— right by my violets
luke castellan x fem reader / cw suggestive content
title from n side by steve lacy. loosely related to the killerverse so its only semi canon and u don’t have to read the series to understand ! i’ll call this ch 8.5
Your favorite time to jumpscare Luke is when he’s just come fresh from a shower right after training.
He always smells like that tropical shampoo he likes and never fails to collapse in his bed face down, perfect for scaring him so hard he jumps.
You throw yourself into the space next to him, and the bed nearly collapses under you.
Luke groans, his face pressed firmly into his pillow. “Ow, killer.”
“I didn’t even jump on top of you this time!”
You try not to be too upset at how unsurprised he was at your jumpscare — you’ll have to start finding other ways to scare him — while your eager hands reach to pull back his top sheet.
You freeze in place when the sheet makes it below his shoulders.
“Luke?”
He grunts in response.
“Why are you naked?”
His startled laugh is muffled by his pillow. “‘m not. Now lay down and quit it.”
Your greedy eyes eat up the sight of his bare back, but you don’t let his nice skin get to you that easy. “I’m not lying down with you if you’re naked, you perv.”
He catches you by the fabric of your shirt when you slide away from his tickling fingers.
“I’m wearing shorts.” Luke rolls onto his back before he nudges down the sheet around his waist. Black fabric you recognize as an old pair of basketball shorts peek out from underneath.
You very respectfully do not let your eyes linger for too long when you take a seat next to him. He laughs anyway. “Sorry, babe. I know how upset you get when my clothes are on.”
You run your thumb over his waistband. “I’m devastated.”
Luke likes to act cocky like this, but you press the back of your hand against his face and feel how flushed he is. You smile a little evilly when you kiss his cheek.
You rest your head against the junction between his shoulder and upper arm, a spot he always insists you lay on even when his arm goes numb after an hour. He wastes no time linking one of your hands with one of his.
“Your farmer’s tan is starting,” you point out, letting your free hand travel up and down his chest. The skin of his torso and upper arms, spots usually covered by his camp tee, are just a few shades lighter than the rest of his lower arms. He feels very soft. “I think that means you should start training without a shirt on.”
“I’m sure everyone would love that.”
You trace a vein that goes down his arm before you wrap your hand around the skin of his opposite bicep. “I sure would.”
He sighs a little while he shifts to get more comfortable, probably sore from throwing around his sword all afternoon. “Don’t worry. You’re wearing my last clean shirt, so I guess it means I’ll have to.”
You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a boy, hero. Is that why you’re half naked right now? You didn’t do your laundry?”
He groans when he presses half of his face into your hair, like the thought of washing his clothes is enough to make him sick. “I’ve been busy.”
Too busy. He’s been putting in extra work lately.
“I know. It feels like you like Claudia more than me.”
Claudia’s the old training dummy that was retired to the back of the storage closet. Luke unearthed her a few weeks ago and hung her back up next to the new ones, giving her a second chance at life. She was already battered and falling apart before, so Luke’s new training regimen means she’s bordering on decomposing.
Luke cracks your knuckles with his hand, and you do the same for him, pressing down on his fingers until you hear the snapping sound. “I care about you both equally, sweetheart.”
You try reaching behind his head to smother him with his pillow, but he yanks it out of your hands so he can chuck it across the room instead. Without any other viable weapon, you throw your leg over his side and reach for his neck.
Play-fighting with Luke is funny because you both are perfectly aware of how strong the other is. He’s watched you decapitate a line of Telekhines with one blow and you’ve watched him wake up to kill an Empousai before going back to the nap he’d been having.
But the second you’re messing around like this, it’s like the two of you have never seen a day of fighting in your lives. You press against Luke’s arms with the same strength you’d use to open a bag of chips, and he pushes back with the same effort.
“I hope you and Claudia will be happy, then,” you say, squealing in fear when he sits straight up. “Won’t be able to force her to give you massages, though.”
Luke stands up and you tighten your legs around his waist so he has to carry you around. Your arms go around his neck because he’s too tired to support you with anything other than a lazy arm under you, and he taps along your back as he moves closer to the door.
