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ikarakie · 1 year

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one of the known, undisputed rules of riding in steve harrington's car: passenger seat gets music privileges.

if you brought your own tape, and won the usually vicious battle for shotgun, there was a 100% chance that the drive would be backed with music of your choice. hell, there was even a small collection growing in steve's glove box of music that wasn’t his, because people left them behind either on accident or on purpose. no one really knew what steve liked to listen to- maybe minus robin- but he always seemed happy with whatever the passenger put in.

until one day, when dustin and lucas and mike climbed into his car. dustin had won passenger seat privileges, after a rather tense game of rock, paper, scissors, and instantly reached for the tape player.

steve smacked his hand down. "paws off, henderson." he scolded, not unkindly. all three kids stared at him like he'd grown a third limb as he pulled out of the wheeler's driveway. electric guitar played at a semi-low volume.

"what the hell?!" dustin squawked. "why can't i change the tape?" steve rolled his eyes, fingers tapping along to the rhythm of the beat on the wheel. none of the kids recognised the song, and it certainly didn't seem the kind of thing steve harrington would willingly listen to.

"is it so surprising i want to listen to my own tape in my car?" steve asks. dustin shouts an affronted, 'YES!' to which steve just shakes his head and continues driving.

the man on the track sings over heavy drums and guitar, talking about how he needed someone to 'show me the things that make true happiness' and 'he must be blind.' then, there's a guitar solo that steve smiles at.

"who are you?" mike asked, suspicious. "what did you do with our steve?"

"oh, shut up, wheeler." steve meets his eye in the rearview mirror. "next one to complain loses tape privileges for their next three turns."

that does shut them up. they make idle conversation over a couple more songs before they pull up to their destination. mostly threatening each other over high scores and making bets. steve waves them off with the usual 'don't be stupid' lecture and pulls out of the arcade parking lot, the bass of whatever the next track had been audible even through his closed doors and windows.

after that, steve retains ownership of his stereo every now and then, always playing some form of heavy metal. it just becomes the norm, though never fails to confound whoever's in the car. (because, seriously? polo shirt wearing steve harrington and heavy metal?)

they only ever hear anyone else listen to it after they join hellfire. eddie invites them to his trailer to create their characters together, and when they walk in one of the songs from that dumb tape is playing from a record in the corner.

"woah! you like this music too?" lucas asks. eddie nods excitedly.

"yeah, man! you a fan?" his smile dims a little when lucas shakes his head, but dustin is quick to jump in.

"our friend steve is always listening to a dumb mixtape with this sorta stuff on it." he explains, missing how eddie's eyes light up and his smile turns a little bashful. "he used to let us play whatever we want, but ever since he got that tape he makes us listen to it sometimes when he drives us around."

"well," eddie sighs, fiddling with one of his chunky silver rings. "seems this steve knows someone with very good taste in music." there's a warm look in his eyes before he claps his hands and diverts their attention to the character sheets he printed out.

later that night, steve gets a call.

"you told me you only listened to that tape once." the voice on the other end drawls. it's low and teasing, but it's undercut with obvious wonder and fondness. steve doesn't even bother pretending to be confused.

"well, it's good." (it makes me think of you) he replies, like it pains him. eddie giggles, and steve eyes the tape in question. sat on his bedside table, 'for my stevie' scrawled across it in eddie's neatest handwriting. shitty little hearts drawn around his name and an even shittier skull at the end. "how'd you know?"

"recognised my mötörhead record." eddie coos, "told me how you revoke their music privileges to listen to it." a pause. "you're so fucking cute."

steve can't help the dorky smile that spreads over his face. the way he twirls the phone cord like a fucking lovesick loser. he cracks a joke about making eddie a mixtape featuring the likes of duran duran and tears for fears, which makes him fake retch. they chat for a little while longer, whispering 'i love you's through the phones like it was their first time saying it.

the tape stays firmly in the bmw's music rotation.

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months

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Could I request reader x Yandere Giant? I feel like you'd write this concept so well!!

CW: ridiculous size difference kink, living fleshlight, non-con, oral, cummflation, anal

Fear gripped (Reader) as they helplessly swung from the tree they had landed in. Just the day before (Reader) was boarding a plane, excited to travel with the opportunity to continue their learning, studying to become a professor of anthropology. Tragically, five hours into the seventeen hour flight something went wrong with the plane, sending it careening through the air and falling in a nose dive back down towards the earth. (Reader) wasn't sure how it all happened, but suddenly there was a painful amount of wind pressure inside the plane, and their seat was sucked out.

They had been lucky enough to not die, their seat getting caught in a tree during the fall, however they were now trapped with no way down. The drop was still too high to land safely without breaking anything, and the branch the seat had lodged itself into was too far away from the trunk for an attempt to shimmy down. So they were stuck, too afraid to move and cause themselves to fall further. Helplessly, (Reader) began crying and screaming for help.

"Goddamnit! I'm not an outdoors person, I can't get down!" (Reader) bemoaned their predicament, screaming more to vent than to actually attract help, not knowing if anyone else survived the crash. "Help! Me!"

The anthropology student cried themselves weak.

(Reader) had just began nodding off, unable to hold their eyes open, when a loud earthquake rumbled the forest, shaking (Reader's) seat dangerously. The booming shakes repeated rhythmically, becoming louder and shaking (Reader) more violently.

"Stop! Stop! I'm going to fall!" (Reader) wasn't sure who they were crying out to, possibly God, pleading only because the fear of dying overrode their rational thinking.

It continued closer, frightening (Reader) into gripping their seat belt for dear life. As the sound became louder, the more it resembled footsteps, walking up to the tree (Reader) hung from. The thundering echoed from behind (Reader).

