୨ꪫ Loser! Rodrick Who Smells Like Musk And Two Day Old Clothes, While His New Girlfriend Smells Of

Boy Noise

summary: prompt fill. Wally's waited a whole week for you to notice he still exists and he's going crazy. finally, he manages to get your attention and you dote on your sweet boy the way he's been so desperate for you to. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. sub!Wally Clark. brat. flirting for attention. blow jobs. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. dead dove.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Boy Noise

He doesn't know why he does it.

Lie.

He does it because he's fucking desperate and you're over there watching with a simmering grin and sharp eyes, acting like Wally isn't going out of his fucking. mind. because you haven't touched him in a week.

And yeah, okay, it's no one's fault. You were stuck in practice after practice for soccer and Wally has that Art project he needs to finish, and schedules got too full too fast, but, come on, please. He hasn't been able to touch himself, his hand not good enough when he knows what the real thing feels like, and you're just smiling. Giving him that sedate up-and-down stare, licking your lips like he's a piece of meat you want to devour and, still, you just sit there, sprawled on Simon's couch, taking up more room than your frame should allow and not doing anything.

So, he flirts with Chloe, watching you watch him, hoping to instigate some kind of response. It wouldn't matter if you didn't look so good. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate your forearms, shirt tucked in, slim waist to round hips on display. A deity in painted-on black jeans and Wally's gold chain.

He hates you.

No he doesn't.

He wants you.

Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow. A week ago. Jesus, please. Do something!

Fuck, he's aching for it. Can feel his cock harden for every feline look you pin him with.

It's Maddie's birthday, he knows that's why you haven't made a move yet. You want to be present—told Wally to be present, to enjoy the celebration and it'll be worth it, sweet boy, I promise. But he's about a hair's breadth away from total atomic failure and can't get the memory of your hands on his body out of his mind for more than a second.

He tried so hard to be good. He really, really did. Sat on his hands and pretended everything was hunky dory until you showed up dressed like that, sauntered in like you owned the room, and gave him such a hot stare, Wally's blood is still on fire. And now most of it is in his cock as he sees you dancing to that song you blast in Wally's car, body moving like water; hips swaying, ass perfect.

Wally doesn't hate you, but you must hate him. He abandons Chloe without so much as a nice to see you, slinks into your space—where he belongs—and glides his hands down from your waist to your hips. You're not the only one dancing; everyone else (especially from Claire's adopted squad goals) is making a dancefloor out of the living room, the lights dim and the atmosphere high.

No one else is making this song their bitch, though. No one else is torturing Wally with their ass against his crotch and their nails grazing his neck. No one else is making him fucking wait for something he needs more than air, water, life itself. Please, please, do something!

Finally, you take pity on him, his hand in yours as you lead him to a bedroom upstairs and farthest away from the party. A guest room, Wally hopes, but a quick scan tells him it's Simon's room. You place your drink on Simon's desk and shove Wally down so he's sitting on the bed. Kick his legs apart and step between them, a sultry grin on your face.

Wally whimpers, his heart beating triple-time, head spinning already, yes. He leans back and props himself on his elbows, just watching you, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes fall to half-mast as you bend over him, hands on either side of his hips, lips so close he can taste the Vanilla Coke on your breath. Your eyes bore into his, heavy and dark and full of promise, and you trail your fingers so lightly from his chest to the front of his tented jeans.

"Is this where you need me to touch you, baby?" You purr, holding his gaze. He nods, a little choked sound escaping as he rocks his hips up in a bid for friction you refuse to give him. "Think you can be quiet?"

Uhm, "Yeah," sure, Wally can try. But you can't blame him if he can't. It's been a week since he's been inside you. A week since he's felt your body on his, skin to skin, slick with sweat and spit and come.

"You want to taste me, baby? Or do you want me to take care of you first?"

Oh, such a tempting offer, and Wally suddenly doesn't know what he wants more. Needs more. He loves it when you fuck his face. Loves how you force him to give you what you need, using him until you scream in ecstasy. On the other hand, his dick's so hard he's sure one more soft touch will undo him, and he'd rather come in your mouth than in his jeans.

He swallows, pleading, "Can you suck me off?" Your grin turns sharp, and he adds, "I'll do whatever you want after, I promise, just please, I need it so bad. I need you to help me, please." He's babbling, begging, hand on your jaw and then sliding over your chest to your back then your ass. "I'm so hard, I can't think, p l e a s e." Wally hitches his hips up to emphasize the point.

"Whatever my boy wants," You soothe, making quick work of his fly and pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles as you sink to your knees.

He barely has a chance to react, mewling like a fucking slut when you get your mouth on him. He falls back, arm over his eyes, opposite hand on the back of your head, forcing his hips to stay still as you work him into your throat.

"Oh god, oh fuck, yes, ungh, thank you, thank you—" And you tap his hip, a signal that he can move as much as he needs to which he takes for the permission it is. He humps your face, fucks into your mouth in little motions, panting and whining and showering you with gratitude. You're so good to him, taking care of him like this, he has to tell you, "thank you!"

He comes with a spasm and a high, needy whine, back arching off the bed and his eyes rolling back. Fuck. Stars collide and angels sing and it feels like the first time he's ever experienced true pleasure although you and he have done this and so much more. He's just blissed the fuck out, melting into the mattress, blind eyes on the ceiling as he comes down.

Not that he can revel in the afterglow. He hears you peel out of your sin-tight jeans, feels and sees your underwear land on his face. Wally chuckles, delighted, and reaches for you, eager to show you exactly how grateful he is for you. He uses lips and tongue and careful brushstrokes of teeth to make you see God, and then asks in a breathy voice if he can do it again, "Just one more?" as if he's asking for another piece of Maddie's birthday cake.

And, Jesus, thank you, you oblige with a wicked smirk, eyes heavy, smoldering, yet razor-edged. This time he rolls you over and fits his shoulders between your thighs, uses his fingers in time with his mouth, moaning wantonly as he tastes you again. He loves this more than you'll ever know. But you stop him when he wraps a hand around himself, tries to use spit for lube, and insist, "Not so fast, baby," your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Wally whimpers, pouts, and then brightens when you flip him onto his back, sweetness hovering over his lips as you fold over him and take his cock in your mouth again.

An hour later, he's curled around you, his head on your chest, dozing and unaware. He thinks he hears Simon shriek and both feels and hears your cackle, but he could be dreaming. Shit, he hopes he's dreaming.

Whatever. Wally's too sated and happy to care. He knows you'll make everything better before Simon can banish Wally from all future gatherings or activities or the friend group altogether.

Because that's what you do. You make Wally's whole world better.

fin.

🖇️___________________________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Alphabet Soup.

the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. you.)

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: silly and overtly fluffy. flustered neteyam. reupload.