A shiver goes down your neck when he catches your earlobe with his teeth like the weirdo he is. “Don’t tell her. But you’ll always be my favorite.”
“Thanks, I guess.” It feels like your external body temperature has jumped a few degrees since Luke is so warm. He makes his way over to the en suite bathroom and flicks the light on, and you realize boredly that he’s getting ready for bed.
Before you can start complaining, he sets you down on the counter so you can talk his ear off. Luke is very focused during his nighttime routine, his brow knit while he washes his face thoroughly and tries to keep track of how long he’s been brushing his teeth for.
You entertain him with the story of how one of your younger sisters is trying and failing to let this Hephaestus kid know she likes him. He squeezes your thigh intermittently, and you let the point of your foot nudge his side while your legs swing.
He spits into the sink and then runs the water. “Halle actually tripped into his arms like that?”
You nod morosely. “Faked slipping and everything. It felt like something you would do, it was that bad.”
He looks so offended at your comment you can’t help but smile.
“I’m not that bad,” he defends, choking on his own laugh when you squint in disbelief.
“Luke, you pretended to get a concussion during volleyball so you could sit out with me.”
He shoots his hand under the spout to try and flick water at you, but it ends up being more like having a hose shot at your face. Cold water drips down your chin and onto your shirt, making dark spots in the green fabric.
You look up at him. He’s giving you a wide eyed look, his hands up like he’s facing a feral animal. “Wait, wait, wait—”
The two of you wrestle for the handle of the sink.
You win, though.
Luke ends up having to wipe water from his eyes and use his towel to dry off his chest, which is now dripping with water. “I deserved that.”
You kiss his cheek when he steps between your legs. “Thank you for admitting it.”
He plants one on your lips, too. He tastes minty, so you kiss him again, a little bit difficult now with the way he’s smiling.
“You ate my gum?” he asks.
“No,” you lie, shifting forward off the counter so your chests are pressed together. Your noses bump when you tilt your head for him.
“I hope you enjoyed it.”
“There were only two left.” Your eyes cross as you try and stare into his despite how close your faces are. “And those sticks are small, Luke.”
He’s still smiling, but his eyes have trailed down to your lips now. “Kiss me again and I won’t be upset.”
You give him a peck before sitting back.
Luke frowns, his brows knitting so deeply it’s like his face is going to wrinkle in on itself. “That doesn’t count. I didn’t even feel it.”
You give him another brief kiss along his jaw. “Find me a dry t-shirt and I’ll give you a real one.”
You’re surprised you aren’t physically blown away from how fast he leaves the room.
The sound of him tearing through his dresser is loud. He trips over something during his search, mumbling stuff under his breath as you hear him unzip something.
“And it better be clean, Luke!”
It takes him a few minutes to come back to the bathroom, his face flushed and chest heaving.
The shirt he presents you with is ugly and old.
“Holy shit, dude. Did you find this in a museum?”
You remember making these a few summers ago before a bunch of you and Luke’s friends left for the school year. The shirt’s been through the wash too much and the marker has faded, but the front and back are littered with Luke’s failed tie-dye job and the names of old friends. You find your name written in block letters along the neckline.
“Nope.” He shakes his head a beat later while he catches his breath. “Found it stuffed under your clothes in your drawer.”
Luke’s dedicated a section of his dresser to you, and it's always full of your stuff. You slide your hands down his arms and give him a look.
“Why’d you go through all my clean clothes just to give me your old shirt?”
He’s grinning, trying to lean in already. “You’re not allowed to wear your own clothes here. It’s not right.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re very quick to let him splay his hand across your back.
He pinches the wet shirt off of your skin. “D’you want me to help you take this off?”
Freak.
You let him do it anyway.
He’s basically giggling the entire time, the process taking so much longer because he’s trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling while also working your new shirt back on. The second your head pops through the neckline, he’s crowding you into the counter again.
He leans in so close that your mouth parts on instinct. “So, when do I get that kiss that you—”
You give it to him, and he shuts up quick.
You think it’s sweet how he always kisses you like he’s never done it before — starved of the taste of you and the feel of you under his hands.