A hand large enough to wrap around (Reader's) ribcage grabbed the chair and yanked it out of the branch, lifting (Reader) up to meet their "savior" face to face. A large man taller than (Reader's) family home stood almost fully naked. Even from their position strapped to a chair, (Reader) could tell that the monster's face was more than half their height in length.

"What an odd little bird." The giant's deep voice rumbled out, reverberating in (Reader's) rib cage like the bass of a suped up car.

Refusing to believe that what (Reader) was seeing was real, they pointed a finger at the being, shaking harder than a chihuahua while they (not-so) confidently exclaimed "I'm not a bird!"

Bright green eyes the color of the trees surrounding (Reader) twinkled with amusement. The huge man brought (Reader) closer, his skin pleasantly smelled like dirt after rainfall in spring. "Oh, is that so?" He teased, overjoyed by the mixture of fear and embarrassment painted visibly on (Reader's) face. "But you are perched in a tree like a bird, and you squawk like a bird.."

Salty tears dribbled down their dirty cheeks. "Please don't kill me." (Reader) begged, quickly giving up their (unconvincing) facade of bravery.

"Kill you? I would never.." the giant chuckled, carrying the still strapped in (Reader) in his hand as he began back the way he came. "If you were able to survive a fall like that, perhaps it was fate that we should meet."

Their nerves tingled at his words. "How.. did you know I fell?"

A roaring laughter shook the trees and nearly burst (Reader's) ear drums. "You are quite adorable in your stupidity, little bird!"

(Reader's) questions were outright ignored for the rest of the trip, only occasionally hearing a chuckle or a 'hmph' in response to their frightened inquiries. The giant brought (Reader) deeper into the mountain, revealing a large cave tunneling into it's side, obviously the giant's home, decorated with ornate wooden carvings and drapes meticulously sewn out of leaves, similar to his loin cloth.

He only spoke after setting (Reader) down on a handmade table. "Are you going to tell me your name, or shall I continue calling you bird?"

Unbuckling as fast as (Reader) could, their leg muscles were weak from the plane crash, so what they had intended to be a show of bravery, standing tall in the face of uncertainty, was more like the wobbling of a newborn deer, knees bonking together pitifully. "Not until you tell me your name first!"

"Hah! You couldn't pronounce my name, bird. My name is the sound of the rapid river rushing down this mountain." A hissing growl hummed in the back of his throat.

"Okay, Growley, my name is (Reader)."

The giant smiled, pulling a stool up to sit beside the table (Reader) stood on. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Because he sounded sincere (Reader) struggled to remain angry, reminding themselves that this was a possibly dangerous stranger was difficult when he was acting so charismatic. "Thank you.. for getting me out of that tree, I guess.. But I should be looking for an open area without trees, or better, the crash site, so when rescue comes they'll find me."

The smile drooped on "Growley's" lips, a conflicted grimace taking it's place. "I'm sorry to break it to you (Reader), but no one is coming for you."

"What?! Why??" (Reader) loudly cried out, heart shattering painfully in their chest.

"My island is protected by magic. It is concealed from all eyes."

(Reader) sat down, trying not to have a panic attack. "Would they be able to see me from the water?"

"You would have to be quite far from my island before it's protection waned. You would drown before rescue arrived."

They slumped down further, laying flat against the wood, focusing on their breathing. "Oh."

"Do not be perturbed, little bird. Our meeting was fate, as I have said, so I am confident that you will learn to think of this as your home as well."

"Fuck your fate." (Reader) wearily whined.

A sigh shook the furniture. "I have been alone for a very long time. For hundreds of years I have prayed to the spirits of the universe that they would resurrect another giant so I may have someone to speak to. I was desperate. So when I saw the giant creature flying high above me, having difficulties in it's flight, close enough to the ground to interfere with the magic bubble.." (Reader) sat up, face twisted in rage. "I trusted the spirits, and helped bring the monster down faster."

The bottom lip on (Reader) quivered. "What did you do?"

There was no remorse on his face as Growley responded. "I acted on impulse, and knocked you out of the sky with a boulder."

(Reader) shuffled away, hysterical. "You-you-you!"

"Don't curse me, little bird, please. You have no idea the torment I've suffered, alone with the corpses of my family."

They shakily stood, and began running towards the edge of the table. Growley's gnarled hand effortlessly scooped (Reader) up, unfazed by their fists weakly slamming into his fingers.

"I know how frightened you must be, but this was fate! You were sent to me from the spirits. And with the spirits mercy, you will be blessed to live with me for the rest of my life.."

Using his nails, Growley pulled (Reader's) pants off, exposing their bare lower half. They clamped their thighs shut while crying out in protest, but it was too late for bargaining; he had been alone for long enough, and was desperate for companionship.

(Reader) was incapable of fighting back as they were lifted with one hand, pressing their bare ass to the giant's face. With his free hand he stretched one leg to the side so he could look at (Reader's) everything. They couldn't see what was happening over his hand clamped on their chest. They squeezed their eyes shut in anticipation, but popped them right back open when something hot and wet ran across their naked groin.

"EW!" (Reader) screamed, feeling a tongue larger than their face taste their body. It roughly pressed against their anus and ran upward over their sensitive organ.

He continued doing so over and over as (Reader's) body began reacting against their wishes.

They could only hope that he couldn't taste their fluids as they became aroused, the tongue still prodding at their ass and folds.

