from that monster. The whole group is terrified, but they’re quick on their feet as they move somewhere else that could be deemed even semi safe within the madness to solve the next riddle.

Here’s your third key - you’re almost there! 

Unless you can’t take a bit of a scare. 

Your key can be found with the killers that hunt you

Hand someone over, and we’ll hand over ours too. 

There’s no getting out of it, there’s no bargaining here, 

You must sacrifice someone, someone so dear. 

Will they die, will they live? Only we know. 

But if you don’t choose, then all of you go.

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEONE MUST SACRIFICE THEMSELVES  AND ALERT THE KILLERS TO GET THEM TO DROP THE THIRD KEY. CHOOSE WHO.

VIRGINIA ANN: If you had told that Virginia that five hours ago she'd be running onto the stage to present herself to a bunch of murderous assholes, she'd probably laugh in your face. Maybe if she lived this would be a funny story to tell her kids one day. Not even bothering to deal with telling the group of her decision due to the five vodka mixed drinks in her body, she ran up the stage and yelled, "Hey bitches, I'm here!"

THE NARRATOR: It’s hard not to feel the weight of the gang’s fear like a punch in the gut, radiating through the room. They can hear Virginia's drunken voice call out - the sound of her scream, and her struggle as they’re dragged her up the stairs, just like the others had been. 

When the sound of chains dropping from the door handles echoes through the room, though - followed by the scurry of sprinting out of the theater - they almost think to breathe a sigh of relief. Could that really be it? Could it be over? 

They don’t move for nearly an hour - or maybe it just feels like an hour - but when they finally decide the coast is clear, the group of them  - or what’s left of them - sprint out of the theater, and the hell out of CCU as quickly as they can. Maybe it’s a betrayal to not even look for their friends… or maybe their bodies. But how are they supposed to stomach the thought of it? How are they expected to stick around with those… killers still on the loose? 

Are their friends still alive? Who knows. They just know they need to get the police down here to help their friends as soon as they can, even if it means getting the hell out of there.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED YOUR PLOT EVENT.

#bio rp #town rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #small town rp #secrets rp #gossip rp #gossip girl rp #90s rp #classic rp #college rp #secret rp #lsrp #small rp #small group rp #event 002 - ccu theater. #plot event 002 - the bonfire.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

May Flowers Challenge Day 21

Prompt: “I didn’t know where else to go” + “I’m not going anywhere” requested by Anon

Pairing: John Constantine x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Off-screen abuse and talk about it

You shivered a little in the chill of the night air, drawing your arms around your knees tighter and huddling up on the low step in front of the block of flats. In hindsight, you should’ve worn something warmer, but you hadn’t expected to find yourself here either. Just something else to add to the list of your fuck-ups, you figured. Forehead resting on your knees, you weren’t aware of a man approaching until he spoke.

“Y/N? What you doin’ here, luv?” John asked as he came to a stop in front of you.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admitted in a whisper, face cast in shadows as you looked up to him.

In comparison John was illuminated by the streetlight, looking down at you with a confused frown. “What happened?”

“I…” You stopped, shaking your head. “Can we go inside? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” John reached out to help you up, hands supporting your exposed forearm. “Christ, luv, you’re knobbling! How long’ve you been out here?”

“What time is it?”

“Just gone twelve.”

“Oh.” Had you really been sitting outside for so long? “Five hours, maybe.”

“Jesus. C’mon, let’s get you in.” John guided you around and stepped forward to unlock the main door to the flats. “You could’ve text.”

“Phone’s broken.”

John looked over his shoulder at you, ushering you inside in front of him. The entryway was a dirty white, the sole decoration a photo of some flowers homed in a skewed, broken frame. A bare bulb hung over your heads, buzzing quietly and flickering threateningly every so often. It had been like that for years now it seemed. 

“Luv?” John snapped you out of your half-daze, and without thinking you turned to face him. Now in the light, John’s eyes dragged over the ugly colored bruise that was blossoming around your eye, the cut on your lip and the remnants of dried blood on your chin, down to the finger-shaped bruises around your wrists. 

You didn’t need to explain. The rage said he knew.

“I’m gonna bloody kill him! Then I’m gonna drag him back to life and kill him all over again! Hell’s gonna seem like paradise by the time I’m good and done!”

“No!” John was already in the process of heading back out when you grabbed his hand. “No.”

“I can’t let him get away with this, Y/N. Not with hurting you.”