Luke’s hands stray to the sliver of skin at your midriff. His fingers are calloused but never harsh — he squeezes your sides, and he has to kiss you hard so you stop smiling.
His left hand follows your spine up under your shirt and lands on your opposite shoulder, holding you so close to him there’s no room to move away.
“Luke,” you complain. You wish he were standing closer to you.
“Yeah, yeah.” His hands scoop under your thighs and he lifts you off the counter again. “We gotta work on your patience, babe.”
You flick off the bathroom light for him while he takes you over to the chair by his bed. It’s old and small and definitely not made to fit two people, but he collapses into it anyway, and you follow with no other choice.
The two of you kiss slow and sweet — the kind you think are your favorite.
Sometimes, your kisses are the opposite. They can be sweltering and quick, ones that are just out of sight and ones that happen only when you manage to sneak away from your cabins for long enough.
You can’t quite tell how long you and Luke sit in his chair for. But it’s long enough for your hearts to start beating in sync and long enough for your legs to grow tired from the stupid chair.
Luke’s lips are red and a little swollen, though he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He doesn’t let you get more than an inch away before he’s dragging your lower lip between his teeth and pulling you back in.
You tell yourself you’re going to pull away at least ten different times, but then you feel his hand inching interestingly high and then he sucks a mark underneath your shirt where your name is written and then you feel limp and then you don’t pull away anymore.
“Hi,” he says, when you drag him off you so you can take oxygen into your lungs again. He has to look up at you since you’re kneeling over him. “Catching your breath?”
And trying not to pass out, you think.
You swipe your wrist over your lips, which are a little bit slick with spit. “Yeah. Hold me?”
“No,” Luke deadpans, though he’s already encouraging you to sit down on him to shift your weight off your knees. He brushes hair from your face when you tuck yourself against him. “Wanna sleep now?”
You’re a little lightheaded, but you don’t want to sleep. Your eyes slide closed involuntarily when you feel his chest rise and fall against yours. You smile because you can feel the heat emanating off his skin. “Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
Luke laughs while he fusses with the way your shirt sits on your shoulders. His fingers trace over where your name is inked on the fabric. “You going to give me more than one word answers?”
Your mouth runs a little dry when you remember he doesn’t have a shirt on. You poke at him and the little bit of sunburn on his shoulders you know will turn into a tan soon. “No.”
His mouth pulls up at the sides. “Okay.”
You groan when he throws you over his shoulder and gets up from his uncomfortable little chair. Luke spins you around a bit, giving you a 360 degree view of his room before he tosses you onto the bed. He yawns but doesn’t lay down, just smiles down at you.
“What’re you doing?” you ask. You hook your leg around his so you can drag him closer, and he just grins, amused.
“Nothing much.”
The bed shifts when he settles over you, one of his knees between your legs and the other digging into the space next to your left thigh.
Words die out quickly — mostly because you’re busy slipping your tongue into Luke’s mouth. But the coherent thoughts only leave your head when he takes your waist in one hand and reminds you just how much he likes you too.
summary: you like physical contact and you can’t stop touching your boyfriend.
pairing(s): pope heyward x fem!reader, platonic!pogues x fem!reader.
word count: 1.82k
warnings: swearing, alcohol use, lots of touching, fluff, aged up characters, mentions of smut (I think?).
author’s note: pope’s getting the love he deserves. everyone should just love the hell out of him. no outer banks season 2 spoilers! this takes place before the show.
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summary: y/n makes pope relax after seeing how stressed he is while he has other intentions
notes: idk how i feel about this but it’s short & sweet so here it is
warnings: sexual intentions, kissing and a light description of nudity.
“POPE baby you’re going to pass” y/n sighed as she watched him peace holes on his rooms floor.