The hands holding (Reader) up changed positions, cradling the body with both hands, but now holding up their legs with his thumbs, pressing them back till (Reader's) knees brushed against their face. The stretching was discomforting, but the aching was forgotten as Growley stuck their entire pelvis in his lips, sucking hard as his tongue tried to force its way into their ass. (Reader) couldn't take their mind off of the assault, the suction on their sensitive glans sending convulsions up their trembling thighs. A knot inside (Reader) formed, building like a wave, threatening to come crashing down.

"Stop, I'm going to cum!"

(Reader) dug their nails into his fingers as they released inside their kidnapper's mouth, moaning loudly as they did so despite their attempt to conceal their pleasure.

The giant removed (Reader) from his lips, swapping them back to being held by one hand, and dropped his only piece of clothing. "I cannot wait any further, little bird." His eyes were almost apologetic as he lowered (Reader), giving them a full view of his erection. The length of his enlarged dick was almost as large as his face, making (Reader) weep in anticipation.

"Please don't!"

Their entrance was already wet from the tongue poking at it, wasting no time in slowly pressing the tip into (Reader's) clenched ass. The pain was like getting ripped open, having something so large pushed into them. The giant groaned with pleasure, and rammed (Reader) further onto his cock.

Like masturbating with a flesh light, he used (Reader's) tight bloody hole selfishly, fucking them as deeply as he could physically fit. The sounds of his grunts drowned out (Reader's) heaving sobs, moving faster and faster, almost cracking their ribs under the force of his grip.

A loud growl escaped as reached his climax, cumming inside (Reader's) gut, extending out their midsection as he bloated them up. Yanking (Reader) off his dick, jizz leaked out of their swollen bottom as he pressed his slit against (Reader's) lips before they could clench their jaw shut. Releasing the rest of his load into their mouth, shooting so much into their throat that they believed they could feel the smelly cum hit the bottom of their stomach.

When he finally finished, (Reader) was a mess, covered in his sperm and spilling his seed out of both ends. Growley kissed the top of (Reader's) sweaty head lovingly, overwhelmed by just how sexy they looked ballooned out by his love.

"I told you it was fate, little bird. Rest now, for we have three hundred and twenty-eight years of loneliness to make up for~"

#yandere #yandere monster x reader #yandere monster #thank you for the suggestion #cw noncon #cw size kink #not proofread #giant/tiny #cw monsterfucking #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #i hope you like it

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p0ssym1lker · 11 months

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Danny and Tim meet when they are 18 and immediately decide to start a band

Tim as bass

Danny singer/guitarist

Tim gets Kon to play drums

They work surprisingly great together

They don't know about each other's superhero gig (Danny is retired)

Until one day, while they are practicing in gotham, the joker drops through their roof and Danny decides a ghostly wail is the only way to deal with the clown

Problem? Kon and Tim thing he just unlocked his meta gene and now feel responsible helping him but they don't want to expose their superhero lives as not to put him into danger even more

It goes...okay

They keep freaking out when Danny gets more and more powers

Even bigger freak out when he somehow heals Jasons pit-madness

Danny just think it's sweet but he'd rather just continue practising with his bandmates

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc #tim drake #jason todd #tim drake wayne #dc red robin #red robin #kon el superboy #kon el kent #kon el #superboy #dcu crossover #dcu

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jeanbie · 2 months

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GHOSTFACE ★ masterlist.

pairing: connie x reader

genre: modern au | warnings: explicit sexual content, masked sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, quickie, squirting | wc: 4.6k

note: im tingling....and toying with a pt2...thoughts?!! plz share ૮ • ﻌ - ა

⏤ You've got no idea who dressed up as Ghostface to Eren's Halloween party, but damn, do they fuck nice.

Bassline. The thundering vibrations of Eren’s drum and bass mix seem to rattle the entire fourth floor of the apartment complex; there are feet stomping on the lino of the kitchen floor, people shouting to the dark stream of dialogue that is sampled into the tracks. The windows look as though they might shatter with the pulsing pressure of the music, and according to Jean who just went outside to the courtyard to have a cigarette, the music is so loud that it feels like it’s coming from outside the building and not within.

Eren loves drum and bass, which is why it came as little surprise to everybody in attendance of his Halloween party that majority of this playlist has been of the same genre.

The only real complaint you can find about the music is that some of the tracks are too long and too repetitive, and since about fifteen minutes ago when you found yourself bent over in one of the storage cupboards in the hallway with some stranger’s cock shoved up your cunt, you don’t think the song that was playing when you got there has even finished yet.

The cupboard is submerged in darkness, but even if there had been a light on it wouldn’t have mattered — the stranger’s face is hidden behind the screaming slope of a Scream mask.

While this stranger has had you bent over one of the stored suitcases in the cupboard, you’ve been trying to figure out who he is, if you might actually know him. There are signs to take note of; his blunt fingernails, the skinny ring on his middle finger, the quiet string of curses from behind the cheap plastic mask.

You turn your head over your shoulder, trying to search him out in the darkness. You catch what looks like a glimpse of the white of his mask before he takes one hand off your waist and fists it in your hair, pulling your head back closer to the mask whilst speeding up his hips. The clench of your cunt around his cock makes his fist tighten in your hair, and you gasp and fumble to hold the handle of whoever’s suitcase this happens to be.

His hips snatch up, burying his cock back inside of you and eventually letting go your hair to wrap both of his hands back around your waist. He pulls you to meet him as he thrusts in, the ricochet of your ass slapping into his hips sending you lurching forward into the wall — you barely stop yourself from face-planting into it with your palm, and you settle for gripping onto the suitcase beneath you for dear life as the stranger speeds up his slamming.

The fact that the person up your snatch right now is a stranger makes your head whirl — this is exactly the kind of scenario you think your parents might have been warning you of when they sent you off to university two years ago. But none of that matters now, not when the hardness shoved deep inside of you feels as good as this dude’s does.

