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ALCA'S MASTERLIST'S MASTERLIST
Dylan Minnette ♧︎︎︎
Braeden Lemasters ♫︎
Cole Preston 𖠌
Stranger Things ☏︎
Clay Jensen ㋛︎
Isabella Elei 𑁍
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could you do like a dylan smut but like it’s very fluffy and he’s really sweet, because they just started dating and the other guys she’s had sex with in the past have been like violent with her or something idk and so she thinks that’s normal and he like is different IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT but PLEASE
𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑮𝒐 ꨄ︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)
Content: Caring Smut, Tender Dylan, Past Domestic Violence Hinted, Oral Fem Receiving, Praises, Hurt Comfort, Mental breakdown, Ptsd
The city hummed faintly outside the window of Dylan’s apartment, a low, distant sound that made the silence inside feel even warmer. You were tangled in his sheets, legs loosely intertwined with his, your head resting on his chest while his fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your spine. The room smelled like him faint cologne, clean laundry, and the candle you’d lit earlier.
Dylan’s lips brushed yours again, gentle and unhurried. The kiss was soft, almost reverent. He tasted like the mint tea you’d shared after dinner, and every time he pulled back just slightly to look at you, his blue eyes were full of that quiet, patient affection that still made your stomach flutter.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispered against your mouth, voice low and warm. His hand slid from your back to your waist, then lower, cupping the curve of your hip with careful fingers. “I could kiss you for hours.”
You smiled into the kiss, letting yourself melt a little more against him. Your fingers played with the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you deepened the kiss, tongues brushing lazily. It felt safe. It felt good.
Until you felt it.
The hard press of him against your thigh, unmistakable even through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. His breathing had grown heavier, more ragged. And then his hand moved — sliding down to grip the back of your thigh, pulling you closer with a low, appreciative hum against your lips.
Your body locked up instantly.
The warmth in your chest turned to ice. Your breath caught sharply in your throat. For a split second you were no longer in Dylan’s soft bed. You were somewhere else rough hands, demanding grips, pain disguised as passion.
The memory hit like static, ugly and fast, even if you tried to push it away.
You froze completely, lips still pressed to his but no longer moving. Your hand tightened on his shoulder, not in desire, but in sudden tension.
Dylan noticed immediately. He pulled back just enough to see your face, his hand instantly loosening on your thigh.
“Hey… baby?” His voice was soft, concerned. Those gentle blue eyes searched yours, brows slightly furrowed. “You okay?”
Dylan’s hand froze the second he felt you go rigid in his arms. His blue eyes widened with immediate worry, the gentle warmth in them shifting to soft concern as he pulled back a little more, giving you space without fully letting go.
“Hey, hey… talk to me,” he murmured, voice low and careful, like he was approaching a scared animal. “Did I do something wrong? We can stop. We don’t have to—”
The pressure of his fingers still lingering on your thigh — even though it was light — sent panic exploding through your chest. Your heart hammered violently against your ribs. Suddenly the sheets felt too heavy, the room too small, and Dylan’s body against yours too much like his. The ghost of rough hands, bruising grips, and words that cut deeper than any slap flashed through your mind in ugly fragments.
“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, voice cracking sharply as you shoved at his chest with both hands. The movement was harder than you meant it to be. “Get off— don’t fucking touch me!”
Dylan recoiled instantly, sitting up and pulling his hands away like he’d been burned. His face went pale, eyes wide with shock and hurt, but mostly worry. He raised both hands in surrender, scooting back on the bed to give you room.
“Okay— okay, I’m not touching you. I’m right here, baby. I’m not moving,” he said quickly, voice steady even though you could hear the fear in it. “Breathe. Just breathe for me, please.”
But you couldn’t. Your lungs felt tight, like someone was squeezing them. You scrambled backward until your back hit the headboard, pulling your knees up to your chest. Tears burned hot behind your eyes and then spilled over without warning. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably as the memories clawed their way up — the way your ex would ignore “no,” the way pleasure was always mixed with pain, the way you learned to dissociate just to survive it.
“I’m sorry— I’m so sorry,” you choked out between sobs, burying your face in your arms. “I didn’t mean to yell… I just— I can’t. I can’t do this. It feels like him again and I hate it. I hate that he still gets to ruin this—”
Your voice broke into ugly, gasping cries. The kind that hurt your throat. You rocked slightly, trying to hold yourself together, but the breakdown was already swallowing you whole.
Dylan stayed exactly where he was, hands still up, eyes glassy with his own worry and helplessness. His voice was soft, almost broken.
“Shh… you don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Ever.” He swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to reach for you. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready… I’ll be right here.”
Dylan didn’t move for what felt like forever. He stayed exactly where he was — sitting a respectful distance away on the bed, hands still slightly raised so you could see he wasn’t going to reach for you without permission. His blue eyes were full of worry, but there was no anger, no frustration… only that deep, quiet care that always seemed to wrap around you like a blanket.
Your sobs kept coming, ugly and raw, shaking your whole frame. You hated how small you felt. How broken.
Eventually, Dylan spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.“Can I come closer, baby? I won’t touch you unless you say yes. I just… I hate seeing you hurt like this and not being able to hold you.”
You hesitated, tears still streaming down your cheeks, but you gave a tiny, shaky nod.
The second you did, Dylan moved slowly, carefully. He slid across the bed until he was right beside you, then opened his arms without pulling you in. He waited. When you leaned toward him, he gently wrapped you up, one arm around your back, the other cradling the back of your head as he tucked you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear — a little fast from worry, but strong and safe.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing the softest kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve got you, okay? Let it out. Cry as much as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back — never too low, never demanding. Just comfort. Just presence. You clung to his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric as another wave of sobs hit you. He held you tighter, rocking you gently like you were something precious and fragile.
After a few long minutes, when your crying had quieted into shaky breaths, you whispered against his chest, voice hoarse and terrified“Dylan… I want to tell you. About why I… why I reacted like that. But I’m scared. I’m so scared of how you’re gonna look at me after.”
His arms tightened around you protectively, but his voice stayed gentle, warm, and steady.“Hey… look at me for a second?”
You lifted your tear-streaked face. His eyes were soft, a little glassy, but full of nothing but love and patience.“Nothing you tell me is going to make me love you less. Nothing. You don’t have to tell me tonight if you’re not ready. But if you want to… I’m listening. And I promise I’ll stay right here holding you the whole time. You’re safe with me. Always.”
You swallowed hard, heart still racing, but the warmth of his body and the sincerity in his voice made something inside your chest crack open just a little more.
“I… I want to tell you,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Just… don’t let go of me, okay?”
“I won’t,” he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, baby. As long as you need.”
You stayed curled against Dylan’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, one hand still rubbing those slow, comforting circles on your back. His heartbeat was the only steady thing in the room. You took a shaky breath, fingers gripping his shirt tighter.
“I… I was with someone before you,” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “For almost two years. At first it seemed okay, but then… he changed. He got violent. Not just yelling. He would grab me hard enough to leave bruises. Throw things. Push me around.”
Dylan’s body tensed beneath you, but he didn’t interrupt. His hand never stopped its gentle motion.
You swallowed hard, forcing the words out even though they burned.
“And the sex… it was the worst part.” Your voice cracked. “He was so rough. Always. No matter how many times I told him it hurt, or asked him to slow down, or said I wasn’t ready. He didn’t care. It felt like he wanted it to hurt. He’d hold me down, choke me too hard, ignore me when I cried. Sometimes I just… dissociated. I’d leave my body because it was the only way to survive it. It wasn’t love. It was just pain.”
Tears started falling again, hot and silent against his shirt.
“I want this with you, Dylan. I want you. I want to feel close to you like that. I want to make you feel good and I want you to make me feel good… but every time things start heating up, my body panics. My mind goes back there. I get scared that it’s going to hurt again. That I’m going to feel trapped. I hate it. I hate that he broke me like this and now I’m ruining this beautiful thing with you—” Your voice dissolved into quiet sobs again.
Dylan held you closer, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head, your temple, anywhere he could reach without letting go. His voice was low, rough with emotion, but incredibly gentle.
“Baby… listen to me,” he whispered, his hand carefully cupping the back of your neck. “You’re not ruining anything. Not even close. I’m so sorry you went through that. No one should ever treat you like that. Especially not someone who was supposed to love you. It makes me fucking angry that he hurt you… but that anger isn’t for you. It’s for him.”
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears.“You’re not broken. You’re surviving. And the fact that you trust me enough to tell me this… it means everything. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Ever. If sex is scary right now, then we wait. We take it slow. We kiss. We cuddle. We touch only when it feels good for you. And if you never want to go further, that’s okay too. I’m with you, not just your body.”
He rested his forehead against yours, eyes soft and full of love.“I want you to feel safe with me. Completely safe. So we go at your pace. Always. Okay?”
You nodded weakly, still trembling, but the weight on your chest felt a little lighter now that the words were out.
“Baby… look at me,” he whispered.
You lifted your eyes to his. Those blue eyes were warm, patient, and full of so much love it almost hurt.
“I’m never going to pressure you, my love. Not ever,” he said softly, his voice steady and sincere. “If we never have sex, that’s okay. If we wait six months, a year, five years… it’s still okay. Because I didn’t fall in love with you for your body. I fell in love with you. With the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you steal my hoodies, the way you make me feel calm even when the world is loud. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. That’s what matters most to me.”
You felt your chest tighten again, but this time it wasn’t just fear.
“That’s the problem, Dyl…” you whispered, voice shaky and small. “I do want to. I want to be close to you like that. I want to feel you and make you feel good and finally have something beautiful instead of what I had before. But I’m so scared. What if I freeze in the middle? What if everything comes rushing back and I ruin the moment? What if I panic again and you get tired of dealing with all my broken pieces?”
Your voice cracked on the last words.
Dylan’s arms tightened around you protectively. He gently tilted your chin up so you couldn’t look away.
“Hey… none of that,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours in the softest way. “You’re not broken. You’re healing. And if you freeze, we stop. If it comes back, we stop. We breathe. We talk. We cuddle. There is no ‘ruining the moment’ with me, okay? This isn’t a performance. It’s us. And I’m never going to get tired of taking care of you. Never.”
He kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth — all feather-light and full of affection. “We can take it one step at a time. Kissing. Touching over clothes. Under clothes. Whatever feels good. And the second anything feels scary, you tell me and we stop. No questions. No disappointment. Just love.”
He rested his forehead against yours again, eyes closed.“I’ve got you. Always.”
His hands cradled your face with so much tenderness it made your chest ache. After a long, quiet moment, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his voice low and soft.
“Can I… kiss you, baby?” he whispered. “Just kiss you. Nothing more unless you say so.”
Your heart fluttered. Even after everything you’d told him, he was still asking. Still checking.
You nodded, barely audible. “Yes.”
The smile he gave you was small, warm, and full of love. “Thank you.”
He leaned in slowly, giving you time, and pressed his lips to yours — incredibly soft, almost reverent. The kiss was sweet, unhurried, like he was pouring every ounce of care into it. His mouth moved gently against yours, warm and patient, tasting like comfort and safety. One of his hands slid into your hair, fingers threading through it delicately while the other stayed on your waist, holding you but never trapping you.
You melted into it, kissing him back with shaky tenderness. When you let out a small, relieved sigh against his mouth, Dylan smiled into the kiss.
“You can stop me anytime,” he murmured against your lips, voice husky but gentle. “Any second. Just say the word and I stop. Okay?”
“Okay…” you breathed.
He kissed you again, deeper this time but still so sweet it made your toes curl. Then his lips trailed slowly from the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, and down to your jaw. He took his time, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, savoring every inch. When he reached your neck, he lingered there, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear with feather-light pressure.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin between kisses. “So fucking beautiful… and so safe with me.”
His mouth moved lower on your neck, warm and slow, sucking gently — not hard enough to mark, just enough to make you shiver in a good way. One of his hands stroked your back in soothing circles while he continued kissing and softly nipping at your neck, never rushing, never demanding.
Every touch felt like a promise: I’ve got you. I’ll wait. I’ll be gentle.
Dylan’s lips stayed gentle on your neck, kissing and tasting you with slow devotion. Each press of his mouth sent warm shivers down your spine. He lingered on the spot that made your breath hitch, then slowly started moving lower, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
His hand slid down your side, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.
“Can I take this off, baby?” he whispered against your skin, voice low and careful. “I want to feel you closer… but only if you’re okay with it.”
You nodded, heart racing. “Yes.”
He sat up slightly and helped you out of the shirt with painfully slow movements, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes roamed over your bare skin with pure adoration, not hunger. Not yet. Just reverence.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed.
He leaned back in, lips returning to your neck before continuing their descent. He kissed down your chest, taking his time, until he reached the soft swell of your breasts. His mouth moved tenderly across your escote, pressing warm, lingering kisses between them, then along the curve of one breast and then the other. Every kiss was feather-light, loving, like he was worshipping you.
His hands rested on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin soothingly.
“You’re safe,” he murmured against your skin, voice husky but incredibly soft. “I promise you’re safe with me, my love. Nothing’s going to hurt you here. If it feels too much, we stop. I just want to make you feel good… only good.”
He kissed lower, lips brushing the top of your bra, then looked up at you with those beautiful blue eyes, checking in again.
“Still okay?” he asked gently, waiting for your answer before moving even an inch further.
Dylan’s fingers traced lightly down your back, finding the clasp of your bra. He looked into your eyes, his gaze full of patience and love.
“Can I take this off too, baby?” he asked softly. “I want to feel your skin against mine… but only if it feels right.”
You whispered a quiet “yes,” your voice trembling but trusting.
He moved slowly, so slowly, unhooking your bra with careful fingers and sliding the straps down your shoulders. He pulled it off gently and set it aside, his eyes never leaving your face at first — making sure you were still with him. Then his gaze dropped to your now-bare chest, and the way he looked at you made your heart ache in the best way. There was desire, yes, but mostly adoration.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss right above your heart. “I’m never going to hurt you. I swear it. You’re safe with me, my love. Completely safe.”
His words broke something open inside you.
The weight of feeling truly safe — maybe for the first time in years — hit you all at once. Tears welled up fast and spilled down your cheeks before you could stop them. Not from fear this time, but from overwhelming relief. From the gentleness in his touch. From the way he was looking at you like you were something precious instead of something to be used.
Dylan noticed immediately. His expression softened even more, and he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly while his other hand stayed respectfully on your waist.
“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”
He leaned down and started kissing your bare chest again — slow, warm kisses across your breasts, over your sternum, and up to your collarbones. His lips were incredibly gentle, almost healing. Every kiss felt like a promise. His thumb stroked the back of your hand in soothing circles as he continued kissing you, never rushing, never grabbing.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered between kisses, lips brushing your skin. “So brave. And so beautiful. I’m right here with you.”
You cried quietly while he kissed you, the tears mixing with the warmth spreading through your body. For the first time in a long time, the touch didn’t feel threatening. It felt safe. It felt like love.
Dylan’s mouth continued its slow, worshipful path across your bare chest. He kissed the soft curve of one breast, then the other, before his lips closed gently around your nipple. He sucked softly, warm and careful, flicking his tongue in slow circles while his hand cradled the other breast with feather-light touches. A quiet, appreciative hum vibrated against your skin.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, switching to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same tender attention. His touches stayed loving, never rough.
After a few moments, his hand slid lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your pants. He started to tug them down slowly, carefully, giving you time.
That’s when it hit.
Your body tensed sharply. The feeling of fabric sliding down your hips brought back flashes — hands that didn’t stop, pressure you couldn’t escape. Your heart slammed against your ribs.
“That’s enough,” you said quickly, voice shaky but clear. “Dylan, that’s enough.”
He stopped instantly.
Dylan pulled his hands away from your pants immediately, moving them to rest safely on your waist instead. He lifted his head from your chest and looked straight into your eyes, concern flooding his face.
“Okay, baby. We stop,” he said softly, voice calm and steady even though you could see the worry in his eyes. He didn’t pull away completely — he stayed close, but gave you space to breathe.
He gently tugged your pants back up to where they were, then pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest. One hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back while the other cradled the back of your head.
“Shh… I’ve got you. You did so good telling me,” he murmured against your hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “We’re not going any further. You’re safe. I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay?”
You clung to him, heart still racing, but his immediate response and the warmth of his body kept the full panic from crashing over you. He rocked you gently, whispering soft reassurances the whole time.
“I’m so proud of you for saying stop. That’s exactly what I want you to do. Always.” He kissed your temple. “We can stay like this all night if you want. Just kissing. Just holding. Whatever feels good for you.”
He kept holding you tight, patient and loving, waiting until your breathing started to even out again in his arms.
I need a clay smut where Clay though Justin was gonna be out with Jess all night so him and reader fuck and Justin and Jess walk in and it’s like “omg what the fuck” but then they leave and Clay is like “whatever” and they just keep fucking
𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 ꨄ︎ (Clay Jensen X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Needy Clay, Getting Walked In, Oral Fem Receiving, Unprotected Sex, Condom Tearing, Idk What Else To Add
You’d been dating Clay Jensen for six weeks now, and you still hadn’t gotten laid.