“what if I don’t? then i fail and that goes on my-“
“pope”
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reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead
synopsis :: to him, you look ethereal. sculpted by the sky itself, skin gilded with ivory specks, he is suddenly overcome with the urge to uproot his eyes; just so that your face would be the last he commits to memory.
pairing :: neteyam sully / f!omatikaya!reader
author’s note .ᐟ me when i. me when i cannot shortly elaborate on an idea in under 1k words. physically incapable of it actually. this is littered w references btw so lmk if u catch any! angsty as hell yall im sorry.. based on this post😋 ps. listen to pretty when u cry/tunnel under ocean blvd, thats what i did <3
content warning :: mature
word count :: 4.1k
general tags :: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, no happy ending (mayhaps ?? open to interpretation), suggestive themes, aged up characters, goodbyes🫂
“No… what? No, you— you cannot just leave.”
There is a certain knot deep inside your chest, slowly but steadily clawing its way upwards your throat. It’s dizzying, it’s suffocating, and entirely disarming; frantic eyes sweep back and forth between the boy in front of you and the forest wall behind him. In disbelief, maybe. Denial, perhaps, of the all-consuming dread of knowing the inevitable.
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make some noice y’all!
Do you know a fandom’s about to die when everyone starts posting social media AUs
summer road trip with luke castellan (16+, implied sex)
it starts with a promise.
made late at night, in the kind of hazy space between sleep and dreaming, when the world feels quiet and nothing’s quite real yet. you’re lying side by side on a roof somewhere—one of those abandoned places luke likes to sneak into. the stars are barely visible, city lights bleeding up into the sky, but you’re not really looking at the stars anyway.
“we should do it,” he says, breathless from laughter after a dumb joke he barely managed to get out. “just take off one day. no plans. no schedules. just you, me, and the open road.”
you laugh into the sleeve of your hoodie. “okay, cowboy.”
“i’m serious.” he props himself up on his elbows. “we’ll make playlists. stay in janky motels. get gas station snacks that’ll probably kill us. it’ll be perfect.”
you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “we’re always saying ‘one day.’ you ever think about making it this day?”
he doesn’t say anything for a long second.
then, “i’ll steal a car.”
you snort. “please don’t steal a car.”
“fine. borrow one.” he nudges your arm. “c’mon. you know you want this.”
you do. gods, you really do.
and maybe that’s why two weeks later you’re throwing a duffel bag in the backseat of an old car luke somehow managed to “legally” obtain (you don’t ask too many questions), a worn paper map stuffed into the glove compartment, and three half-charged burner phones just in case.
you don’t even pick a destination. that’s the point.
it’s about the drive.
the first few days are the best kind of disorganized. you get hopelessly turned around trying to get out of the city, miss your turn like, four times, and end up on some weird detour through a town that seems stuck in the 1950s. you eat breakfast-for-dinner at a diner with cracked red booths and a waitress who calls you both “sweethearts.” luke leaves a doodle on a napkin and tucks it into the jukebox.
the road stretches ahead like a ribbon of possibility, glittering under the sun. the heat blurs the horizon, making everything shimmer like a mirage, and the sky is that kind of obnoxiously perfect blue that feels more like a postcard than real life.
the a.c. in the car gave up somewhere around three days ago, so the windows are rolled down, warm air rushing in and tangling your hair, sticking your shirt to your back. it doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.
you've got one foot propped on the dash and a half-melted slushie wedged into the cupholder, condensation dripping down the sides. the map—the one you swore you didn’t need, and luke insisted you bring anyway—flutters against your knee every time the wind hits just right. it’s already creased and stained, with corners starting to curl. neither of you are really using it.
a cd clicks softly in the stereo, and a hazy guitar riff spills out—something easy, something old. the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.
you hum to the songs you know, watching the scenery blur past in golden smears of light and heat.
luke’s driving one-handed, the other resting lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat. sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and there’s a sunburn blooming along the edge of his jaw that he keeps forgetting to take care of. he looks over at you, grinning.
“you’re gonna fly out the window if you lean any further.”
“worth it,” you say, hair whipping across your face. “this breeze is all that’s keeping me alive right now.”
he chuckles, reaching over to tug the map from your lap. “you’re the one who said we didn’t need to stop for sunscreen. or, y’know, ice.”
“and you’re the one who didn’t want to stop for directions,” you shoot back, watching him squint at the map like it personally offended him. “so now we’re two thirsty idiots lost somewhere between nowhere and hell.”
