Can I Request A Jj Or Pope Fic (if That’s What You’d Call It), Where The Reader Is Suffering Period

the background does not suit her but she's still so gorgeous.

hair - @jino-sims

piercing - @pralinesims

shirt - @b0t0xbrat

skirt - @backtrack-cc

shoes - @jius-sims

belt - @pyxalicious

arm nets - @atomiclight

leg warmers - @trillyke

(couldn't find who made the headphones, braclets, leg nets, and nails)

Can you make a smutty 1shot that lead 2 the ‘drunkenly mistake’ pls

WASSUP BULLET

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT, DRINKING

——

“I’m not talkin’ to you O’Conner . Matter of fact. How did you find me. Wait — I don’t wanna know,” Carson rolled her eyes, as she took another sip of her drink. “You’re a cop right? That’s just professional stalkin’.”

“I told you I quit,” Brian said, sitting down with a corona in hand.

They were currently at one of Tej’s cribs, everyone had vacated apart from them, something Brian manufactured. They were sitting on opposite ends of an L-shaped leather couch. The lights were dim and slow Jams played in the through the room.

“But you went back, workin’ undercover ‘cause they’re on your ass and now you’re stuck doin’ shit you don’t wanna do.” She pointed out, rolling her eyes at his shocked expression. “Your friend told me.”

“Dammit Roman,” he cursed, facing her with apprehension, “It’s not what you think.”

Carson shrugged, “You’re a cop O’Conner. You’re a liar, you lied to me, and I don’t even know why I’m sayin’ this to you. Leave, so I can get back to drinkin’”

He dismissed what she said, and leaned forward on his knees, “Why are you drinkin’? I thought Pink Gin was your favourite.”

Carson was drinking a Corona as well, something he never thought to see.

She tensed, “Things change people change.”

“You haven’t changed,” he shook his head.

“I had to. Repeatin’ mistakes is kinda my thing. Fall for bad men, liars, manipulators… I had to change so it doesn’t happen again. It can’t happen again.”

She wasn’t wearing her infamous pink clothes. She pulled off black effortlessly, but it wasn’t her. He knew that.

“You’re smart Carson, you have a big heart,” he said.

“Don’t pretend that you know me,” Carson scoffed.

“I love you.” That’s how I know you.

“Ewww, stop. Go. I don’t need to hear this bullshit,” she grimaced.

Brian sighed, “It’s not bullshit. I wouldn’t lie about that. Ever.”

“Sure,” she said wryly, side eying him when he seemed to shift closer.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“No you won’t ‘cause I know you.”

“You do. All those shitty things I did, hurt you. But you know that I could take it back in a heartbeat.” He said, so sure of himself. “But I’ll prove it to you. This to you. Let’s play a game.”

“No,” she took a swig of her drink and averted her gaze.

“A drinkin’ game. You answer the question, I drink. You don’t answer, you take an item of clothin’ off.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re sick.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“Nothin’ thanks to you.” She retorted, his face stilled.

He cleared his throat, “Let me make it —“

“— up to me. I know.” She groaned, realising he wasn’t gonna leave her alone. She doubt he ever would. “Fine. Hearin’ your voice is more bearable when I’m drinkin’.” She mockingly gestured to him, “Ladies first, you start.”

His stupid grin made her roll her eyes again.

“Do you still love me?” He asked, gaze trained on her, waiting an answer.

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

Brian suppressed a sigh when she didn’t answer but let his eyes wonder as she peeled off her shirt. Red lace caught his attention, the detailed bra he couldn’t help but fixate on.

“My eyes are up here.”

His eyes flickered up, to see her slightly glare, “I know. Your turn.”

She clicked her tongue before asking, “Have you hooked up with anyone since me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate.

She laughed, “Liar.”

Brian rolled his shoulders back, adding on, “I’ve tried. To get over you. But all I could think about was you.”

Carson begrudgingly took a sip of her drink realising he was telling the truth. She wasn’t how to take it, sure, it was a compliment or at least she thought it was. But he also wanted to forget her, get over her with various women.

“Have you hooked up with anyone since me?” Brian asked, maintaining eye contact.

“Yes.”

He clenched his jaw at the blatant lie, “Don’t lie to me Carson.”

“Fine no.” Brian grinned against his drink as he took a sip. “Shut up.”

“Lyin’ should mean you should take somethin’ else off…”he trailed off.

She quirked a brow, “You just wanna get me naked.”

He would never say no to that, “I want you. I can’t deny that Sonny.”

“Don’t call me that. And fine. The games the game, I’ll take somethin’ off.” Her shoes came off. “And now that’s three. This is unfair.”

“The game is the game.”

She scoffed, “Ugh, I shouldn’t have agreed for this.”

“Fine look.” Brian stripped off his top, amused that her eyes flickered to his chest. “Come closer.”

“What? No,” her nose scrunched up.

“You scared?” He teased.

“No.” She reluctantly shifted closer, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, “now drink.”

Brian took an another swig, before taking off his converse sneakers.

“You didn’t have to…” she trailed off.

“I know,” He nodded.

Two more bottles were opened, their words started to slur and bodies relaxed. Carson preferred to strip than be honest, Brian just liked taking off his clothes.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, staring into her eyes.

“No.” It was the alcohol talking, she told me herself. “Do you want to stay?”

“No,” he answered cheekily.

“Liar.”

Brian stripped down to his boxers and socks.

“You did that on purpose,” Carson accused, taking an unnecessary sip.

Both of them ended up drinking more. One bottle turned to two.

“You miss me,” he said.

She took of her skirt and socks, leaving her in her red underwear.

He was practically drooling.

“You want me,” she stated.

Brian took off his socks as if he didn’t want to scream ‘yes’ at the top of his lungs.

“You love me.”

Carson stilled, before unclipping the back of her bra, letting it drop to her lap, before pushing it onto the floor.

Brian’s eyed her hungrily, senselessly shuffling closer.

“What was it that I did to you, that had you so horny?” She groaned at the question, despite the goosebumps rising all over her body. “Come on, tell me. Our secret.” He gestured between them, “Was it the neck kisses? I know how much you loved them.” His eyes were hungry with lust. “Or just me going down on you in public?”

“Brian.”

“You called me Brian,” he grinned. She had been calling him O’Conner all day, to prove a point and he was sick of it.

“That’s your name genius,” she sassed.

“Answer the question. You don’t. You still have a lot of clothes left to take off.” A thong was hardly anything, which is exactly why he wanted them gone. “Was it when I gripped your thigh when I was drivin’? Or stared at you and nothing else when I was speedin’?” Her breath hitched when she caught the veins in his hands. “Remember when you told me to pull over and just jumped on me.”

“I did not jump on you,” that caused him to lean closer, face contorting as he lifted a hand to lightly brush over her face, making her squirm in her seat.

“Rode me so hard, I forgot my own name.” He said lowly, “Come on tell me, baby.” He licked his lips, drawing her heated gaze. “What about me did you miss so much? That you couldn’t let someone else touch you ‘cause it wouldn’t be the same. I know what it was about you.”

“What was it?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you when you sit on my lap.”

He thought he would be met with an argument, a fuss, but she slid across so easily, straddling his lap as he caressed her waist.

“You wanted this all along,” she tsked, playfully shaking her head.

“Never stopped,” he said, dipping his down to kiss each of her breasts, emitting a small ‘fuck’ from the Baker Driver. “That’s what I missed. The moans. No one sounds like you. No is better than you,” he groaned when she started to move against him, grazing his hardened state as she grinded against him. “That’s it, good girl.”

“We shouldn’t.” She said breathily.

He tugged her closer, “We should.”

“Suki’ll be back soon.”

“Then we’ll have to be quick.”

“You were never quick,” she whimpered.

“And you’re never quiet baby, just keep moving like that.” He guided her hips. He was painfully hard. “Shit. I’ve missed you. Just like that.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, “Just like that.”

“You just had to wear this red number didn’t you?” His fingers briefly trailed over her thong.

A small giggle escaped her, “Prefer it to pink?”

“Nothing will beat pink on you. But this, shit.”

Their lips finally met in a lustful frenzy. She gripped his hair, whilst pulling his boxers down, and the next they knew his dick was freed. He slid it under her, pulling her hips back down and moving her thong to the side. At the sensation of his dick rubbing her slit, she threw her head back with a whine. Desire roared through her like a bullet.

She was dripping against him.

Carson’s head tilted back as she rolled her hips.

His hands moved to grip her ass, encouraging her to keep riding him. All she could feel was him. All she wanted to feel was him. Gasps and moans slipped from her as she allowed herself to be overtaken and drawn into an ocean of pleasure. She could feel herself rising higher and higher, riding the wave. Her mind was becoming delirious from the fire in her veins and the motion of her hips rocking over his exposed dick.

“That’s it.” Brian grunted, he couldn’t look away, thrusting against her making her back arch. “And you wanted to lie and say you didn’t miss me, huh,” He licked a scalding line up her sternum, only to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples, making her cry out. "Come, baby."

She chanted. "Please."

He watched her unashamedly as her orgasm hit her. Her lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, mewing loudly. After her euphoric wave washed over, Brian’s thrust staggered, before he retracted his dick and spurting onto her stomach.

“Fuck.”

Ragged breaths escaped her as she stared at him, struggling for breath.

Seconds passed when Brian thought regret seeped through, but she instead, gently palmed his cheek, bashfully and drunkenly smiling at him before drawing him into a sweet kiss.

He whispered, “Let’s go to my place, we can continue this there.”