Ghostface pushes himself deeper, shoving your chest down against the suitcase so the angle is just right. You feel his fingers smoothing up your spine appreciatively as he fucks into you, and the sudden realisation that you’re almost naked while he’s still concealed beneath dark robes and a mask hits you.

As he guides your hips up his cock and lets you sink back down onto him at your own tired pace, you moan loudly, feeling your thighs tremble against the fabric of the suitcase.

Behind you, the sharp point of his hips begin to hit you in even intervals — if you could see in this darkness, you’d see them moving in a roundish motion, each upward flick of his hips hitting the spot he’s been looking for the entire time.

You squeal, jolting up when he finds it and when he does, the hand on your back smooths across your skin before coming again to settle on your waist. His hands tighten around it while his hips rock back up into you, the wetness between your legs practically drooling from your hole.

Each thrust now is long and slow; you can feel the entire length of his dick pulling out of you save for the tip, and then rushing back inside of you roughly. Without even thinking about it, your walls clench closed around him and he sucks in a hiss, one you’re shocked to have been able to hear amidst the party outside.

Ghostface speeds up. He pushes into you with ease, relishing in the sound of your voice groaning and whimpering underneath him.

A pressure builds in your stomach, and Ghostface just about catches you when you fumble, the feeling of his hands around your middle tightening as he does all the work. He fucks himself with your pussy, knowing from the arrangement of noises you’ve sung to him where you like him best, which angle makes you moan more, where the wetness builds and squelches around him and dribbles down your leg.

“Ah, fuck!” you cry, taking the masked man by genuine surprise as his body shifts with quiet laughter, his fingers pinching the bunch of skin around your waist. He knows that you’re tired, and knows that you want to cum — just like how he knows that you know he wants to cum, too.

You feel full to the brim with him — you don’t know if this is the best sex you’ve ever had or if you just think that because it could be anybody under that mask fucking you.

Again, you try to peer round your shoulder to look for him, and this time you happen to snatch a look now that your eyes have adjusted to the light. Ghostface stares back at you with indifference, but you wonder how he might be looking underneath — face scrunched up with pleasure, a lip between his teeth, eyes blown open or perhaps clenched tight.

Doesn’t matter. It just feels too fucking good.

You start to say something but your words die out, your mind focusing on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, mapping the way to your cervix, the tip kissing every nice spot you have never found with anybody else.

Finally, when you think Ghostface might be pulling out to blow a load over your back, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on edge when you feel him drag his cock out of you, and feel his hands pressing your ass cheeks, as if wanting to widen them apart.

Suddenly, you reach back and grab his wrist. You sense his gaze behind the hollow black spots of the mask and he tilts his head to the side. This guy is leaning in to the concept of Ghostface so heavily that it makes you shudder, but the damp spot between your legs sings a different story.

“Wait,” you manage to say, halting his cock from snuggling itself between your ass and up it. You’re not exactly closed off to anal, but not with someone you don’t even know, even worse inside of Eren’s storage cupboard using someone’s suitcase as a support.

Ghostface rolls his shoulders, returning his head to a straight and level position before pulling back entirely. Your heart rises to your throat — there’s no way he’ll just leave after you’ve said no. Neither of you are ready to part just yet.

Thankfully, Ghostface doesn’t leave; he curves his arm around your waist and twists you, your little top pushing against his chest for a split second before he lifts you up off the ground. The suitcase now finds itself a seat for you to sit on, while he lifts your legs higher around his body and aligns his cock back near your cunt before plunging himself back in as if he never even left.

Your jaw falls open, and now that your eyes are accustomed to the veil of darkness settled in the cupboard you can make out his mask above you, and both of his hands on your thighs. Being able to see the mysterious man in costume as he watches your pussy swallow his cock with every thrust only increases the pleasure, the rush of the masked assailant taking complete ownership of you, the thrill of the door behind him opening at any second.

He pushes your mini-skirt higher up over your stomach, sliding his right hand down from your thigh to roll his thumb over your clit. Your body jumps at the new feeling, and as the suitcase begins to wobble precariously beneath you, you try to grab onto something nearby and find nothing in reach. Settling to grip one hand on the case beneath you and his naked wrist, you place your faith in the trusty case and hope that it won’t collapse beneath you as Ghostface picks up the pace.

Every frantic thrust brings you an inch closer to the wall behind your head, but all you can focus on is the outline of his wrist reaching between your thighs and the white curve of the mask staring back at you in silence. You chew out a course of curses, a warm feeling rippling from your cunt all the way to your chest.

The cupboard feels like a corner of hell, stinking of sex, but all you can care to focus on is the feeling of this man’s dick inside of you, and how you want nothing else but for it to remain there for the rest of the evening.

You’re almost thankful for the lack of visibility in here, and no doubt behind the dark fabric of his masked eyes — you must look a mess, and you do. The man watches you with a half-lidded gaze, watching you unravel at the seams into a mewling mess under his hands. His thumb swirls slower around your clit, his nail slowly flicking over the curve of it as you moan, clenching your hand around his wrist. He shakes himself free from your clutches and moves to feel his cock stretching you open, fingering the wetness pool around him.

He swipes his finger up the slit of your cunt and then slides his palm over your stomach. You crane your head to stare at him, at the ridges of bone and his protruding veins that simmer across his hand. His fingers are slender, pretty almost, and you watch whilst panting as he stretches his hand across your lower stomach and presses down. At that, his hips flick up higher and you yelp — he’s feeling around for his hand on the surface.