“romantic,” he says, tossing the map into the backseat. “just the way i like it.”
you roll your eyes, but it’s affectionate. always is with him.
the wind smells like dust and wildflowers, and every few miles, you pass a road sign faded by time and sun. one of them promises a lake in twenty minutes which probably is not true. the next, a diner with the “best pie in the state.” you don’t stop for either. maybe the next one.
you were supposed to take turns driving. that was the deal—fifty-fifty, no arguments. but luke, being luke, never sticks to the plan. he always insists he’s fine, even when you catch his eyes fluttering shut at a red light, head tilting slightly like he’s about to nod off right then and there.
“i literally saw you close your eyes for five seconds,” you say when he pulls into a gas station, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parks.
“it was just five seconds,” he groans.
“five seconds away from crashing,” you mutter, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “move over.”
he sighs, dragging himself out from behind the wheel with all the theatrics of someone who’s definitely not fine, even if he still insists otherwise. he grumbles under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat—and is completely passed out the second his head hits the window. no “i’m not even tired,” no “just resting my eyes.” just out cold. mouth open, snoring, even drooling a little.
you drive comfortably after that. there’s less tension on your shoulders now that you’re the one in control, and luke’s quiet snoring is oddly comforting.
he stirs sometime later, sleep-warm and rumpled, his voice still thick with it when he reaches across the console. his hand finds yours with ease, like it’s muscle memory. his fingers slot between yours and, without a word, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. soft. slow. like a thank-you.
somewhere between a cracked-out diner with the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had and a pit stop at a quiet national park, you start feeling it—that warm, slow burn that only summer with luke castellan can bring.
it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s in the casual brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s in the way he steals bites of your food, complains about the heat, and still tucks a cold bottle of water into your hands without being asked.
he’s quiet during the hikes, but he always slows down so you don’t fall behind, even when you insist you’re fine. he keeps snacks in his pockets for you, things he knows you like, things you didn’t even notice him buying. and when you sit beside him on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun drip like honey into the horizon, he kisses your shoulder so gently it sends goosebumps across your skin.
he takes so many pictures of you. most of the time you don’t even notice until he shows you later—sun-drenched, wind-tousled, blurry with motion but sharp with love. he says he wants to remember you like this. you laugh and roll your eyes, but still smile a little too hard when you see them.
you two stop at a few motels every now and then. they were nothing special. peeling paint, flickering neon sign half-buzzed out, and a questionable stain or two on the carpet—but it’s cheap, and it’s got just enough charm to feel like part of the story. luke leans against the counter while you check in, tapping the bell repeatedly until you swat at him.
the old woman behind the desk gives you a room key and a knowing smirk like she’s seen a thousand versions of you two before: sunburnt, road-weary, eyes too bright to be anything but in love.
sometimes, impulses get the best of the two of you. like when one day luke spots a faded little hand-painted sign pointing down an overgrown path off the side of the highway. beach access. there’s no one around. no cars. just the sound of cicadas and wind through tall grass.
you both follow it on instinct, barefoot and laughing, racing toward the sound of crashing waves.
and then there it is: a hidden stretch of shoreline tucked between two cliffs, like a secret carved out just for you. no footprints, no noise except for the ocean. the sand’s hot and soft under your feet, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in amber.
you run straight into the water, still half-dressed, splashing and shrieking when luke dunks you under and then pulls you back up, breathless and dripping. he kisses you then, water-slicked and grinning, hands on your waist like he’s never going to let go.
and later, after you’ve both sprinted back to the car, giddy and dripping wet, after the sand’s stuck to every inch of your skin and the sun’s painted you gold, you end up tangled in the back seat. skin sticky with sweat, your bodies pressed close in the heat of the car, breathing in tandem.
the windows fog up, the air thick with salt and sun and something heavier. the radio hums low, some lazy summer song playing beneath the sounds of your bodies shifting, touching, needing. his hands roam like he’s mapping you out all over again, rough in the way he holds you but gentle in the way he touches, like he knows exactly where to press to make you shiver.
he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of salt on your lips, like he wants to bottle this exact moment and keep it somewhere safe. and you, half-laughing between gasps, fingers twisted in his curls, mumble against his mouth, “i told you the backseat would get too hot.”