——

a/n:

thank you for the request, took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. Alcohol and feelings shouldn’t mix!

stiles deserves road head fs

reader has hair long enough to tie back; MDNI 18+

there were times when you absolutely hated stiles' jeep.

it wasn't particularly fit for road trips, even without considering the unreliability of the engine and stiles' handiwork of duck tape temporarily keeping things together. compared to lydia's car for example, the seats were stiff and barely allowed for any sleeping room. leaving you sitting upright with your head resting against the window and knocking into the metal of the interior any time stiles' ran through a pothole.

but there were times when the truck had redeemable qualities, namely the lack of a center console.

sure, it would've been nice to have something to rest your hand on as you wrapped your mouth around stiles' cock. but really, beggars couldn't be choosers and in this scenario both you and stiles were beggars.

so stiles drives a little smoother, settling on the outside lane to leisurely cruise instead of being pressured by trucks bigger than his in the inside lane. and this way, he gets to enjoy your lips sliding up and down his cock, and you aren't facing the plausible threat of losing your grip on the seat next to stiles' thigh and hitting the floor.

it's as comfortable as you can get. one hand pressed into cracking leather with the other resting on stiles' thigh. your seatbelt more of a decoration than anything as it loops around your body in a way that allows you to kneel on the seat, your ass turned towards the window. stiles' has one hand resting on your back between the end of your sweatshirt and the beginning of your leggings. the other rests on the steering wheel, effectively opening his body up to your work.

the tape in the radio has long ended, leaving space for the music from stiles' lips to fill the area. the sound of his breathing, deep sighs nearly each time you went down. the sound of his grunts each time you came up and swirled your tongue around him.

he tries to praise you every so often, but stiles' brain can only handle so much stimulation. and focusing on the road while also focusing on you is all he can take, leaving him to utter unfinished sentences.

"doing so ..."

"jesus, you're so ..."

"mhm, right ... right t–"

your hair has been tied back since the first half hour of the trip, but between your intense sing-alongs and your less intense naps, only half of your hair remains in the tie, leaving stiles to push your hair back, holding it off of your face.

in an attempt to thank him without sacrificing his pleasure, you look up at him and smile as best as you can. but since your mouth is occupied, the look transfers mostly to your eyes.

you don't know what does it, but stiles glances down at you, stares into your eyes for less than a minute, and then grips your hair as his hips jerk up into your mouth, his foot slams down onto the gas pedal, and he cums right down your throat.

just friends?

she fell first, he fell harder

wc: 2.2k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x reader

Summary: In the early years of your adolescence, you made the grave mistake of asking Miles to ‘practice kissing’ for future suitors. That mistake would come back to bite you every following day.

Warnings: cursing, childhood friends to lovers, friends that kiss, jealousy, started off the fic with a bang cuz i dont believe in small talk, possessiveness

A/N: what happened to hello? what happened to how are you?

----------

Your current predicament was straddling Miles' lap as you both kissed like this would be the last time you ever did. His hands grabbed onto your thighs that encased his legs. Pulling away for a second, you watched as a small string of saliva binds both of your lips.

Looking down at him, you asked out of breath, "We're still just friends, right?" The question caught him off guard. But he responds with a teasing smirk, "Yeah, yeah ma. Just friends." You nervously bit your bottom lip, nodding at his response. Wrapping your hands onto his braids, you smashed your lips against his yet again to ignore your conflicted thoughts.

It's times like this when your past mistake comes back to haunt you. And he made sure you never lived it down. The mistake in question was made on the playground with Miles when you were both ten. Being the young and innocent child you were, you proposed to 'practice kissing' for potential lovers in the future. As all kids do. He accepted and it all sprouted from there. You were each other's first kiss.

That first kiss was only one of many to come. You both had urges, after all. Since your younger days, it turned into something a bit more than just practice. But you never gave it a second thought. Until of late. What used to be a silly playground crush on Miles only grew stronger as the years passed by.

In all honesty, you had no clue where you stood with Miles. What were you, friends that kiss periodically? That was how it was, you suppose. But what you did know was that you'd stay by his side no matter the circumstance. Even if it meant that your friendship would never develop into more. Although occasionally you wished you never initiated to 'practice kissing' with him in your naive and prepubescent years. That would solve your problem at its roots and prevent the rapidly growing feelings you had for him. It was no doubt a mistake in your mind.

Separating your lips for a second time, you pulled away again. He stared at you in confusion. You looked frantic, "Shit, what time is it?" Glancing at the time on your phone, you cursed. It was 3:30 pm. "Fuck, I have a date at four o'clock. I gotta go, Miles." You jumped off of Miles' lap on his bed and swiftly started packing up your things.

Miles felt jealousy start to boil within his stomach as his lap felt empty. He was right here, why would you need to go on a date with some other guy? Furrowing his brows, he irritably questioned, "What do you mean you have a date? With who?" He tried to conceal his annoyance but failed miserably.

"Some guy from my physics class asked me out, sorry but I gotta go." Grabbing your bag, you pecked his cheek lightly as a goodbye. Glancing in his mirror one last time, you tamed any stray strands of hair.

Your response only fueled his jealousy, "Fuck you mean? Do you even know his name?" He started interrogating you.

"Of course I do, it's..." You paused for a second to think, and your conclusion was unclear. Your mind was foggy. "I think it's Javi? Or maybe Jake? Jacob? Shit, I think you kissed the thoughts right out of my brain." You rambled. Your words made him crack a slight smirk, and he said, "Nah, you ain't going on that date ma." pulling you back into his hold by your hips.

"I can't just stand him up, Miles." You told him, starting to regret agreeing on going on the date. "I could take you on a better date than he can, mami." He suggested.

He was full of surprises this afternoon. Usually, he didn't display such possessiveness. You didn't even like the supposed guy you were going on a date with. You just thought he could help you get your mind off of Miles for a few minutes.

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Is that an offer?" "It's a promise." He responded without an ounce of hesitation. The way he was staring at you almost made you take him up on it. "Tempting, but I'll have to take a rain check. See you tomorrow. Alright, Miles?" You waved goodbye and walked out his door.

"'Ight, ma. See you." He gave up. As he watched you walk out the door of his room, he groaned in frustration.

The unfortunate recipient of his frustrations was a punching bag in his Uncle Aaron's apartment. Striking the bag with all the force he could muster, the punching bag rumbled on the chain it was strung upon. His knuckles were slowly getting bloodier with each hit, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel you. It was the only thing he wanted to feel, anyway.

His Uncle inevitably noticed his behavior. Cleaning off one last knife, he set it down and walked towards his nephew. He held the punching bag steady and questioned him, "What's up with you, man?"

Continuing to throw punches at the unsuspecting punching bag, he responded sharply. "It's nothin'. Just my girl going on a date with some other guy." His nostrils flared slightly.

With those two sentences, his Uncle understood his sour mood. "That doesn't sound like nothing. And you just let her? I don't think you're my nephew, man." Shrugging, Miles took a quick water break. Taking a long swig of water, he replied, "You know her, she's stubborn." He had introduced you to his Uncle a while back. His whole family knew you, in fact. Every time he went back home, his mother asked about you. How you are, and when he’s going to tell you how he feels. It seemed everyone knew. Except you.

"Hey. If you want this girl, you gotta show her before someone else does." His Uncle wisely told him. Miles stopped hitting the punching bag and started wrapping his bloodied knuckles in bandages.

Those words stuck with Miles for the rest of the night as he made his way back to his dorm.

Laying on the bed of his dorm, Miles stayed up thinking about what his Uncle told him. His dorm felt empty without you there, he realized.

The next afternoon in his dorm again, you laid on your stomach on his bed, kicking your feet in the air. You frequented his dorm so often that you were more of a roommate to him than his actual one. Glancing at Miles, you noticed the bandages on his knuckles. “Ay, Miles. What happened?” You asked him, taking his hand into yours to inspect it. He disregarded it, "Don’t worry about it.” He continued, addressing the elephant in the room. “How was your date with Javi, Jake, or Jacob?"

You casually respond, "Actually, his name was Jason. And it was fine, I suppose. Although I called him by the wrong name a few times until he corrected me." You mumbled the last part, embarrassed. Not to mention, you almost called him by Miles' name. Not just once but multiple times.

"Just fine, huh?" He replied, intrigued. And slightly satisfied that you didn't have too good of a time.

"Yeah. I mean, he tried kissing me by the end. But his breath reeked of garlic, so I looked the other way and pretended I didn't notice." You said with a grimace, pretending to get flashbacks. In reality, Miles ruined kissing for you. You couldn't stop seeing Miles' face as your date was leaning into you. He wasn't him.

Stifling a laugh, he grinned at you. "So, does that mean you want to take me up on my offer now?" You whipped your head to him in surprise as you said, "You were serious about that? I mean, I'm down." Friends go on dates, don't they? You thought to yourself.

Nodding his head, he said, "I made a promise, ma." He started to stand up, gently grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. Locking your hand onto his arm, he led you out of campus.

Miles brought you to an endearing cafe only a few blocks away from the campus. A diamond in the rough, you thought. As you both sat down across from each other, you felt your nerves spiking.

Truth be told, he still made you nervous at times. Although you've undoubtedly been friends with him for longer than either of you could remember. The both of you ordered food and you started to speak, "So, you take all your girls here, Miles?" Putting on a calm facade, you teased him. You were glad he couldn't see your leg bouncing with anxiousness underneath the table.

He let out a slight puff at you, "What girls? Solo eres tú, mami. You know that." Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Widening your eyes, you murmured, "I didn't know that, actually." You cleared your throat and enunciated, "How'd you find out about this place then?" Your voice piqued with interest. You didn't believe he would frequent this cute cafe in his spare time. It wasn't exactly his scene, so to say.

"This is where my dad took my ma on their first date." He said with an unusually soft tone, staring into your eyes for your reaction. You would never guess it, but he saw a future with you. Ever since that day on the playground, he knew it was real. His affection for you never dimmed since then.

As you both locked eyes, you realized then that he took you to a place that was sentimental to him and his family. This cafe was where his parent’s story first started. All of a sudden, this date felt a bit more serious than he had originally let on.

Under his stare, you felt your face go warm, "That's beautiful, Miles." After a few moments, you continued, "I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, though." His response came quick, "Never, mami. What makes you say that?" You confessed the thoughts that swarmed your brain right when you walked into the cafe, "I mean, this place feels a bit intimate for people that are 'just friends'" You said with air quotations.

"I think we're past that stage. Don't you, princesa?" You nodded at him. He was right, you thought. After all, friends don't usually have an oral fixation for their friend's mouth.

Your orders came at the same time. You both comfortably conversed. It was a nice change of pace after your date from yesterday. After you both ate your orders and paid, Miles and you walked down the street with his fingers settling on your waist. You spoke up, "Thanks for bringing me here today, Miles. I had a good time with you." You wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him til he couldn't breathe, but resisted.

"Anytime. If it meant you'd stop going on dates with other guys." He said casually, but his grip firmed on your waist. Your head turned to him at his words. After your date with Miles, you were sure he ruined dates for you as well. Just like he ruined your ability to kiss anyone else. "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'll want to go on a date with anyone else after this." You said under your breath. He silently grinned.