He fucks up into you, feeling the dull lump of his dick pressing against you, and in turn you feel your legs trembling around him. Ghostface grips you even harder, grunting every time his balls slap up against your bum. The suitcase is wobbling furiously beneath you, but you can’t even feel it teetering on its edge — you’re too busy drowning in the aching pressure building in your body, and trying to fight it and failing miserably.

Ghostface releases your waist in surprise when you very suddenly release; a stream of squirt shoots out of your pussy onto the front of his dark cloak, and as soon as he lets you go, the suitcase beneath you falls and down you disappear against the wall down to the floor.

You land with an unceremonious groan, still squirting and shaking as you descend, and as you cry out in both pleasure and shock, Ghostface laughs and towers over you.

His laugh is loud, the loudest noise he’s made the entire time he’s been in here fucking you. It comes from deep within, boyish and sexy and enough to make you reach forward and press your fingers against your throbbing cunt.

“Shit, mama,” Ghostface croons, still chortling at your fall from grace to the floor of the cupboard. He breathes in with a voiced breath as he watches you fiddle with your clit like a button, staring up at him with a breathless and dazed look.

He tilts his head again — your body physically twitches.

“Oh, you want more?” he asks. You definitely don’t recognise his voice; you barely hear it now the song has changed in the kitchen next door. You’re lucky to have heard Ghostface talk the first time and laugh at the sight of your pussy in the air and legs spread wide.

Ghostface reaches for his cock, which remains hard and rigid under the falling figure of his cloak and he kicks the suitcase to the side. With your calves on either side of his thighs, he positions himself over you as you lie on the floor and starts to stroke his cock from the top to the bottom, picking up speed and watching you stroke the slick space between your legs. Your legs clench closed when you poke one finger into your quivering hole, but Ghostface nudges your legs with his knee and forces them back open.

If the door were to open now, how would you begin to explain the scene? A guy dressed as Ghostface standing over you while you’re undressed on the floor with your legs spread open, pumping his cock as he does nothing to help you up off the ground, enjoying every second of watching you try to finger your pussy and fight the sensitive jolts your body performs. Where would you even start with trying to explain that?

Ghostface shifts his weight above you, his hand moving so fast above you that you can barely see it moving, the black fabric of his cloak blocking the sight from view on occasion. He flicks his wrist as if this is an ordinary session of jerking off, as if you’re not on the floor beneath him ready to catch the blow.

He grunts, and you feel his feet gently brush your ass on the floor when he leans forward unexpectedly and lays one hand flat on the wall your head is against. Then you register a warmth shooting down onto your pussy, moving up to your chest as it falls and rises. He’s cumming. On you. All over you.

You don’t know where the need comes from, but you angle yourself up and position your face under his burst, catching the last few ropes of his cum with your tongue, moaning open-mouthed at the salty taste of it. You can feel the rest of it sliding down your body, trickling down your wet slit and past your bum to the floor.

Ghostface curses and laughs again, looking down at you.

“Slut,” he calls affectionately, chuckling as he does so. A wild heat blooms on your face.

Ghostface leans forward and fingers his hand through your hair, using the other one still wrapped around his cock to shake it, as if ridding the last drops of his seed onto your face before letting it fall back behind the curtain of black robes.

The unknown Ghostface grips your face with his hand, staring at the way your eyes burn up into his widely and tiredly. His head tilts again in the way he likes, and then he pats your cheek and waves his hand at you. It takes a second before you understand that he’s waving for you to stand up.

With a struggle, you find your feet and rise to stand in front of him. He assesses the display of sticky cum over your body and face and laughs again, as if finding the whole thing unbelievable and endearing, and then he uses the inside of his cloak to wipe whatever he can see in the dark off your skin. There’s still a party to enjoy — he’s not cruel enough to send you back into the fray with his seed splattered down your front.

A few moments later, the door to the storage cupboard opens from the inside and you ungracefully step out, your body still feeling light and like jelly. Ghostface is just a step behind you, but before you can step into the equally dim light of the flat hallway, he reaches out and fiddles with your skirt. You feel the cheap fabric of it drag in a rearrangement.

He’s pulled your skirt from up above your arse and returned you to normal.

Ghostface gently pushes you forward and turns to close the door behind him. You still in place, turning to him and hoping he might share who he is, maybe suggest finding a room to have some more fun in. But all he does is look at you before disappearing back inside of the heart of the party taking place in the kitchen.

Leaving you standing there.

A door to someone’s bedroom opens and out someone steps, dressed in a very cute cosplay of Yuna from Final Fantasy. They smile when they see you and use their thumb to gesture behind them: “Bathrooms in there if you’re looking for it.”

You thank her and slowly wander inside, b-lining for the small ensuite and closing the door behind you. You barely think of looking at your reflection in the mirror until you’ve peed and wiped the sticky residue away, but when you do, you blow out a deep sigh and quickly wipe the smudge of eyeliner under your eye.

You’ve looked worse. There’s always that.

You’re just about to step into the hallway when a Ghostface breezes past you. Immediately, your body freezes, watching the masked figure look back towards the front door with a howling laugh, and when you turn to the door you watch two more Ghostface’s tumble in after him. Your heart lurches in your chest — this just got more complicated.

One of them looks at you and holds up their prop weapon as they pass, using it as if beckoning you to the kitchen where your friends are probably waiting for you. Hoping they’ll avoid all interrogations of where you’ve been for the last twenty minutes, you prepare to poke your head inside and jump back when Ymir steps out.

She looks haggard, her eyes hazed and red and she jerks backwards in surprise when you manifest into her view.

“Jesus fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” she grumbles, looking you up and down after catching her breath.

A guy dressed in an uninspired pirate outfit passes and says, “Cute outfit.”