“guess we’ll have to open the door,” he says, voice low and teasing. “get a breeze in here.”
you roll your eyes, breathless and flushed. “fuck off, if we get caught by some poor park ranger—”
“worth it,” he grins, before kissing you again. deeper, slower this time.
and when you’re breathless and half-dressed, your back pressed to the warm seat and your body aching in all the best ways, you lie there with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is loud in your ear, steady and real.
you tilt your face up toward him, the fading light painting him in gold. “same time next summer?”
his arm tightens around you, his voice soft and full of something you don’t have a name for yet. “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
pairing(s): chad meeks-martin x fem!reader
summary: chad feels the need to prove to ethan that you’re his and what better way than to finger you on the couch right next to him.
warning(s): 18+ content, fingering, jealous chad, ethan isn’t ghostface in this he’s just a normal nerdy guy, chad fingering you while ethan is sleeping and unedited work
© msgorillagripcoochie , do not steal, post on third party sites or translate my work
Chad liked to believe he was a respectable man, he tried to be the kind of guy you’d wanna take home to your parents. He usually was, he wasn’t ever too handsy in public and he’d always wait till you guys were alone for anything but today was different.
Tonight was your movie night which was usually just the two of you but then stupid Ethan had to tell you some fucking sob story about how he’d be alone tonight and you were always too sweet for your own good so you had offered for him to hang with you guys.
He knew Ethan wouldn’t be alone tonight, he had a study date with Ruby from Chemistry but he also knew about the huge crush Ethan had on you. It was obvious to everyone except you, you thought he was just being nice but Chad knew the truth.
Chad saw the eyes Ethan gave you, he recognized them as the same ones he often gave you, now Ethan wasn’t usually a problem but lately Ethan had obviously been inching his way deeper into your life.
Chad hated it.
And now Ethan was sitting on the other side of you on the couch Chad had planned to ravish you on. Chad rolled his eyes as Ethan made you laugh, again.
Chad had his arm protectively thrown over your shoulder making sure Ethan kept some distance between himself and you. “You’re actually really funny, Ethan.”
“Thank you.” The boy blushed “Can we just watch the movie?” Chad huffed not bothering to glance at Ethan but you raised your head “What’s wrong?” You speak quieter but Chad doesn’t bother hiding the conversation from Ethan “I just wanna watch the movie.”
“We don’t usually watch the movie anyways.” He looked down immediately seeing your sweet eyes and he softened until he heard Ethan’s nagging voice “What do you usually do?”
Before you get to respond Chad does “We usually fuck.” He raised his head glaring at Ethan who’s face was turning red.
“Chad!” You scolded him not really knowing what had gotten into him “I’m sorry.” You apologized to Ethan before the three of you decided to focus on the movie.
By the time the movie finish Ethan had fell asleep on the other side of the couch while you had gotten up to get water.
Chad couldn’t help but glare at Ethan’s sleeping body, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was apart of Ethan’s plan so he can stay the night with you.
All Chad wanted to do was take you upstairs and you fuck you so hard that Ethan could hear you moaning from down here and maybe Ethan would finally get the message but then a thought crossed his mind and he smirked when he saw you walking back towards him.
He could do one better.
You gasped when he pulled you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he kisses you roughly his hand on the back of your head.
You tried to keep up with his fast movements, your hand holding onto the couch cushion as he pulled you impossibly closer like he was afraid you’d slip away from him.
“Chad.” You moaned against his lips when he gripped your breast through your thin t-shirt. His tongue pushing against yours and his hand began to slid your shirt over your breasts but you stopped him just before he could “We can’t.” You whisper, he can hear your breathlessness in your voice.
"He's sleeping." He promised as you looked over your shoulder to where Ethan was sleeping, you could hear his snores and his head was turned towards the tv.