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

❥ Braids , Locs , Twists And More. Maxis Match Edition ❥

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Part 2 3 4

Huge thank you to the CC creators ! ➳♥ @dogsill @aler-ii @kamiiri @daylifesims @oakiyo @qicc @sheabuttyr @gigglecoffin @joshseoh @candysims4 @arethabee @sleepingsims

Pink

dominic fike x reader

warning(s): smutty smut smutt yo, try at some plot yet again, lil long and all that…this filthy yall

a/n: there's for sure a ton of grammar edits that need to be made, so bear with me while i work on them! i can never seem to catch them all first day

enjoy, thanks to this yummy ass freaky ass request lmao 💗 sorry it took so long, i'm a slow writer...

¥

You sit between Dominic, your thighs spread and thrown over his legs. 

He lays back against the headboard, pink blankets, and furry throw pillows around the two of you as he trails his hands up your quivering legs. 

Your canopy, a sheer pink fabric floating above your bed, does little to hide the two of you. 

His warm palm contradicts the chill of the rings littering his fingers–and it makes you jolt when they caress your inner thigh.

He’s fully dressed. 

A well-worn leather jacket, its surface scuffed and softened with time, hangs open over a plain fitted t-shirt, showing his solid build underneath. And jeans, their denim rough against the smooth skin of your legs. 

The build-up to this wasn’t the most ideal. A lot of pent-up frustration. 

He’d asked you to come with him to his YSL after-party. Usually, you'd be ready to transform yourself into his arm candy for the night, the touch of his hand lingering on your lower back as you walked into the club with him. 

But this time, a different kind of excitement bubbled within you – your best friend's birthday. 

You'd promised weeks ago to go clubbing with her and some friends, and the thought of letting her down felt worse than seeing the frown that started creasing your boyfriend's forehead. 

A tense silence stretched over the two of you. 

"You're going out with them again?" his voice was flat, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. 

"It's Aria's birthday, Dom," you said, jutting your hip and leaning your weight to your right leg. "I promised weeks ago."

"This is the third time this month you’ve blown me off," he countered, sucking his teeth. "It's a big night for me. You fuckin’ know that man!” 

A part of you understood, a nagging guilt prickling at your conscience. Maybe if you’d mentioned her birthday earlier, things could have been different.

But you also had a life, commitments you couldn't break at the last minute. Silence stretched between you again before you stated you were going for a shower, not having the energy for an argument. 

You came out of the bathroom to an empty apartment, and anger started to simmer at your throat.

No goodbye. No I love you. 

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Tonight was about Aria. Not you, and not your pissy boyfriend. You wouldn't let his actions ruin your night. 

Glancing at your phone, you switched it off. Letting silence and your disconnect speak for you. You hope he got the message. 

He did. 

Swaying slightly, you walked back into your apartment, the gems stitched into your tight two-piece glimmering in the warped light of the city skyline that was bleeding in through your windows.  

It was your skimpiest set, one that usually earned a cheeky ass grab from Dominic.  

You’d worn it once and promised to only wear it when going out with him. 

Which is why he clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose when he saw you saunter in through the door at two am in that same set—reaching for the wall to peel off your boots. 

Completely oblivious to his presence. 

He watched as a naive giggle escaped your lips when you turned to look at yourself in the hallway mirror. 

Your mascara and eyeliner smudged and the glitter eyeshadow you'd swiped from Aria’s makeup bag, migrated into tiny, shimmering stars under your eyes. 

Your eyes are red and lidded, a remnant from the blunt you and her hotboxed the car with before she dropped you off. 

Combined with the tequila swirling in your system, you were in a heady euphoria. Ready for sleep, the comfort of your pajamas, and your bed.

Breathing a content sigh, you turned towards the living room, and your playful smile vanished the moment your eyes met your boyfriend's sprawled form on the couch.

The tequila shots sloshed comfortably in your stomach, but the weed buzzed through you. Your limbs felt light, almost detached, and the edges of the room seemed hazy.

Dominic was the only thing your mind was processing. 

Your argument replayed in your mind, a sour note against the fuzzy high. He sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, legs sprawled, and his posture slouched. 

His gaze roamed your body, lingering a second too long on your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your top, before flicking back up to meet your eyes. 

He looked pissed, and a chill of satisfaction wisped over you. 

With an off balanced sway in your hips, you stumbled over to him, ready to piss him off more than he already looked. 

The closer you got, the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of a strain you’re familiar with. He was high, pupils dilated and glassy, mirroring yours. 

There was an edge to him, a dangerous undercurrent, that fueled your ego. A twisted knot of pleasure growing in your chest knowing you were the reason for it. 

You grinned, throwing one leg on either side of his thighs, straddling him on the couch. Dominic lifts his eyes to yours, staring you down despite being under you. 

You feel his body flex.  

“Awh, you look upset baby.” you pouted, voice dripping with mock sympathy. You tilted your head to the side raking your acrylics through his hair, sweeping it back from his face. His eyebrow piercing glinted when his head knocked to the side under the aggression of your hand. 

The saccharine dripping from your voice was enough to curdle milk. "What’s wrong? You can tell Mama." you cooed, nodding with fake concern. Words a little slurred.

Dominic's jaw clenched, a flicker of something like a warning sparking in his eyes before he let out a humorless breath, licking his bottom lip and looking away from your face. 

His leg started to bounce, a telltale sign of his patience wearing thin.

You weren't sure where this new attitude came from, but thrill snaked through you as you realized you were effectively getting under his skin. 

The earlier fight still hung heavy for you, and you found yourself reveling in this power trip. 

Before he could pull away, your hand tightened around the fist full you had of his hair and yanked him back to face you. 

"Oh, I think I know," you purred. "Is Dommy mad that I turned my phone off?" You pouted again, the childish facade at odds with the grin on your lips. 

You had turned your phone back on while hotboxing Aria's Jeep. The string of missed calls, texts, and slurred voicemails all pinged in the moment your screen lit up.

The smirk on your face was evil, smug even as you and Aria mocked through them all.

"Yeah, that's what it is, isn't it? Or is it because I wore your favorite little two-piece without you?” 

You pulled his head back so his adams apple was barred, “Maybe next time don’t leave without acknowledging me first, yeah?” 

You leaned in, lips hovering over Dominic’s. You could smell the mint and alcohol in his breath, before moving to his ear. 

“Fuck you.” You whispered, patting his cheek. 

Pleased, you moved to get off him but halted when his hand grabbed at your hips and squeezed tight, forcing you back. You gasped at the sudden pressure, wincing slightly when he pressed harder over the bone. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Before you could sass him back, Dominic’s hand flew to your neck and pressed at the pleasure points on the side of your throat.

“Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to let you talk to me like that?” Your clit pulsed, this is a side of your boyfriend you aren’t familiar with. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting worked up by it. You pressed down on his lap and felt his dick hard and poking in his jeans–a grin spread across your lips. 