“Thanks,” you mutter in reply, then turn to Ymir again. “There’s no more loo roll in that bathroom, if that’s where you’re going.”

“Nah, going outside,” she tells you, “it’s like a sauna in there. Wanna come with?”

You hope that by joining Ymir outside you might iron out your neediness, but the feeling only increases. About five minutes into standing by one of the birch trees in the courtyard, flanked by Ymir and her two friends, you watch as a congregation of people flood out of the building you were just in. Ymir pays them no mind — they’re all at the same party, after all, but your eyes zero in on the familiar flash of black robes and fall on the sickening sight of another Ghostface mask looking right back at you.

You don’t even know if this is the same Ghostface sinking his dick into your cunt just mere minutes ago.

“Why’s there so many Ghostface’s tonight?” you ask, feigning nonchalance.

Ymir shrugs and twists the butt of her cigarette against the tin bin on the wall. “Must be popular again this year.”

“The new Scream movie came out a few weeks ago,” one of her friends answers helpfully. “I’ve seen about six tonight. Don’t even know who any of them are, either.”

When Ymir gently pulls you back towards the party by your shoulders, you brave another look back at the group with the infamous Ghostface and tame the disappointment blooming in your chest when the masked stranger is no longer searching for you in the throng of people.

You fall back invisibly in the crowd of people once inside, searching for the man who had claimed you as his own earlier in the night. But he might as well be a ghost in the wild gathering of strangers surrounding you as you try and find fun in dancing with Ymir — everywhere you look, you catch a glimpse of another warping mouth gaping at you, but never any signs of who just had you mewling in the cupboard. His identity and the possibility of it being revealed slip away as the night goes on, but the lingering memory and phantom feeling of his dick up your crotch never leaves.

You’ve never actually met Eren, despite being at his Halloween party at the start of the week. The weekend drawls by at an agonisingly slow pace, so much so that you’re overjoyed when Saturday arrives and you join Ymir back at Eren’s dormitory building for Armin’s belated birthday gathering.

Once you cross the familiar courtyard, you steal a glance up at Eren’s flat, a flood of memories rushing back to you. Hating to admit the disappointment of learning that Armin lived in a different section of the building to Eren, you look away from the full length windows peering in to Eren’s kitchen and hurry behind Ymir and Reiner as they stride down the path towards the heavy green doors.

There’s a whole regiment of friends to Ymir who you’ve never even met before. There had never been any need to introduce you to the friends Ymir made during her first year of university when they all lived in the same building, and Ymir liked it that way.

She had a balance of friend groups for different purposes: her fixed group of friends (including Reiner and a dozen others), you (who Ymir considered her best friend, even when she had a poor way of showing it sometimes) and her first year friends, of which includes Eren and the birthday boy, Armin.

You’re not so much fussed by meeting them for the first time. If all goes wrong, you have nothing to lose.

Luckily, the unification of Ymir’s two friend groups goes according to plan; the collection of strangers prove to be friendly and welcoming, and you almost feel comfortable sitting in between Ymir and Reiner, his arm behind you on the back of the sofa and Ymir’s elbow on your knee as she leans forward to talk with Eren.

Opposite you, a few of Ymir’s friends fall into a cacophony of laughter that makes you look over at them with interest. A girl with brown hair leans back into her friends arm as a guy with a buzz-cut steps into the kitchen, patting his hands on his cargos as if they were wet. You look away again when Reiner brings you up in the conversation he’s having to your right, and you’re intention is to remain there until your ears prick up at someone’s voice opposite you.

“Shit, mama, you good?”

Your head snaps to the side.

Buzz-cut arches forward in his seat with a grin on his face, patting his hand on the brunette girl’s back as she coughs into her arm. The other friend, a dirty blond who you think is called Jean, takes her drink from her hands with a laugh while she splutters. Buzz-cut laughs too, the sound all too fucking familiar.

In your chest, your heart hammers before plunging to the pit of your stomach. When he rearranges himself and lays his hands flat on his parted knees, your eyes wander to his fingers and catch the sight of a slim silver band around his middle finger, and you feel your whole body go rigid.

It’s him.

It’s your Ghostface.

“Shit, Sasha, why’d you spit your drink everywhere?” Eren asks, chuckling at the girl as she apologetically wipes her mouth and makes a move to wipe away the water. “Ugh, stop, stop.”

“Can you get the kitchen roll from the cupboard, Connie?” sighs Armin, and you watch as buzz-cut rises to his feet and circles towards a cupboard and pulls out the kitchen roll. A cupboard he knew to look inside, the familiar entry to the kitchen — your mysterious Ghostface lives here, and your body warms at the fact.

Connie approaches the shitty coffee table and unravels a blanket of paper before laying it across the spill, soaking up whatever it was Sasha was drinking. He does it fast, but you steal whatever looks you can at him while he’s not looking back.

His hair is silver, the glint of silvery hoops and studs in his left ear standing out as an accent to his appearance. You watch his fingers grip the soggy clumps of tissue and familiarise yourself with them; just a few days ago, those fingers were around your waist, that thumb rolling circles around your clit.

You subtly fidget in your seat and try to look away, but you find yourself with the urge to look at him constantly, feeling like a schoolgirl crushing on her classmate.

“What’s it with you and coffee tables?” Reiner asks Sasha, bringing her gaze over to him and by extension you. She smiles at you both, considering you’re looking right at her and between her, Jean and Connie. “Didn’t you hurl on Eren’s on Halloween?”

“That actually wasn’t me,” Sasha says immediately, frantically looking at Eren as he levels a look at her. “I swear. I swear it wasn’t me. It was Mina, I swear.”

“I watched you do it,” Reiner replies.