You turned back to Chad with a raised brow "He's a heavy sleeper I swear." He said playing with the material of your shirt but Chad’s lying, now if he knew something it was that Ethan was a light sleeper. Ethan slept like he was always watching his back.
You don’t seem convinced.
"One time I fell, it made a loud thud and guess what? He stood sleeping like a fucking baby." He twisted the story remembering the way Ethan had jumped up like someone was trying to murder him.
But he needed Ethan to know you were his and what better way than to fuck you on the couch right next to him.
"Maybe he didn't want to embarrass you." You replied but you let him slide his hands under your top squeezing your breasts in his hand "You're so paranoid babe." He hummed pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and you moved your head a bit so he could have better access.
“I wish you’d be more paranoid considering that we’ve been almost murdered before.” You argue as he pulls the shirt over your breasts. As he rolls his nipple between his finger he shrugged “I choose not to dwell.”
"Choose not to dwell my ass, you almost punched that guy in the ghostface mask when we first moved here." He lifted his head from where he was focusing on kneading your breasts to look at you with a scoff "Hey, hey that dickhead was taunting you, I was protecting your honor."
You laugh at his words shaking your head "I think you were just scared." You teased cupping his face letting your thumb trace his skin leaning your head against his "Whatever." He said with a pout but you raised your head a bit pecking his lips.
"It's okay, if Ghostface comes back, you can hide behind me." He smiled at you, catching your lips one more time as he began slipped his hand under your shorts.
He let out an exasperated moan just to bother you when he felt you had no panties on.
“Shh." You shushed him but he didn't respond his finger rubbing your clit in small circles and the sudden pleasure catches you by surprise as you thrust your hips up but he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you against him.
You bit your lip to bite back a moan your hand wrapping around his wrist but it only encourages him more.
“Raise your hips.” He muttered and you follow his instructions embarrassing quick raising your hips so he can slide your shorts off letting them drop to the ground.
He lets out a happy hum spreading your legs again. He dragged his fingers through your wet folds, his middle finger teases your opening pushing just the tip in before pulling it out “Chad.” you whine leaning your head back trying to move your hips against his hand but it’s hard with his strong arm holding you down.
“Hm, what’s your wrong baby?” Chad asked throwing glances behind your head to where Ethan laid “Want me to touch you?” His voice is louder but you don’t catch it.
“Please.” You turn your head looking at him and Chad could never really resist your pretty eyes.
“Anything for you.” He says pushing his thick finger inside you a small gasp escaping yours lips, he moved slow at first pressing small pecks to your lips before you deepened the kiss.
Your hand slid to the back of his neck moaning against his lips when he shoved another finger inside you. Your tongue pushing against his before you sucked lightly at the tip of his tongue causing him to groan Chad’s fingers moving faster inside of you.
You pulled away moaning rather loudly, Chad smiled leaning his head against yours. You were so lost in yourself you had forgotten Ethan had even been sleeping at the end of the couch. Chad had always had that effect on you, you knew how to make you forget everything you were thinking.
He loosens his arm around your waist letting you move yourself against his fingers “Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers.” He kisses your cheek watching as you fucked yourself on his fingers, the sound of your wetness was almost embarrassing.
And just as your felt the band almost snap, Ethan had shifted on the couch. “Chad.” You moan as he still thrusted his fingers inside you like he hadn’t noticed.
“We should stop.” You tell him through labored breaths turning your head to him and Chad pouted “He’s sleeping babe.”
“But what if he wakes up?”
“This’ll only take a second baby, you’re almost there aren’t you?” you gasped his fingers thrusted hitting your g spot “Chad, please.” It’s almost too much and you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.
He throws a glance towards Ethan watching as Ethan visibly tenses up, obviously now awake. Chad smirked “You’re mine right baby?”
“Mhm.” You squeezed your eyes shut “Say it for me” he whispered in your ear.
“I’m yours Chad.” you whimpered “Only yours.” he kisses your temple as you unravel on his fingers. He fucks your through your high, a smile on his face “You did so good.” He pulled his fingers away from you having no shame as he pushed his fingers in his mouth sucking on them with a dramatic groan.