“But you like it,” You wrapped your fingers around his hand on your neck, and slightly squeezed, not breaking eye contact. “Don’t you?” 

And now you’re in your current position.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Dominic mutters. The hand that’s not working your thigh, sliding down your top to fondle your tits. Your nails dig into his leg, a whimper leaving your lips.

“You know better than that.” He flicks your clit through your shorts, and a pathetic squeal comes out of your throat at the pain. This was a Dominic you didn’t know. You’re unsure how to act.

“Dom please,” You breathe, “I didn’t—.”Dominic tuts, and muffles you with the palm of his hand. 

“Yeah, you did, baby.” he slips his hand into your shorts and presses two fingers against your swollen clit, rubbing soft circles that causes your breath to catch. He’s barely applying pressure, just toying with you. 

“No panties huh?” he tilted his head back, nostrils flaring as he expelled a long breath. The movement sent a shiver down your spine, and your stomach lurched. 

You suck in a shaky breath, lips parting to defend yourself when his fingers tap on your lips with surprising force. He pushes them through and lets his middle and index fingers press down your tongue.

“Mm mm, don’t wanna hear it.” he runs his tongue along the shell of your ear and is quick to move his hand up from your shorts–pressing on your abdomen to bring you down when your hips buck up.

“Fuck!” you whine around his fingers, head lolling to the side, hand squeezing at his leather jacket. 

He chuckles and tugs your shorts off, and lands a smack against your sticky cunt before you can sigh in relief at finally having your lower half free.

Your vision blurs for a second, the sharp sting lacing through you. Your eyes fly shut, a surprised gasp leaving you. Fingers twitching. You’ve never felt that before, and your pussy tingles in want at the pleasured pain. 

“You really wanted to piss me off tonight, huh?” his voice comes out scratchy and low. Like a threat, and you can’t help the way your cunt throbs. “Just needed everyone’s fuckin’ attention.”

You try to jerk your thighs close, but Dom’s quicker than you. Free hand firmly gripping the meat of your thigh, and forcefully pressing down your right from the left. 

His fingers still loosely hang out the side of your mouth, your spit slick across the side of your face. Your pussy leaks, both from pain and arousal, and you’re desperate for more. 

Moving you around so that your legs are spread wider Dom pins you firmly against his chest.

“You don’t even deserve this.” he mutters, finally applying pressure to your clit, and your chest stutters. Sweat coats your body in a thin sheen making you appear dewy under the lit skyline pouring through your room window.

Dominic hooks his chin over your shoulder and peers his eyes down to your soaked cunt. He spreads your lips with his pointer and ring finger, the sound lewd. Your juices glimmer in the low light and Dom’s cock twitches in his jeans. You feel him hard and heavy against your lower back.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers, using the pad of his middle finger to just barely brush over your clit, then dipping into your pussy to collect your juices. Your body quivers, fingers spazzing when you throw your head back against Dom’s shoulder. 

“I—” You slur, around his fingers. 

“Hm?” He taunts, pulling his fingers away from your pussy and to his lips. You whimper at the loss of contact, eyes blown wide when Dominic makes a show of sucking off fingers. He opens his eyes just barely, and peers over at you. “Where’d all that mouth go?” 

You try to speak again, but your mind blanks when the sound of Dominic’s belt unclasping filters through your ears. In a swift movement, he’s sliding out from behind you and removing his hand from your mouth. 

Immediately you find yourself missing his heat and the heavy pressure of his fingers on your tongue. 

Cool air rushes to your back where he once was and you shiver. 

“God, you really don’t deserve this.” he reiterates, as he removes his jeans. His shirt and jacket follow suit. You watch him in a daze, thrumming in anticipation. 

Just moments ago you were asserting dominance, and now your brain can’t process anything but the man undressing at the foot of your bed. He’s a stark contrast to the pink of your room. He looks out of place, despite being right where you need him. 

He crawls back to you, and for the first time today, Dominic catches your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths clash in a hungry mesh of spit and tongue. Your highs make everything sloppy and disoriented, and so so good. Blindly grabbing, and taking each other apart. 

Your hand tangles in his curls, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck and earning a grunt that you eagerly swallow. 

Take take take. You need all of him. 

You wander your fingers over the expanse of his body, nails dipping into the ridges of his stomach before slipping into his boxers, and wrapping your hand around his dick. 

Dom shutters, and he pulls away from your lips to grab your wrist–his grip tight in warning. 

“You don’t listen.”  His breath fans hot over your lips, glossy with your shared spit. 

“Please Dom, just, please.” You’re downright whimpering at this point, pleading for him. Gone is your attitude from earlier, and Dominic laughs right in your face. It’s pitiful and he grins. 

“Awh, what's wrong princess?” His forehead creases, mock concern seeping out of his words. He dips his head down to nose at the sensitive spot of your neck, just under your ear. 

“You can tell Daddy.” He nods, curls tickling your cheek. 

Dominic mimics your words from earlier, pinning one of your wrists above your head. Your free hand twitches under his chest, not quite touching, just hanging in the air. Unsure if he wants you touching him.

You’re scared, and so turned on. Pussy fluttering around nothing. 

“Oh, I think I know.” Dom releases your wrist and yanks you back by your hair, baring your throat out to him. Just like you did. 

“You want me to fuck you. That it?” 

You do. So bad. You’re not sure how much more you can take, which is why you’re surprised when you feel your eyes get hot. You’ve never been brought to this point before, and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to leave this headspace. 

You nod your head rapidly, tears glossing your eyes over. “Yes, please, Dom. I’m sorry.” You whisper, peering up at him with how he has your head positioned, and swallowing when you watch the side of his lip twitch up. 

“Maybe next time don’t bitch at me, yeah?” He pats your cheek twice. Just like you did. It stings a little, and your thighs twitch.

Dominic tilts his head to the side, hair sliding to the right with him. He simpers and says nothing. You feel your face start to burn, feeling so small under him like this, a hot tear streams down the side of your face. 

You watch Dom’s eyes follow it with rapt attention, and you part your lips ready to say something, anything, when his eyes snap back to yours and you feel the tip of his cock pushing its way into your throbbing pussy. 

Your eyes roll, and your mouth hangs open. A silent gasp stuck in your throat. 

You’ve fucked your boyfriend many times before. But this, this, is surreal. Feeling him like this was new, the bated breath, the heat, the intensity of it all. 

You feel him everywhere all at once, your body pulsating, ears feeling as if they're stuffed with cotton. 

You feel hot, molten almost, but you’re shivering. 

Dom bends your neck back further and nods his head while pushing himself in. Inch by inch you feel him filling you up.

His face is hovering over yours, as he watches you. His lips parted and brushing over your own as he loses himself in your heat. 

“Mhm, that’s it, baby. You feel me?” Dominic mutters against your mouth, and you wither, mindlessly lifting a hand to grab hold of his in your hair. 