As you both made your way back to Miles' dorm, the urge to kiss him only became stronger. You could tell he felt it, too. You noticed how he walked a bit faster to go back to his dorm.

Once the door to his room opened, you gave in to your desires and pulled him in by his hoodie to connect your lips. He backed you against his door as his hands traveled all over your body like it was a new territory he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't get enough of you. Groaning into your mouth, he deepened the kiss impossibly more. You both parted for a moment to get a quick breath of air.

Staring into his eyes, you told him before you lost the courage, "I don't want to be just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes when they feel like it." He looked at you like you just told him he won the lottery. In his eyes, this scenario was better than winning the lottery. He grinned as he kissed you again. Full of heat, his kiss spoke louder than words. "Then why don't we be lovers that kiss?” He pulled away to whisper against your lips. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” You smiled against his lips.

That kiss from yesterday would be the last kiss you shared. As friends, that is. And this would be your first kiss as lovers. From the very first chapter of your life, he was there. And to the present-day chapter of your life, he's still here with you. In the end, It'll always be him and you.

------------

solo eres tú - it’s only you

princess - princess

Everytime you post about smut blurbs, my Eddie loving brain goes 😵‍💫🫠 Any chance you have something for inexperienced!Eddie being completely overwhelmed with fooling around for the first time and just cannot get over how lucky he is to be touching/tasting reader? He’d be so overcome with lust and desire that he wouldn’t be able to control all his pretty noises 🥵

"You okay?"

You pulled away from Eddie's kiss, lips clicking apart and your nose bumped the boy's. He was breathing heavy, lips swollen and cheeks pink, flushed with the excitement from having you atop him. He'd been making soft noises, little groans every time you shifted, your fingers sweeping over the back of his neck and into his curls until he'd gasped.

Eddie nodded, looking up from his place underneath you, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide. He was all stumbling movements and unsure hands, petting softly at your sides before he got really into it, gripping the skin on your hips almost too tightly when your tongue licked into his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, m'good," he breathed out, words wavering, each syllable tripping over his own tongue. "You're just really fuckin' pretty."

You scrunched your nose at his compliment, hid your smile and your soft eyes by dipping back to kiss him again, chest to chest and arms wound around his neck. Your tongue touching his made him groan, a sweet, pretty sound that made you kiss him harder, deeper. Eddie let out huffs of breath every time you parted, chasing you for more like he couldn't get enough.

And when you rocked your hips over his, the soft cotton of your shorts catching against the zipper on his jeans, you whined and Eddie grunted, lashes fluttering and his blunt nails pressing half moons into your sides. He held you tightly, like he couldn't believe you were there - like you'd fly off at any moment.

"Still good?" You whispered and god, you sounded smug, you couldn't help it. The resident bad boy was putty underneath you, clinging onto you like you were the one thing keeping him on this earth. "Eddie?"

The boy nodded dumbly, eyes on you mouth, wondering if his was as pink and swollen as your own, kiss bitten and pretty.

It was.

"Yeah, fuck-- you're just, you-- can't believe you're making out with me, y'know? Shit, you're just really fuckin' pretty and oh, fuck--" Eddie cut himself off with a gasp when you attached yourself to his neck, lips trailing over his skin, the stubble along his jaw. "Christ, don't stop, fuck-- fuck, keep doing that."

You grinned into him, lips on his neck, right underneath his ear and you let your teeth graze the skin, felt him shiver against you. His hands crawled up your back, slipping under your shirt to trace the line of your spin and Eddie let his head fall back onto the couch cushions, eyes closed.

"What're you doing to me," he groaned and it didn't sound like a question at all. It came out like a plea, like a prayer.

"Want me to stop?" you asked softly.

"No, fucking hell, please no."

Friday Nights

pairing: riff (wss) x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism

summary: After having Riff’s hands all over you at the dance, you can’t help but pull him away into the shadows.

a/n: mike faist world domination ‼️ I’m hyperfixating so bad rn. He’s just so gorgeous.

“Where the fuck is Riff?”

The Jets without dates shrugged from their places on the outskirts of the dance floor. Ice clenched his jaw, his date securely tucked underneath his arm.

“He’s dancing with… Y/N…” Baby John scanned the crowd of dancing couples, failing to see either one of you.

“Numbers and Action left with their girls so if anything happens without Riff here, we’re outnumbered,” Ice said pointedly to the Jets within earshot.

Mouthpiece and A-Rab nodded, as Ice and his date rejoined the dance floor.

Unbeknownst to them, you had taken Riff’s hand halfway through a number and weaved him out of the crowd underneath the bleachers.

You found privacy there and, after the past few hours of being so close to him, you couldn’t deny yourself any longer.

As soon as you were in the shadows of the bleachers, you crowded him against the wall of steps.

“We should go,” Riff panted with pink kiss-bitten lips as your hungry mouth moved to his neck, licking and sucking his sweat-salted skin.

You shook your head with a mischievous grin, “I wanna keep dancing… Just need you to myself for a couple minutes.”

“Oh yeah?” A wide smirk plastered across Riff’s lips and his eyebrows lifted, looking down at you. His strong hands gripped your hips tighter and held you close to him.

You and Riff had been going steady for a few weeks. He treated you to milkshakes at the diner, he took you dancing every Friday night without fail and you two even went to the drive-in movie theatre once.

He was certainly charming.

But you weren’t sure you were quite there yet. Riff has a special way of making your stomach swirl but the Jets had a reputation amongst your friends for being… town bikes.

“Yeah, I like seeing you like this,” You smiled, letting that hang in the silence for a moment before taking a step back, “Wanna head back?”

Riff watched you with half-hooded eyes as you straightened your appearance. His hair was mused and his cheeks were rosy pink.

Looking through the gaps between the stairs, Riff assessed the dance hall. Lonely singles sat above you, waiting to be asked to dance, their shoes tapping to the beat of the music against the bleachers.

Did he want to go back..? Riff would rather spend the rest of the night hidden away with you, but you wanted to dance so he’ll dance.

He turned back to you and stood up straight, “Let me cool off for a minute.”

The bulge in his trousers was evident as he stepped further out of the shadows. It looked sizeable and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

Riff adjusted himself and the front of his trousers, straightening out his shirt and collar.

“You need a hand?”

The words escaped your mouth before you could think and Riff almost snapped his neck turning to look at you.

Silence hung between you for what felt like eternity but was in actuality a few seconds.

“I mean… if you want,” You shrugged, only now realising that you were ready to give yourself to Riff in that way.

“Sweetheart of course I want that,” Riff took your face between his hands, “Are you sure? We can just go back to dancing.”

Wordlessly, you wrapped your fingers around his belt and pulled him closer, your hips flushed to his. His unfastened belt buckle caught against your hand as you tugged down his zipper and lowered to your knees.

Riff helped you pull his boxer briefs low enough to free his aching cock. You gasped at his size and he groaned at your reaction to him, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

He was being so gentle with you. It was hard not to give him your all right away.

You started with kitten licks and soft kisses to his shaft, running your fingers through his happy trail and settling your hand on his thigh.

The other held the base of him as your tongue traced the vein across the underside of his cock.

Riff groaned from deep in his chest, gripping a metal bar from the bleachers framework above him. His other hand flailed in the air as he struggled to decide whether to hold onto you or not.

The hand on Riff’s cock ran along his toned stomach and took his free hand in yours, interlocking your fingers, as you wrapped your lips around him and took him into your throat.

“You can take it sweetheart,” Riff encouraged, his voice thick with lust.

Bobbing your head up and down, you worked up a rhythm that had Riff tipping his head back and biting his bottom lip.

He managed to muffle most of his moans and heaving breaths but the slick sounds coming from your mouth around him were hard for him to ignore.

Luckily the lively Jazz music of the dance hall bounced around the room, concealing your noise.

“Fuck baby, you’re so good at this,” Riff praised, low and rumbling. A smile graced your face despite your mouth stretching around Riff’s thick cock.

You moaned in appreciation, the vibrations making Riff moan and buck his hips, pushing his cock deeper down your throat.

Saliva dripped down his cock onto his balls. You pulled back to catch your breath, kissing his hand before untangling your fingers from his and stroking him.

Gripping him at the base, you took him in your mouth again and worked up another rhythm to prolong his pleasure.

Sweat beaded at his temples and his chest heaved. Riff wrapped his hand around the side of your neck, his thumb tilting your head back to meet your eyes.

The sight of him above you, ruined by pleasure, made you moan. The vibrations made Riff shiver. You met his eyes and his muscles trembled, pleasure shooting through him.

“Oh baby I’m gonna cum,” Riff groaned, biting his lip. His grip on the bleachers framework tightened, his bicep bulged and the veins in his forearm protruded.

You smiled giddily around his cock and reached up to massage his balls. A sinful moan sprung from his throat and his head fell back, ropes of warm salty cum coating the back of your throat.

Swallowing everything he gave you, you couldn’t help but laugh. Riff tried to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat coated his skin.

You rose to your feet, refastening his trousers and belt before tucking his shirt in and straightening it out.

Riff wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flushed against him. His face buried in the crook of your neck and pressed soft kisses to your skin.

You stood like that for a moment before pulling away. Riff looked you over before crouching and brushing his fingers against your slightly scuffed knees.

“Worth it,” You giggled as Riff stood to his full height, towering over you. He adjusted your dress and ran a thumb under your bottom lip, tidying your smudged lipstick.

“Beautiful,” Riff whispered with adoration in his eyes.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you close, “Ready to dance, girly girl?”

“Just one more kiss and then we dance,” You rose onto your tiptoes, meeting him halfway and kissing him with raw passion.

Riff pulled away, barely an inch, “Just so you know, I’m returning the favour as soon as you let me.”

“You’ll have no complaints from me,” You kissed him quickly and nipped at his lip before taking his hand and heading back to the dance floor.

The eagle-eyed Jets whooped as you and Riff reappeared, less put-together than when they last saw you.

“Enough’a that,” Riff was stern but in good spirits, pulling you under his arm as you giggled.

The Jets fell silent, despite mischievous smirks and knowing looks.

None of the Jet boys would ever say anything to you. Riff was their leader and he’d have their necks if so much as one bad word went against you.

You were his girly girl, his sweetheart, his.

“C’mon doll, let’s dance,” Riff grinned down at you, swerving you between other dancing couples to the centre of the room, “Wanna show you off… and then you’re coming home with me.”