“No, no! Connie, back me up—”

“He wasn’t even there!”

Connie glances at Sasha as if weighing his options by defending her, and then he looks at Reiner. As he does so, you feel your heart in your throat when his eyes pass by your figure and settle on Reiner, and then suddenly jump back to you in a double take.

Connie stands there for a moment, his eyes glued to you like a predator to prey. You watch his eyes flicker around your face, analysing you, before falling down to your chest, your legs, and then finally back at your face. You wonder if you might have fallen under the radar if only you hadn’t clenched your legs tighter together and squirmed in your seat, which is all the evidence Connie needed to confirm that you were the girl who’s pussy he’d been up inside a few nights ago.

You don’t begin to guess what he might be thinking. He slowly comes back to his senses and sits in his chair, his gaze wandering around the room before inevitably coming back to you, finding your gaze still fixed on him in a stunned surprise that he feels bloom into a sort of pride.

As he stares at you, he lets his head tilt to the side with a smile, watching the way your chest rises and falls before you force your gaze away, determined to find something interesting in Ymir’s conversation with the person next to her.

But now that you’ve seen him, and now that Connie’s seen you, you know that something has shifted, and when the vibrating pulse in your crotch returns unpleasantly, you force it away and count the seconds before you can leave with Ymir in tow — unsuspecting of the eyes that will follow as you go; oblivious to the desire stirring inside of Connie’s body to finish what he started on Halloween.

#aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie springer imagine #connie x reader #aot connie #connie springer smut #connie smut #ghostface #snk #aot smut #aot imagine #connie aot #jeanbie #ittojean

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anianurst · 5 months

Text

Big Brother Knows Best

a little blurb about big brother!sukuna and how his younger brother yuji has a thing for his girlfriend (some sexual things listed below) (college au!)

poor little yuji :( he's crushing so hard on his older brother's girlfriend

you and sukuna meet at a party where your band was playing

There's blinding lights casting different colors all around you. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you swing your hips to the beat of the music playing behind you. Suguru's killing it on the bass to your left while Satoru's playing the guitar on your right, and you feel Shoko's gaze behind you as she pounds away on the drums.

Cheers and yells come from the crowd as a grins plays at your lips. When Satoru first suggested forming a band, you quickly scoffed and laughed at him. But now, as people scream your lyrics and jump up and down, you're glad you joined.

Your gaze sweeps the crowd again as you continue singing. Hips swaying, your hoop earring jiggling, and your low-rise jeans showing off your midriff, you're the picture of sex. Your eyes then meet glowing red ones as you feel a shiver go down your spine.

With a single red cup in hand and crossed arms, Sukuna smirks at you. His tattoos run all over his arm and face, and you wonder if there's more.

it didn't take a genius to know how your night with sukuna ended

the next morning, youre making something to eat in the kitchen (wearing nothing but panties and sukuna's shirt), when yuji walks in

you jolt and quickly say hi

meanwhile, yuji's face turns red at a fast pace. his mind short-circuiting as he takes in your nearly bare figure.

he hears you giggle before his eyes dart back up to your face before stuttering out an apology

waving him off, you serve him breakfast and make small talk with him (he stares at your ass every time you turn around)

it's not long before sukuna walks in, smacking your ass and taking some food straight from your plate

rolling your eyes, you bid goodbye to yuji as sukuna follows behind you. smirking at his younger brother, sukuna makes a display of slapping your ass again as you yelp

after that, yuji starts seeing you around more often

unlike all of sukuna's one-night stands, you become a recurring event, and every time yuji has to fight everything in him to keep his gaze on your eyes and not everywhere else

sukuna makes it so hard though. he purposefully leaves your panties around for yuji to find. always feels you up which has you giggling and pushing him away

and you make it so hard, with your tight tops and low-rise jeans. yuji finds out you have a hip tattoo when you bend over once and your jeans slip down

eventually, yuji decides that he needs to go out so he drags nobara and megumi out to party, not knowing that your band is playing and his older brother is there

yuji finds you even more enticing as he watches you sing and preform

and he curses himself for getting so worked up when he watches you and sukuna make out, pressed up against some wall, bodies pressed together and hands traveling all over

he hates it even more when his older brother peers over your shoulder and sends him an evil smirk

#sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #yuji x reader x sukuna #big brother sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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narcissistshandler · 3 months

Note

are you still making hobie fics 🙏

ps omg ur stuff is sooo delicious its crazy

req; please make a fic of hobie squirming from the reader's suggestive teasing/touch in a public place (diner, movie theater, school etc.) thanks so much !!!

𝗔𝗧𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗔

pairing. hobie brown x gn reader

warnings. dry humping, frottage, cumming in pants, everything happens in public, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned.

a/n. I don't think you guys have any idea how happy I always am with your compliments, I really hope you like this.

The chaotic, loud and fast symphony reverberated through your ears, the notes that sounded between a mix of rock and hard-hitting singing echoing through the speakers and filling the small local bar that was not much more than a joint where young people gathered to drink, listening to music and criticize the government — everything Hobie liked most, and that's why you had brought him here for a 'date'. Date. This wasn't exactly most people's idea of a date, but seeing the smile that never left Hobie's face as he jumped up and down and sang along to the familiar lyrics of the famous song the band covered, you knew this was exactly the ideal type of date for your boyfriend.

Everything was perfect. The band was a little out of tune, but that was ok, the stage presence made up for it. It was too crowded, and you could barely move without bumping into someone, but people were at least polite. Although, when Hobie was wearing the tightest leather pants, tall boots, and a fishnet top under the jacket that hid absolutely nothing, it was hard to pay much attention to anything else.