You can’t speak, your brain is mush. Not a single thought processing. You feel full, the stretch one that you’ll never get enough of. He’s thick and heavy, and it’s almost too much. 

Then he snaps his hips, and you slur out a curse. A long drawn-out whine leaves you and you squeeze your eyes. If you were in your right mind, you’d almost be embarrassed that such a sound left you. But you aren’t. 

Dominic snaps his hips one more time, and then he’s fucking you as if he’s on borrowed time. His hips grind quick and hard. He untangles his hand from your hair and interlaces it with one of yours, before tucking himself securely in your neck. 

He presses closer to you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Ankles locked tight, and his heavy grunts fall into your neck. 

He’s a mess of praise and curses, your bodies sticking together and the smell of sex hot in the air. 

Your body jolts up with each thrust and you use your free arm to wrap around Dom’s back. Your acrylics scratch into his skin as you try to ground yourself. 

But you need more. 

“More, Dom,” You gasp out. “Please.”

He’s manhandling you around before your mind could process it. Head lifted from your neck as he turned you over on your stomach in a heated frenzy. 

Your face is mushed into your pillows at the foot of your bed, ass perked up.

“Never satisfied are you?” Dom grunts, slipping back inside you and giving you just what you asked for. He leans down so he’s molded to the shape of your back, and grabs hold of your throat from the front. 

You’re being fucked dumb, have no idea what you’re saying. If you’re even saying anything at all. Body tingling everywhere. 

“You feel so good, baby. So good for me.” Dominic praises, reveling in how good your pussy sucks him in. How warm and gummy you feel around him. Squeezing him just right. 

You’re both intertwined with pleasure, in a conjoined headspace that you hope never ends. You don’t even know how you both got to this point anymore. What you were arguing about in the first place.  Just that you want to keep fucking like this, want to always feel him like this. 

You start to feel yourself getting lifted off the mattress and then you’re on your knees, Dominic’s front still molded to your back. He reaches around and squeezes your right tit, fingers rolling your nipple. 

You reach back and grip his hair when he starts leaving messy kisses down the side of your throat. 

“Look. Look at yourself while I fuck you.” Dom orders, his voice vibrates through you and it takes all you have to peel your eyes open to see yourself through the mirror. 

It’s in the corner of your room, and you can only see the side of you and Dom as he snaps his hips into you. Your eyes lock with his through the mirror. He’s already staring at you through his lashes, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His gaze is primal, something wicked and you feel your stomach start to tighten, pussy spazzing around him. 

“Oh fuck m’ gonna cum. Gonna cum.” you slur. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” He moves down to start rubbing tight circles on your clit, and you arch your back, throwing your head against his shoulder. A chorus of yes’s. 

“Look.” He grunts again, hand moving off your neck to firmly grip your jaw and force your face back to the mirror. You look a fucking mess.

That coil in your stomach tying a knot so tight, you’re not sure you’re ready for it to snap. But you need it too. Need it so fucking bad. 

You bring a hand to grip Dom's arm that's resting on your abdomen, toes curled tight. 

“Right there, right there!” You squeal, feeling yourself weaken in his hold when his tip hits that spongy spot within in your walls. Dom feels it too, and pushes you back down into your sheets, his pace harder in the new position. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding your middle half in a slight arch. 

“Cum for me, you can do it. Make me cum.” He’s whispering in your ear, “So fuckin’ close, cum with me baby. Please.”

And the pleasure that’s been brewing, thrumming throughout your body, pours. 

You cum hard, Dominic’s name high-pitched and breathless when you reach down to tightly grip the corner of your mattress. Back arched high like a cat. 

Your pussy clamps down on him, walls spasming around his dick, and it sets him off. He struggles to keep his eyes open, they’re lidded as he drunkenly loses himself in your pussy, chasing his orgasm. 

You watch him through your mirror. Watch as his mouth drops open. Watch as he drops onto you, squeezing you tight when he finally cums. Painting your walls white, and filling you up. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. Dom starts to pepper kisses on the side of your face, and you turn your head to catch his lips. It’s slower than the one you shared earlier.

Heavy with I’m sorry, and I love you. 

You pull away first, watching as a smile takes over his face. The position you’re in is awkward, but you both don’t care right now. You reach around as best you can and brush his hair back from his eyebrow, softly rubbing your thumb over the piercing. 

“So, how was clubbing without me? Boring huh?” You grin a shit-eating grin, and Dom rolls his eyes when you start laughing. 

“Fuck off.”

fake boyfriend (ricky bowen x reader)

summary: in which (y/n) asks ricky to pretend to be her boyfriend and that makes hidden feelings slip out. 

prompt: “can you pretend to be my boyfriend? it’ll be fifteen minutes tops.”

extra pairing: luke patterson x platonic!reader

warnings: underage drinking, kissing(?)

gif’s not mine.

This is what I get for lying, (Y/N) thought to herself as she scrambled around the party desperately looking for her best friend.

She walked past a couple making out in the corner of the living room, nose scrunching up in disgust as she got a glimpse of the sloppy kiss. It was loud, music blasting at full volume and voices that could barely be heard over the thumping of the base (she wondered if the neighbors would complain about that). A cheer erupted from the kitchen and she turned her head around to see two girls celebrating they’d gotten the little white ball inside the red cup, they were close to winning the round of cup pong. (Y/N) bumped past dancing teenagers, apologizing halfheartedly. She held a red cup in her hand, carefully raising it over her head as she moved past people, trying her best not to spill the content. She wished she could just sit back and enjoy her drink, instead she found herself avoiding Bobby Wilson.

At the distance she saw Luke Patterson, her childhood best friend, talking to Julie Molina.

She smirked as she watched them interact. They were unbelievably adorable. (Y/N) knew Luke had the biggest crush on Julie, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. She knew Luke like the back of her hand and his adoration for the younger girl was evident in the way he spoke about her and how absolutely smitten he looked at the moment.

Feeling eyes on him Luke turned around to meet her eyes. She glared at him, half playful, half serious. All it took was a single look of her face to notice the slight annoyance and Luke immediately knew the reason behind it. The idiot had the audacity of chuckling.

This was all his fault and he was laughing.

Such an ass, honestly.

She rolled her eyes and cursed him in her mind, flipping him off as she did. He responded with a smirk. She wasn’t truly mad, over the years she’d come to learn and accept that she could never be truly upset at Luke, and he was well aware of that.

Luke didn’t feel particularly guilty. When he’d suggested introducing (Y/N) to his band mates he’d done it without ulterior motives (she would counter that he’d known about Bobby’s crush on her and was therefore responsible for her current situation, he would shot back that she’d been the one to lie).