At that, your mouth went dry. Riff bit his lip as he watched you swallow thickly.

After a moment to recover, a smirk twitched at your lips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “One more song then we go.”

Riff dipped his head to capture your lips with his before twirling and dipping you in time with the music.

You couldn’t wait for what was to follow, and every Friday night to come.

kay this might be a CRAZY thing to say and idk if ur taking reqs rn but just!!! take this as a lil treat idk!!!!

luke w a sunburned reader……… and bro is obsessed w how he leaves handprints after he touches you…. IS THIS CRAZY IDK. AM I INSANE.

wc + pairing: 1.5k, luke castellan x daughter of poseidon! reader

notes/warnings: this thought literally made me feral thank u so much😵‍💫😵‍💫 got a little carried away but wanted to write some more of my twin beads babies so this was the perfect opportunity! reader is able to burn, mentions/allusions to sex, luke is horny but aren’t we all, just fluff & banter with smutty undertones

The waves roll in to break crisply against the shoreline. There’s a noise they make, a soft crackle and splash, that sounds like laughter. You’ve had a long, good day at the camp beach, savouring your one day off to lounge on the sand with your friends and swim as far as your legs could carry you. Percy was the only one willing to keep up with you—Clarisse tried and hid her bitterness when she failed, and Luke humoured you for all of five minutes until he realized he didn’t need to be your swim buddy anymore. Percy clumsily waded in after you each and every time, and it had never been more obvious the two of you were related.

Despite the beauty of the sun warming down the sky, Luke can’t bring himself to pay attention. There’s only you, between his legs, staring out at the water like you’re seeing it for the first time. You’re especially gorgeous after a long day at the beach. Even prettier now that Luke doesn’t have to pretend you’re not. The muscles and the skin he spent ages tracing in the darkness of his cabin have a new weight to them out here, heavy and captured in the shadow of the sun.

He pulls you against him, arms winding around your front. You’re so warm and he needs more of it. He presses his nose into the dip of your shoulder and breathes. You smell like salt and sunscreen, a citrusy comfort that’s defined the past five years of his life.

“You tired?” He asks, muffled against your skin. No matter what you say, he knows. He can feel you sinking into him, the way your muscles have melted away.

“I’m happy,” is all you say, because you know he knows too.

The curve of his smile matches the curve of your shoulder as he kisses your skin, twice. He never does it once anymore. Reminds him of all the years he’d spent pretending like he didn’t want you. The least he could do is double what he gives you; return everything he’s saved for you in your youth.

He feels you sigh as he traces the tip of his nose up the dip in your neck, and the way your breath wavers when his mouth follows suit. He kisses your neck lazily, lets his teeth scrape on your skin, lets himself soak in the warmth and your exhales. He likes it when you pretend this doesn’t drive you crazy.

You’re really not giving in this time, though, and he supposes he’s in no rush either, so he pulls back and rests on the heels of his palms. You groan a bit, but whatever you’re about to say is cut by his very pronounced, “Shit.”

You glance back at him. “What?”

His eyebrows pique. “You’re burnt, sailor. Like super burnt.”

“Really?” You try to crane to get a look at your back, which is futile, and sigh, “How bad?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Like three years ago camp triathlon bad?”

He shakes his head. “Like … last year’s kayaking trip bad.”

That settles you a bit, so you shrug. “Oh, that’s fine.” You wave Luke off and turn back to the sunset. “You know it’s so weird, I never burn in the water. It’s only when I’m out of it that it happens.”

“Or when heatstroke happens,” Luke remarks, taking the opportunity of your back facing him to run his fingers along your spine. “Do you remember after the triathlon right after I beat you? When you crossed the line and the second I came over you started—”

“Please don’t finish this—”

“—vomiting all over the place and nearly passed out in my arms?”

“Luke!”

“And that older Ares kid you thought was soooo hot had to take you to the infirmary?”

“Okay, that is enough!” You turn around and wrestle his hands away from you, until he pushes back and you’re both slapping each other wherever you can, laughing like children. “Colin Ackerman was hot, you were just jealous of him!”

He catches your splitting smile that hits his heart like a tsunami. “Yeah, I wonder why!” He manages to gain the upper hand and maneuvers you back into his arms, but you put on an impressive show pretending like it’s not what you wanted all along. Your back settles against him once again, your nose smushed to his cheek, and you nudge and nudge until he kisses you. You sigh and trace your finger along his jaw and Luke wants to kick himself stupid for going this long without tasting you whenever he could.

“You’re so annoying,” you grin, kissing his cheek.

“At least I’m not Colin Ackerman.”

You snort and kiss his face again before turning back to the lake. Luke takes it upon himself to keep running fingers up your spine, noticing how your skin ripples a different shade in his wake. He can’t believe he didn’t see you were burnt sooner. You never listen to him about wearing a shirt once you come out of the water. Unfortunately, the part of him in his boxers is often glad for that.

He watches intently as he presses his thumbs into your back and drags them out, feeling your muscles stretch. It’s distracting, the burn briefly fading on your skin under his fingertips. It’s like a map of exactly where he’s touching you. A mark that lingers.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, running his thumb down your back again just to see what it does to you.

“What?”

“Mm, this,” he murmurs, moving up, watching a river blossom between your shoulder blades as he touches you.

“Not really,” you let out a pleased sigh when he kneads your shoulders for a moment. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

He drags his hands down to the middle of your back, making sure to press hard enough that he can see the path he’s travelling. He rubs circles near your spine, a place he knows you knot up. “This?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He presses his palms flat against your back and pulls away to see the imprint. Embarrassingly, he thinks it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. His hands travel further, resting on your hips. “How about when I do… this?” He hitches his thumbs just below the waistband of your bottoms.

“Luke!” You whip back to him like you’re scandalized, which he knows very well as a look you give when you want to rile him up.

“What, I’m just asking!” He takes your hips and drags you back so you’re flush again. There’s a flash of your smile when you look back at him, and he knows he has you. He kisses your neck again, toying with your waistband, letting his fingers dip a little lower every time. “How’s that feel?”

You don’t answer him, and you don’t need to. The sigh you give when he kisses your pulse is enough. He lingers there, swiping his tongue over the spot, and takes his sweet time cherishing it. You make a little sound that nearly kills him. “So pretty like this,” he says. “Wanna see?”

The two of you are chest-to-chest before he even gets a chance to elaborate. He has to prod your face away with his nose to get you to stop kissing him. Suck on that, Colin Ackerman!

He looks down and feels your gaze follow. He rests a hand on one of your arms, draped over his shoulders. When he drags his thumb along your skin, the path snakes across your complexion. “Look.”

“Yeesh,” you say, and Luke laughs. He lays kisses along your arm, and he imagines this is what the ocean smells like. This is what lost sailors feel when they finally press their faces against land again.

“Can I take you back to my cabin?” He asks, letting his teeth graze the skin of your shoulder. He doesn’t ever want to move, watching the imprint of his thumbs against your ribs and his teeth on your neck. He wants to see his hands on you everywhere.

You wind a hand in his hair. “There will be people in there.”

He gently snaps the strap of your swimsuit against your shoulder with his mouth, “Your cabin?”

“Percy.”

The sigh he lets out is embarrassingly pent-up and he pulls away to look at you in your beautiful face. “Can I please take you somewhere nobody else is so I can take off all these clothes and see where else I can touch you?”

“Be my guest, captain,” you smile eagerly.

“Thank you,” he exhales, and you waste no time in kissing him again, open-mouthed and fervent. He imagines his handprints nestled into your back, your hips, your thighs, and he’s gotta get out of here before he gets too carried away. You feel good and warm and wonderful and he’s desperate for more.

Thankfully he has practice in patience when it comes to you, so he kisses you twice more until the scorch is unbearable. The two of you rush along the sand like drunks, until Luke gets you somewhere with a little less sun and a lot less fabric so he can make good on his word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant @huang-the-geek @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jennapancake @idunnowhattonamethis @jarofshells @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @lauraisthebestyapper @nininehaaa

worlds collide | dominic fike

pairings — dominic/reader | fan girl!au |

word count : 4.6k

summary : after dominic finds out you had a smut blog dedicated to him from your teenage years, he reacts in a different way than you expected.

warnings : smut, angst, fingering in car, fucking in public, oral (f) receiving, voyeurism, daddy!kink, degrading, blowjob, choking, reader passes out, not proof read lolz

authors note : yeah, this entire fic is a manifestation.

elliot masterlist dominic fike masterlist

When you were eighteen years old, you had the biggest crush on Dominic Fike.

No, you didn’t have posters littered upon your wall; or always talk about how godly he looked to your friends. You kept those emotions bottled within you—and decided to do something a bit more..personal.

You loved his music, you really did, and always found the way he carried himself to be so fucking attractive. Every single feature on his face was perfectly symmetrical to the other; and you had never felt so infatuated with a celebrity before.

His music would always be blaring in your ears, whether it was on the way to school or plugged into a small set of earphones while you did your homework.

You remember opening your laptop one night, searching up fanfiction about him, chewing on one of those sour candies that were always in between your teeth.

Dominic Fike x Reader | daddykink!

Furrowing your brows at the words, you were confused as to what a daddy kink was. So then you clicked on the link, and an entire new world was flashed before your eyes.

You didn’t even know what a kink was, but by the end of the night, your eyes burned by the dimly lit screen as you read numerous fics about him, living through different universes where he was your brothers’ best friend, friends with benefits, and alternate reality fics.

It was like your secret obsession, going on your computer right after school and reading a bunch of new stories. But then, eventually, you ran out of new works to read—

And decided to make your own.

Sitting criss crossed on your bed, your tongue poked out the corner of your lips, your fingers ached as you wrote thousands and thousands of words of pure erotica. At first, you were shy, blushing as you typed the first few sentences; but then it began to flow through your figure as you published your first fic.

After a day, you didn’t get any likes, so debated on deleting it. But then you got a notification a few hours later, signaling that someone had reblogged your post.

fikesfuturegf : love it! can’t wait for the next part !

Smiling down at your phone, you knew that you couldn’t stop now.

In a matter of two months, you had two thousand followers, always waiting for your next posts. It was about to become summer, so you kept up with the tumblr blog for a year, before getting accepted into UCLA, and was too busy moving to update anymore. After getting busy with school and working a two part time jobs to pay the rent for your studio; you just didn’t have anymore time to write.