“Please. Not tonight. Please.” 

The anger slipped away into something softer and his free had released the door. “Alright, luv.” 

“Thank you.”

John nodded, “Let’s get you upstairs so I can take a proper look at you.”

You followed John up the few floors that led to his flat, and stepped inside once he had the door unlocked. It was a mess, as it always was, but it felt more like home than your own place. The click of the lock sliding into place sent relief down your spine, your shoulders slumping with it. 

"C'mon, let me have a see." John sat you down by the kitchen table, and set about carefully cleaning away the dried blood. 

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Y'know, we're usually doing this the other way around."

"You always know just how to look after me. About time I returned the favour, eh? Wish it wasn't like this though."

"Me too."

John smiled sadly. "This looks worse than it is. It'll be fine," he said, examining the cut on your lip. He produced some painkillers and a glass of water, passing them over. "Take these."

"Rather something stronger."

"Not sure that's wise, luv."

"Since when has John Constantine done anything wise?" 

"Since he had to take care of the one person who gives a rat's arse about him, the same person he loves most."

You managed to summon up a smile, "I love you too. I'd be lost without you."

John tutted, "Bah, don't be getting all sentimental on me," he joked. 

"Me? Sentimental? Never!" He was the only person who could make you laugh during the worst of times. Standing, you wrapped your arms around him, "Thank you."

"Anything for you." John squeezed you gently, letting you hold onto him. "Wanna talk about what happened?" 

"Not tonight."

"Alright. Let's go sit down?" 

"Yeah."

Joining John on his ratty old couch, you leaned into his side, not wanting to lose the contact. Resting your head on his shoulder, John wrapped his arm around you, softly running his fingers up and down your arm. He flicked on the TV, and together you watched the reruns of an old 80's sitcom in silence. 

Your thoughts were running wild though, jumping from one thing to the next, refusing to slow down and let you rest. 

Three episodes in you had to voice them. 

"What am I going to do, John? I'll have to go back there tomorrow, I need my things. He's going to be there waiting, I know it. He'll try and get to me to stay, to forgive him. What happens if he won't let me leave again? Or if he…he…"

"He won't." John shifted and made you look at him. "He ain't gonna lay a finger on you, or try any of his crap."

"How-"

"Because I'll be right there with you, luv. And if he even looks your way I'll turn him into the flea he is and squash him. Can't promise I won't do that anyway."

You chuckled softly, sniffing and wiping away a stray tear. "Thanks."

"Course. If you want you can stay here till your back up on your feet."

"Are you sure?" 

"It ain't much, but what's mine's yours if you want."

Nothing sounded better. He couldn't lead a more dangerous life, but you'd always felt safe with John. "I'd like that."

John kissed your forehead and pulled you back into him. Automatically, you curled into it, letting your eyes flutter shut. "I do love you, John. I wish we'd met before I met him."

"Now you're just flattering me, luv."

"I mean it."

Another forehead kiss, "If I'd known that I'd have turned him into a flake and tossed him to the gulls."

You couldn't help it, you snorted a laugh. "I wouldn't be opposed if you still did that."

"It can be arranged."

You looked up at him, still smiling. "Will you stay with me tonight? While I sleep. I don't want to be alone."

"I'm not going anywhere, luv. I'll be right where you want me."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever!)

#May Flowers Challenge #john constantine x reader #john constantine #john constantine imagine #dc imagine #dc

[avenging-fandoms]

idk if you’d be into it but 172 and 166 with a bucky and steve threesome? just a thought lol

166: “ Okay.. This is new. ”172: “ The food looks great but.. There’s something much more delicious i’d like to eat right now. ”

*threesome!!

—

you, bucky and steve always have a brunch date every sunday because after everyone came back, and steve came back after putting the stones back, you all wanted to do something every week, just to make sure everyone was okay. 

the 3 of you had grown up together- literally. you and bucky were both taken by hydra, which was very hard for steve to process. but you and bucky powered through, bucky having a metal arm while you were a super human like steve. 

one night you were sleeping peacefully in your apartment, when you had a strange dream that included steve and bucky. the two of them were in your room, kissing you, touching you, just whispering things to you. you woke up in a sweat, your thighs pressed together. 

so now, sunday brunch was different for you now. you cross your legs and squeezed your thighs together every time you saw steve’s biceps flex or bucky run his fingers through his freshly cut hair, showing off his jawline so perfectly. 