Not for lack of trying. God knows you’d tried.
Clay was sweet, respectful, and so ridiculously into you that it made your chest hurt in the best way. The problem wasn’t desire. The problem was six-foot-something of tattooed, loud-mouthed, permanent-houseguest chaos named Justin Foley.
Ever since Justin had crashed at the Jensens’ garage-turned-bedroom setup, the place had become a fortress of interruption. Clay’s parents were cool, but they weren’t about to let two hormonal teenagers go at it in the main house. So the garage it was. Except Justin never left. Ever.
You were sprawled across Clay’s bed (a lumpy twin mattress on a metal frame) while he sat at his desk pretending to study. Justin was three feet away on the old couch, playing some shooter game with the volume way too high, shirtless, crumbs of Cheetos all over his chest.
“Bro, you’re getting Cheeto dust on my pillow again,” Clay muttered without looking up.
Justin didn’t even pause the game. “Your pillow’s seen worse, Jensen. Remember last week when you jerked off so hard you—”
“Justin!” Clay yelped, face instantly scarlet.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. This was your life now. Third-wheeling in your own almost-sex life.
It had been like this for weeks. Every single time things started heating up, Justin appeared like a fucking genie of blue balls.
The first time you’d tried, you’d waited until Justin said he was going out with Jess. Twenty minutes later he came back because he forgot his wallet. You and Clay had barely gotten your shirts off.
The second time, Justin claimed he had “nowhere else to go” and just sat in the corner with headphones on, promising he wouldn’t look. Clay couldn’t even stay hard knowing his brother was right there.
The third time you’d tried sneaking in after midnight. Justin was “asleep.” Except every time Clay’s hand slipped under your shirt, Justin would let out the loudest, fakest snore you’d ever heard, followed by a mumbled “Don’t forget the condom, kids.”
You were starting to think Justin had a sixth sense for blue balls.
Tonight was supposed to be different. Justin had texted the group chat that he and Jess were going to the movies and then “probably back to her place.” Clay had practically vibrated with excitement when he showed you the text. He’d even lit a candle. A candle. In the garage. It smelled like vanilla and motor oil.
You crawled over to him now, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind.“So… movie night means we finally have the place to ourselves?” you whispered, lips brushing his ear.
Clay shivered, turning to kiss you softly. “Yeah. I think so. I mean… he said he’d be gone for hours.”
From the couch, Justin snorted without looking away from the screen. “Hours? Yeah. Sure. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lovebirds.”
You and Clay both froze.
Justin grinned, finally glancing over. “Relax. I’m leaving in like ten. Just gotta finish this round.”
Ten minutes later he was still playing.
Fifteen minutes.
Twenty.
Clay’s hand was on your thigh, thumb stroking higher and higher, but his jaw was clenched so tight you thought he might crack a tooth.
You leaned in and murmured, “We could just kick him out…”
Clay sighed, forehead dropping against yours. “I’ve tried. He has nowhere else to go right now. And he’s… Justin. He’s my brother.”
You loved that about Clay. You really did. But right now you wanted to smother Justin with one of the Cheeto-dusted pillows.
Justin finally stood up, stretching obnoxiously. “Alright, I’m out. Don’t wait up.” He winked at you. “Use protection. Clay’s a shooter, not a scorer, if you know what I mean.”
“Justin, get the fuck out,” Clay groaned, burying his face in his hands.
The door slammed. Silence.
You looked at Clay. Clay looked at you.
For the first time in weeks, the garage was actually, finally empty.
Clay’s eyes darkened with something that was equal parts relief, hunger, and pure teenage desperation.
“Come here,” he said, voice rough.
You didn’t wait. You didn’t ask. You just launched yourself at Clay like you’d been starving for weeks — because you had.
Your hands fisted in his hoodie as you crashed your mouth against his, kissing him hard, deep, and messy. Clay let out a surprised little sound that melted into a groan, his arms wrapping around your waist instantly, pulling you flush against him. The chair he was sitting in creaked dangerously under the sudden weight, but neither of you cared.
“Finally,” you breathed against his lips between kisses, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Six fucking weeks, Clay.”
His hands slid up your back, trembling just a little — that perfect mix of nervous and desperate that was so Clay. “I know, I know— Justin’s the worst cockblock in the history of—”
You shut him up by kissing him harder, tongue sliding against his, tasting the faint mint from the gum he’d nervously chewed earlier. Your fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head in one quick motion. You tossed it somewhere behind you, not caring where it landed. The cool garage air hit your skin, making you shiver, but Clay’s warm hands were already there, smoothing up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra.
“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes wide and dark as they raked over you. His cheeks were flushed crimson, but he couldn’t stop staring. “You’re… you’re so beautiful.”
You grinned, straddling his lap properly now, grinding down just enough to make him hiss. “Less talking, Jensen. More touching.”
Clay’s hands explored your bare waist, sliding higher, thumbs hooking under the straps of your bra like he was scared to go further too fast. But you could feel how hard he already was beneath you, straining against his jeans. You rocked your hips again, deliberate and teasing, and he dropped his forehead to your collarbone with a shaky laugh.
“I’ve been thinking about this every single night,” he admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “Every time Justin was snoring three feet away I wanted to murder him.”
You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging his head back so you could kiss him again. Slower this time, but no less hungry. Your bare chest pressed against his hoodie, and the friction made you both moan quietly.
His hands finally cupped your breasts over your bra, thumbs circling, and you arched into the touch with a soft gasp.
Clay pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glassy with want. “You sure? Right now? We can slow down if—”
You answered by reaching behind your back to unhook your bra.
The second your bra hit the floor, Clay’s brain short-circuited.
His eyes went wide, lips parted, and for a second he just stared like he’d never seen anything so perfect in his life. Then, in a voice rougher than you’d ever heard from him, he breathed“Fuck… what beautiful tits you have.”
The words hit you straight between the legs. Before you could even tease him for the awkward delivery, Clay leaned in and pressed his mouth to the swell of your left breast, kissing it reverently. Then harder. Wetter. His lips parted, tongue flicking over your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth with a low, desperate groan.
You gasped, back arching as you rocked your hips forward, grinding softly against the very obvious bulge straining in his jeans.
The friction was perfect — slow, teasing, delicious. Every little roll of your hips made him suck harder, his hands coming up to cup both breasts like he was afraid they’d disappear.
“Clay—” you moaned, fingers tightening in his messy hair as he switched sides, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your chest.
He pulled back just enough to admire the first mark blooming on your skin — a rosy hickey already forming right above your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but there was that adorable flush on his cheeks too.
“Been wanting to do this for so long,” he muttered, almost to himself, before diving back in. He sucked harder this time, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. Another hickey. Then another. He was marking you up like he needed the whole world to know you were finally his.
You kept grinding down on him in soft, lazy circles, feeling how hard and hot he was beneath you. The seam of your jeans pressed right against your clit with every roll, and the way Clay’s hips twitched up to meet you made it even better. His breathing was ragged against your chest, hot little puffs of air between each messy kiss and suck.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, voice muffled as he buried his face between your tits, kissing and licking everywhere he could reach. One of his hands slid down to grip your ass, encouraging your movements. “Keep doing that— fuck, just like that…”
You smiled breathlessly, rolling your hips a little harder, feeling him throb underneath you through both your clothes. The garage was filled with the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin and your shared heavy breathing.
He pulled back to look at his work — your chest covered in fresh, possessive hickeys — and let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “I’m never letting Justin back in here again.”
Your hands were shaking with pure need as you slid off his lap just enough to reach for his jeans. Fingers fumbling with the button and zipper, you yanked them down his hips along with his boxers in one eager tug. Clay lifted his ass to help you, breathing hard, his cock springing free — hard, flushed, and already leaking at the tip.
“Shit,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around him and giving one slow stroke. Clay’s head fell back with a choked moan, hips jerking up into your fist.
But before you could lean down and take him in your mouth like you’d fantasized about for weeks, Clay suddenly grabbed your wrist.
“Wait— fuck, wait,” he panted, voice wrecked. “I want to do something first.”
You barely had time to blink before he flipped you. In one surprisingly smooth move (you didn’t know quiet, anxious Clay had that in him), he rolled you onto your back on the lumpy mattress. The springs creaked loudly as he settled between your thighs, hovering over you with wild eyes and flushed cheeks.
Your heart hammered. His cock brushed against your thigh, hot and heavy, but he wasn’t focused on that right now. His hands were already working on your jeans, tugging them down your legs along with your panties until you were completely bare under him.
Clay stared down at you like he was seeing heaven. His gaze lingered between your legs, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
He looked up at you, nervous but so fucking determined it made your stomach flip.
“Can I…?” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, fingers gently spreading your thighs wider. “Can I eat you out? Please? I’ve been dying to taste you.”
The words alone made you clench around nothing. Clay Jensen — sweet, overthinking Clay — was between your legs asking permission to go down on you like it was the only thing he wanted in the world right now.
You nodded quickly, threading your fingers through his hair. “Yes. God, yes, Clay. Please.”
A relieved, hungry smile broke across his face. He didn’t waste another second. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, lowered his head, and pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss right above your clit before dragging his tongue slowly up your folds.
The moan he let out vibrated straight through you.
“Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined,” he groaned, then dove in like a man starved.
Clay didn’t hold back.
The moment you gave him the green light, he buried his face between your thighs like he’d been waiting his whole life for this. His tongue dragged slowly up your pussy again, flat and broad, savoring every inch before he zeroed in on your clit and started sucking.
“Oh my god— Clay,” you moaned, hips bucking up against his mouth.
He groaned loudly, the sound vibrating right through your core. “Mmm… fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against your wet folds, barely pulling back enough to speak. Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking with messy enthusiasm that made up for any lack of experience. His tongue circled your clit, then flicked it fast, then sucked again — like he was trying every trick he’d ever read about or imagined and loving every second of it.
You gripped his hair tighter, thighs trembling around his head. He was so into it. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the quiet garage — sloppy, eager, perfect. He licked down to your entrance, pushing his tongue inside you as far as he could, fucking you with it while his nose rubbed against your clit.
“Clay— fuck, that feels so good,” you gasped, grinding against his face. He moaned in response, the vibration making your eyes roll back.
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips shiny and chin wet with your juices, eyes glassy with lust. “Yeah? Am I doing it right?” he asked, voice hoarse. Without waiting for an answer he dove back down, sucking your clit hard while two fingers teased at your entrance.
When he finally slid them inside you, curling them just right, your back arched off the bed.
“Oh fuck— yes, just like that,” you whimpered.
Clay was a fast learner. He kept the perfect rhythm — sucking, licking, fingering you deeper — completely lost in making you feel good. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open while he devoured you like he was starving.
You could feel the pressure building fast, embarrassingly fast after weeks of nothing but teasing and interruptions. Every swirl of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers, every hungry little groan he made against your pussy was pushing you closer to the edge.
He looked up at you again, eyes dark and proud. “Come on, baby… let me feel you come on my tongue.”
Your thighs were shaking around Clay’s head, fingers yanking his hair as the pressure built higher and higher. His tongue was relentless on your clit, two fingers curling deep inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over while he moaned like he was the one getting eaten out.
“Clay— fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped, hips grinding desperately against his face. “Don’t stop— oh my god, I’m gonna—”
The garage door suddenly burst open with a loud creak.“Finally, some fucking privacy— whoa, shit!”
Justin’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of ice water.
You froze. Clay froze, face still buried between your legs.
Jess’s surprised laugh followed right after. “Oh my god. We really thought you guys were out. We were gonna… you know.”
Justin stood there in the doorway, arm around Jess, both of them looking equal parts shocked and amused. Jess had her hand over her mouth, trying (and failing) not to laugh. Justin’s grin was pure evil.
“Bro,” Justin said, not even bothering to look away. “You finally got her naked and you’re going down on her like a champ? Proud of you, Jensen.”
Clay pulled back from your pussy with a wet sound that made you whimper in frustration. His face was flushed dark red, lips shiny with your arousal, hair a total mess from your hands. He looked mortified but still painfully hard, cock twitching against the mattress.
“Justin— what the fuck?!” Clay yelped, quickly grabbing the blanket and throwing it over your naked body. “Get out! We thought you were gone for the night!”
Jess smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “We thought the same about you two. Movie sucked, so we came back here for some alone time. Didn’t expect a live show.”
You wanted to die. You were literally seconds away from the best orgasm of your life and now Justin Foley was standing there staring at your covered tits like it was casual Friday.
Justin shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax, we can wait our turn. Or… y’know, we could make it a—”
“Out!” Clay snapped, voice cracking. He still hadn’t moved from between your legs, one hand protectively on your thigh under the blanket.
But Justin didn’t leave. He just kicked the door shut behind him and Jess, grinning like the biggest asshole on the planet.“Chill, man. We’ll just hang on the couch for a bit. Pretend we’re not here.”
Jess elbowed him, laughing. “Babe, they were about to fuck.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The ache between your legs was unbearable now — so close, throbbing, ruined.
Clay looked down at you, eyes wild with frustration and leftover hunger. His hand squeezed your thigh under the blanket, silently promising he wasn’t done.
Clay’s face went from mortified red to full-on determined in half a second.
“No. Nope. Not happening,” he said, voice surprisingly firm for someone who still had your arousal all over his chin. He stood up quickly, not even bothering to pull his boxers and jeans all the way up — they hung low on his hips, cock still hard and obvious as he marched toward the door.
Justin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Come on, Jensen, we can just—”
“Out,” Clay cut him off. He reached into his desk drawer, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out every bill he had — a messy wad of twenties and tens. He shoved it straight into Justin’s chest. “Here. Take it. Go get a hotel room, go to the movies again, go fuck in your car, I don’t care. Just don’t come back for at least two hours. Minimum.”
Jess burst out laughing. “Holy shit, Clay’s negotiating with sex money now.”
Justin looked down at the cash, then back at Clay with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen. “Damn, bro. You’re that desperate? Respect.”
Clay didn’t even blink. “Yes. I am. I’ve waited six weeks because of your constant cockblocking. Take the money, leave, and if you come back early I swear I’ll tell your mom about the time you—”
“Alright, alright!” Justin laughed, pocketing the cash instantly. “Two hours. You got it. We’re gone.”
Jess winked at you under the blanket. “Have fun, girl. Sounds like Clay’s finally about to score.”
Justin threw an arm around her shoulders, still chuckling as they headed for the door. “Use protection, kids! And Clay — make her cum at least twice for me!”
The garage door slammed shut behind them.
Silence.
Clay stood there for a second, breathing hard, then turned the lock with an audible click. He even dragged a chair in front of the door for good measure.
You sat up on your elbows, blanket slipping down to your waist, still throbbing and frustrated from being edged so brutally by the interruption.
Clay looked at you, eyes dark and wild, hair a mess, lips swollen.
“Two hours,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’m not wasting another fucking second.”
He crossed the room in three strides, yanked the blanket off you completely, and climbed back on top of you, kissing you hard and deep — letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
He kicked off his jeans and boxers the rest of the way, letting them pool on the floor. His cock was still rock hard, flushed dark and curving up against his stomach, tip glistening. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the condom he’d stashed there weeks ago “just in case,” and tore the wrapper open with his teeth.
You watched him roll it on with shaky hands, breathing fast, eyes locked on yours the whole time. The second it was on, he climbed back between your thighs, spreading them wide with his knees.
“No more waiting,” he muttered, voice hoarse and desperate. “I need you. Now.”
You nodded quickly, pulling him down by the back of his neck. “Yes— fuck, Clay, just do it.”
He lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against your soaked pussy once, twice, coating himself in your wetness. Then, with a shaky exhale, he pushed in.
In one long, steady thrust he buried himself to the hilt.
“Oh my fucking god—” you moaned loudly, back arching off the mattress as he stretched you open. He was thick and hot inside you, filling you perfectly after all those weeks of teasing.
Clay let out a broken groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck… you feel so good. So tight— shit, I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that.”
He stayed still for a second, buried deep, letting you both adjust. His arms were trembling as he held himself up over you. Then he started moving — slow at first, deep rolls of his hips that made you feel every inch.
But the hunger took over fast.
Soon he was thrusting harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the garage along with your moans and his wrecked little gasps. Every time he bottomed out he let out this quiet, desperate “fuck” against your neck.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him even deeper. Clay’s mouth found yours in a messy kiss, tongues sliding together as he fucked you like he was afraid the universe would interrupt again.
“Been dreaming about this,” he panted between thrusts, one hand sliding down to grip your hip. “You under me… taking me like this— fuck, baby.”
particularly strong stroke, just the tip still inside you, breathing ragged.
You looked up at him, desperate and bold, the words tumbling out before you could overthink it.
“Can I…?”
Clay’s eyes met yours, dark and hazy with lust. He knew exactly what you were asking. For a split second his breath hitched, but then he nodded quickly, almost frantically.
“Yeah… fuck yes,” he rasped.