In two years, you had completely forgotten about the blog. But still put your writing skills to use, looking for jobs online as a music writer; and published a few samples of your work. What you didn’t expect, was for a specific artist to email you—

Which is the entire reason you are now dating the man you wrote countless smut about.

The adrenaline and shock that slapped you in the face when you saw his manager’s email knocked the wind out of your figure. You were on break from your coffee shop job, checking your notifactions, and saw the small text besides the gmail emoticon app.

Hi!

This is Dominic Fike’s Manager, Eloise Harmen.

We’ve reviewed your work and are interested in working with you, and would love if you replied within the next few days!

Hopefully you agree, thank you.

Your thumbs moved so fast to reply, agreeing on a time and date. It didn’t feel real until you walked to the address they had given you, wearing your most professional outfit, eyes bulging when his studio door swung open by Dominic himself.

His hair was in blonde curls, with dark roots, looking fluffy and bouncy. Tan skin looking smooth and honey like, his red lips were glossy and soft looking, a grey pullover and red puffy vest matched with a pair of black skinny jeans behind his outfit.

Holy fuck. You came right there.

His eyes flickered when they met yours, swiping up and down your figure, before stretching his hand towards you with a charming smile, “You must be Y/N! I’m Dominic.”

Oh yeah, you knew.

Your mouth became dry, standing frozen in place, as the man that you’ve imagined fucking you inside a public bathroom, in his car, in a fucking magical rain forest, was standing right in front of your face. Your chest rose as his brows furrowed at your lack of words, worry swirling in his eyes.

“Are you—okay? You look a little pale.”

Slapping a hand against your forehead, you nodded, sending him a tight smile, “Uh, yeah. Fine.”

His smile faltered as he stepped aside, letting you in, “Okay, cool. Shall we?”

You didn’t say anything, awkwardly following him to the couch, and made a big distance between you two by sitting at the edge. You don’t notice the confused look that crossed his features, as he let out a small chuckle.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t bite, y’know.”

Too caught up in the shock of it all, and how much better looking he was in person; you didn’t laugh, blinking at him as his beautiful voice sunk into your mind. He was so fucking good looking, making your breathing turn shallow as you realized you had been staring too long; and averted your gaze to the notebook in your hands, “I uh, I have a few samples for you.”

He nodded, clapping his hands together, afterwards sipping on the coffee from the table, “Alright, dope. Oh—did you want anything?” He offered, your heart fluttering as you looked up at him. You kept falling in love over and over again with his eyes, and how deep and brown they were; like the richest chocolate you’ve ever seen, “Coffee? Water? Weed?” He joked at the end.

You blinked, trying to not to get lost in those eyes, and shook your head before looking back down.

“No thank you.”

And for the next two hours, your tone had been clipped, reviewing which general idea of the samples he liked and what to bounce off of. The nerves didn’t fade at all, growing when you worried he thought you were weird, and somehow could read your mind and find out about all the things you’ve written about him. By the end of it, you were really sweaty, just wanting to leave so you could fan girl about it later in your room.

As soon as the session finished, you stood up, and Dominic sent you a crooked smile, “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

Your eyes rounded, “Tomorrow?”

He frowned.

“I don’t know if El told you, but we’re working on an album. I’m gonna need at least ten samples in a month—and we need to work together everyday until then.”

Oh shit.

His eyes grew in size, “Is that…okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, freaking out on the inside, grabbing your notebook before rushing to the exit,

“See you.”

And for the past two weeks, sometimes in the late hours of the night, you would work amongst Dominic as you reviewed music samples that consisted of the audios he created and the lyrics you wrote.

He would always try to crack jokes, which were pretty funny, but you would forget to laugh; being to distracted by how enchanting his eyes were. You would barley look at him, not wanting to creep him out, and staid quiet and professional for the most part.

Then, one day, after you were packing up to leave—your figure was heading towards the door, but paused when he called your name, “Y/N—can I ask you something?”

You turned around, blinking at him, as you nodded stiffly, “Um, sure.”

Fuck. He found out about the blog.

That had to be it.

You were dead. He was going to sue you for being a fucking pervert.

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, waiting for him to laugh in your face about how weird and gross you were, shock once again flooded you as he drew his brows together, “What’s your problem with me? Have I offended you in any way?”

You tilted your head, not expecting those words.

“My problem?”

He gulped, rubbing the back of his neck before mustering up a shy smile. Your heart melted.

“You barley speak, and act like you’re too disgusted to be near me. I just thought you had some beef with me,” he explained, stepping towards you. His tone was glum, “Which upsets me because—I’m into you. Like, really into you.”

This had to be a fucking joke.

You did not believe this.

The boy you’ve been literally fantasizing over for years just told you he had feelings for you, and thought you didn’t like him. It was humorous actually, making a laugh of disbelief fall from your lips, his cheeks turning pink as he figured you were laughing at his admission, “I’m guessing you don’t feel the same.”

You gulped, “No…no. I just—I like you too.”

His brows rose in surprise, “Word?”

Lips quirking into a smile, you nodded.

“Word.”

Sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip, he shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging, “Well then—can I take you out sometime? Like, on a date?”

You couldn’t agree fast enough.

Giggling like kids, your sock covered feet rubbed against your boyfriend of two years, Dom, as you laid on the couch. You wrapped your arms around his chest, not wanting him to leave for the studio, his scent of marijuana and manly cologne hitting your senses, “No! I don’t wanna share you, Dom.”

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, leaving your cheeks pink before lightly pushing you off and standing up.

“I’ll be back soon,” he grabbed his keys from the table, smiling cutely at you, “Only for a few hours. Then we can watch Love Island and get stoned, hm?”

You pouted, but nodded, him kissing the top of your head before leaving the shared apartment you both lived in.

Letting out a sigh of content, you got a gmail notification, the ding! being heard from the table. Grabbing it from the surface, your eyes popped open at the text.

It was from your gmail, a robot animated message from tumblr, celebrating your six year anniversary since you’ve first posted on it. You had forgotten all about it. Clicking on the link, you were brought back to your old account, followers wondering where you had been and why you disappeared.

Reading your old works, biting on your thumbnail, you found to crazy that you were now with the person you used to write about. And you just say—the real thing was way better.

You didn’t notice how long you had been going through your works, not hearing the front door slamming shut, flinching when a pair of lips pressed against your neck, “Hey baby—what you reading?”

“Nothing—Dominic!”

He pulled the phone from your hands, a smile on his lips at first, not expecting for what he was about to get himself into. You felt like you were going to cry, hand flying to your mouth, as his brows furrowed as he scrolled downwards. His eyes flew to yours as you stared at him, horrified, hoping he didn’t break up with you and kick you out of the place.

It was embarrassing. You wanted to die.

He blinked, processing most likely, before his voice rasped, “Did you…write this?”

It was like word vomit. It kept spilling out and getting more worse.

“It was before I met you, and I forget about it—but when we met, I remembered and that’s why I was so cold, and I got this stupid text from tumblr that was celebrating my anniversary, and you weren’t supposed to—“

“Y/N,” he cut you off, placing the phone onto the table, “It’s okay. I don’t—think differently of you. It’s just…a little weird, not gonna lie.”

Twisting your mouth to the side, you nodded, “I know. If you want to break up with me—“

“Of course I don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. But his eyes did flicker, “I just—didn’t expect it. It’s so….graphic.”

You gulped, “Do you think I’m a creep?”

He paused, his jaw tightening, and it sent you off. Standing up onto your feet, which padded against the wooden floor, you let out a cry, “Oh my god, you do!”

“Wait—Y/N..”

Slamming the door to the bathroom shut, tears rolled down your cheeks, covering a hand over your mouth as you quietly sobbed. Dom kept knocking on the door, repeating your name, and asked you to open the door. But you didn’t, hugging your knees, as you felt like your boyfriend didn’t love you anymore. I mean, could you blame him?

He must’ve thought you were such a pervert.

You regretted writing that stupid blog. You regretted even meeting him, because you had fallen so hard for him, and now he was going to leave you. It was all your fault; and you had no one to blame but yourself.

Time went by, and your boyfriend returned, knocking on the door once again, “Y/N—open the door, please.”

Sniffling, you had no choice but to do what he said, bracing yourself for him breaking up with you. He was a kind person, so he would do his best to do it gently, which hurt even more. Wiping at your eyes, you took a deep breath, and swung open the door.

One of his hands leaning above the door frame, his eyes rounded, brows raising; not expecting for you to finally open it. You stared at him with pink cheeks and nose, eyes puffy from crying, as you hugged yourself.

Your chest hurt as he looked at you, worry glossing over his eyes, “Are you okay?”

You shook your head.

“No, but I’ll pack my things. I understand—“

He took a step forward, knitting his brows, “I’m not breaking up with you. Some silly blog that you wrote when you were a kid doesn’t erase the two years we’ve had together,” he told you, pinching your chin with a small smile, “I mean, yeah, it’s a bit odd—but we don’t ever have to bring it up again. I’ll act like it never existed.”

You wiped your nose, sniffling, “I don’t know..”

His hand flew to your jaw, making you look up at him, and the sincerity in his eyes. He rubbed his jaw on the outline of your cheekbone, “I promise I don’t care. I really don’t. I love you.”

You nodded, still looking ashamed, and he tapped your cheek,

“What? You don’t love me anymore?” He teased, smirking down at you.

You laughed softly, him pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around your figure as you smelled his warm scent against your cheek. Fluttering your eyes shut, his fingers rubbed your scalp, still doubting yourself as you sighed against him.

“I love you too.”

A few weeks went by, and the incident wasn’t on your mind as much, doing your best to push it away from your mind. Dom’s like felt heavy in yours as he rubbed your cheekbone, the limo driver focusing on the road, as his fingertips trailed down to the waistband of your dress.

You had just attended an event together, and were on your way back home, and didn’t expect for things to take such a turn. You gasped into the kiss when his nimble fingers delved beneath the fabric of your underwear, his other hand moving to your thigh, as you felt him smirk against you, “Gotta be quiet, okay?”

Adrenaline shot through you as his thumb began to circle your clit, letting out a soft moan which he swallowed; your wetness sticky against his skin, “So fucking wet,” he muttered, sinking a finger into your pulsing heat, “You’re such a fucking slut for daddy, aren’t you? Getting finger fucked in the back of the car where anyone can see.”