You gripped Hobie's hips, fingers against the cold leather hanging right over the protruding bones, tight enough to feel like a second skin. The set of belts purposely left a little loose over his pants and the silver of the thin strap around his neck reflecting under the lights. Hobie's body was warm, sweat running down the back of the neck under the black frizzy curls and you couldn't help but lean in and press your lips there, taking in the cold of the choker and the heat of his dark skin.

It was difficult to talk here and very easy to get lost in the small, lively crowd, which made it convenient for you to stay behind your boyfriend's body, holding him close to prevent you from separating —and from anyone getting the privileged view of Hobie's round ass.

Hobie chuckled, the bass of his laugh vibrating against your chest pressed against his back, otherwise it would have been difficult to notice. "Wanting to mark territory, huh?" he teased, turning his head a little to meet your gaze. The soft lights of the bar reflected in his leering gaze as he continued, "Not that I mind, but we're in public, babe."

You smiled playfully, fingers drawing circles on his hips. "I can't be blamed for wanting to keep the competition at bay. This privileged view is reserved for my eyes only."

Hobie opened his mouth and you leaned in even closer so you could hear what he was saying over the ferocious drums, "Well, in that case, I'm all yours. But let's not make it too obvious, or we might end up stealing the show."

“You’ve never complained about being the star of the show before,” you say, tone heavy with innuendo that precedes your hands inching up the sides of his hips, towards the toned stomach that ripples under your touch.

“Not when you're my only audience,” Hobie says back, but he doesn't pull away when your thumb traces his belly button piercing.

Although it was impossible to ignore the bodies pressing against you from all sides, elbows occasionally finding a target and feet stepping on each other, the atmosphere was dark enough that it was difficult to make out faces and between the euphoria, the alcohol and the music, you knew that something was missing for this date to be the best for Hobie, unforgettable. And he knew it too.

“I’ll still be in the front seat,” you said amused. Your fingers found the hem of his pants and Hobie's body shook, as if an electric shock had coursed through him. "Watching you, adoring you. No one else matters. What if someone sees? I'll still be the only one touching you."

Hobie turned his attention forward, seeming to look to see if anyone was paying attention. “I don’t know,” he said and you almost didn’t hear him, hand already flat against the front of Hobie’s pants. "[name]-" He tensed against you. You felt his erection through the leather, feeling the delicious heat of it radiating through the fabric. The contact made Hobie shudder.

Your lips pressed against his ear, wanting to make sure every word was heard:

"But you're already hard for me. You've been practically since we arrived. Don't think I haven't noticed you rubbing your ass against me."

Despite the stiffness in his shoulders from contact, there was still amusement and pride in his tone when he answered you, "I'm sure I wanted you to notice that last part."

"I'm sure you did, dirty boy."

The music pulses and the bass chords dance at the same time as your fingers run down the front of Hobie's pants, tracing the familiar outline of the member that presses against the leather. It felt like touching bare skin. "[name]," Hobie calls again, you don't hear the sound, you just read his full lips moving.

"Yes?" you ask, giving him a chance to stop you even if you don't stop touching him, rubbing the palm of your hand against him and pinching the tip between two fingers. Your other hand holds his hips, feeling the tension that ripples through the muscles. "Come on, Hobie, you know you want this."

His hips snap at the touch, slamming against your hand, then back against your crotch and back into your hand. There's still tension there though, and maybe it's because of the danger of doing this in public, but his every movement feels restrained and hard, like a poorly oiled gear trying to work.

Hobie is all hot against you, pulse racing beneath your open lips over the salty skin of his slender neck. He turns his head back, almost bumping his head against yours and searches for your mouth. "You're wicked, [name], you know I would never say 'no' to you," he pants, drowning the words against your mouth, forcing you to swallow your own name. He kisses you then, desperately, breathless and completely weak to the pleasure coursing through his veins as you slowly run your thumb along the sensitive tip of his member, matching the rhythm of your tongue sliding into his mouth.

One of your hands slides across the smooth leather, dragging your palm against his cock as you kiss him, the lyrics that sought to remind of all the weight and filth of the society clicking in your ears. Your other hand moves up, running over the bumpy fabric of the fishnet until finds a bulge that presses against your finger. The cold metal slides against your touch, pulling with it the pointy brown nipple peeking out from under his top and Hobie moans against your mouth, asking for 'more'. It was as if today, before leaving home, Hobie had chosen his clothes thinking about how you could touch him without difficulties or real barriers.

You drink in the sounds Hobie makes against your mouth, their volume is lost beneath the music, but the vibration of every moan and every utterance of your name reverberates against your lips, right into your mouth, like a song that only you had access.

Hand wrapped awkwardly around Hobie's dick, fingers practically digging into the sides of it, digging into the leather to get enough precision to pull him hard and fast through each thrust. Hobie writhes against you and melts and it's the most beautiful show. He keeps his mouth against yours even when the kiss ends, humming along to the guitar chords, cursing and following the lyrics of the song. He seems lost in his own head, his brown eyes shining with lust and one hand reached back and gripping your hair, using the support to swivel his hips in a sensual circle, the belts slapping against your arm.

"[name]," he sings through the song's lyrics as he moves against your hand, taking what he needs. "That feels good... you are... I need more... can you...? Fuck."

In the low light you doubted anyone could see the vision of the beautiful man coming apart beneath your fingers to the point where tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. It was a good thing not. You didn't want that in the end — soon — when the night reached its climax and Hobie followed, spilling for you in his pants, anyone else could watch his mouth falling open, hips erratic and his entire body shaking as he became unable to say anything other than your name. The most beautiful spectacle of all and that belonged only to your eyes.

#x male reader #x gn reader #dom reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse x gn reader

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