Your hand shot down between your bodies. You grabbed the base of the condom and ripped it off him in one smooth motion, tossing the latex somewhere on the floor. Clay groaned at the sudden feeling of your bare hand on his bare cock.
“No interruptions,” you whispered, echoing his earlier words. “Not even this.”
“Shit—” Clay’s control snapped.
He pushed back inside you raw, skin on skin, and the moan he let out was broken and loud. The feeling was overwhelming — hot, wet, tight, with nothing between you. He buried his face in your neck, hips snapping forward hard.
“Fuck, baby… you feel so much better like this,” he groaned, voice shaking. “So warm… so fucking wet—”
He started thrusting again, deeper and more desperate than before, the slick sound of him sliding into you completely bare filling the garage. Every stroke dragged against your walls perfectly, no barrier, just pure heat and friction.
Clay’s rhythm got messier, more frantic, like he couldn’t hold back anymore now that there was nothing stopping him. His hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider as he fucked you raw.
“No more waiting… no more fucking interruptions,” he panted against your skin, biting down gently on your shoulder as he drove into you again and again.
Clay’s hips snapped forward harder, picking up the pace instantly. The sound of skin slapping skin grew louder, wetter, more obscene as he fucked you deep and fast, chasing the feeling of your bare heat around him.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked.
You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him impossibly deeper with every thrust. The new angle made him hit that perfect spot inside you over and over, and you cried out, nails dragging down his back.
Clay buried his face in your neck, lips and tongue hot against your skin. He kissed you there messily at first — open-mouthed, desperate — then started sucking, leaving fresh hickeys right where your pulse was hammering. Every time he thrust in hard, his mouth would press harder against your neck, moaning against your skin.
“You’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” he panted between kisses and bites. “Feels so good… so warm… I don’t wanna stop— never wanna stop.”
Your legs locked around him like a vice, ankles crossed, forcing him to grind deep instead of just pulling back. The pressure was insane. Every roll of his hips rubbed perfectly against your clit while he filled you completely raw.
Clay kept his mouth on your neck, sucking a particularly dark mark as his rhythm turned punishing — fast, deep, and a little sloppy in the best way. His breathing was ragged, hot puffs against your skin with every thrust.
“Mine,” he whispered against your neck, almost like he didn’t realize he said it out loud. “You’re mine.”
You could feel the tension building again, stronger this time, your walls fluttering around his bare cock as he kept pounding into you, mouth never leaving your neck.
Clay adjusted his angle just slightly and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot deep inside you with every single thrust. Hard, fast, relentless.
“Right there— oh fuck, Clay, don’t stop,” you moaned, voice breaking.
He groaned against your neck, hips snapping harder, driving into you exactly where you needed him. The raw slide of his cock filling you over and over was overwhelming. Your whole body was burning.
Your hand slid up into his messy hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, caressing and tugging gently as he fucked you. Clay let out a broken whimper at the touch, like your fingers in his hair was the best thing he’d ever felt.
He lifted his head from your neck, eyes glassy and wild, and dropped his mouth to your tits. He kissed them hungrily — wet, open-mouthed kisses all over the soft skin, right over the hickeys he’d left earlier. Then he latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hips kept pounding into you.
“Fuck, these tits… I can’t get enough,” he mumbled against your skin, switching to the other breast, tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth.
You arched into him, holding his head against your chest with one hand while the other stayed tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make him moan louder. Every thrust pushed your breasts up against his face and he devoured them — kissing, licking, sucking, leaving even more marks while he railed you deep and raw.
The combination was too much. His cock hitting that spot inside you, his mouth worshiping your tits, your fingers in his hair guiding him exactly where you wanted.
You could feel yourself getting dangerously close again, walls fluttering and clenching around his bare length with every powerful thrust.
Clay looked up at you without stopping, lips shiny and swollen, eyes completely fucked out. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he panted, then sucked your nipple hard again, hips never slowing down.
The pressure inside you snapped.
Clay’s cock kept hitting that perfect spot deep and raw, his mouth sucking hard on your tit, and your fingers tightening in his hair — it was all too much.
You came hard.
“Clay— fuck, Clay!” you screamed, voice breaking loud enough that you were glad the garage was detached. Your whole body seized up, back arching violently off the mattress as pleasure crashed through you in waves. Your pussy clenched tight around his bare cock, pulsing and fluttering as you came, soaking him with every throb.
You writhed underneath him, thighs shaking, legs locked so tight around his waist it probably hurt, but you couldn’t stop. Your hips jerked up against him uncontrollably, grinding through the orgasm while broken moans and cries spilled from your lips.
Clay moaned loudly against your breast, the vibrations making it even more intense. He didn’t stop moving — he fucked you through it, slower but deep, letting you ride every second of it.
“Fuck, that’s it— come on me, baby,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You’re squeezing me so fucking good… shit, I can feel you coming all over my cock.”
Your vision went blurry, fingers yanking his hair as you twisted and trembled beneath him. The orgasm seemed to last forever, rolling through you in strong waves while Clay kept kissing and sucking on your tits, completely lost in the feeling of you falling apart around him.
By the time the peak finally started to fade, you were panting, sweaty, and still twitching with aftershocks, legs weak around him.
Clay lifted his head, eyes dark and proud, lips swollen as he looked down at your blissed-out face.
“You’re so fucking hot when you cum,” he whispered, still buried deep inside you, hips giving tiny little thrusts like he couldn’t bear to stop moving.
Clay’s thrusts grew erratic, desperate, losing all rhythm as he chased his own release. He was still buried deep inside you, raw and slick from your orgasm, every slide of his cock making wet, filthy sounds that filled the garage.
“Baby— fuck, I’m so close,” he panted against your skin, mouth still brushing your tits before he buried his face in your neck again. His hips snapped forward hard a few more times, grinding deep.
You held him tighter, legs still locked around his waist, fingers stroking through his sweaty hair. “Cum inside me, Clay. Want to feel you.”
That was all it took.
Clay groaned loud and broken, hips stuttering as he came hard. His cock pulsed deep inside you, spilling hot and thick, filling you with every twitch and throb. He kept moving through it in shallow, desperate little thrusts, like he couldn’t stop even after he finished.
“Fuck… fuck—” he whimpered, voice completely wrecked.
For a long moment he stayed there, buried to the hilt, trembling on top of you as the last waves rolled through him. Then his body went heavy, all the tension draining out as he collapsed against you.
He hid his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard and fast against your skin. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest.
After a few seconds of silence, he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
“Wow…” he mumbled into your neck, pressing a lazy kiss there. “That was… holy shit. Totally worth the wait. Six weeks of Justin cockblocking us and it still feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You smiled, running your fingers gently through his messy hair, holding him close while he stayed hidden in your neck, shy and blissed out now that the heat of the moment was fading.
“Yeah?” you whispered, kissing the side of his head.
“Yeah,” he answered, voice muffled and soft. “I’d wait six more if it ended like this… but please don’t make me. Justin’s getting kicked out more often from now on.”
You both laughed quietly, still tangled together, sweaty and satisfied in the tiny garage bed.
For once, the universe had finally given you two some peace.
can you do one of being clay jensens bestfriend and you guys end up teasing eachother until things go too far?🥹
𝑫𝒓𝒐𝒑 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅 ♡︎ (Clay Jensen X FemReader)
Content: Fluff, Friends To Lovers, Dorky Love, Yes is based on the Olivia's song (by that I mean I listened to it on repeat), Alcohol drinking, It was so so so obvious, When they become a couple, we'll act surprised.
You still remember the exact moment you met Clay Jensen.
It was the first day of university, move-in day, and the campus was pure chaos. You were struggling with a ridiculously heavy box full of books when your foot caught on the edge of the sidewalk. The box went flying, and so did you—straight toward the concrete.
Except you never hit the ground.
A pair of arms caught you around the waist, steady but a little awkward, and you looked up to find the softest brown eyes you’d ever seen staring back at you in mild panic.
“Woah— are you okay?” he asked, voice gentle, cheeks already turning pink.
“Yeah… thanks to you,” you laughed breathlessly, still half in his arms.
He helped you pick up your scattered books, and when he saw the titles—mostly psychology, mystery novels, and a worn copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower—his eyes lit up.
“You like this one too?” he asked, holding up the book.
That was it. One shared favorite book and a clumsy rescue later, you and Clay Jensen became inseparable.
From that day on, you were the duo everyone saw together: sitting in the back of lectures whispering comments, studying in the library until it closed, getting late-night coffee runs, and binge-watching old movies in the dorms.
The spark was there from minute one— the way he’d smile at you like you were the only person in the room, the way you’d always save him the seat next to you, the lingering hugs that lasted just a second too long.
But you were “just friends.”
Even when your roommate would smirk every time Clay showed up at your door with your favorite snacks after a bad test. Even when his friend would straight-up say, “Dude, just ask her out already.” Even when the whole friend group placed bets on when you two would finally stop being idiots.
You both denied it every single time.
“We’re just really good friends,” you’d say, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah, exactly,” Clay would add quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Best friends.”
And everyone around you would just groan and laugh, already knowing the truth you two were too scared to admit.
A few months had flown by since that chaotic move-in day, and your friendship with Clay had only grown stronger.
You two were basically attached at the hip now late night study sessions, spontaneous walks around campus, and inside jokes that no one else understood.
It was a warm Friday afternoon near the end of the semester when Clay found you sitting under your favorite tree on the quad, headphones in and textbook open on your lap. He dropped down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, and gave you that shy little smile that always made your stomach do a weird flip.
“Hey,” he said softly, bumping your arm lightly. “So… there’s this end-of-semester party happening tonight in my dorm building. The whole floor is throwing it—music, food, fairy lights on the rooftop terrace, the usual chaos.”
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always did when he was a little nervous.
“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come with me?” His eyes met yours for a second before flicking away. “As friends, obviously. It’ll probably be fun. We could grab some snacks beforehand if you want. Or not. No pressure.”
The way he said “as friends, obviously” almost made you laugh. Because the way his gaze lingered on your face, the slight blush creeping up his cheeks, and the hopeful tone in his voice? It felt like anything but “just friends.”
Still, you played along like always, smiling brightly even as your heart beat a little faster.
“A rooftop party with you? Sounds dangerous,” you teased. “But yeah, I’d love to go.”
Clay’s face lit up instantly, that genuine, warm smile breaking across his features.
“Cool. Really cool,” he said, trying (and failing) to sound casual. “I’ll come pick you up at your dorm around eight?”
You nodded, biting back a bigger grin. “It’s a date— I mean, it’s a plan.”
He chuckled awkwardly at your slip, his ears turning pink, but neither of you corrected it out loud.
Just friends... Right.
At exactly 8:02 PM, there was a soft knock on your dorm room door. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your dress — nothing too fancy, but cute enough for a rooftop party. A little makeup, hair done nicely, and your favorite perfume. You wanted to look good… but not like you were trying too hard. At least that’s what you told yourself.
When you opened the door, Clay was standing there in a dark button-up shirt and jeans, looking unfairly handsome with his slightly messy hair and those warm brown eyes. He froze for a second when he saw you, blinking like he’d forgotten how to speak.
“Wow…” he breathed out, his gaze traveling over you before quickly snapping back to your face. A soft blush crept up his neck. “You look… really beautiful. Like, seriously.”
You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, but you tried to play it cool.
“Thanks, Jensen,” you said with a small smile.
He rubbed the back of his neck, that classic nervous habit of his, and let out a little awkward laugh.“I mean it. You always look great but tonight… damn. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d probably be asking you to be my girlfriend right now.”
The words hung in the air for a second, both of you pretending they were just a casual joke. Your heart did a full cartwheel in your chest.
You rolled your eyes playfully and stepped forward, flicking his shoulder with your fingers.
“You’re so gorgeous too, dummy,” you teased, your voice light but affectionate. “If you weren’t my best friend, maybe I’d say yes.”
Clay laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy, his eyes lingering on yours just a beat longer than usual. For a moment, the hallway felt too quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
But then he cleared his throat and offered you his arm like the gentleman he was.
“Shall we, best friend?” he asked, emphasizing the words with a grin.
You looped your arm through his, trying to ignore how perfectly you fit together.“Let’s go, best friend.”
The walk to Clay’s dorm building was short but felt electric. Your arm stayed looped through his the whole way, and every time someone passed by and smiled at you two, Clay would subtly straighten up like he was proud to be seen with you.
As soon as you stepped into the building, the party vibe hit you: music pulsing from the rooftop, string lights twinkling everywhere, and people already laughing and chatting on every floor. The moment you and Clay walked in together, heads turned.
A group near the entrance grinned immediately.
“Oh look, Clay brought his girlfriend!” someone called out.
You felt your face heat up. You quickly pulled your arm back from his (though you instantly missed the warmth) and waved your hands.
“No, no! We’re just best friends,” you said, laughing it off like always.
Clay nodded quickly beside you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, exactly. Best friends.”
But the guy organizing the snacks table on the rooftop terrace — tall, with a drink in his hand and a knowing smirk — raised an eyebrow at both of you.
“Sure… best friends,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Then why does Clay keep saying The Cure wrote ‘Just Like Heaven’ about you?”
Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Clay. He froze, face going bright red in record time.
“I— I never said that!” Clay stuttered, shooting the guy a betrayed look. “I said it was… a good song. That reminds me of… things.”
The organizer just laughed and shrugged. “Dude, you literally said it last week while we were setting up the playlist. ‘This song feels like her.’”
You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling too big, your heart doing that stupid fluttery thing again. You bumped Clay’s shoulder playfully.
“‘Just Like Heaven,’ huh?” you teased, voice soft. “Interesting choice, Jensen.”
Clay rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes but failing to hide his shy grin.
“It’s a good song,” he mumbled. “And you… you kind of make everything feel like that. Light. Happy. Whatever.”
The air between you got thicker again, even with the loud music and people around. For a second it felt like the rest of the party disappeared. But you both quickly looked away, falling back into your usual routine.
“Best friends?,” you repeated, almost like you were reminding yourself.
“Yeah,” Clay said, voice quieter this time. “Best friends.”
The rooftop was alive with music and laughter, but after that very public “Just Like Heaven” comment, Clay leaned in closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours protectively.
“Okay,” he said, voice low just for you, “let’s do the polite ‘make an appearance’ thing for like an hour. We stay until 11, tops. Then we can bail and do something better.” He gave you that soft, conspiratorial smile. “And I’ll make you a drink.”
You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “Wow, you know how to make actual drinks? I thought you only drank depressing and pretentious beer.”
Clay let out a genuine laugh, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gently guided you toward the drink table with a hand on your lower back.
“Yeah, I mostly drink depressing and pretentious beer,” he admitted, grinning shyly. “But I know you love your weird vodka combinations.”
He started mixing without waiting for your answer — a little bit of this, a splash of that, exactly the kind of random fruity-sweet-spicy mess you always ended up creating when you were in charge of drinks. He even remembered the tiny pinch of chili powder you liked to add for kick.
When he handed you the red plastic cup, your fingers brushed and you both paused for half a second too long.
You took a sip and your eyes widened. “Okay… this is actually really good,” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m impressed, Jensen.”
Clay shrugged, trying to look casual even though the tips of his ears were pink again.
“I pay attention,” he murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear over the music. Then louder, “Figured I should know how to make your weird drinks… you know, as your best friend and all.”
There it was again. That little pause. That tiny hesitation on the word “friend.”
You looked at him over the rim of your cup, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did around him.
“Best friend,” you repeated softly, like a reminder to both of you.
Clay met your eyes for a long moment, the fairy lights reflecting in his warm brown gaze.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a little rough. “Best friend.”
But neither of you moved away. You stayed standing close together, shoulders touching, pretending the rest of the party existed while the world felt like it was just the two of you.
The music kept playing and people kept laughing around you, but the world felt smaller the longer you stood there with Clay. After a couple of sips of your drink, he suddenly turned to face you more directly, his usual shy expression replaced by something more intense.
He took a small breath and asked, voice quieter than before“Have you never thought about us… like that? Not even once?”
You blinked, heart skipping hard. For a second you wanted to deflect like always, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to fully joke. Still, you kept that playful tone, smiling softly.
“Maybe…” you said lightly, tilting your head with a little teasing grin, like it was just another one of your back-and-forths.
But Clay didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He set his beer down on the ledge beside him and looked straight at you, brown eyes serious in the glow of the fairy lights.
“I’m serious,” he said, voice low and a little shaky. “Maybe I never took the next step because I thought I didn’t have a chance with you. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known… inside and out. And right now? I don’t want it to be eleven o’clock. I don’t even want to finish this beer. Because maybe this is the only chance we’re ever going to have to actually talk about this.”
The air between you felt heavy, electric. Your breath caught in your throat. Clay was looking at you like he’d been holding those words in for months — maybe since that very first day when he caught you from falling.
No more “best friends” shield this time. He was putting it all out there, vulnerable and honest, right in the middle of a noisy rooftop party.
You could feel your cheeks burning, your pulse racing, but you couldn’t look away from him.