Your lust duplicated as your hips rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers, cool medal ring burning the inside of your walls. Hand flying to his wrist, other one on his shoulder, you panted in his ear as he moved to suck the flesh of your neck, “Feels—so good. Holy shit, Dom.”

“Hm, does it?” He purred, adding a second finger, embarking a hiss from you as he quickened his pace.

You nodded, spreading your thighs further apart, pulling away to glance at the driver; who must’ve known what was going on. There’s no way he didn’t, not with how loud your heavy pants were or the slightly slick sounds of your pussy.

Dom didn’t like that your attention wasn’t on him, growling, “Look at me,” while his fingers gripped your chin, the other sliding in and out of your slit while your eyes hooded in pleasure. His thumb quickened its circles on your pearl, his teeth gritting as he forced you to look into his eyes, “Don’t look at him. He’s not making you cum, is he? It’s me. So fucking cream my fingers for me.”

Your lips fell open as your brows furrowed, the knot in your belly growing as his hot breath fanned your lips, “I’m gonna—“

“Then do it,” he snapped, making your eyes round before letting go all over his hand, “Good fucking girl. There we go.”

Your fist balled up the fabric of his button up, figure shuddering as his fingers slid from your soaking folds, rubbing your swollen nub as your orgasm shot through you. Sucking in a harsh breath, you bit your bottom lip, almost drawing blood as you tried your best to remain silent. Dissolving into pleasure, he didn’t break eye contact, watching with a faint smug smirk as you released onto him.

When you were coming down, the car parked in the familiar driveway of you apartment, the driver announcing your were home.

“Thanks, bro,” Dom called out, sucking on his fingers, before sending you a wink and hopping out the car.

Your legs shook as you followed after him.

You were pretty sure that was the hardest you ever came in your entire life.

Scrolling through your phone, you heard the door to Dom’s dressing room slam shut—causing your eyes to flicker up into his stormy ones. Your brows rose as his drew together, like bruised and swollen from probably biting on them; something he did when he was stressed. You sat up in your seat as he stalked over to you, veins protruding from his neck, as he cursed harshly, “I can’t hit the fucking notes. El keeps getting on my ass about it.”

You sympathized for him, standing up and walking over to him, “Hey, you got this,” you mumbled, hand falling on his shoulder,

“You have a show in twenty min—“

His hand flew to your wrist, pupils turning darker, his tone bitter, “You think I don’t know that? Hence why I’m fucking pissed,” he spat, shoving you against the wall. Your eyes rounded as he ripped the tank top you had on into two, breasts spilling out, hands flying to cup them before smashing his lips against yours, “I’m gonna take it out on you, and you’re going to fucking take it.”

Well—you weren’t one to deny that.

His fingers flew to the zipper of your shorts, leading you to kick them down your legs, his teeth clashing against yours as your chest pressed against his, “Suck my cock,” he ordered, and you dropped to your knees, looking up at him with big eyes. His eyes narrowed, “Is it gonna take itself out or what? Hurry the fuck up.”

Your heat clenched at his words, mean words, thighs pressing together as you got to work. Small hands flying to his zipper, the sound of it being opened ringing in the room, along with his heavy pants as he watched you intently with a cold look. Gulping, you spotted the hard dent in his boxers, mouth watering as you pulled those down as well.

His cock sprang upwards, head leaking with his cum pre-cum and beet red; his hand flying to wrap his long fingers around his shaft, “Stick out your tongue,” he barked, and when you did, he smirked lazily before tapping the tip onto your pink muscle, “Such a fucking cockslut f’me. Just a toy for me to fuck when I want, isn’t that right?”

You were about to respond, hazy in lust, but he slid his cock inside your mouth before rocking his hips. His hand made a makeshift ponytail with your hair, his chest sinking and rising quickly as he used your wet, warm mouth to get himself off, “God—so fucking tight. Feels so good—s-shit.”

His salty and tangy taste coated your tongue, thick shaft filling your throat as you gagged around it. Your eyes burned as they watered, making him snicker.

Your other hand began to pump his length, thinking he wanted to cum, but he pulled out with a pop—before bending down onto his knees and shooting his hand to your throat. Your eyes bulged as he guided you back to your feet, a furious look covering his features as his nostrils flared.

“Did I say you could do that, you fucking whore?” He spat in your face, and when you shook your head, his eyes turned darker, “Use your words.”

“No,” you whimpered, “No, daddy.”

He huffed, before ripping off your panties, hearing them tear as you cringed at the sound. This was so fucking hot. He rubbed his cock against your throbbing clit, looking into your eyes as he released his joke from your throat, “You want Daddy to fuck you, Y/N?”

You nodded, eyes brimmed with tears, as you almost sobbed, “Yes—please. I need Daddy’s cock in me!”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his head sinking into your awaiting pussy, a long moan falling from your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting yourself up and down as he fucked you at a harsh pace, “That’s right. Bounce on Daddy’s cock and make yourself cum.”

His manager banged on the door, “Dominic—you’re on in ten! Open up.”

He slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling your cries, as he tried his best to keep an even voice.

“I’ll be there, I’m busy right now.”

You heard her sigh, “Doing what?”

Panic filled your eyes, worried that she was going to hear you cum, or walk in on the two of you—but your boyfriend didn’t seem to really care, continuing his thrusts as he fucked into you, eyes glued to your worried ones.

“For fucks sake,” he shouted, rolling his eyes before delivering a harsh thrust, “I’m fucking busy. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Whatever.”

The sound of footsteps receded.

Your bottom lip quivered as his big cock kept poking at your cervix, arms wrapping around his neck as his pace was relentless. Your tits jiggled as he didn’t even bother to take off his hoodie, his scent flying up your nose, as you let out scream after scream as he took you against the wall.

“I’m gonna cum,” you wailed, head tipping back against the wall, “Daddy, I’m gonna—“

His hand returned to your throat, blocking your airways, “You gonna cum? Can you cum without breathing?” He taunted, making your brows furrow, before he pinched two fingers over your nostrils. Your eyes doubled in size as he chuckled wickedly, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit, “Go ahead. Let’s see.”

You gasped as the lack of oxygen began to turn painful, which set you over the edge, clawing at his back as you tried to escape his grasp. The hot heat that overtook you was so fucking strong, you couldn’t handle it, not being able to breathe as you came hard.

He finally let go, which heightened your orgasm, leading you to black out from the intensity of it. The last thing you remembered was his thrusts stuttering, probably about to cum, and then everything faded.

Eyes jolting open, you woke up to Dom fully dressed again, towering over your slumped figure on the couch. His eyes were wide with worry, hand rubbing your cheek, as his face was significantly paler than usual.

“I went too far,” he apologized, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You passed out because I choked you—“

Your brows furrowed, shaking your head, “No I didn’t. It was because it felt—so good,” you muttered, blinking up at him with hooded eyes and a tired smile, “That was the best sex I’ve ever had, Dom.”

His eyes still skeptical, his face flickered, “Are you sure—“

“I promise,” you assured, pulling his face down to kiss his sweet lips, “You can be rough with me. I won’t break, baby.”

He sighed in relief as you pulled away, pecking your forehead, “Whatever you want. As long as you’re comfortable,” he mumbled, “I gotta go. See you after?”

You nodded, “I’ll be here.”

Sitting on your chair, you were live on Instagram from Dom’s phone, since he had asked you to entertain his followers while he went to retrieve something. Reading the comments with a small smile, you thanked some which called you pretty, while others were asking if Dom was going to be releasing anymore albums this year.

But when you spotted your boyfriend under the desk, not noticing he was there when you first came to sit, a scream left your lips as he poked his curls between your thighs, “Holy shit!”

He chuckled quietly, holding a finger to his lips, before spreading them. You watched with furrowed brows before eyes rounding, him pulling aside your panties, feeling his warm muscle lick a stripe up your slit while looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

There was no way he was doing this right now. What the fuck.

Looking up at the comments, you tried to appear non-chalant, apologizing for your outburst and saying there was a random bug that had flown in from the window.

Biting down on your finger, sniffling a moan, your eyes squinted from pleasure; pretending to read the comments as your boyfriend fucked you with his tongue below the desk.

He shoved two fingers inside your pussy, before pumping them in and out quickly, wrapping his thick lips around your pulsating clit and sucking harshly. You worried they could hear him slurping crudely, hold jolting, as you tried your best to remain stone faced, “I do love dogs, actually. More—More than dog—cats.”

You felt your boyfriend snicker against your clit at the mistake, which vibrated against your core, making you shiver as the pleasure began to take over your mind. Your fingers tugged at his strands, trying to lift him away from you, but his mouth stuck to your pussy like glue as he tried to pull an orgasm from you.

Beginning to panic, feeling yourself teeter over the edge, your hands flew to the phone that was propped against a candle, “One sec guys, I’m gonna change,” you announced before muting yourself, and turning off the camera, and fell back onto the chair. Your feet planted onto his shoulders as your eyes crossed, “Fuck fuck fuck—I’m cumming!”

He hummed, as your pussy squirted into his mouth, your high washing over you. You threw your head back as you rolled your hips onto him, before slowly coming back down, watching as he wiped his mouth before standing up onto his feet once again.

You panted, looking up at him, “What has gotten into you, Dom? You’re doing all this risky, crazy shit.”

He smirked, sparkles dancing in his eyes, as he snickered.

“You know that blog you had?”

Your face dropped, realization hitting you. He was recreating the fics you wrote.

Laughing at the mortified look on your face, he threw his head back, “Thought you’d never catch on.”

Well—you weren’t expecting that.

taglist ☻ @visiondaddy @vintagebitc @withlovealwaysxx @ncllywrites @din0-plan3 @alinycarey @spencerreidsm0mmy @demiesexual @sublimecatgalaxy @ruesrealwife @alascaxq @elliotsslut @icedcold @theliterarybeldam @write-from-the-heart @spliffprincess69 @janieisamarauder @glizzymcguirex @loversjoy

of kisses on cheeks

luke castellan x best friend reader 4k

you’re acting weird. luke is going to find out why

— title from how you get the girl by tswift. chapter 3.5 of the killerverse but you dont have to read the rest to understand!

— absolute insane embarrassing cringe levels of pining because they’re in their mid teens ++ its circa killer’s poisoning in the woods.