Truth to be told (Y/N) had been pretty excited when Luke had suggested that she meet his friends. She’d known Patterson since they’d both been in diapers, they’d grown up together and there wasn’t a moment of her life that she couldn’t remember him being around, but attending different schools meant that they had different groups of friends. Now, that was cool and all (after all, Luke was like that annoying little brother that you just can’t shake off and she was certain that if they’d had the same friends they both would’ve exploded) but lately he’d been talking a lot about his new band, Sunset Curve, and she’d been dying to meet them. She wondered if they would have embarrassing stories about Luke which she could use to tease him.

They were all incredible people. Alex was incredibly sweet and sassy, Reggie was incredibly funny and Bobby had an incredibly evident crush on her. It was so obvious it was almost painfully uncomfortable. Luke would later let her know that Bobby had been asking about her ever since he’d seen the picture of them together at (Y/N)’s mom’s wedding.

Now, (Y/N) liked Bobby just fine— he was a nice guy, much like Alex and Reggie —but she wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way. She had told him that, trying to let him down as gently as possible, but he seemed fixed on the idea that he could make her change her mind.

Being absolutely done with his shameless flirting she had resorted to her last option: lying. And not only did she lie but she did it like a pro, slowly introducing the idea that she was seeing someone before, weeks later, announcing that she now officially had a boyfriend.

Luke had snorted, she had elbowed him hard in the gut and Bobby had finally backed off.

She never expected to be forced to introduce her invisible and completely nonexistent boyfriend to Luke’s friend. But EJ’s parents were out of town and he’d asked Alex if Sunset Curve could play for his birthday and when people from both East High and Los Feliz had heard the band was playing a massive party had been formed. Bobby had jumped at the opportunity of meeting her boyfriend in this gigantic get together, she had given him a tight lipped smile and a nod and Luke had smirked at her discomfort.

She hadn’t panicked much at first, at the end of the day she could just tell him that her ‘boyfriend’ was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. Well, that possibility had gone out of the window the moment Luke decided to open his big mouth.

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Luke had informed Bobby as they got ready to go onstage, ignoring the glare (Y/N) sent his way and (somehow) managing to not flinch when she pinched him in the arm in an attempt to make him shut up. “He texted me, said he wouldn’t miss it.”

It was payback. She’d eaten his favorite cookies two days prior (even when he’d called dibs on them and tried to hide them at the back of the cupboard) and now she was paying for it.

In the midst of panicking an idea had popped into her head; she just needed someone to be her fake boyfriend for the night. 

Brilliant plan, if she said so herself. 

So now here she was after Sunset Curve’s performance, looking for the only person in the world that could pull off the ‘fake boyfriend’ role; Ricky Bowen.

Keep reading

Longing - JJ Maybank x reader

Summary : JJ Maybank discovers your secret, which makes him confess his feelings. (wc:2.1K)

Contents : fluff, angst, mentions of sex, alcohol

(this is kinda shitty but i feel like i need to write to get some new ideas so here we go)

GIF by jjmayday

"Silent treatment? Seriously ?" JJ asked you, wincing as you were cleaning his wounds.

You didn't answer, he didn't deserve it. Instead, you just pressed the cleansing pad on his bare skin a bit harder than before.

"Jesus, if you wanted to kill me you could've just let him finish !" he complained as he leaned on the sink, his hands gripped on it.

"Shut up," you finally told him as you couldn't prevent your eyes from rolling. "If you had listened to me, you would still be at the Boneyard."

JJ has never hidden his protective side over you. He's always been protective, even when you were in primary school. As time went by, the blonde boy realized he liked you but it took time for him to accept and deal with it, because he was obviously aware of the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule and he intended on respecting it. As for you, you've always had a crush on JJ Maybank but, as time flew, you came to terms with the fact that nothing would happen between the two of you and that you were meant to remain two close friends, as you have always been.

"Course, but if not me who's gonna make Rafe Cameron shutting the hell up ?" he huffed, anger coming back as he thought of the boy.

You sighed, throwing the cleansing pad in the trash can of John B's bathroom as you got up from the toilet. "He's a dick, J. We all know everything that comes out from his mouth is bullshit, you shouldn't let him ruin your party."

"You didn't hear what he said."

You folded your arms. "Tell me," you told him, not really interested but you asked him anyway so he could exteriorize his anger.

"Just some shit about you and Kie," he lied, scratching the temple of his face and avoiding your eyes.

You sighed, kind of flattered by the way he couldn't let anyone talk shit about you. You wouldn't admit it not even to yourself, but the heat you felt on your cheeks was only the reflection of the feeling brought into your stomach. You took his chin in your hand, making him look at you.

"Stop ruining your parties for Rafe Cameron," you told him, more as a command than as a request.

JJ nodded silently, nervously biting his lip. Rafe did not mention Kie, at least not tonight. However, he did mention something about you, something that only a few people knew about. The boy tried to wipe the thought out of his mind as you proposed him to finish the party you've previously left on the porch of the Chateau, with two cold beers that just came out of the fridge.

"Volvo or Mercedes?" you asked JJ, playing some dumb games while you were waiting for Pope, Kiara and John B to come back from the party.

His brows furrowed. "Ford."

"Pick one out of the two for God Sake," you rolled your eyes.

"Volvo then."

"Volvo is good," you agreed.

"Best spider-man?" JJ asked.

"Tom Holland," you answered, laughing as you saw your blonde friend tilting his head back, stunned. "What?"

"You should be ashamed, YN. I mean it," he joked.

"Shut up," you told him, smacking his arm and making him drop his can of beer on his t-shirt. "Shit," you muttered, getting up from the sofa. "Hold on a sec."

JJ, half drunk and not giving a single fuck of his t-shirt, just took it off, finishing the rest of his beer. As you were looking for another item of cloth for your friend in the spare room, your phone buzzed on the sofa, which made JJ startling as he felt the slight vibrations of your phone upon his body.

"Y/N, your phone!" JJ called out, not wanting to invade your personal space by looking at the notification (despite longing to do it).

As the boy did not hear any response coming from you, his eyes slid to your screen's phone. It was a text from an unknown number:

I kinda miss you

JJ's brows furrowed instantly, doubts filling the entireness of his body. He remembered Rafe's words, trying to piece everything together. Your phone buzzed a second time, this time it was a text from Kiara.

Where the hell have you and JJ been, cant find you

Before he could even finish reading Kie's text, you were back with a clean t-shirt and a new can of beer. "I'm sorry J," you mumbled as you handed him the t-shirt and the can.

"Thanks."

You took your phone and read Kiara's text. "Oh," you laughed lightly, "they just realized we were gone. It's about time, it's been like what, half an hour?"

You texted Kiara back letting her know that you were waiting for them at the Chateau. You then clicked on the second notification and JJ immediately saw your features changing.

"Is something wrong?" JJ asked, trying to remain as casual as ever.

You quickly shoved your phone in your back pocket, not taking care of answering the second text.

"Nope," you sighed, collapsing on the sofa next to JJ. "Everything's fine."

He nodded, knowing for a fact that something was wrong. Maybe not with you, but with him.