You stared at Clay for what felt like forever, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it over the music. His confession was still hanging in the air between you, raw and real, and for once you didn’t want to hide behind jokes.
You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around your plastic cup.
“Yeah… I have thought about it,” you admitted, voice soft but steady. “A lot, actually. Every time you walk me back to my dorm. Every single time someone tells us what a cute couple we’d make. Hell… even the first day, after you caught me from falling, I had to stalk your Instagram just to make sure you were real.”
Clay’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He just kept looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
You let out a nervous laugh, cheeks burning.“I’ve even dreamed about it… that if you ever kissed me, I’d probably drop dead right there. But I kept telling myself it was just a stupid warning from my subconscious. Like, ‘don’t fall for your best friend, you idiot. You’ll ruin everything.’”
The words spilled out faster than you could stop them, all the feelings you’d been pushing down for months finally breaking free.
You looked up at him, vulnerable and a little scared.“So yeah… I’ve thought about us like that. More than I probably should.”
Clay’s breath caught. For a second he looked completely stunned, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. The fairy lights above you painted soft shadows across his face, and the way he was looking at you now — warm, intense, full of everything he’d been holding back — made your knees feel weak.
Neither of you moved. The party kept going around you, but it felt like the whole world had gone quiet.
“Well then…” he whispered, voice low and a little rough, “I guess I’m gonna have to stay right here forever.”
Before you could even laugh or respond, Clay closed the small distance between you. One of his hands gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your heart explode. The other hand found your waist, pulling you closer.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn’t a hesitant, nervous first kiss. It was all the months of longing, all the stolen glances, all the “just friends” tension he’d been holding back finally breaking free. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that surprised you — deep, passionate, and full of every unspoken “I want you” he’d never said out loud.
You melted into him instantly. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt as the world spun around you. The music, the party, the people — everything disappeared. There was only Clay. The way he tasted faintly like beer and sweetness, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and the soft little sound he made when you kissed him back just as eagerly.
He kissed you like he was scared you might disappear. Like he’d been dreaming about this exact moment since the day he caught you on the sidewalk. Slow and deep one second, then more desperate the next, pouring every hidden feeling into it.
When you finally pulled apart just enough to breathe, your foreheads stayed pressed together. Clay’s eyes were still closed, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
“Fuck… I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, voice shaky with emotion.
You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, a shy but bold smile playing on your lips.
“…Can you kiss me again?” you whispered, voice soft and a little shaky. “Because that was way better than anything I ever imagined.”
Clay’s eyes darkened with something warm and hungry. A soft, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheek.
He didn’t need to be asked twice.
“All the times you need,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and full of promise.
Then he kissed you again. This one was slower, deeper, sweeter. Like he was savoring every second now that the dam had finally broken. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly as he poured everything into it — every late-night conversation, every almost-touch, every time he’d wanted to pull you close but held back.
You kissed him back just as eagerly, melting completely into his arms. One of your hands found its way into his soft hair, tugging lightly, and you felt him smile against your mouth at the touch.
When he finally pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, both of you breathing heavily, he let out a quiet, happy laugh.
“I can’t believe this is real,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “You. Me. Actually doing this.”
You smiled, still a little dazed, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.“Me neither,” you admitted. “But I’m really glad we stopped being idiots.”
Clay grinned — that bright, genuine smile that always made your stomach flip — and pressed one more soft, lingering kiss to your lips, like he couldn’t help himself.“Me too,” he murmured. “So fucking glad.”
Somehow you both ended up slipping away from the main rooftop party. Laughing and stealing kisses, Clay pulled you toward the quieter stairwell of his dorm building. The moment the heavy door closed behind you, he backed you gently against the wall and kissed you again — deeper this time, more urgent.
Your hands roamed his chest, then slid down as the heat between you grew. You tugged at the button of his jeans, fingers working quickly, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and the way he whispered your name between kisses.
Clay let out a shaky breath and gently caught your wrist, stopping you before you could go further. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and full of desire, but also incredibly soft.
“Wait…” he murmured against your lips, voice hoarse. “Let’s slow down.”
You blinked, breathing hard, cheeks flushed.“But—”
He smiled tenderly, resting his forehead against yours.
“We’ve waited months, pretending we were just friends,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “What’s a few more weeks? I don’t want to rush this. I want it to be right… with you.”
You felt your heart melt at his words. The way he looked at you — like you were something precious — made your chest ache in the best way. “Okay,” you whispered, smiling softly.
Clay pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you in the most corny, movie-perfect hug. He buried his face in your neck, breathing you in as you hugged him back just as fiercely, arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest.
“I really like you,” he mumbled into your hair, voice muffled and adorably shy. “Like… stupidly, can’t-function-properly like you.”
You laughed softly, squeezing him tighter“I really like you too, dummy.”
You stayed like that for a long moment — hugging in the stairwell like two love-struck idiots while the distant party music played above you. Cheesy, sweet, and completely perfect.
HIII I've read your Bella fics n I was wondering if you wanna do a Manon from katseye fluff <3
𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 ♡︎ (Manon Bannerman X FemReader)
Content: Fluff, Bella cameo, Shy reader, Katseye hiatus mentioned, idk what else to tag, Drabble
You stepped into Bella’s stylish apartment, the warm lights and soft music wrapping around you like a familiar hug. The place was already buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses, filled with that effortless cool vibe only Bella could pull off. You smoothed down your outfit, took a deep breath, and smiled as you spotted her weaving through the crowd toward you.
“Finally! You made it,” Bella exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. Her energy was contagious as always. She pulled back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Come on, I have to introduce you to someone.”
You raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “Like that brilliant idea you had last month with Braeden? Bella, I’m not that into guys. You know this.”
Bella laughed and rolled her eyes, linking her arm with yours as she guided you further into the living room. “No, dummy. It’s Manon.”
You blinked. “Manon? As in… the Manon from KATSEYE?”
Bella nodded, still smiling. “Well, she was in KATSEYE. She left they call it a hiatus or whatever but it’s her. The real deal.”
You shook your head with a soft chuckle, gently pulling your arm back. “Bella, I don’t need you to sell me on someone just so I can enjoy a party. I’m perfectly fine on my own tonight.”
Bella tilted her head, giving you that classic best-friend look — half teasing, half serious. “Well… you haven’t kissed a girl since you broke up with your ex. And you still owe me that introduction to Dylan, so consider this payback.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Bella just grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself. The night felt like it was just getting started, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered who this Manon really was.
The energy in the room seemed to shift just a little, and your eyes moved toward the entrance without thinking.
And then you saw her.
Manon stepped inside with that effortless grace, her long brunette braided hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. She wore a simple but stunning black top that hugged her figure and a soft smile that lit up her whole face. She was drop dead gorgeous the kind of beautiful that made your brain short-circuit for a second. You forgot how to speak. Your mouth went a little dry and, honestly, you almost started to drool right there in the middle of the living room.
Bella noticed immediately. She let out a quiet, victorious laugh and nudged your side with her elbow.
“See? I told you,” she whispered, clearly proud of herself. “I knew you’d like her.”
You tried to play it cool, but your eyes kept drifting back to Manon as she greeted a couple of people near the door. She had this warm, magnetic aura confident but not intimidating, with a softness that made your stomach do a silly little flip.
Bella didn’t even give you time to recover. She grabbed your hand and started pulling you through the crowd before you could come up with an excuse.“Come on, let’s go say hi,” she said with a grin.
Your heart beat faster as the distance between you and Manon got smaller. She turned her head in your direction, and when her eyes met yours, she gave you the sweetest, most genuine smile you’d seen in a long time.“Manon! Come here,” Bella said brightly. “I want you to meet someone special. This is my best friend, Y/N.”
Manon’s eyes lit up as they landed on you. She stepped a little closer, her expression open and friendly, like she had been waiting for this moment too.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice smooth and sweet. She extended her hand, and when you took it, her touch was warm and gentle. “I’ve heard so much about you. I finally get to put a face to the name… and wow, what a beautiful face.”
The compliment came out so naturally and sincerely that it caught you completely off guard. You felt your heart skip, and a shy smile crept onto your lips before you could stop it.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Manon,” you managed to reply, still a little stunned by how approachable and kind she seemed. No idol aura, no distance — just a girl at a party, looking at you like she was genuinely happy you were there.
Bella watched the two of you for a second, her grin growing wider and wider. She let go of your hand and took a small step back.
“Well… my job here is done,” she announced with a satisfied little laugh. “I’m going to grab a drink. You two behave… or don’t. Either way, have fun!”
And just like that, Bella gave you a cheeky wink and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Manon standing there together.
Manon let out a soft laugh, glancing at you with playful eyes.“She’s something else, isn’t she?”
With Bella gone, the noise of the party faded into the background as you stood there with Manon. She tilted her head slightly, her smile still warm and inviting, and gestured toward a quieter corner of the living room with a couple of empty seats.
“Shall we sit?” she asked. “It’s easier to talk without shouting.”
You nodded quickly, trying not to look too eager, and followed her. Once you were both settled, Manon turned toward you, resting her chin lightly on her hand.
“So… Bella has told me bits and pieces about you,” she started, her voice gentle and curious. “But I’d rather hear it from you. What do you do when you’re not being dragged to parties by our very persistent best friend?”
You laughed softly, already feeling yourself relax under her easy gaze. You told her about your job, your favorite coffee spot in the city, and the silly hobby you had of collecting vintage postcards. Manon listened like every word mattered, nodding along and asking questions that showed she was genuinely interested.
At one point she leaned in a little closer. “That sounds really nice. I’ve been traveling so much the last few years that I miss simple things like that. Just… being normal for a minute.”
Her honesty was disarming. You found yourself smiling wider than usual, hanging on every little detail she shared — how she loved late-night drives with music blasting, her secret weakness for strawberry desserts, and the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed at your dumb jokes.
The more she spoke, the deeper you felt yourself falling. Her voice, her laugh, the way she looked at you like you were the most interesting person in the room… it was all too much. Your stomach did little flips every time she smiled, and you caught yourself staring at her lips for a second too long.
Manon didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she kept the conversation flowing naturally, teasing you lightly when you got a little shy.
“You’re cute when you do that,” she said once, after you stumbled over your words.
And just like that, you were done for.
You felt your face growing warmer by the second. Manon’s compliment still hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous little laugh as you looked down at your hands for a moment.
“Why am I cute?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.
Manon’s smile turned even gentler. She studied your face for a second, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something sweeter.
“Because you’re blushing,” she answered honestly, her tone warm and playful. “But it’s okay, really. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Before you could respond, she reached up slowly and brushed her fingers against your cheek in the softest caress. Her touch was light and careful, like she was testing if it was alright. The warmth of her fingertips sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart started racing even faster.
You swallowed, feeling completely exposed but in the best possible way.
“It’s just… you make me nervous,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really pretty.”
Manon’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then she let out the cutest laugh, the kind that made her shoulders shake just a little. She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she let her thumb graze your cheek once more, almost absentmindedly, while looking at you with pure fondness.
“You’re dangerous,” she murmured, still smiling. “Saying things like that with that face.”
The space between you felt smaller, the party noise fading even more into the background. All you could focus on was her — the way she looked at you, the gentle touch still lingering on your skin, and the undeniable spark that had been growing since the moment Bella introduced you.
The words slipped out before you could overthink them. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure she could hear it.
“Can I kiss you?” you asked, voice quiet but clear, eyes locked on hers.
Manon’s breath caught for a split second. Then her smile grew slow and bright, that beautiful mix of surprised and delighted. She didn’t pull her hand away from your cheek. Instead, she tilted her head, looking at you with playful, sparkling eyes.
“Only if you promise we’ll have a date after this,” she answered softly, her thumb brushing your skin once more. “And you keep being this adorable.”
A nervous but happy laugh escaped you. The way she said it — so sweet, so teasing, so genuine — made your stomach do cartwheels. Manon leaned in just a little closer, waiting for your answer, her gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
“I promise,” you whispered, barely able to contain the smile taking over your face.
Manon’s expression softened even more, warm and full of affection.
“Good,” she murmured. “Then yes… you can kiss me.”
The party continued around you, but in that little corner of the room, it felt like time had slowed down just for the two of you.
You didn’t wait another second. Leaning in slowly, you closed the small distance between you and Manon. When your lips finally met hers, everything else disappeared.
The kiss was incredibly soft and sweet, like something out of a romantic movie. Her lips were warm and gentle against yours, moving with a tenderness that made your heart melt. Manon cupped your cheek a little more firmly, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss in the most delicate way. There was no rush, no pressure — just pure sweetness and the quiet joy of discovering each other.
She tasted faintly like strawberry lip gloss and the drink she’d been sipping earlier. You felt her smile against your lips for a moment, and that tiny smile made the kiss even sweeter. Your hand found its way to her waist, holding her lightly as the world around you faded into soft background noise.
When you finally pulled back just a little, your foreheads rested together. Manon’s eyes were still closed for a second longer, and when she opened them, they were shining with the same warm happiness you felt.
“Wow…” she whispered, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “That was really nice.”
You couldn’t stop smiling, your cheeks warm and your heart doing happy little flips. “Yeah… it really was.”
She brushed her nose against yours in a gentle, playful nuzzle before pulling back enough to look at you properly, still cradling your face with one hand like she didn’t want to let go just yet.
Manon kept her forehead gently pressed against yours, her thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. Her eyes were full of warmth as she looked at you, a playful little smile dancing on her lips.
“For sure I’m calling you back,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain. “I’m not letting you disappear after a kiss like that.”
You couldn’t help it — you started blushing hard again, a shy giggle bubbling up from your chest. The sound made Manon’s smile grow even bigger, her eyes sparkling with pure affection.
“You’re so so so cute,” she said, almost like she couldn’t believe it. “Seriously, how are you this adorable?”
Before you could respond, Manon leaned in and started covering your face with light, sweet kisses. She kissed your cheek, then the other one, your nose, your forehead, and then back to your cheeks again in a silly but incredibly tender flurry. Each little kiss made you giggle more, your face burning with happiness as you tried (and failed) to hide how much you were enjoying it.
“Manon!” you laughed between kisses, but you didn’t pull away at all.
She finally stopped, pulling back just enough to look at you with a satisfied grin, her hands still cupping your face.
“There. Now you’re officially mine for at least one date,” she teased, brushing one last soft kiss on the tip of your nose. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
You were still blushing and giggling quietly, heart completely full as you looked at her. The party continued around you, but all that mattered was this moment — and the promise of many more to come.
you write the best mikey way fics i’ve ever read holyy. could i request mikey way x fem reader with bondage and super dominant mikey?? thank youu
𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 ꨄ︎ (Mikey Way X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Bondage, BDSM, Mention of Safeword, Dirty Talk, , Degradation, Slaps, Humping
A/N: my MCR people I'm gonna feed you more often ok
You never expected Mikey Way to look at you the way he did—like he’d finally found someone who understood the chaos inside his head without needing him to explain it.
From the very beginning, there was something different about the two of you. The connection wasn’t just sweet or romantic. It was hungry. Electric. A little dangerous.
Mikey had always carried this quiet, intense fascination with the darker edges of desire. The control, the surrender, the raw vulnerability that came with pushing limits. He’d thought about it for years—fantasized, read, watched—but he never believed he’d meet someone he trusted enough to actually explore it with.
Until you.
You matched his freak perfectly. The way your eyes would darken when he pinned your wrists above your head during a heated makeout session. The way you’d bite his lip hard enough to draw a low groan from his throat. The way you whispered filthy little confessions against his ear when you were both drunk and tangled in hotel sheets. You weren’t shy about wanting more. You craved it just as much as he did—the intensity, the trust, the beautiful filth of it all.
Mikey never said it out loud at first, but you could feel it in how he touched you. Like he was testing waters he’d only dreamed about. Like he was slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, he’d finally found the person he could go deeper with. Someone who wouldn’t flinch. Someone who would look him in the eyes and beg for whatever twisted little thing he wanted to try.
And tonight, after months of this slow-burning tension, you could tell something had shifted in him. He’d been quieter than usual, more thoughtful, watching you with that intense hazel stare that always made your stomach flip. Like he was on the edge of asking for something more.
He pulled you closer on the couch, fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh, voice low and warm against your hair.
“You know… I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “About how fucking perfect we fit. How you’re not scared of the parts of me that aren’t soft.”
You smiled against his chest, heart already beating faster.
Because you both knew this was only the beginning.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, studying that familiar intense expression on Mikey’s face. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils already a little blown, and the way his fingers kept tracing slow, absent patterns on your thigh told you everything.
“You’re hiding something,” you said softly, a knowing smirk tugging at your lips. “I know you, Mikey Way. You get all quiet and thoughtful like this when you’re overthinking something filthy.”
He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed his face into your neck for a second, almost shy. But when he pulled back, there was a spark of excitement in his eyes.
“…How the fuck do you always know?” he muttered, half-amused, half-impressed. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Alright. Yeah. I’ve been… researching.”
You raised an eyebrow, heart kicking up a notch. “Researching?”