“Chad!” you laughed covering your mouth to try and hide it “You’re a freak.” he chuckled as well “Go upstairs for me, I’ll meet you in a second.” He told you tapping your thigh lightly.
“Oo for what?” you played coy but you couldn’t hide the excited smile on his face “So I can fuck you into the bed.” He pecked your lips and you giggled climbing off his lap before stopping.
“What about Ethan?” you whispered looking between your boyfriend and the boy “I’ll wake him up.” He promised before you scurried off up the stairs he waited a moment before waking up the boy who he knew was already awake.
They played dumb to each other for a moment acting like nothing had happened “Do you need a ride home? I can call you an uber.” Chad offered as Ethan grabbed his jacket. “No.” Ethan cleared his throat shaking his head “I’ll walk.”
Chad nodded leaning back on the couch watching as the brunette moved towards the door “Ethan?”
“Yeah?” Ethan turned back towards his friend who smiled at him “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.” Chad’s voice is soft like there isn’t an underlying threat in his words.
Ethan nodded quickly his eyes widened “Yeah, yeah of course man.” he promised “I would never mess with Y/N.”
“Just making sure Ethan.” Chad squinted at the boy before smiling again “I’ll see you tomorrow.” he waved as if he hadn’t just threatened his friend.
“I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ethan stuttered before leaving carefully closing the door behind him. Chad stood there for a moment tapping at the arm of the couch .
“Chad!” You impatiently called after your boyfriend causing him to laugh jumping up from his seat “I’m coming! And you better have your damn clothes off!”
“When do I ever have my clothes on?!” You called back making him shake his head as he climbed up the stairs skipping a few steps to get there faster.
“God, I fucking love you.” he muttered underneath his breath.
a/n: this isn’t proofread so there’s 100% grammar errors and im sorry if this sucks but if you like it feel free to request and tell me what you think.
I’ll never get over the JJ rehab episode it was surprisingly well written for a Netflix original it reminded me so much of Euphoria and Jule’s therapy episode
imagine luke and hades!reader who has a hellhound as a protector bc she’s a big 3 kid. this hellhound is very protective so this got me thinking. imagine the r is going at it with luke, and luke makes her moan and barely a second later, this hellhound is clawing at the door and barking bc it thinks r is hurt, when really it’s the opposite.
idk just a thought i had :)
want to make it known that @gh0stsp1d3r has written a hades!reader w a hellhound concept as well
your moan is still echoing around the empty barn whenever you hear the first scratch. at first, you attribute it to nothing, choosing to focus on the long and steady strokes luke is pushing up into your gut.
but when you groan at the feeling of luke pushing down on your lower abdomen, making you feel the outline of him within you, you hear the scratching again, this time paired with a whimper you recognize well.
"wait, luke." he's quick to stop, curls flopping as he looks up at you with his eyebrows pinched together.
"what?"
with the wet sounds of your cunt and the shared groans between you and luke eliminated, you can hear the sound of an upset dog on the other side of the bolted barn doors.
you don't have to be looking at luke to know he's frowning whenever you start to push him away. he doesn't go far, though, only unsheathing himself just to the tip.
"drac?" your voice elicits another whimper from the dog on the other side of the door.
you turn back to luke with a pout on your lips. "luke, he's sad. he wants to come in."
luke, clearly not as fond of your hellhound as you are, scoffs and pushes you to lay back down.
"so he can try to bite me as soon as i touch you?"
you hit his shoulder halfheartedly. you intended for there to be more power behind the jab, but it's then that luke sinks back into you and your limbs have a tendency to turn to mush whenever your boyfriend fucks you.
"that was ..." it takes you a moment and loads of determination to finish your sentence. "that was one time."
"one time too many." luke dips his head to suck on the spot that always clears your mind. psychological warfare that works up until dracula barks.
you're whining when you tell luke that you should at least go check up on him. eventually, he sighs, lets up on your skin, and faces you with his lips turned down and his eyes a little emotionless.
"lemme at least make you cum and then we can all go play a nice game of fetch. okay?"
you're quick to agree, laying back complaisantly and holding up your half of the deal so luke can do the same.