You think you’re being secretive about it, but Luke knows you’re avoiding him.

Your ‘avoidance’ isn’t silence. You’d never stop talking to him, but this is probably the closest thing to it.

You joke with him like normal when other people are around, sending him smiles so sweet his shoulders relax with relief. But when he tries to catch your eye during a lull in the conversation you suddenly forget who he is, looking straight past him to stare at a tree or passing bird.

The situation becomes so desperate that he resorts to tactical warfare.

In other words, he pulls on your hair to get on your nerves. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping for — preferably an emotion stronger than the lukewarm smiles you’re giving him — but receives nothing but a twitch of your eye.

Frankly, it’s scary. It’s been like this all morning.

—

It’s one of those rare days in October where it reaches just over seventy-four degrees, which means that everyone is happier than usual. It also means that the two of you could play hooky without the usual repercussions.

You decide to head deeper into the woods today. It’s farther in than usual, because even though your counselors won’t care that you skipped out on archery today, they’re bound to give you disappointed looks if they see you lounging around openly by the lake.

It’s only been a couple of years since the two of you have come to camp, but Luke is already beginning to find it insanely boring. There’s nothing to do except the same six activities and there’s nowhere to go except the miles of woods on site. You’ve already combed through what feels like every square inch of the place, taking him with you even when he drags his feet.

You find some spot just south of the shed where they keep the canoes. It’s shielded from the wind by a big oak tree you decide to lay your back against, yawning almost immediately when you sit down. The sun has warmed the ground and made it an optimal nap spot, apparently.

Luke sits a little bit ahead of you, keeping you in his peripheral vision. It gives him an unobstructed view of the small clearing you're in, and it’s fortunately nicer than most corners of the woods you take him to.

(He’s also pretty sure this is where he knocked you on your ass during Capture the Flag once, but he knows you’d deny it if he brought it up.)

Luke unfolds a piece of scrap paper from his pocket. He’s not that bad at drawing for a beginner, but he’s pretty sure art isn’t for him. He’s only doing it because Annabeth encouraged him to try.

She has sketchbooks full of random things. It’s mostly buildings she finds interesting and the occasional scene of camp, but all of it is insanely good and Luke would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit jealous.

He personally finds the act of drawing insanely boring, and it’s even worse because he’s pretty average at it. Annabeth insists he just has to find something he likes and it’ll come natural to him, but he’s seen everything at camp millions of times over again and knows it’ll be lame no matter what.

For now, he’s satisfied with drawing another uninspired view of a tree to give to Annabeth.

From behind him, you take the ball cap off his head, exposing his messy head of hair. He’s too tired to argue for it back when he watches you put it on, letting the bill settle over your eyes.

“No shot you’re sleeping right now,” he says hotly. “All you do is sleep. I barely even talk to you ‘cause all you wanna do is nap all the time.”

“Looking after you is exhausting,” you say, smiling as you do.

He scoffs, but lets you put your feet sideways in his lap while you try and get comfortable.

Stifling another yawn, you explain. “Carter and Nika were up all night talking. They’re trying to pull a prank on Austin.”

“And you didn’t tell them to go to bed?”

You shrug. “I’m not a hypocrite. We’re loud whenever we have sleepovers too.”

He pinches your calf but doesn’t say anything else. There’s absolutely no way you guys whisper that loud.

“I’m giving you an hour,” he lies. He knows he’s going to let you sleep longer than that. He always does. “Then we’re actually doing something.”

You press your sneaker into his thigh before laying back, leaving Luke somewhat alone with his thoughts and a blank page.

It probably takes him fifteen minutes to pick up his pencil. It’s partly because he doesn’t know what to draw, but it’s also because you start complaining whenever he stops passing his hand back and forth over your thigh.

He stops five times and you complain five times, but after the sixth time you’re silent. It’s at this time he decides on sketching the tree ahead of him. It looks just like the ten other trees he’s given Annabeth this week, but some practice is better than no practice. Maybe the wood nymphs will be extra nice to him if he gives them a drawing of their favorite tree, or something.

He adds in the sun just to see what it’d look like, and decides against it when it ends up making the whole thing cartoony. A few minutes later, he gets halfway into a drawing of a bird before it flies away, leaving Luke with a rough shape and making him more irritated than before.

He finally gives up when a squirrel shows up and chews through the flower he was drawing for you.

Luke sighs, leaning back against his hands and letting his eyes go to the only other thing around.

You.

You’re fast asleep already, so he takes the time to look at you. There’s a scratch going up the side of your calf, stopping around the bend of your knee. The hoodie over your shoulders is his — the one with the paint stains he hasn’t worn in a while. He’s never been happier that he gave up that piece of clothing, especially now that he sees how comfortable you are in it. He squeezes your ankle affectionately.

Before he thinks too much about it, he picks up his pencil and begins to draw.

He gets more into it than he thought he would. It takes him a few tries to get the shape of your jaw right, but it’s probably the only thing he’s drawn today that he’s remotely happy with.

It turns out that Annabeth was right. Drawing something he liked did make it a lot easier. Sketching the curve of your cheek was a lot more fun than drawing another uninspired pine branch.

Luke stares at the lead on the paper for so long he only notices you’re shifting around when you jolt awake.

The paper in his lap flutters into the dirt. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong, but his face still grows hot as he shoves it back into the pocket of his jacket.

Grogginess makes your movements sluggish. He lets his hand pass over your leg again, wondering if that'd be enough to put you back to sleep.

“Good nap?” he asks.

He pokes at the back of your thigh, and your eyes snap up at him.

There’s tears in them.

“Woah—hey.” He sits closer to you, trying to get you to look at him. Leaves protest under his knees. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t think you’re going to start crying, but you’re teary and quiet and he doesn’t really know what to do. You’re so warm with sleep that sweat has formed on your upper brow.

He knocks off the cap to see you better, but it does nothing but make you press your palms into your face. The nerves are making you so tense he can’t pry your hands away.

“Killer,” he says slowly. “Come here. Do you want to—”

As if you hadn’t been close to tears a second before, your hands drop from your face. “Can we go back, please?”

You don’t look sad anymore. Just tired.

Your breathing is fine, but he still reaches to feel the pulse at your wrist. Just to check. Just to be sure you’re actually alright.

It doesn’t take you long to get what he’s doing. You frown. “Luke, stop. I’m fine.”

Your pulse thrums erratically under his thumb. He looks you up and down, searching for… something he’s not really sure of.

Injury isn’t possible. He’s been with you the whole time.

“Luke, please,” you insist, rising on unsteady legs. You reach for his wrists this time to tug him up with you. “Let’s go back.”

You look tired, and Luke is forced to accept the fact that you aren’t going to talk about it right now. He gathers his stuff in one arm and you in the other, and you begin the quiet walk back to camp.

—

It’s been a few hours since then, and you’re still not totally back to normal. You’re still avoiding him. Whatever you dreamed about must’ve been bad.

Because that’s what it had to be, right? A bad dream?

There wasn’t anything wrong with you physically. You were a little shaken up, but a bad dream would’ve done that to anybody.

Whatever it was, Luke is determined to figure it out.

He finds the perfect time to investigate when everyone is captivated by Board Game Night. Luke is supposed to be the banker for his siblings’ Monopoly game (he’s the only person trusted not to steal the fake money), but he’s too busy watching you play Clue with Annabeth and your friends.

He sits through thirty minutes of Travis’ failed attempts at stealing money before he catches sight of you getting up across the room.

The plastic container of money goes flying when Luke stands up too. Paper flutters to the ground as everyone fumbles to catch the crumpled bills.

You mumble something to your group before turning in the direction of the exit.

“Luke!” Cynthia complains. Tiny red hotels land all over the floor. Her empire on the left side of the board has been crushed.

“I uh… gotta piss,” he lies, jumping over the board to catch up with you.

“I win, then!” someone (likely Travis) declares.

Luke leaves the ensuing argument in his rearview as he jogs out the front doors.

You’re insanely fast unfortunately, because you’re already about a third of the way to the bathrooms by the time Luke’s sneakers are even touching the grass.

The sound of the crunching leaves beneath his feet catches your attention immediately, if the way that you start walking faster indicates anything.

“Killer,” he says loudly, so you know it’s him and not some rando following you. “Can I come?”

You turn slowly to face him like you’re in a microwave. A smile is plastered on your face, and though it’s not fake, it’s a little awkward. “To the girl’s bathroom?”

He catches up with you in a few strides, more winded than he’ll admit. “I’ll wait outside, if that’s okay. You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself.”

The upturn of your lips softens into something a little more natural. You tilt your head, extending your hand. “Let’s go then, hero.”

The bathrooms aren’t too far away, so Luke makes sure to drag his feet. You are kind enough to match his pace and not leave him in the dust, even if it means you’re walking at the rate of one yard per minute.

You squeeze his hand, a form of a truce. “How’s Monopoly?”

It makes him happy to know you weren’t ignoring him completely. “Fine. I’ve been giving your sister an extra couple of fifties when no one’s looking.”

A wicked smile spreads across your face. “I expected nothing less from you.”

Luke’s chest burns while he looks at you. He’s said it a million times before, but he wishes you were happy all the time.

“Are you okay?”

Luke knows he’s spoken out of turn, but the way your eyes widen makes it loud and clear.

“Uh, what do you mean?” you say, pulling him to a stop.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “I was just worried about you. You scared me earlier.”

You slip your hand out of his to pat his cheek. “You don’t have to be worried, Luke. I’m fine.”

“You gotta see where I’m coming from, though,” he says, catching your wrist when you try to walk away. “You were crying earlier. I thought you were hurt.”

You frown, then give a weird look to his hand around your wrist. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry, I promise.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, watching you try to slip out of his reach again. “I let you worry about me. Why aren’t you letting me worry about you?”

The look you give him is loaded. “Because I actually need to worry about you. You nearly snapped your neck trying to backflip off the dock yesterday.”

“Pfft. I was fine.”

Luke’s not some rookie. He wants to say that he’s done much more dangerous stunts off of much more dangerous structures, but he has a feeling that won’t go over so well with you.

“And I was fine too,” you argue. “No need to worry.”

“Let’s just say we can both worry, and you tell me what you were crying about.”

You almost look upset. “I wasn’t crying—”

“—Didn’t know there’s another word for when tears are coming out of someone’s eyes—”

You scoff so loudly it practically echoes. “You’re being totally ridiculous, Luke.”