Mikey swallowed, then met your gaze head-on, no longer hiding.
“Bondage,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Shibari. Rope. Restraints. The whole thing. I’ve been reading about it for weeks. Watching tutorials, looking at safe techniques, learning about aftercare… all of it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.”
He shifted on the couch, pulling you closer so you were straddling his lap, his hands settling firmly on your hips.
“I never thought I’d actually want to try this with anyone,” he admitted, voice husky. “I’ve had these thoughts for years, but it always felt too… much. Too intense. Too dark for most people. But with you?” His fingers dug into your hips, possessive. “You match me. Every sick little fantasy I have, you look like you’d beg for it. And that fucking drives me crazy.”
You could feel him getting hard beneath you already, just from talking about it.
“I want to tie you up,” he continued, eyes locked on yours. “I want to watch you helpless, completely at my mercy. I want to take my time with you until you’re shaking and dripping and saying my name like it’s the only word you remember.”
He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered“But only if you want it too, baby. Tell me… does that turn you on as much as it turns me on?”
Mikey’s eyes darkened with lust the second you gave him that hungry little smile. He didn’t waste another second.
He stood up from the couch, tall and lean in his black hoodie, and walked over to the bedroom. You heard him open a drawer, the soft rustle of rope against wood. When he came back, he was holding several neatly coiled lengths of soft black rope in his hands — clearly brand new, bought just for this.
Your eyes widened, a rush of heat flooding between your legs.“Wow…” you breathed, biting your lip. “So you just needed to ask me, huh?”
Mikey gave you that crooked, almost shy smile, but his voice was low and rough when he answered.“I just wanted to be prepared. I didn’t want to bring it up and then not know what the fuck I was doing. I spent weeks making sure I wouldn’t hurt you.” He stepped closer, ropes dangling from his fingers. “I wanted to do it right.”
You reached up and grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him down to you.
“That’s why I love you,” you whispered against his lips, sincere and filthy at the same time. “You’re such a fucking nerd about the things you care about.”
Mikey laughed softly, but the sound quickly turned into something darker as he kissed you hard, tongue sliding into your mouth possessively. When he pulled back, his hand was already gripping your jaw gently, thumb pressing on your lower lip.
“Remember your safeword?” he asked, voice suddenly serious even as his eyes burned.
You nodded, breathing faster. “Red.”
“Good girl.” He leaned in until his lips were brushing your ear, voice dropping into a growl that sent shivers down your spine“Because I’m going to be a real motherfucker with you right now.”
Mikey stepped back, eyes locked on you with that intense, predatory stare that made your thighs press together. He dropped the coils of rope onto the bed and crossed his arms, voice low and commanding.“Take your clothes off. Slowly. I want to watch every fucking second.”
You stood up, heart hammering, and started peeling off your shirt first, dragging it over your head teasingly. Mikey’s gaze never left your body.
“That’s it… good girl,” he murmured, voice dripping with lust. “Look at you, so fucking eager to show me what’s mine. My pretty little slut.”
You slid your pants down your legs, bending over just enough to make him groan softly. When you reached back to unhook your bra, he licked his lips.“Fuck, baby… you’re so beautiful. So perfect for me. But we both know what you really are, don’t we?” His voice got darker. “You’re my dirty little whore who gets wet just from me telling you what to do.”
Completely naked now, you climbed onto the bed and knelt in the center like he wanted — knees spread, back straight, hands resting on your thighs. The position left you completely exposed to him.
Mikey walked around the bed slowly, admiring you from every angle, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulder, down your spine, then gripping your hair just tight enough to tilt your head back.
“Such a good fucking girl on your knees for me already,” he praised, voice soft and sweet for a moment. Then it turned filthy. “But we both know you’re dripping right now, aren’t you? Already aching to be used like the needy little cumslut you are.”
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear as his free hand cupped one of your breasts, thumb flicking over your nipple. “You look so fucking perfect like this… ready to be tied up and ruined. My beautiful, filthy girl.”
Mikey’s fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up firmly so you had no choice but to look straight into his eyes. His thumb pressed against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly as he stared at you with pure hunger.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered softly.
The second your lips parted, Mikey leaned over you and spat directly onto your tongue — warm, slow, and deliberate. The filthy act made you moan quietly, the taste of him making your pussy throb.“Swallow,” he commanded, voice rough.
You obeyed instantly, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a dark, satisfied smirk.
“Good fucking girl,” he praised, stroking your cheek. “Now put your hands behind your back.”
You shifted on your knees and obediently moved both arms behind you, wrists crossing just above your ass. The position pushed your chest forward, leaving you even more exposed.
Mikey picked up one of the soft black ropes, unfolding it with practiced hands. He stepped behind you on the bed, his body heat pressing against your back. You felt his breath on your neck as he started wrapping the rope around your wrists.
“Nice and tight… but not too tight,” he murmured, voice low and focused while his fingers worked. He looped the rope carefully, knotting it with the knowledge he’d spent weeks studying. “I’ve been dying to see you like this — helpless, all tied up for me.”
He pulled the rope firmer, securing your wrists together. The pressure felt perfect — restrictive but safe. Once he finished the knot, he ran his hands down your arms, admiring his work.
“Fuck… look at you,” he groaned, voice thick with lust. “All bound and pretty for me. My perfect little fucktoy.”
He gave the rope a gentle tug, testing it, then leaned in and bit down softly on your shoulder as his hands roamed around to squeeze your tits from behind.
Mikey gave the rope binding your wrists a sharp tug, yanking your arms back harder. The sudden pull forced your chest forward and made you arch your neck, your head tilting back with a surprised gasp.
“That’s it,” he growled, voice low and mean. “Arch that pretty back for me like the desperate little whore you are.”
He kept the tension on the rope with one hand, controlling your body completely, while his other hand slid down your spine. Then he moved with purpose, looping the excess rope down toward your ankles.“Legs apart,” he ordered coldly.
When you didn’t spread them fast enough, he kicked your knees wider himself, forcing your thighs open until you were completely exposed — knees bent, pussy on full display, dripping and aching. He worked quickly, tying the same rope from your wrists down to your ankles, connecting them in a tight, restrictive hogtie position that left you arched and helpless.
“Fuuuck, look at you,” he laughed darkly, stepping back to admire his work. “All tied up like a filthy little toy. Can’t even close your legs. Pathetic.”
He walked around to stand in front of you, gripping your jaw roughly again and forcing you to look up at him. His thumb pressed hard into your cheek as he smirked.
“You’re soaked already, aren’t you? Just from being tied up like a fucking animal. I knew you were a depraved little slut, but this…” He leaned down, spitting on your tits this time, watching it drip down your body. “This is perfect.”
Mikey ran two fingers slowly up your inner thigh, stopping just before touching your dripping cunt, teasing you mercilessly.
“Beg for it,” he said, voice dripping with dominance. “Beg me to touch that greedy pussy while you’re all tied up and useless.”
Please, Mikey…” you whimpered, voice already shaking with need. Being tied like this — arched, exposed, completely helpless — had you dripping down your thighs. “Please touch me… I need your fingers, your mouth, anything. I’m so fucking wet for you.”
Mikey stood in front of you, arms crossed, that cruel little smirk on his lips as he watched you struggle against the ropes. He tilted his head, clearly enjoying your desperation.
“No,” he said simply, voice cold and amused.
You let out a frustrated whine, trying to shift your hips toward him, but the ropes kept you perfectly in place.“Mikey, please… I’ll be so good, I swear. I need you so bad, baby. Please touch my pussy, I’m aching—”
“I said no,” he cut you off sharply, grabbing your face again. “You don’t get to make demands when you’re tied up like a fucking toy. You take what I give you.”
He stepped away and reached for the other coils of rope he’d left on the nightstand. Your eyes widened as he picked them up, unfolding them slowly.“You thought that was all?” he chuckled darkly. “Oh no, baby. I’m tying you up completely tonight.”
Mikey moved with purpose, wrapping more rope around your thighs, binding them to your calves so you couldn’t close your legs at all. Then he added rope just under your tits, creating a tight harness that squeezed your breasts and made them bulge obscenely. Every new knot, every pull of the rope made you moan louder.
He finished by looping rope around your upper arms and torso, pinning your arms even tighter against your back until you were almost completely immobilized — back arched hard, tits pushed out, legs spread wide open, pussy glistening and exposed.
When he was done, Mikey stepped back and admired his work, palming his hard cock through his pants.
“Fuck… look at my pretty little rope slut,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “All wrapped up like a gift. Completely fucking helpless.”
He leaned down and spat directly onto your exposed cunt, watching it drip down your folds.“Now… let’s see how much louder you can beg.”
Mikey circled you slowly on the bed, his fingers trailing over the ropes already digging into your skin. You were trembling, completely bound and dripping, every breath making your chest strain against the harness.
“Not quite done yet,” he murmured, voice dark and hungry. “One more thing, baby.”
He took the last length of rope and worked it with expert hands. First, he looped it around your throat — not too tight, but firm enough to feel the pressure every time you swallowed. A soft, controlling collar of rope. Then he slowly ran it down the front of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, and lower.
You gasped sharply as he positioned the rope right between your spread legs.
He tied a thick, deliberate knot exactly where it would press against your swollen clit. The knot was firm, perfectly placed so that any tiny movement would grind it against your most sensitive spot.
“There we go…” Mikey said, voice low and satisfied as he stepped back to admire you. “Now you’re really fucked.”
The rope connected your neck to your cunt — every time you moved your head or arched your back, the knot rubbed harshly against your clit. You were completely trapped by your own body’s reactions.
“Fuuuck, look at you,” he groaned, palming his cock again. “All tied up with a rope running straight to that greedy little clit. You’re going to torture yourself for me every time you squirm.”
He reached down and gave the rope a light tug, making the knot press harder against your clit. A broken moan tore from your throat instantly.
Mikey leaned in close, gripping your jaw roughly as he smirked.“Does that feel good, you pathetic little rope whore? Bet you’re already close to losing your mind and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
He spat on your tits again, watching it slide down your body toward the rope.“Move for me. I want to watch you fuck yourself with that knot.”
Mikey’s hand came down hard across your cheek in a sharp, stinging slap. The sound echoed in the room as your head snapped to the side, a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body.
“Eyes on me,” he growled.
You whimpered, lips parted, completely at his mercy. Mikey grabbed the rope around your neck and tugged it upward, making the thick knot grind harshly against your swollen clit.“I said hump it like the desperate little slut you are,” he ordered, voice dripping with cruelty. “Rub that pathetic cunt on the knot. Show me how badly you need it.”
You tried immediately, desperate to please him. You rocked your hips forward as much as the tight ropes allowed — but the hogtie and the connections between your wrists, ankles, thighs and neck barely let you move. Every small shift made the knot press and slide against your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t get the friction you craved.
You let out a frustrated, needy moan, struggling harder, trying to grind down on the rope.
Mikey watched you with dark amusement, tilting his head.
“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed coldly. “Look at you… pathetic. Tied up like a fucking toy and you can’t even hump a rope properly. Such a useless little whore.”
He slapped your face again, lighter this time but still sharp, then gripped your jaw tightly.
“Faster,” he demanded, voice mean and low. “I said hump it. Grind that dripping cunt like you’re in heat. You’re not even moving, baby. Are you that fucking helpless? That stupid? All you’re good for is taking whatever I give you and you can’t even do that right.”
You whined loudly, trying desperately to move more, the ropes digging into your skin as you rocked your hips in tiny, frustrated movements. The knot kept teasing your clit, never giving you enough pressure, making you drip even more.
Mikey smirked, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.“That’s it… keep struggling for me, you filthy, desperate rope slut. The more you fight it, the wetter you get.”
Mikey grabbed the rope around your neck again, using it as a leash to control your movements. He pulled it just enough to make the thick knot grind harder against your swollen, aching clit.
“Don’t stop,” he ordered, voice low and mocking. “Keep humping that knot like the pathetic little bitch in heat you are. Come on, move those hips for me.”
You tried harder, whimpering desperately as you rocked your body in the tiny range the ropes allowed. The knot rubbed against your clit with every struggle, sending sharp sparks of pleasure through you, but it was never enough.
Mikey laughed darkly as he watched you fight against your own restraints. Without warning, his hand came down hard on your tits — a sharp, stinging slap on your left breast, then your right, making them bounce and turn pink.
You whined loudly, voice breaking.“But Mikey… you tied me up so I can’t even move properly…” you cried out, frustrated and dripping, eyes glassy with need.
Mikey’s smirk grew cruel and amused. He slapped your tits again, harder this time, watching them jiggle as you moaned.“And isn’t that the fucking funniest thing I’ve ever done?” he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Look at you — all trussed up like a little fuck puppet, trying so hard to hump a rope because you’re too desperate to think straight. You can barely move an inch and you’re still grinding on it like a brainless whore.”
He tugged the rope again, forcing the knot to press and drag against your clit while he continued slapping your sensitive tits, turning them redder with every hit.
“Keep going,” he taunted, voice dripping with mean delight. “Hump it faster, baby. I love watching you struggle. This is so fucking pathetic… and so fucking hot.”
You were desperate, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled against the tight ropes. But then you found it — the right angle.
By pushing your chest forward as much as the rope around your throat allowed and rolling your hips in a small, sharp circular motion, you could finally grind properly against the thick knot pressed to your clit. The movement was limited, almost pathetic, but it worked. The knot rubbed firm and steady against your swollen nub with every roll, sending real waves of pleasure through your soaked cunt.
You started doing it faster, moaning loudly as you humped the rope like your life depended on it, completely lost in the feeling.
Mikey’s eyebrows raised slightly, clearly surprised. He watched you for a long moment, eyes dark with lust as you kept grinding, your tits bouncing slightly with every desperate movement.
“Well… fuck me,” he muttered, voice low. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
“Look at that. My stupid little rope slut finally figured it out.” He reached down and stroked your cheek almost tenderly, even as he continued, “I thought you were just a brainless whore who couldn’t even hump a knot without help… but here you are, fucking yourself on it like a good girl.”
He slapped your tits again, but lighter this time, almost like a reward.
“That’s it, baby. Keep going. Grind that greedy clit on my rope. Fuck, you look so pretty when you’re actually trying.” His voice dropped into something softer but still filthy. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Not completely useless after all, huh?”
Mikey leaned down and spat on your tongue again as you kept desperately humping the knot, moaning into his mouth when he kissed you roughly.“I’m proud of you,” he whispered against your lips, stroking your hair. “My perfect, filthy, smart little cumslut.”
Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure.“Mikey— fuck— I’m gonna— I can’t—”
You didn’t even get to finish the sentence.
Your whole body tensed violently as the orgasm crashed through you. A raw, guttural cry tore from your throat as you squirted hard, soaking the ropes, the bed, and Mikey’s hand that was resting on your thigh. The mess was surprising, even to you — a clear, powerful gush that kept spilling out with every pulse of your cunt, dripping everywhere while you shook and twitched in the tight bondage.
Mikey’s eyes widened for a second in raw lust… then darkened with dangerous amusement.
Slap.
His hand connected hard with your cheek, snapping your head to the side as you were still mid-orgasm.
“You fucking slut,” he growled, voice low and furious. “I didn’t give you permission to cum. Not once.”
You whimpered pathetically, still twitching from the aftershocks, your pussy still dripping onto the soaked sheets.
Mikey grabbed your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. His thumb dug into your cheek as he stared straight into your glassy eyes.
“Look at this fucking mess you made… squirting all over my ropes like a brainless whore who can’t control herself.” He slapped your face again, lighter but still sharp. “That was pathetic. And now you’re gonna pay for it.”
He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he whispered darkly:
“You’re staying tied up exactly like this for a long time, baby. I’m not even close to being done with you. That little orgasm you stole? That’s gonna cost you. I’m going to edge you until you’re crying and begging… and maybe — maybe — if you’re really good, I’ll let you cum again.”
He gave the rope around your neck a firm tug, making the knot grind against your oversensitive clit again, forcing a broken sob out of you.
Mikey smiled, cold and hungry.“Welcome to your punishment, princess. We’re just getting started.”
FORGET IT PEOPLE NO FICS ON JUNE 2ND WEEK COLLEGE PAPERWORK IS FUCKING ME AAAAAAAH HELP ME AAAAAAH HEEEEELP
stu macher. but he’s sweet.
1980'𝒔 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒎 ♡︎ (Stu Macher X FemReader)
Content: Fluff, Sidney as a Matchmaker accidentally, Popular Stu n Nerd Reader, Silly jokes, Thriller n Slasher movies in like insane amount, Stu being Chaotic but Nonchalant in the reader's mind, idk what else to tag lol,
You wiped the dusty counter of the video store with a rag that had definitely seen better days, humming absentmindedly under your breath. The afternoon shift was usually quiet, which gave you plenty of time to overthink everything — especially him.
“Seriously, Sidney,” you muttered, stacking returned tapes, “can you please tell Randy that if he doesn’t bring back Halloween today, Mr. Johnson is actually going to ban him? He’s three days late already. Three! GUESS WHO'S GONNA GET CHARGED FOR IT”
Sidney leaned against the counter, flipping through a magazine with a knowing little smirk. “I’ve told him twice. He says he’s ‘studying the film for academic purposes.’”