---

As you felt the water of the marsh meeting your body, you thought that there was no better way to spend your day than like you were exactly doing: a full day on the HMS pogue, followed by a night at the chateau where your friends and you could enjoy the heat of the Northern Carolina's summer.

Yet, JJ wasn't in such a good mood as you were. He couldn't get what happened last Saturday out of his head. Everyone noticed his change of attitude, but as soon someone wanted to start discussing the topic, he would tell you to piss off and that he was fine. The truth was that he realized he had no idea of what would be his reaction the day you would bring a boy to your friends so they could meet him. You already flirted with some guys during parties while he was there, but you never went far with any of those guys. All the pogues knew that you had kissed 2 boys in your whole lifetime, and every time it was just a stupid fling that JJ could bear with but the text you've received messed his head up. I kinda miss you. This would mean that you've already seen this person, and that something serious happened for you to delete the number. It also meant that the thing you've had with this person was serious enough for him to text you that he missed you.

"What are you thinking about?" Kie asked JJ, putting him out of his thoughts.

"Just thinking about the next surfboard im gonna buy," he lied.

"Liar," she answered, sitting on the edge of the boat as you were trying to drown John B with the help of Pope. "You don't wanna talk, fine. But don't talk bullshit at least," she went on, not on an aggressive tone as JJ would have expected it.

He sighed. Fuck, he just told himself. "I'm worried about Y/N," he admitted. "I've seen a text from someone on her phone that said he missed her. She never talked to us about anyone, so I'm just wondering what's going on."

That wasn't a lie: you've never said anything about anyone. They were your best friends and you didn't say a single word about someone who could potentially miss you.

"Maybe we should let her some time to do so," she simply said as you got onto the boat followed by John B and Pope.

"I'm starving," Pope admitted, taking the beer you were handing him.

"Same," you said as you were checking your phone, rolling your eyes as you were reading something.

"What is it?" John B asked you as he had noticed your eyes roll that went almost to the back of your head.

"Nothing important," you assured him, placing your phone back in your backpack. "Why don't we go back at the chateau and order some pizzas? I can practically hear Pope's stomach from here," you joked, smacking slightly at Pope's belly.

---

You cursed yourself as you remembered that the terrible headache that prevented you from falling asleep was probably due to the fact that you didn't put on any sunscreen today. You checked the time on your phone: 4:11 AM. For God Sake, you mumbled as you got up from the couch to go out and smoke. As you opened the door, you found JJ sitting on one of the steps.

"Can't sleep?"

"I think i'm the only person on this planet who can't sleep when she smokes a blunt," you snorted slightly, sitting down next to your friend.

The weather was nice. Not too cold, not too hot, it was perfect. The peaceful silence of the marsh would have allowed anyone to fall asleep, but not you and JJ. Ironically, the reasons why both of you couldn't sleep were closely related.

"So, what's wrong with you?" you asked him bluntly as you attempted to light up your cigarette.

"What?" JJ exclaimed, taken aback.

His reaction drew a slight smile out of you. "You're acting weird, JJ Maybank."

"I'm not," he asserted, taking the cigarette out of your hands to take a drag of it.

"You are," you told him as you took back your cigarette.

He sighed and then got up. "Good night, Y/N."

"You're not going anywhere. Sit," you said as you grabbed his wrist to prevent him from getting inside.

"How did Rafe know that you have a birthmark behind your left ear?"

You froze, this time you were the one taken aback by his question. You sighed, letting go of JJ's wrist, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Tell me-"

"Because Rafe has a lot of bitches and I've been seeing one of them for a while. But we're done, I told him to piss off," you simply told him.

If JJ were to be very honest, he would have bet everything he had on you banging Rafe Cameron behind your friends' backs. He was slightly relieved that you had no close ties to the elder Cameron, but hearing you say in person that you had a relationship with someone still had the effect of a sharp knife through his whole body.

"Is it why you're acting so weird? Because Rafe told you about my birthmark?" you asked him.

"I also read the text," he confessed, sitting down next to you.

You frown at him.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done it. But I did, and it messed my head up even more."

You huffed, getting up and stubbing out your cigarette on the grass. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?" you asked, as you were getting angrier as every second went by. "You're supposed to be my friend-"

"I'm done being your damn friend while you're banging on kooks," he hissed, getting up and attempting to get to the twinkie. Yet, you prevented him from it by standing in front of him.

"Watch your fucking mouth dude," you warned him.

"Just let me the fuck alone-"

"Why are you-"

"Jesus Y/N I like you! Apparently you're fucking blind but please tell me you're not deaf," JJ yelled, regretting it instantly as he realized what he had just told you and considering that it was 4 in the morning.

You were caught off guard. You were so shocked that your thoughts took over your entire body, and it took you a moment to respond to what JJ had just told you.

"What the hell?" was all you found to say.

JJ knew very well that there was a risk that he would break your friendship by telling you, but there was no turning back. "Look, I just need to have a walk to clear my head and then you can lecture me on the no pogue on pogue macking rule," he assured as he walked by you, giving up on the twinkie idea.

You stayed still, unable to move. When you saw JJ come back as the sun was starting to rise, you knew you had remained there for a long time.

"I don't intend to lecture you," you said as he was about to speak.

"What?"

His innocence drew a smile out of you. "I'm actually planning to break the rule if you're willing to break it with me, so I don't think I'm in a position to lecture you," you told him.

You noticed his features change, then a smile.

He didn't answer anything but rushed towards you, took your face in his hands and firmly pulled your body against his as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes and inhale deeply as if you were trying to immortalize the moment.

"You could've said that you didn't care about the damn rule sooner," he joked before kissing you again.

Goth CC Finds + Links ☠

So since the new goth kit is coming out, there is a lot of controversy surrounding it. Many people saying its not enough, not the correct style, or they simply cant afford it. Today I present you with an alternative! Shining a light on the CC community, I have for you 30 links to different packs, clothes, hair, accessories, and makeup revolving around the goth style.

Please enjoy these finds & keep in mind that the Goth style is very broad & has many types of styles to it, as this is my own interpretation. ~ DelSolSasha

from left to right

✩| 1 2 3 4 5 6 |✩

✩| 7 8 9 10 11 12 |✩

✩| 13 14 15 16 17 18 |✩

✩| 19 20 21 22 23 24 |✩

✩| 25 26 27 28 29 30 |✩

Also, don't forget to check these cc creator's full websites & patreons because there is sooooo many great goth finds on their pages!