“Killer,” he nearly snaps. “You’re my best friend and I care about you. I don’t think that’s ridiculous.”

His words disarm you. The irritation in your eyes evaporates — your argument fizzles out just as quickly as it started.

The fight leaves you almost immediately. Very quietly, you admit it.

“I had a dream about you.”

Luke knows you hate arguing with him, but he’s surprised you gave in this early on. He was ready for about ten more rounds of back and forth.

You look upset again. He beckons you closer, ready to bat your fears away.

“I get nightmares all the time. You know that better than I do.” Luke’s pleased to see that you step willingly into his reach. He squeezes your upper arms in a way he hopes is soothing. “Half of my bad dreams have to do with something happening to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Luke’s pretty sure he has more nightmares than dreams. He’s seen you die a hundred times over, a fact he’s admitted to you every time he wakes you up with his restless sleep. Sometimes his dreams are about Annabeth or even himself, but you seem to be the most popular star in his night terrors.

When his nightmares are bad enough, they can ruin his entire day. He’s grateful that you’re there for most of them, since your sleepovers are so common. You’re willing to sit with him at ungodly hours of the night, doing nothing but matching each other's breathing until one of you falls back asleep.

When they’re really bad and Luke’s reluctant to let go of you, you play imaginary tic-tac-toe on one of your arms. He’s beyond lucky to have you.

“You coulda just talked to me. Why’re you running away, killer?”

When you’d woken up from your nightmare earlier, you seemed to want to do nothing but get away from him. It would be embarrassing to admit that the thought of that stings, so Luke tries not to think about it.

You shift around nervously on your feet like you’re about to take flight any second. There’s a brief moment where your eyes flicker away from him, and Luke remembers he kind of ambushed you on the way to the bathroom.

“Oh,” he says, embarrassed. “I’ll uh— let you go. My bad—”

You look confused and then irritated all over again. “It wasn’t a nightmare, Luke.”

He turns the information over in his head.

Huh.

You had a dream. About him.

Unfortunately, Luke is a teenage boy.

He laughs.

“You had a dream about me, huh? What kind?”

Whatever emotion was on your face turns quickly into horror. “Not like that, you asshole!”

You whip your head around, walking away faster than Luke can jog. The only reason you probably don’t sprint away is because he drops an arm around your shoulder, sticking you to his side.

He’s still shaking with laughter. You scowl.

You try shoving his face away with the heel of your hand, and you’re very regretful when — as usual — he takes it as an opportunity to lock your hands together.

“Why do I even try?” you grumble to yourself.

For the rest of the walk to the bathroom, you are simmering with anger while Luke smiles, your hands linked in front of you.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry. You looked stressed, I was just kidding.”

(He was only half kidding. He was pretty sure it was that kind of dream.)

“Please never speak. Ever again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees quickly. It’s only a few seconds until you reach the bathrooms, so he lets go of your hand when he’s certain you won’t (rightfully) shove him.

“I’m too nice to you, Luke.” You sigh heavily as you take the steps up to the big building. He trails behind you dutifully. “I’ve made your ego too big. I’m actively hurting the whole camp.”

He gives you a wet kiss on the cheek, lighting up when you don’t wipe it away. “Yeah, yeah, I said I was sorry. Tell me what your dream was about and I’ll let you go.”

“No. You're a dick, but you’re still my friend. If I tell you, your head will get so big that it’ll explode. I already know.”

It is an impulsive decision to ask, “Was I that good?”

“Yes.” Your voice is flat while you push open the door to the bathrooms. “That’s why I was crying.”

Despite the boredom in your voice, Luke catches a glimpse of your smile when you look away.

“Tell me, killer,” he says to the silhouette of your back. He’s sure you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll do you a favor.”

“Already owe me plenty of those.”

“Then you can cash one in right now!”

You sigh loudly again, but Luke knows you’re just being dramatic for fun. You turn around, leaning against the open doorway. There’s a soft gust of wind, and you look rather pretty even when you’re half-glaring at him. The fluorescent lights behind you form a halo over your head.

It’s muffled by your embarrassment, but you say something that sounds like, “I had a dream that you got a girlfriend.”

Luke nearly laughs at the thought, but he knows that you’d take it wrong if he busted out laughing right now. Very calmly, he says, “You gotta speak up, killer. I don’t understand.”

Your hands are clasped together behind your back, probably making creases in the fabric. Very quickly, you repeat, “I had a dream that you got a girlfriend.”

Luke squints. He tilts his head slightly and taps the other side in hopes it’ll fix his hearing issue. “Uh. Say that again?”

You lean forward to shove at his shoulder, your eyes tilted towards the floor.

You’re embarrassed.

“I know you heard it the first time. I’m not saying it again.”

The words ring in his head.

I had a dream that you got a girlfriend.

It wasn’t a hallucination. You actually said that.

He sputters, his face catching on literal fire. “I—oh. I didn’t… couldn’t hear you. Did she… Who was she?”

You roll your eyes at his first choice of question. “I dunno. Some girl.”

Luke definitely feels like there’s more to it, but he’ll take whatever information he can get. “But why were you crying? Was she mean to you?”

You stay quiet. You’re halfway into the building now, shifting away from him.

“She was nice,” you offer, picking at a piece of wood on the pillar you’re leaning on.

“That’s why you were upset?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Killer.”

“What?”

“Just tell me. I won’t joke, I promise.”

He even tucks hair out of your face because he knows it makes you happy when he does. Something he’s learned about you over the years is that just the right amount of affection will get you to do anything — even admit something you find super embarrassing.

The confession spills out of you without another second of prompting.

“I was sad because you had a girlfriend. And nothing was the same anymore.”

The thought of it is insane to him. Sure, having a girlfriend is something he’s thought about before, but not once has he ever thought about it affecting your friendship.

After all, you’re you. No single person could ever come between that.

“Why?” he asks genuinely. “You’re my best friend. Nothing will change that.”

You step out of the doorway to stand in front of him, which Luke takes as an absolute win.

He opens his arms, and you wrap yourself around his torso. “Thanks, hero. But we weren’t spending any time together when you had a girlfriend. And I get why, but I was just upset.”

This is interesting to him, seeing as finding time for you is like a literal power he has. He once communicated with you through paper and a window when you were isolated with the flu.

Luke gives you a self indulgent shoulder rub. “Why didn’t we spend time together?”

You shrug. “You spent all your time with your girlfriend instead. It was so weird. I couldn’t remember the last time I spoke to you.”

Luke thinks the way you’re so worked up about it is sweet. He understands why you’re upset, but he wishes you knew that there was no possibility of this specific dream becoming real.

Even his nightmares where you’re jumped by an evil Chiron are more likely to happen than him ignoring you.

“I wouldn’t stop talking to you, no matter if I had a girlfriend or not. You’re important to me. I don’t know what I’d do if we weren’t friends.”

You stay quiet with your chin hooked over his shoulder. You don’t really believe him — Luke can tell by the way you don’t settle.

“Okay,” you say.

“Hey. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He says your real name, and you soften into the hug.

(It’s like his trump card.)

He wonders if thinking like this would make him a bad future boyfriend, but he tells you the truth. “Nothing would change my friendship with you. Not even a girlfriend.”

You pick at a loose thread along the line of his shoulder.

“C’mon, you know me. I’d never stop talking to you. Ever. You come first before anything.”

Luke trails off towards the end of his last sentence. If he did have a girlfriend, that part wouldn’t sound normal, but he says it anyway because it’s true. He would choose you over anyone.

When you lean back, it’s to smile at him. He finds himself reflecting it back to you.

“You done worrying now?” he asks.

You’ve been biting your lip. It’s stained a little red, and he presses his thumb into a spot where you’ve drawn blood.

“Yep. I’m done worrying.”

Luke already knows he has a stupid smile on his face when you close the door to the bathrooms. He just doesn’t care.

a/n. killer is the girl best friend luke tells other girls not to worry about (she is going to sleep in his bed tonight btw.)

i tried to make the end as cheesy and sappy and cringy as i could bc i already Know they were traumatizing anyone at camp who’s ever had a crush on the other lol.

when they were ~16 yrs old they were actually crazy and lacked social cues and didnt realize they were acting like this… theyre so interesting #FREECAMPHALFBLOOD

steve would find himself dating a weird girl, and he probably has no clue how he got there but he just kind of goes with it anyway because, not only are you like a sex god or something, but steve’s kind of scared of you if he’s being honest.

like, seriously, the first time he goes to your house, he enters your room and nearly shits his pants. you have animal skulls littered through your room, dead moths in frames on your wall, various sharp tools and traps on shelves or hanging on your wall— you even had a mason jar full of bullets that steve has no desire to ask about for the sake of his peace of mind. not to mention, the first time you fucked, steve had never seen you before and steve thinks he knows everyone in this town— but fuck if you don’t have the best pussy steve’s ever fucked in his life.

it’s godly, genuinely.

so steve keeps his mouth shut, doesn’t ask anything about the various dead animals in your room or the weapons, and he sits patiently on your bed as you feed your pet lizard.

and when you’re done, you ride the shit out of steve. there on your squeaky bed, in your cold room with an old, rusty sickle above his head that steve is a little stressed might fall from the wall and slice his head off or something— seriously, are you like a murderer or something? is steve fucking a murderer?

it doesn’t matter. you’re wet, so fucking wet, and warm and tight. you ride him to filth, to the point where it feels borderline disrespectful, but steve doesn’t care, not when you’re fucking him near an inch of his life, sucking him in like you’d never had a cock in you before.

jesus, steve has no clue how he got here, but thank fuck.

when you’re both done, steve doesn’t even catch a decent breath before you clamber off of him to wriggle your skirt back into place and pass him his keys— “my parents will be back anytime now, so you should probably go. unless if you wanna stay and eat dinner, you can.” you shrug.

and… well steve doesn’t have anything better to do, so he stays for dinner. your parents are nice— a lot less of a scary vibe coming from them which makes steve wonder where you get it from, but he says nothing.

and your parents seem to like steve (what parents don’t?) so steve keeps coming over. all summer. and eventually you just start calling steve your boyfriend and steve just nods and goes along with it. yeah. you fuck him good and you’re kind of cute even with the whole aura of death thing you’ve got going on. yeah, steve likes his little weird girlfriend.