“Yeah, right,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “The only thing he’s studying is how many times he can watch Jamie Lee Curtis scream before—”
The little bell above the door chimed cheerfully.
Your heart immediately did that stupid fluttery thing it always did whenever he walked in. Stu Macher stepped inside, tall, messy-haired, wearing that signature goofy grin like he owned the entire planet. His eyes scanned the store lazily until they landed on you and Sidney.
Sidney didn’t even try to hide her amusement.“Oh look,” she said sweetly, loud enough for him to hear, “there’s your boyfriend.”
Your face burned instantly.“Sidney!” you hissed, elbowing her hard. “Shut up. He’s dating Casey Becker, first of all. And second, he wouldn’t even notice me. I’m just… the girl who organizes the horror section.”
Sidney raised an eyebrow, still smiling like she knew something you didn’t. “Um… you didn’t hear? They broke up like two days ago.”
You froze mid-wipe, the rag hanging limp in your hand. “They… what?”
Before Sidney could answer, Stu’s loud voice cut through the store.
“Yo! Ladies! What’s good?” He strolled over, hands in his pockets, that chaotic energy radiating off him like usual. “Please tell me you guys finally got the new Nightmare on Elm Street in. I’ve been dying to rewatch it but was kidnapped by Randy like every good movie in here .”
His bright blue eyes flicked to you for a second longer than usual. Or maybe you were just imagining it. Probably imagining it.
You swallowed hard, trying to play it cool even though your stomach was doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
“Uh… yeah, it’s on the recently back shelf,” you managed, pointing vaguely behind him.
Stu grinned wider. “Sweet. Thanks, babe.”
Babe.
He said it so casually it made your brain short-circuit.
As he wandered off toward the shelves, Sidney leaned in close and whispered: “See? This is exactly why I’m playing matchmaker. You two are exactly the same brand of weird. Just wait.”
You groaned and hid your burning face behind the rag.“Sidney, I swear to God…”
You stood there frozen behind the counter, rag still in your hand, mind spinning after what Sidney had just dropped on you.
They broke up? Stu and Casey actually broke up?
Your brain immediately started playing dangerous little scenarios. What if Sidney was right? What if… no. You shook your head. Stu Macher was still way out of your league. Popular, loud, ridiculously cute Stu who probably only saw you as “the nice girl who works at the video store.” Nothing more.
You were so deep in your daydream that you didn’t even notice him coming back until a tape case landed on the counter with a loud thump.
“Yo, this tape is broken,” Stu said, leaning on the counter with that signature crooked grin.
You blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?”
“Yeah, I opened it and instead of Nightmare on Elm Street there’s some Thai porno inside. Wild, right?” His eyes sparkled with pure mischief.
You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “I doubt Randy returned a Thai porno instead of Nightmare on Elm Street, Stu.”
He shrugged dramatically. “Hey, it’s a possibility! Guy’s been weird lately.”
You were about to reply when he suddenly leaned in closer, voice dropping into that playful tone that made your knees weak.
“But honestly? I mostly came back ‘cause I heard Sidney say I’m your boyfriend.” He tilted his head, grinning. “I didn’t know we’d been dating this whole time. Why didn’t you tell me, babe? That was rude”
Before you could even process, Stu gently took your hand and pressed a soft, dramatic kiss to the back of it, looking up at you through his messy hair with fake-serious heartthrob eyes.
Your face went nuclear. “I’m going to cut Sidney’s tongue out,” you muttered, mortified but unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.
Stu let out a bright laugh, still holding your hand.“I adore that homicidal impulse. Super hot.”
He finally let go (reluctantly) and straightened up, though his grin stayed firmly in place.
“Alright, real talk though — I actually came to ask for a movie recommendation. Billy wants Nightmare on Elm Street but he’s banned from here… thanks to you, by the way.” He pointed at you playfully. “And because the idiot didn’t return Back to the Future on time. So hook me up with something good. Something we could maybe… watch together?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
You stared at him, heart hammering so loud you were sure the whole store could hear it. Stu was still leaning on the counter, looking way too pleased with himself after that hand kiss.“Wait… are you asking me out on a date?” you asked, voice coming out higher than you intended.
Stu blinked once, then his grin stretched even wider, all teeth and playful energy.“Nah, not exactly,” he said casually, tapping the counter with his fingers. “I’m just saying you should recommend me a movie so we can watch it together at my house.” He shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “It’s just a date, no going out. ‘Cause we’re not going out… we’re staying at my house.”
He said it so smoothly, so matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t just flipped your entire nervous system upside down. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, waiting, that mischievous sparkle making it impossible to tell if he was joking or half-serious.
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.“So… you want me to come to your house… to watch a movie… and you’re calling that a date?” you clarified, cheeks burning.
“Exactly!” Stu pointed at you like you’d just solved a puzzle. “See? You get me. No pressure, no fancy dinner, no parents around… just you, me, a killer movie, and probably way too much popcorn. What do you say?”
He tilted his head, giving you that puppy-dog look mixed with his usual chaotic charm. For a second he almost looked nervous under all the confidence — or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Your brain was screaming. This can’t be real. Stu Macher is asking you (sort of) on a not-going-out date.
You bit your lip, trying to play it cool even though your heart was doing cartwheels. Stu was still waiting for your answer with that ridiculous hopeful grin. “Okay… how about Possession?” you suggested, voice a little shy. “The one with Isabelle Adjani. It’s from 1981. Super intense, weird as hell, and kinda underrated.”
Stu’s eyes went wide like you’d just told him the meaning of life. “Wow. Not only do you have my full respect for picking an underrated gem… but a ‘80s horror film? That’s connoisseur level right there.” He placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “It’s not like I would’ve canceled if you picked something from the ‘70s or even Chucky, I’m not that pretentious… but damn. You got me on my knees.”
And then, without warning, Stu Macher actually dropped to one knee right there in the middle of the video store, looking up at you like you were some kind of goddess.
You couldn’t help it — you burst into giggles, covering your mouth with both hands. He was so expressive, so extra, so completely ridiculous… and somehow exactly what you wished you could be if you weren’t so painfully shy.
“Stu, get up!” you laughed, face burning bright red.
He stayed down for a second longer, grinning up at you.
You shrugged, still giggling. “I just know a lot about movies because… well, it’s my job. And when the store’s empty I usually sneak into the backroom and watch whatever I want. Last weekend I watched Cannibal Holocaust back there.”
Stu’s jaw dropped. He dramatically clutched his chest with both hands.“Marry me. Please. Right now. You’re a diamond in the rough. Marry me, I’m serious.”
Stu stayed on one knee for a dramatic second longer before standing up, brushing off his jeans with a sheepish but still playful grin.
“Okay, maybe the marriage proposal was a little sudden,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s only fair, right? I only found out we were already dating because Sidney announced it.” He leaned on the counter again, eyes soft but sparkling. “But for real… would you wanna watch the movie with me? Please?”
You couldn’t hold back the giggles anymore. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He was ridiculous… and you loved it. “Yeah,” you said softly, still laughing. “I’d like that.”
Stu’s whole face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “YES!” he shouted at the top of his lungs in the middle of the store. “She said yes! She said YES!”
He immediately started doing the most ridiculous victory dance you’d ever seen — flailing arms, shaking hips, spinning around like an idiot while knocking into a display of horror movie standees. One of the Cardboard Freddys almost fell over.
You were giggling so hard you had to hold onto the counter for support, face completely flushed. “Stu— oh my god, stop—”
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!” Your boss, Mr. Johnson, stormed out from the back room, red-faced and furious. “Get back to work! This is a video store, not a damn circus!”
Stu instantly flipped him off behind his back while still grinning at you. Then he leaned in super close, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper:“Just ‘cause of that, I’m stealing the movie.”
“No!” you whispered back, still laughing. “They’ll deduct it from my paycheck!”
Stu gasped like that was the worst news ever. “Well then… I guess I’ll just have to steal a kiss instead.”
Before you could even react, he cupped your face with both hands and leaned over the counter, planting a quick but warm kiss right on your lips. It was playful, a little clumsy, and tasted like cherry soda and pure trouble.
When he pulled back, he was smirking like he’d just won the lottery.“See you tonight, babe.”
The second Stu walked out the door (still doing a little happy dance on his way to his car), you spun around so fast you nearly knocked over a stack of tapes.
“Sidney,” you whispered, voice shaky with disbelief, “please tell me all of that was real and I didn’t just hallucinate the last ten minutes.”
Sidney came out from behind the horror aisle with the biggest, most satisfied smirk you’d ever seen on her face. She looked way too proud of herself.
“Well…” she started, trying (and failing) to look innocent, “maybe it slipped out that I told Billy my best friend is head-over-heels in love with his best friend… and he told Stu. So… I guess you’re welcome?”
She reached over and gave your shoulder a gentle, supportive pat like she’d just fixed your entire life.
Your mouth fell open. “Sidney Prescott!”
“What!” she laughed, raising her hands. “You two have been staring at each other for months like lovesick puppies. Someone had to do something! And honestly? After watching Stu drop to one knee and then steal a kiss like that… I think my work here is done.”
You covered your burning face with both hands, peeking at her through your fingers.“I can’t believe you. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die before I even get to his house tonight.”
Sidney grinned and bumped your hip with hers.
“You’re welcome, by the way. Now stop panicking and go pick out a cute outfit after your shift. Stu’s house, movie night, and Possession? This is straight out of a rom-com. My best friend is finally getting her moment.”
You groaned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Your stomach was doing flips just thinking about it.
Men with smirks are so so hot like aaaah I know you're a freak
Forget it people I'll have time to keep writing you'll have fics FOREVEEER calculus test can't fucking stop me
If Y'all Knew The Crazy Amount Of Lore Behind This Blog Y'all Would Be Shocked
Heyy can you write a teen brae fic? Not really any preferences other than fluff lol, thank you!
𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 ♡︎ (Braeeden Lemasters X FemReader)
Content: Fluff, Drama Club, Crush, Dylan and Cole Cameo, Long Live Teen Brae Saga, Highschool Couple Goals
The bell had barely rung when the door to your history classroom swung open with that familiar dramatic flair only you seemed to pull off without trying. You stepped inside, clipboard in hand, wearing your usual theater club president energy like it was designer. Your hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands falling loose around your face, and you had that bright, unstoppable smile that made half the room sit up straighter.
“Hi everyone! Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Harlan,” you said sweetly, flashing the tired teacher your best polite grin. He just waved you on with a sigh—he’d learned long ago there was no stopping you once you were on a mission.
You cleared your throat, bouncing a little on your toes. “So! As most of you know, I’m president of the drama club, and we’re doing Heathers: The Musical for the big end-of-year show. Auditions are this Friday after school in the auditorium. All roles are open—Veronica, JD, the Heathers, even the supporting cast. No experience needed, just responsibility and commitment. Sign-up sheet is on the door if you’re interested!”
You kept talking, explaining the rehearsal schedule and how fun it was going to be, but Braeden wasn’t hearing a single word about callbacks or tech week.
He was too busy staring.
From his seat in the back row, elbow propped on the desk, chin resting on his hand, Braeden’s eyes were glued to you like you were the only person in the entire universe. His heart was doing that stupid fluttery thing again—the one that started the moment you walked in and refused to stop. God, you were so cute when you got excited about theater stuff. The way your hands moved while you talked, the little bounce in your step, how your eyes lit up when you mentioned the big finale number.
“She’s perfect,” he thought for the hundredth time that week.
Under the desk, his notebook was open to a fresh page. Instead of taking notes on the Industrial Revolution like he was supposed to, Braeden was absentmindedly doodling little hearts around your name in bubbly handwriting. Y/N ❤️ inside one heart. Braeden + Y/N inside another. A tiny stick figure of him holding hands with a stick figure of you. He didn’t even realize he was smiling like an idiot.
Cole, sitting right next to him, noticed immediately. He leaned over and whispered, “Dude. You’re doing it again.”
Braeden blinked, snapping out of his trance for half a second. “Doing what?”
Dylan, on Braeden’s other side, smirked without looking up from his own notebook. “Drawing hearts and staring at Y/N like she hung the moon. Subtle, man. Real subtle.”
Braeden’s cheeks went bright red. He quickly tried to cover the doodles with his arm, but it was too late. Cole had already seen the Mrs. Lemasters? scribbled in the corner.
“Shut up,” Braeden muttered, face burning. “She’s just… really passionate, okay? It’s cute.”
“You’ve had the biggest crush on her since freshman year,” Dylan teased quietly. “Just talk to her, bro.”
“I can’t! She’s… her. And I’m me,” Braeden whispered back, eyes drifting to you again as you laughed at something one of the students asked. His pencil unconsciously drew another heart. “What if she thinks I’m weird?”
Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re already weird. Might as well be weird with her in the musical.”
You finished your announcement with a cheerful, “Hope to see some of you there! Have a good rest of class!” and gave the room one last bright wave before heading out.
Braeden watched you leave, chin back in his hand, completely gone.
Cole nudged him hard. “Okay. New plan. We’re signing you up for auditions.”
Braeden’s head snapped toward them. “Wait—what?” he hissed, voice cracking in that embarrassing way it still did sometimes when he got nervous. “What the hell do you mean you’re signing me up for the audition?!”
Cole leaned back in his chair with a smug little grin, arms crossed. “Exactly what I said. We’re putting your name down for JD. Today. Before you chicken out.”
Dylan nodded, tapping his pencil against his notebook like he was already writing the master plan. “C’mon, man. Even if you only get cast as Tree Number Three, it’s worth it. But let’s be real you’re gonna go for JD. She’s obviously gonna be Veronica. It’s perfect.”
Braeden felt his face heat up again. He glanced at the door you’d just walked out of, heart still doing laps in his chest. “You guys are insane. I can’t just… audition. In front of her. What if I mess up?”
Cole snorted. “Bro. You’re literally the vocalist of our band. You can sing. Like, actually sing. Dead Girl Walking? You’d kill that.”
Braeden buried his face in his hands for a second, groaning. “That’s the problem! Being JD means I’d have to do all those intense scenes with her. Including… you know… the whole Dead Girl Walking thing. In front of the entire cast. And probably the whole school eventually.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And the downside, bro?”
“Yeah,” Cole added, barely holding in a laugh. “You get to kiss her. On stage. Multiple times probably. As part of the show. Officially. With teachers watching and everything, so it’s not even weird.”
Braeden peeked through his fingers, eyes wide. “You’re both the worst friends I’ve ever had.”
“Best friends,” Dylan corrected, already tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and writing “Braeden Lemasters - JD” on it. “We’re signing you up right now. No take-backs.”
Braeden tried to snatch the paper but Cole blocked him with his arm. “Think about it, dude. This is your chance. You’ve been doodling hearts with her name for months. Now you can actually talk to her every day at rehearsal. Maybe even walk her to class after. Super romantic. Very rom-com.”
Braeden groaned again, but this time there was a tiny, hopeless smile sneaking onto his face. The idea of being close to you for weeks… getting to act opposite you… maybe even making you laugh during rehearsals…
“…Fine,” he mumbled, slumping in his seat in defeat. “But if I embarrass myself and she thinks I’m a total loser, I’m blaming both of you.”
Dylan folded the sign-up slip and stuffed it in his backpack with a triumphant grin. “Deal. Now stop drawing hearts and start practicing your JD voice, loverboy.”
Braeden just stared at the empty doorway where you’d stood minutes ago, stomach full of butterflies and terror and way too much hope.
After school, Braeden found himself being physically dragged down the hallway by Dylan and Cole like a criminal being taken to sentencing. His backpack bounced against his back as he tried to plant his feet.
“Guys, wait— I changed my mind! This is a terrible idea!” he whisper-yelled, cheeks already pink.
“Too late, loverboy,” Dylan grinned, not loosening his grip on Braeden’s arm. “We already turned in your form this morning.”
They rounded the corner and there it was: the drama club sign-up table right outside the auditorium. And of course… you were sitting behind it, looking ridiculously cute with your clipboard, colorful pens, and a giant Heathers poster taped to the front of the table.
You looked up when you heard them approaching, and your face lit up with that bright smile that always made Braeden’s brain short-circuit.
“Hey! You guys here to audition?” you asked cheerfully.
Cole shoved Braeden forward so hard he almost tripped into the table. “Yeah, this one right here wants JD.”
Braeden shot his friends a death glare before turning to you, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. “Uh… yeah. If that’s cool.”
You beamed at him, flipping through the papers. “Of course it’s cool! We need a good JD. Okay, so for your audition song, you’d have to prepare ‘Meant to Be Yours.’ It’s the big one.”
Braeden nodded, trying to focus on your words and not on how pretty your eyes looked when you were talking about the musical.
“And if you make it to callbacks that's basically auditions second base,” you continued, completely innocent, “you’ll have to do a scene with me. Specifically ‘Our Love is God.’ Since I’m reading for Veronica.”