Thank you to the wonderful cc creators who are beyond talented | @bluecravingcc | @evellsims | @bloodmooncc | @sixamcc | @madlensims | @simcelebrity00 | @daylifesims | @aharris00britney | @aladdin-the-simmer | @pralinesims | @trillyke | @/reginaraven | @uxji | @luumia | @/tomichan | @busra-tr | @atomiclight | @lonelygravescc | @/YNRTG-S | @pinkycustomworld | @remussirion | @/seleng |

punk!patrick x reader

-

the minute you and your friend walk up to the house it’s quite obvious there’s a party going on. from the people dry humping on the grass outside to the music pouring out the house. you wondered how the cops hadn’t been called yet.

inside smelt like weed, sweat and other bodily fluids. right off the bat you realize these aren’t the kinda people you’re used to partying with. they were all dressed in heavy black clothes and makeup with jewelry covering their faces.

you stuck out like sore thumb in your mini jean skirt and pink top.

“i can’t believe you talked me into this.” you were currently being squished between bodies of people in someones stuffy basement. “it’s gonna be totally worth it ok, the guys in this band are hot.” your friend yelled back in your ear. that’s honestly the real reason you even joined her.

the instant screams that erupted when five guys walked onto the makeshift stage cut you off from responding to her. and the second your eyes caught the drummer you were hooked.

he had mini spikes in his black hair, piercings studded out of his eyebrow, ears and lip. loud shitty punk rock music blared in your ears, but you were completely focused on the unnamed drummer who was twisting his drumsticks between his fingers before beating them down. banging his head in time to the beat. you eventually found yourself jumping and screaming along with everyone else.

by the time their set came to an end your throat was sore and you could feel sweat bedding on your hairline.

“thanks for that energy you guys we got another band coming up soon so either stick around or don’t.” and you didn’t. the second you saw the drummer getting up, making his way through the crowd and you perked up. “hey. i’m gonna go get a drink.” you absentmindedly patted your friends shoulder, following after the black haired boy.

-

you caught up with him in the kitchen. he was chugging back whatever was in his cup before pouring some more. you tried not to get distracted by his wife beater that seemed a size too small from the way the hemline sat cropped showing off his happy trail.

“your guys set was really good.”

the guy in front of you took one look up and down at you before scoffing into his cup. “really?” you hummed, nodding your head, and pouring yourself a drink. “i loved all the um— anti conformist lyrics.” he shook his head and laughed. “right right. listen don’t take offense but are you sure you’re at the right party?” he was totally right you were at the wrong party, but that didn’t mean he could call you on it.”

it was your turn to scoff. “and why wouldn’t i be right party?” he just shrugged. “doesn’t really seem like your speed.” “and how do you know what my speed is?” you cocked your head to the side. “didn’t your mother ever tell you to not judge based on the cover, huh?” he threw up his hands in defense. “you’re right, i’m sorry. thank you for enjoying the show.”

“you’re welcome.”

there was silence before he spoke again. “i’m patrick by the way.” you repeated his name, testing how it felt in your mouth then introducing yourself.

you watched him out the side of your eye chew on the rim of his solo cup. “so.” you cleared your throat. “do you guys always play basements?” the drummer, you now know as patrick shook his head. “sometimes we play dive bars and other parties. it’s just this is our bassist brothers house so lets he us play whenever.” you nodded, “that’s sweet”

“he’s an asshole.” you nearly choked on your drink at the abrupt answer. “but he lets us use his garage for practice so i guess he’s ok.”

it was patrick’s turn to ask you a question. “you play any instruments.” you tilted your head up thinking. patrick’s eyes immediately hone in on your neck thinking about how good it’d look decorated in the marks he wanted to leave behind. “piano in the fifth grade.” you reveal.

“cute.”

suddenly patrick was close to you. “come with me.” he abandons his drink to grab your wrist pulling you with him.

-

you got a semi bad feeling when you guys reached the destination. it was dark but you could tell it was also spacious. you could only hope your weren’t about to get murdered by a guy in eyeliner.

“tada.”

the lights came on and you let out a breath. it was just a garage.

“and why are we in here?” you turned around to look at him, your eyes catching his fingers moving to twist the lock.

patrick walked around you to the drumset that sat near a wall. “was just a little loud in there.” he took a seat on the stool in front of the drums. “how long have you been playing.” you asked, walking you fingers crossed that gold cymbals that’s dinged together softly. “since i was ten.”

“a real professional, huh.”

patrick laughed holding out the drumsticks in your direction. “wanna try?” you nodded

you sat in his lap with his big hands covering your as he guided them to drum a simple beat. “so, gonna tell me why you’re really here.” his voice was deep in your ear. “just wanted to see who was playing tonight.” you say sticking to your lie.

“bullshit.”

his hands leave yours and rest on your bare thighs. “come on just tell me. i know you don’t listen to this shit.” he referenced to the music that you could hear faintly. “fine, my friend is more into this stuff i only came because the band was supposedly hot.” you shrugged.

you felt the rumble of his laugh on your back and his fingers sliding up your thighs.

“and are they? hot, i mean.” patrick’s breath was hot against the back of your neck, his lips ghosting your skin. “mmm, the drummers pretty alright.” you tease. turning around to face him. “that right.” you nodded, making the first move to press your lips against his.

the kiss escalated quickly, you tugging on his bottom lip piercing with your teeth earning a groan from him. he slide his hand down the front of your skirt. “o-oh my god.” patrick easily slipped his middle finger into your wet heat. “you’re so wet.” he muttered against the skin of your neck that he was sucking marks into. “a-another.” you moaned and patrick’s pushed his ring finger in and pumped them both in and out at a fast pace, his palm hitting against your clit.

you abandoned the drumsticks on the floor grabbing on to patrick’s wrist. “oh fuck! right there.” your knee jerked up hitting the drum set causing the cymbals to bang together drowning out the obscene squelching noises, when patrick’s finger tips find your g spot.

“m’close.” you whine, throwing your head back on to his shoulder. “gonna cum all over my fingers,huh? ” he said in your ear. pressing kisses on your cheeks and jaw. you could only nod, your whimpering getting louder and breathing getting heavier. all it took was patrick’s thumb flicking at your clit to send you over.

“oh my god, u-uh!”

patrick let you ride out your high, grinding your hips down on his fingers. you slumped back into him, catching your breath. patrick pulled his hand and out you pants and turned your face towards him. you ignored the cringey feeling of your wet fingers against your cheek. he fitted his tongue into your mouth in a messy make out.

“fuck.” patrick pushing you to stand up before dragging you by your belt loop to the wall that was behind you. “need to be inside you.” he rushed out, pulling you in for another kiss that tasted like weed and fireball. “this wanted you wanted all along right? to get fucked.” he hiked up your skirt to your waist, pulling your panties out and disregarding them on the floor.

he unzipped his pants enough to pull his cock out. “wanted to come to the show and play groupie?” he traced the tip of his cock on your already sensitive cunt. “you can be my little groupie, follow me around.”

“yeah-yes!” you threw your head back hitting the wall when patrick pushed his full length into you. patrick held your legs around his waist, squeezing the fat of your ass between his calloused palms in a bruising grip.