“yn.. are you alright, sweetheart?” bucky asks as you sit next to him, fingers rubbing your shoulder. you tense, bucky pulling his hand away.

“did something happen?” steve asks and crosses his arm, making it worse for you. you groan softly and put your head in your hands, running your fingers through your hair and staring at the two men. 

“yeah.. uh.. i had a weird dream the other day and it really.. it really changed my mindset a lot” you poke at your eggs and bucky leans in, his cologne filling your nose. 

“how did it change your mindset? in a good.. or bad way?” bucky asks and you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“you know.. this food looks great but.. there’s something else i wanna eat..” you say lowly, steve and bucky taken aback as you look at the both of them. 

“oh.. so good change” steve says and you sigh. 

“i’m sorry if i made it awkward, you guys. i just couldn’t help it. with your jawline and your biceps, i can’t keep my mind clean” you sit back in the booth and look at the two men, who stared at the table. “i knew i shouldn’t have said anything, i’m sorry” you go to get up but bucky grabs your thigh, pulling you back into the booth. 

“check please” 

—

the three of you head back to your apartment, the ride silent. you head upstairs to your room and lay on your bed, steve and bucky laughing downstairs. soon you hear the stairs creak and your door opens. 

you sit up on your elbows, steve closing the door as bucky sits next to you. “hi angel, i have a question..”

“y-yes?” you stumble over your words as bucky’s fingers hover over your shorts. 

“can you show us what happened in your dream?” he smirks and you nod, laying back down and grabbing bucky’s wrist, unbuttoning your shorts and pushing his fingers into your underwear. you gasp, bucky chuckling and steve kneeling next to you. 

“this is new..” steve breathes as you pull down his sweatpants and tease his cock. you look up at him as you slowly kitten lick his tip, moaning as bucky’s fingers pump faster. 

“b-bucky.. you.. you ate me out as steve.. fucked my mouth” you gasp, bucky’s metal fingers came in contact with your clit. he smiled and laid in between your legs, pulling off your shorts and underwear. he pushes your knees to your chest and steve shoves his cock in your mouth. you moan loudly against steve as bucky spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and flicks his tongue up and down, steve gripping your hair as he fucks your mouth. 

your fingers hold bucky’s hair, pulling his face more in as his tongue enters you, rolling your hips against his tongue. “buck, i know you’re enjoying yn, but i really want a taste” steve breathes and pulls away, you gasping for air. 

“she’s all yours, pal” steve and bucky switch places and steve wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. bucky takes off your shirt and bra, leaning down and attaching his mouth to your nipple, his fingers pinching and twisting. your back arches with both of the pleasures, squeezing your legs around steve’s head. “oh, you’re not gonna cum that fast, are you sweetheart? so sensitive..” bucky bites down on your nipple, making you moan loudly and your legs shake. “steve, stop. make her legs shake by fucking her so good” bucky orders and steve listens, pushing your knees to your chest and slamming himself into you, moaning. 

“she’s so warm, buck. so ready and wet for us” steve smirks and holds your hips, slamming his hips into yours. bucky fucks your mouth and holds your hair as his other hand rubs your clit as a fast speed. 

you whine and squirm, pushing steve away as you cum, thrashing on the bed and holding onto bucky’s arms. you take deeps breaths and open your eyes, looking up at steve. “jesus christ, you fuck really good, rogers”

“my fucking turn” bucky pushes steve out of the way, turning you on your knees with your ass perched in the air. steve lays on the bed and you bob your head on his thick cock, gagging as you go down as far as you can. you pull away and roll your eyes back, scratching down his chest as bucky hits your spot. 

“jesus fuck! holy shit bucky i’m gonna cum” steve holds onto your arms as bucky thrusts as fast as he can, moving the whole bed. you push him away and fall on the bed, legs shaking violently. 

you calm down, falling on your knees as you pump both men’s cocks with your hands, tongue hanging out as you wait for the two men to cum on your tongue. steve was the first one, pumping his cock faster and cumming all over your tongue. you smile and swallow it all, licking his cock clean. 

bucky cums on your tongue and breasts, to which you swallow it all and collect it on your fingers and clean them off. you take a quick shower and bucky and steve lay on your bed, dressed in their pants but no shirt. you throw on bucky’s t-shirt over your underwear, laying in between the two. 

“so.. is that a new sunday tradition?” 

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