The second the words “second base” weren’t even said but heavily implied by the scene choice, Dylan and Cole lost it. They both started giggling like middle schoolers behind Braeden.
“Second base,” Cole whispered, barely containing his laugh.
Dylan covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Our Love is God… yeah, bro. That’s definitely second base material.”
Braeden’s face went bright red. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
You tilted your head, confused but amused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing!” Braeden said way too fast, shooting his idiot friends another death glare. “They’re just… being dumb. Ignore them.”
You laughed softly, the sound making Braeden’s stomach flip. You scribbled something down on the sign-up sheet and looked back up at him with a sweet smile.“Well, I’m really glad you’re auditioning, Braeden. I’ve heard you sing with your band before. You’re actually really good.”
Braeden blinked, his heart doing a full cartwheel. “You… you’ve heard me sing?”
“Duh,” you said, grinning. “You guys practice near the football field sometimes. Your voice carries.”
Cole and Dylan were now full-on smirking behind him, giving him thumbs up like proud dads.
Braeden swallowed, suddenly feeling both terrified and insanely happy. “Cool… yeah. I’ll practice ‘Meant to Be Yours’ then.”
“Perfect,” you said, sliding the clipboard toward him so he could sign. When he leaned in to write his name, your fingers accidentally brushed his as you held the pen steady.
He almost dropped the pen.
You didn’t seem to notice the way his whole face went nuclear, just smiled at him again. “Good luck, Braeden. I hope you get it.”
As the three of them walked away, Dylan threw an arm around Braeden’s shoulders.“See? She already likes you. And now you get to sing love songs with her. Our Love is God, baby.”
“Shut up,” Braeden groaned, but he couldn’t hide the massive, lovesick smile spreading across his face.
Later that night, Braeden’s phone buzzed like crazy. He was halfway through practicing “Meant to Be Yours” in his room when the group chat exploded.
Dylan: Operation Clear the Field is a go.
Cole: Meet us at the school back gate in 10. Bring gloves.
Braeden: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT???
But of course they didn’t answer. Twenty minutes later, Braeden found himself crouched behind a bush outside the school with his two idiot best friends, all three of them wearing black hoodies like they were in a low-budget heist movie.
“This is a crime,” Braeden whispered frantically. “This is literally breaking and entering. We’re gonna get expelled. Or arrested. Or both!”
Dylan was already picking the lock on the side door with a paperclip and a ridiculous amount of confidence. “Relax, dude. The drama room window was open last time I checked. In and out.”
Cole grinned, shining his phone flashlight like a proper criminal. “We’re just… borrowing the other JD audition forms. If there are no other JDs, you automatically get the role. Simple.”
Braeden ran a hand through his hair, panicking. “This is a felony! We’re stealing people’s dreams! What if someone else really wanted to be JD?!”
Dylan finally got the door open and turned to him with the most dramatic expression. “Braeden. In war and love… all is fair.”
Cole nodded solemnly. “Exactly. This is love, bro. You’ve been pining over Y/N since forever. We’re just removing the competition so you can have your big romantic musical moment.”
Braeden groaned, but let them pull him inside anyway. The three of them tiptoed through the dark hallways until they reached the drama club room. The audition clipboard was sitting right on the teacher’s desk, with a stack of sign-up sheets underneath.
Cole quickly flipped through them. “There are three other guys signed up for JD… Perfect. We’re taking these.”
He stuffed the papers into his backpack while Dylan kept watch at the door.
Braeden stood there looking equal parts horrified and touched. “You guys are actually insane. Like clinically.”
“Yeah, but you love us,” Dylan said, ruffling Braeden’s hair. “And one day when you and Y/N are the cutest theater couple in school history, you’ll thank us.”
They slipped back out the same way they came, hearts racing the whole time. Once they were safely outside the gates, Braeden stopped under a streetlight and stared at his friends.
“I can’t believe you actually did that for me.”
Cole shrugged with a big goofy smile. “What are bros for? Now you just have to crush those practices. No pressure.”
Braeden looked down at his shoes, a shy little smile breaking through. “If I get to do ‘Our Love is God’ with her… and maybe actually get to know her… it might be worth the possible jail time.”
Dylan threw an arm around his shoulders. “That’s the spirit, loverboy.”
The auditorium was packed with drama kids, theater nerds, and a few curious freshmen when you stepped onto the stage with your clipboard and that radiant smile. The whole room went quiet as you tapped the mic.
“Alright everyone! Thank you so much for auditioning. We had some seriously amazing performances…” You paused for dramatic effect, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Braeden sitting between Dylan and Cole in the middle rows. “But here’s the official cast for Heathers: The Musical!”
You started reading the list. When you got to the leads, your voice got extra excited.
“Playing Veronica Sawyer… me, obviously,” you said with a little laugh. “And playing Jason Dean… Braeden Lemasters!”
The auditorium erupted in applause and whistles. Braeden froze in his seat like he’d been hit by lightning.
Dylan and Cole immediately started shoving him. “Go! Go! Get up there, loverboy!”
Braeden stumbled up the aisle, legs feeling like jelly, until he was standing on stage next to you. His heart was hammering so loud he was sure the whole school could hear it.
You didn’t hesitate. The second he was close enough, you threw your arms around him in a big, warm hug right there in front of everyone. Braeden’s brain short-circuited. You smelled like vanilla and strawberry lip gloss and pure chaos.
“Oh my god, I’m so happy it’s you!” you said, still hugging him tight. “We’re gonna be such a good JD and Veronica. We have to practice our chemistry all the time, okay? Like, constantly.”
Braeden pulled back just enough to look at your face, eyes wide. “All the time…?”
You nodded enthusiastically, still holding his arms. “Yeah! For the assemblies and pep rallies we have to sit together and act all couple-y so it feels natural on stage. And we’ll need to rehearse the kisses a lot too. You know… for authenticity.”
Braeden’s face went nuclear red.
Before he could even process what you just said, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss right on his lips. Just a peck, but it was enough to make his knees weak.
You pulled back with a playful grin. “See? Practice! We gotta get comfortable with that. Dead Girl Walking is gonna be intense.”
From the audience, Dylan and Cole were losing their minds — whistling, clapping, and making kissy noises like the chaotic best friends they were.
Braeden stood there stunned, lips tingling, completely lovestruck. He had no idea the “practice” was going to start immediately. Or that he’d have to sit next to you at every assembly pretending to be your boyfriend.
You grabbed his hand and raised it with yours toward the audience. “Let’s give it up for our JD everyone!”
Braeden could barely smile through the panic and pure bliss. All he could think was “Holy shit… this is actually happening.”
Braeden practically floated down the stage steps, legs moving on autopilot while his brain replayed the last thirty seconds on loop.She hugged me. She kissed me. She actually kissed me. On the lips. In front of everyone.
His face was burning bright red, a massive dopey smile plastered across it that he couldn’t wipe off even if he tried. He walked back to his seat in a total daze, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling like he’d just been hit by Cupid’s truck.
Dylan and Cole were waiting for him with matching shit-eating grins.
“Bro…” Dylan started, shaking his head in disbelief. “That went way better than we thought. She kissed you. On stage. Voluntarily.”
Cole laughed, punching Braeden’s arm lightly. “Yeah, dude. Wow. This is gonna be so much better than we planned. You’re actually living the rom-com dream right now.”
Braeden dropped into his seat like his knees had given up, still grinning like an idiot. He covered his face with both hands for a second, peeking through his fingers.
“Shut up… shut up both of you,” he mumbled, voice muffled but clearly giddy. “I’m busy right now. I’m deciding what flowers I want for the wedding. Probably white roses… or maybe sunflowers? She seems like a sunflower girl…”
Dylan barked out a laugh. “You’re so down bad it’s actually impressive.”
From the stage, you cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted loud enough for the whole auditorium to hear:“See you at rehearsals, Brae!”
Then, with zero hesitation, you blew him a dramatic kiss right there in front of the entire drama club.
The room erupted in “Oooohs” and teasing cheers.
Braeden’s heart did a full backflip. He waved back shyly, blush deepening to a new shade of red that probably wasn’t even on the color spectrum. He sank lower in his seat, but the smile on his face only got bigger.
Cole leaned over and whispered, “You’re so getting married for real by the end of this musical.”
“Shut up,” Braeden whispered back, but his voice was soft and dreamy. “I’m still picking the flowers…”
The auditorium lights were dimmed for the first official rehearsal, and the energy was already chaotic in the best way. The three Heathers were up on stage practicing “Candy Store,” running through choreography with way too much attitude and laughter. You were sitting on the edge of the stage for a moment, watching them, before your eyes found Braeden sitting alone in the front row, nervously flipping through his script.
You hopped off the stage and plopped down right next to him, close enough that your knee brushed his.
“Hey, JD,” you said with a bright smile, bumping his shoulder playfully.
Braeden nearly dropped his script. “H-hey, Veronica,” he answered, trying to sound casual but failing completely. His voice came out a little squeaky.
The director called for the crew to start setting up “Fight for Me” — your first big scene together. While the stage was being adjusted, you stayed seated next to him, legs swinging lightly.
“So…” you started, turning to face him fully, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you finally decide to join theater? You never auditioned before, and this is our last big show of the year. Kinda sucks it’s only for the senior musical.”
Braeden froze.
His brain went completely blank. He couldn’t exactly say “Because I’ve had a massive crush on you for three years and my idiot friends forced me into this so I could be close to you.” That would be immediate death by embarrassment.
“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink. “I guess I just… wanted to try something new? Before we all graduate and stuff. You know… stepping out of my comfort zone.”
You tilted your head, studying him with a curious little smile. “Really? That’s it? No secret theater dreams hidden away?”
Braeden laughed nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Nope. No secret dreams. Just… thought it could be fun.” And because I’m stupidly in love with you, he thought.
You leaned in a little closer, your shoulder now fully pressed against his. “Well, I’m really glad you did. You’re gonna be an amazing JD. I can already tell we’re gonna have crazy good chemistry.”
The director called your names to come up for “Fight for Me.” You stood up and offered Braeden your hand to pull him up.
“C’mon, partner. Time for our first official interaction.”
Braeden had barely walked out of the auditorium when Dylan and Cole ambushed him in the hallway like two overly excited secret agents.
“So?! How was it?!” Dylan asked, grabbing Braeden’s shoulders and shaking him lightly. “Did you guys practice the kiss again? Tell us everything.”
Braeden let out a long, dramatic groan, running both hands through his hair as they walked toward the parking lot.
“It went… good. Really good, actually,” he admitted, cheeks still a little pink from the whole afternoon. “We ran some scenes, she was super nice and touchy and… yeah. But I’m fucking terrified about ‘Dead Girl Walking.’”
Cole blinked. “Bro, that’s literally the last song you’re gonna rehearse at for. It’s weeks away—”
“No it’s not!” Braeden cut him off, voice cracking with panic. “We’re doing the big numbers first. The director wants to get the hardest ones out of the way. We’re mounting ‘Dead Girl Walking’ tomorrow afternoon.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?!”
“Yeah. Tomorrow,” Braeden said, looking genuinely stressed. “I have to do that whole intense, grinding, super sexual scene with her… in front of the whole cast… tomorrow. What the hell am I gonna do?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Cole’s brain supplied the most teenage-boy solution possible.
“Well…” Cole started, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face, “you’re just gonna have to jerk off before and after rehearsal so you don’t get hard on stage, bro.”
The second the words left his mouth, Cole burst out laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall. Dylan immediately joined him, both of them cracking up like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
“Cole, what the fuck—” Braeden groaned, face turning bright red as he shoved his friend. “That’s not funny!”
“It’s a little funny,” Dylan wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Imagine you in the middle of ‘Dead Girl Walking’ and suddenly… situation.”
Cole was still dying of laughter. “You better take care of business twice, man. Once in the morning, once right before. Safety first.”
Braeden covered his face with both hands, mortified but also fighting a smile because his friends were ridiculous.“You two are the worst. I’m never telling you anything again.”
Dylan threw an arm around him, still chuckling. “Nah, you love us. But for real… you got this, loverboy. Just don’t think about how hot Y/N’s gonna look in that schoolgirl outfit while you’re singing.”
Braeden let out another long suffering groan as his friends continued laughing all the way to the car.
The auditorium felt ten times smaller the next afternoon.
Braeden stood center stage in his half-costume (just a black trench coat over his normal clothes for now), heart hammering so hard he was sure it was visible through his shirt. The director had decided to jump straight into the big numbers, and here you were — full Veronica energy, skirt slightly hiked up for the choreography, looking way too hot for a school rehearsal.
You started singing, voice strong and confident:
“Sorry, but I really had to wake you See, I've decided I must ride you 'till I break you 'Cause Heather says I got to go You're my last meal on death row Shut your mouth And lose them tighty whiteys Come on!”
Braeden was trying his hardest to stay in character, but he was failing miserably. He was completely gone. His eyes were glued to you as you moved around him with that fierce, playful energy. Every step, every look, every little smirk you gave him made his brain melt.
You pushed him gently backward until he sat on the prop bed. Then, without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him like the song demanded. Your hands landed on his shoulders, faces inches apart as you continued singing with full passion:
“Tonight I'm yours! I'm your dead girl walking Get on all fours Kiss this dead girl walking Let's go, you know the drill I'm hot and pissed and on the pill Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking!”
Braeden’s hands hovered awkwardly at your waist, not sure where to put them. His face was burning. He could feel the heat of your body through both your clothes, your weight perfectly settled on his lap. You kept singing, eyes locked on his:
“And you know, you know, you know It's 'cause you're beautiful You say you're numb inside But I can't agree So the world's unfair? Keep it locked out there In here it's beautiful Let's make this beautiful!”
The chemistry was insane.
Even the director stopped to watch, impressed. You two had natural fire — the way you moved together, the way you looked at each other, the tension in the air. It didn’t feel like acting. It felt electric.
Braeden was a mess underneath you. He was trying so hard not to stare at your lips, not to focus on how good you smelled, how soft your thighs felt on either side of him. He was practically drooling, completely lovestruck, eyes wide and heart eyes activated.
When the song ended, you stayed on his lap for a second longer than necessary, breathing a little heavy from the performance. You smiled down at him, soft and genuine.
“You’re really good at this,” you whispered, still close. “That felt… really natural.”
Braeden could only nod dumbly, too dazed to speak properly. “Y-yeah… really natural.”
From the side of the stage, Dylan and Cole (who had snuck in to watch) were silently dying of laughter, giving him double thumbs up.
You finally climbed off his lap, but not before giving his hand a little squeeze.
The director clapped. “That was excellent! Chemistry is perfect. We’re keeping that blocking.”
Braeden sat there stunned, still feeling the ghost of your weight on him, completely and utterly in love.
Braeden was still sitting on the prop bed, looking like he’d just seen God, while you hopped off his lap and laughed at something the director said. You gave Braeden one last playful shoulder bump before moving to the next blocking note.
Cole leaned toward Dylan, whispering, “Okay… am I crazy or is she actually into him?”
Dylan crossed his arms, smirking. “Bro, this is different. She’s never like this.”
“Exactly,” Cole said, eyes narrowed like a detective. “Last year with Phantom of the Opera, she was all business. She barely even hugged her Raoul during rehearsals. And freshman year with Little Shop of Horrors? She treated her co-star like a brother. No extra touches, no staying on laps longer than needed, no blowing kisses from the stage…”
Dylan nodded slowly. “And now look at her with Brae. She’s finding excuses to touch him. She kissed him during the cast announcement. She sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she called him ‘Brae’ in front of everyone.”
Cole grinned. “There’s zero ‘let’s rehearse chemistry after school’ vibes with other people… but with him? She’s making it part of the process. She’s into him, dude. For real.”
On stage, you turned back toward Braeden with a bright smile and said something that made him blush again. You even fixed the collar of his trench coat for him, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.
Dylan let out a low whistle. “This isn’t just good acting. She’s enjoying this way too much. Our boy might actually have a shot.”
Cole pulled out his phone and started typing rapidly in the group chat.
Cole: loverboy you better lock this down
Dylan: she’s down bad fr
Cole: dead girl walking = she wants to be your walking dead girl or something like that (if you know what I mean)
Braeden, who had just walked off stage and seen the messages, looked up at them in horror and flipped them off from across the auditorium.
But even he couldn’t hide the massive, lovesick smile on his face.
You waved at him from the stage. “See you tomorrow, Brae! We’re gonna kill the rest of the show!”
Braeden waved back weakly, heart doing somersaults.
From the back, Dylan and Cole exchanged a look.
“Yeah,” Dylan said confidently. “She’s definitely falling for him.”
Rehearsal finally wrapped up late in the evening. The cast was packing up, the stage lights dimming one by one. Braeden was still floating on a cloud, replaying every moment of “Dead Girl Walking” in his head when Dylan and Cole cornered him near the auditorium exit.
“Okay, loverboy,” Dylan said, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “We have a conspiracy theory.”
Cole jumped in immediately. “She’s 100% into you. For real. Not just ‘good scene partner’ vibes. She’s never been this handsy or flirty with any other co-star in past shows. Not even close.”