“god, you’re tight.” patrick groaned, thrusting his hips up.

you didn’t know how long you’d last, your inner walls still sensitive and throbbing. the feeling of patrick’s cock dragging against them had your moans bouncing off the walls of the garage. “f-feels so good.”

patrick moaned, completely taken by the site of his dick disappearing in and out of your cunt, coming back wetter each time. “this perfect pussy.”

your guys moans mingled together in a mix of low and high pitched grunts and groans.

your nails embedded themselves in patrick’s shoulders. “gonna cum again.” you whined and patrick sped up. his cock head drilling into that soft spot inside you. patrick dropped his head into the crook of your neck grunting into it. “shit, do it. wanna feel you cum on around me.”

you took hold of patrick’s dark locks messing up his gelled spike. your walls got tighter around him. your head hitting the back of the wall, and a moan getting stuck in throat in the midst of your orgasm.

“f-fuck.”

patrick pulled out still hard and on the verge of cumming, jerking himself off in four hasty strokes before he released on your inner thighs and the wall.

“holy fuck.” patrick slotted his lips against your in a wet kiss.

you both silently got back dressed. you tugging your skirt back in place and patrick stuffing his dick back in his pants.

“here.” patrick picked a sharpie that was lying around, and grabbed hold of your arm. “my number.” he scribbled it in messy writing. “just in case you want these back.” he grabbed your lost underwear off the floor holding them up before tucking them into his back pocket. leaving you in the garage to collect yourself

-

no. 1 smut with argyle 🤭

1: “do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Girl im so sorry but im just, dom reader for sure here. I just I'm sorry but it's necessary bc we all know argyles a simp, best friends to lovers YUH. This one is honestly more sweet, not a ton of smut but its cause i too am a simp and i havent written much for argyle so yk i gotta get the simp shit out first before i unleash the whore kraken

WARNINGS: mentions of male, hand job/blow job, eye contact, def dom!reader vibes, sub!argyle vibes (hes just down bad and a simp), wet dreams tee hee

Join the Sleepover

Tonight was no different from any other night that Argyle crashed at Y/n's. The two had been best friends since the fourth grade-they'd practically grown up together. But lately things have felt a little different-at least for Argyle-and by lately that meant the past six months when with the help of Jonathan he realized that he was actually really into Y/n.

Apparently it wasn't normal to talk about how sweet, pretty, and interesting your best friend is every single day, nor is it normal to constantly call the guys she dated "annoying douchebags that wear knockoffs" or "fake skater surfer boys".

So he knew the truth, he was into her, sure that changed things for him, when they smoked-regardless of where-his eyes would focus on her lips for long periods of time and anytime she touched him it was like a jolt of electricity sent through his entire figure. Not to mention the way he found himself checking her out-eyes glued to her curves anytime she asked him how she looked, and the most recent shameful development.

The dreams. He'd dream about being with her, about fucking into her as she laid below him, his hair brushing against one of her shoulders while she looked up at him with parted lips and hooded eyes. The way she'd moan and whimper his name as her nails scratched along his arms and back, or the way she'd look on top, biting her bottom lip the same way she did when she rolled, all the while she massaged her own tits, eyes held on his. The worst dreams though-were the ones where she was on her knees, staring up at him as her tongue trailed along his cock.

She always looked so pretty like that, mascara stained cheeks as she looked at him through her lashes.

The only thing that made tonight different was when Y/n woke up at two in the morning and went to grab some water, as she crawled back into her bed she heard it-the first low whimper from his sleeping figure, then it happened again, this one a little louder-more of a groan and she had no idea what to do-her eyes wide as she stared.

Then he moaned her name-it wasn't loud but it was coherent and clear-he was having a wet dream about her and it turned her on, her body engulfed in a white heat as she stared, her lips parted now. She opted to wake him up, gently shaking his shoulder "Argyle, argyle get up" her harsh whispers were the first thing he heard as he stirred away-her face a few inches from his.

"Wha-what happened?" she raised a brow "you tell me, sounds like your dream was interesting" she was teasing him, her sultry tone had his eyes widening and brows raising-a look of shock and embarrassment on his face "y/n-hey man it's not what it sounds like okay-i just-you-we-shit okay you caught me" she giggled and shushed him.

"I have a question do you think of me when you touch yourself?” he didn't know how to answer that, blinking several times in shock, still processing that this was real and not just his dream "yeah-obviously" then he placed a hand on her cheek, gently caressing it before sliding along her throat then her shoulder, her brows knit together "what're you doing?" she couldn't help her giggle. "making sure you're real"

"I'm definitely real" he nodded his head "yeah-your skins really soft" she rolled her eyes, a smile on her face as she glanced at the evident tent under her sheets, his thin shorts doing nothing to restrain him. "can i help you with that?" he nodded his head "please-oh shit" he groaned as her hand slid down his bare chest, then below the sheets and the waistband of his shorts.

His head lulled back as she palmed him, biting his bottom lip while he shut his eyes "look at me baby" her dominance was evident, he immediately opened his eyes, looking at her face, holding eye contact as she grasped the base of his thick cock, then she started slowly pumping her hand along his shaft-thumb running over the tip over and over again, small whimpers and groans leaving his lips.

Then she moved from her spot, sliding the sheets down-pulling him out of his shorts, repositioning herself between his thighs, laying flat on her stomach, her legs kicked up in the air as she stared at him. The moonlight shining through her blinds reflecting against her figure-and he swore he had to be dreaming.

She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, then she swirled it around his tip, gliding against the slit-gathering every drop of precum and his mind was officially fuzzy while he watched her. Then she took him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks, opting to take him further and further-until he was hitting the back of her throat.

He bit into his fist to stop his loud moans from coming out, his hooded eyes focused on her while she stared up at him-a few tears leaving her eyes as she took him down her throat-gagging around him. She let him go, then brought him back down her throat again-keeping the same rhythm up until she felt his cock twitching, then she took him out of her mouth, opting to wrap her hand around him-jerking him off while she stared at him.

Then she took him into her mouth again, sucking on the tip, his groans getting harder to hold back "y/n-baby-I'm gonna cum and fuck I don't know if you want me to in your mouth-like i don't wanna be rude or anything dude" she pulled him out of her mouth, biting her bottom lip and raising a brow "i want it down my throat"

He rubbed a hand over his face "oh god man-you really can't talk to me like that when you're this close to my dick" she giggled, rolling her eyes playfully before taking him back down her throat-he only lasted a few seconds after that.

Then once she swallowed and finished running her tongue along his cock-cleaning him up, she tucked him back into his shorts and laid back down, this time opting to rest her head against his chest.

"You wanna go on a date or somethin?" she giggled "yeah-i'd like that"

OBX3 SPOILERS

BRO I CANT BELIEVE THEY ENDED THE FINALE ON THE CLIFFHANGER WHYD KIARA SHOOT CLEO INSTEAD OF RAFE I KNEW TO NEVER TRUST A BITCH W A WHITE MOM