Braeden shook his head quickly, face flushing. “Nope. Nope nope nope. You guys are reading way too much into it. She’s just being nice. She’s the theater president, she’s friendly with everyone. It’s all for the show. Chemistry practice and stuff. Don’t get my hopes up like that.”
Dylan laughed. “Bro, she sat on your lap and sang about riding you till she breaks you while staring straight into your soul. That’s not ‘just being nice.’”
“I’m telling you, it’s nothing—” Braeden started, but he stopped mid-sentence.
Because you were walking straight toward them.
Your hair was a little messy from rehearsal, cheeks still slightly pink from all the singing and dancing. You gave Dylan and Cole a quick polite smile before turning your full attention to Braeden.
“Hey, Brae,” you said softly, a little nervous but determined. You played with the strap of your bag. “Can I… talk to you for a second?”
Dylan and Cole immediately took three big steps back, pretending to be very interested in a poster on the wall.
You took a small breath. “So… I was thinking. You’ve been really great in rehearsals and… I don’t know, I feel like we have really good energy together. Not just on stage.” You smiled shyly. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like… on a real date? Maybe this weekend? We could get ice cream or something. Or go to the record store. Whatever you want.”
Braeden’s brain completely shut down.
He stood there frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a fish out of water. His face went from pink to bright crimson in record time.“You… you’re asking me… on a date?” he stuttered, voice barely working.
You nodded, biting your lip with a hopeful little smile. “Yeah. I am.”
Behind you, Dylan and Cole were silently freaking out — fist-bumping and making exaggerated shocked faces.
Braeden finally managed to speak, his voice soft and completely lovestruck:“…Yes. Yeah. Definitely. I’d really like that.”
You beamed, the smile lighting up your whole face. “Great! Text me later and we’ll figure out the details, okay?”
You gave him one last cute wave and walked away toward the exit.
The second you were gone, Dylan and Cole tackled Braeden in a group hug, laughing like maniacs.
“JUST BEING NICE, HUH?!” Cole yelled.
Braeden buried his burning face in his hands, smiling so hard it hurt.
Omg people I'm being fucked by a question rn how did y'all found my blog n which was the first fic you read In my mind we're bff ok
Just read the foursome fic and now I need a foursome of Bella, Yasmin, Charlotte and the reader 🥺
𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ꨄ︎ (Isabella Elei X Yasmin Wijnaldum X Charlotte D'Alessio X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Sex Tape, Dylan Cameo, Use of Sex Toys Sexual Chick Flick, I'm Just Girl.
A/N: I suck at writing foursomes like AAAAAH LOTS OF PEOPLE this is probably the worst fic I've ever written aaaaah 😭
The living room of Dylan and Bella’s apartment was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of R&B and the sweet scent of strawberry vape mixed with expensive perfume. You were sprawled across the huge sectional couch, legs lazily draped over Yasmin’s lap, while Charlotte sat on the floor between your knees, her back resting against the couch. Isabella — Bella — was curled up right beside you, her fingers playing with your hair.
Laughter echoed as Yasmin took a long pull from the sleek pink vape, her full lips wrapping around the mouthpiece before she leaned forward, eyes locked on yours. You opened your mouth instinctively. She blew the sweet, cool vapor directly into it, her lips brushing yours in a teasing almost-kiss. You inhaled deeply, holding it, then turned to Charlotte who was already waiting with a wicked little grin.
You passed the smoke into her mouth, your tongues touching just enough to make it filthy. Charlotte moaned softly into the kiss, sucking the vapor from you like she wanted more than just the smoke.
“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” Bella laughed, biting her lip as she watched. She grabbed the vape from Yasmin next, took a deep hit, and pulled you in by the chin. Her lips met yours, soft but hungry, pushing the sweet strawberry cloud into your mouth while her hand slid down your side, squeezing your waist possessively.
Dylan was sitting across the room in the armchair, phone in hand, trying (and failing) to look casual as he recorded the whole thing with a smirk.
Bella noticed immediately. She pulled back from your lips with a playful glare.
“Babe, you’re such a fucking pervert,” she laughed, throwing a pillow at him. “I see you recording. This is girls night, not ‘let my boyfriend film his girlfriend and her friends being lesbians’ night.”
Dylan chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Can you blame me? Last time was—”
“Nuh-uh,” Bella cut him off, grinning. “Not tonight. Go be a good boy and leave us alone. We’re doing this without an audience.” She turned back to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, then suddenly gave your ass a loud, playful smack as you shifted on the couch. The sound echoed, making Yasmin and Charlotte burst into giggles.
“Ow!” you yelped, laughing.
Bella leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, whispering loud enough for the girls to hear, “That ass is mine tonight, baby. And I want them to play with it too.”
Yasmin smirked, running her hand up your thigh. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about this since we got here.”
Charlotte looked up at you from between your legs, her fingers already tracing lazy circles on your inner thigh.“Same,” she purred. “I mean we all think of it”
Dylan stood up, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and defeat. “Alright, alright… I’m going to the studio before I start asking to join. Have fun, you absolute amateur pornstars.”
As soon as the door to the studio clicked shut, the energy in the room shifted — heavier, hornier, freer.
Bella looked at the three of you, eyes dark with lust.“So… who wants to get undressed first?”
Yasmin suddenly sat up straighter, a wicked smile spreading across her face as she pushed her long hair back.
“Nuh-uh. No no no,” she said, laughing. “We’re not just ripping our clothes off like animals… yet. Let’s make it fun. Strip poker, but way better. Spicy questions. If you don’t wanna answer, you take something off. Loser gets teased by the rest.”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up immediately. She turned around between your legs, looking up at Yasmin with an impressed grin.“Wow… you’re actually brilliant,” she said, biting her lip.
Yasmin smirked, clearly proud of herself. “Yeah, I know.”
She leaned down, grabbed Charlotte by the chin, and kissed her deep — slow and filthy, tongues sliding against each other right in front of you and Bella. The wet sound of their kiss made your stomach flip.
When Yasmin finally pulled back, she turned to you with the same hungry look. She crawled over, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you just as nasty. Her tongue pushed into your mouth like she already owned it, tasting like strawberry vape and pure trouble. You moaned softly into her, your hand instinctively grabbing the back of her neck.
Bella watched with dark, amused eyes before she reached for Charlotte, pulling her up into a heated kiss. Bella’s hand slid straight down to squeeze Charlotte’s ass while their mouths moved together, soft little gasps escaping between them.
When they broke apart, all four of you were breathing heavier.
“Alright, I’ll start,” Bella announced, grabbing the vape and taking a hit before passing it to you. “Truth: Who here have you thought about fucking the most before tonight?”
She looked straight at you when she asked.
You felt the heat rush to your face. The question was already filthy, and the game had barely started.
Charlotte laughed, resting her chin on your knee. “Ooh, this is gonna get dirty fast.”
Yasmin leaned back against the couch, legs spread just enough to look like an invitation. “Don’t be shy, baby. Answer… or lose the first piece of clothing.”
You felt all three pairs of eyes burning into you as you held the vape for a second, inhaling deeply before exhaling with a playful smile.
“Honestly?” you said, looking at each of them slowly. “I want all three of you the same fucking amount. I couldn’t even choose who to fuck first if you made me. I’ve been thinking about all of you like this for way too long.”
The confession hung heavy in the air for a second before the girls reacted.
Bella let out a low, impressed whistle. Charlotte’s grin turned feral. Yasmin licked her lips slowly.
“Fuck, that’s the right answer,” Yasmin purred.
Since you’d answered truthfully, no penalty… but you decided to tease them anyway. You sat up, grabbed the hem of your top, and pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing your bra and bare skin to the warm light of the living room. You tossed the top aside dramatically, feeling their hungry stares crawl all over you.
Charlotte’s hand immediately slid up your now-exposed stomach, fingertips grazing just under your bra“Shit… look at her,” she murmured.
Bella leaned in and kissed your shoulder, then your neck. “Good girl. Being honest gets you rewards tonight.”
Yasmin clapped once, laughing. “My turn to ask. Truth: What’s one thing you’ve secretly wanted to do with the group but never told anyone?”
Charlotte went next, not even waiting for anyone to answer first. She looked at all of you with a mischievous glint.“I’ve thought about watching all three of you make each other cum while I touch myself,” she admitted without hesitation. “Like… just sitting back and enjoying the show.”
Bella smirked, then answered her own question. “I want to use my strap on someone while the other two sit on her face. Taking turns.”
The energy in the room was getting thicker, hotter. You could already feel yourself getting wet from the way they talked so openly.
Yasmin looked at you again, eyes dark. “Your turn, baby. Truth or take something else off.”
You took a slow breath, the cool air brushing over your exposed skin as you looked at the three of them. Your voice came out low but honest, a little shy but full of want.
“Truth,” you said. “I don’t want this to be some show for Dylan. I want a real foursome… where we actually enjoy it. All four of us. If you need to use me, I’m down. I want us to play with toys, laugh, get messy, make each other cum for real. We can even record it… but only for us. Maybe it’s a way to make our friendship even tighter.”
The room went quiet for half a second.
Then Bella’s eyes darkened with pure lust and affection. Charlotte bit her lip hard, her hand sliding higher up your thigh. Yasmin let out a soft, impressed laugh.
“Fuck, baby…” Yasmin murmured, leaning in to kiss you slow and deep, her tongue tasting every word you just said. “That’s so hot. I love that you want it real.”
Bella moved behind you on the couch, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing the back of your neck. “No performance. Just us. Four girls who really want to fuck each other stupid and enjoy every second.”
Charlotte crawled up between your legs, pressing a kiss right above the waistband of your pants. “I’m so down,” she whispered against your skin. “Toys, laughter, using you however we want… and you using us back. Recording everything so we can watch it later and get horny all over again.”
Yasmin reached out and gently pulled your bra strap down your shoulder, exposing more skin.“So… since you answered so nicely,” she said with a smirk, “you don’t have to take anything else off… yet. But we’re definitely speeding this game up.”
Bella laughed softly, playful and girly, giving your ass another light smack from behind.
“Next question is mine,” Bella said, voice husky. “Who wants to pick the first toy we’re bringing out tonight?”
The tension was thick now, the air heavy with excitement and growing wetness between all of you. Hands were wandering more freely — Charlotte’s fingers teasing the button of your pants, Yasmin’s lips brushing your collarbone, Bella’s hands cupping your tits from behind.
You couldn’t take it anymore. The teasing, the questions, the slow burn — it was driving you insane. Your whole body was buzzing.
“No more questions please, Isabella,” you said, voice low and needy. “Just take your fucking clothes off. Right now.”
Bella’s eyes widened for a second before a filthy smile spread across her face. “Yes ma’am.”
You didn’t even wait for her to finish. You lunged forward, crashing your lips against hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. Your hands immediately went to her top, helping her pull it off as your tongues fought for dominance. The kiss was wet, messy, and full of want.
You broke away from Bella only to turn to Charlotte, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pulling her into a deep, sloppy kiss. She moaned into your mouth as your tongues slid together, spit already starting to coat your lips.
Then you moved to Yasmin. She met you halfway, kissing you even harder, biting your bottom lip while her hands grabbed your waist, pulling your bare torso flush against her.
The four of you didn’t stop there.
Bella grabbed Charlotte and kissed her deeply, their mouths open, tongues visibly playing with each other in the sloppiest, drooliest way possible. Strings of spit connected their lips when they pulled back for air. Yasmin leaned over and kissed Bella next, while you made out with Charlotte again, your hands roaming everywhere.
It was pure chaos — wet, messy, drooly kisses being passed between all four of you. Moans, soft laughs, the sound of tongues and lips smacking filling the living room. Spit was dripping down chins. Charlotte had your tit in her hand while she kissed Yasmin. Bella was sucking on your neck while her fingers teased Yasmin’s thigh.
Charlotte suddenly pulled back, laughing breathlessly as she looked at the couch and the floor.“Fuck… we’re not even gonna make it to the bed, are we?” she giggled, lips shiny with spit.
You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before leaning in to lick a string of drool from Charlotte’s chin.“Who needs a bed?” you said, voice husky. “That’s why the floor exists, baby.”
Yasmin let out a low, turned-on laugh and pushed you down onto the soft rug in front of the couch. Bella and Charlotte followed right after, hands and mouths already all over you and each other.
The clothes were coming off faster now.
Yasmin pulled away from the messy kiss with a wicked grin and stood up, hips swaying as she walked over to her bag in the corner of the living room.
“Don’t start without me,” she said, digging inside before pulling out a sleek, powerful-looking purple vibrator. She waved it playfully making Charlotte and Bella laugh.
They didn’t waste time. Bella and Charlotte gently pushed you down onto the soft rug, laying you on your back. The carpet felt warm against your bare skin as they surrounded you like hungry predators.
You tried to sit up and kiss Charlotte again, reaching for her with needy hands, but she gently pinned your wrists above your head, smirking down at you.
“Nuh-uh,” Charlotte purred, her voice sweet but firm. “Today is all about spoiling you, baby. You’re just gonna lay there and take it like a good girl. Got it?”
You whimpered softly, already soaked, but nodded. The way they were looking at you made your pussy throb.
Bella had her phone out, already recording. She pointed the camera at you with a playful but warning smile.
“Alright… if for some reason you’re watching this, Dylan,” she said loudly, laughing, “I’m gonna chop your cock off. This is for us girls only. No boys allowed.”
She zoomed in slowly on your body, from your tits down to your spread legs, then winked at the camera before setting the phone on the coffee table, angled perfectly to catch everything.
Yasmin knelt between your legs, turning on the vibrator. The low, strong buzz filled the room as she pressed it lightly against your inner thigh, teasing you.
“Look at her,” Yasmin murmured, eyes dark. “Already shaking and we haven’t even started yet.”
Bella leaned down and kissed you deeply, sloppy and wet, while Charlotte sucked on your neck, her hand sliding down to squeeze your tits. Yasmin finally pressed the vibrating head right against your clit through your soaked panties, making your back arch hard.
“Fuck…” you moaned into Bella’s mouth.
Charlotte giggled softly against your skin. “Good girl. Just relax and let us play with you.”
The three of them were completely focused on you now — hands, mouths, and that buzzing toy working together while the camera kept rolling.
Bella broke the kiss with a filthy smirk and moved lower, her mouth latching onto your right tit. She sucked hard, tongue swirling around your nipple before she gently bit down, making you moan loudly. Her other hand kneaded your left breast, pinching and tugging while she moaned against your skin.
“These tits are so fucking perfect,” Bella groaned, switching sides and sucking even sloppier, leaving your chest shiny with her spit.
At the same time, Charlotte slid her hand into your panties, her fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, fast circles. She was relentless, pressing down with the perfect pressure while watching your face.
“God, you’re so fucking wet already,” Charlotte whispered, biting her lip. “This pussy is dripping for us.”
Yasmin didn’t wait either. She pulled your panties to the side and pushed two long fingers deep inside you, curling them instantly against your g-spot. The wet, obscene sounds of her fingering you filled the room as she pumped steadily, matching Charlotte’s rhythm on your clit.
“Fuck—!” you cried out, hips bucking.
But you weren’t just going to lay there. You reached for the vibrator Yasmin had brought, turned it on, and pressed it right between Bella’s legs while she was still sucking on your tits. Bella gasped sharply against your nipple as the strong vibrations hit her through her thin shorts.
“Oh shit, baby…” Bella moaned, her voice muffled by your breast. She ground against the toy desperately, sucking harder on your tit like it fueled her.
The four of you were a tangled, messy masterpiece on the floor. Yasmin’s fingers thrusting deep inside you. Charlotte rubbing your clit like she wanted to make you squirt. Bella devouring your tits while she rode the vibrator you were pressing against her soaked pussy. Spit, moans, and the wet sounds of fingers and vibrations mixed together.
Charlotte leaned down and kissed you messily, tongues sliding, while Yasmin watched with dark, hungry eyes, fucking you harder with her fingers.
“You’re taking us so well,” Yasmin praised, adding a third finger. “Such a good fucking girl.”
TO BE CONTINUED?...
𝑭𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑾𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑬!!! ♡︎ (Zach Cooper from Goosebumps X FemReader)
Content: Dirty Comedy, Crackfic, Gooner Zach, Tumblr References, R.L Stine is not Santa Claus, Champ Cameo, Sorta Monster fucker, Slight Male Masturbation, Zach has No Stamina, Open for a sequel NO Long Smut
Zach’s back hit the headboard with a dull thud as Hannah straddled his lap, her soft lips moving against his in that sweet, careful way she always kissed him. The room was dark except for the glow of his bedside lamp, and the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo was driving him insane.
His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her sweater as he kissed her harder, deeper, tongue sliding against hers. He was already rock hard. Painfully hard. His cock strained against his jeans like it was trying to rip through the denim, throbbing with every little moan she let out.
“Fuck, Hannah…” he groaned against her mouth, hips bucking up instinctively, pressing his erection right between her thighs.
She gasped softly and pulled back just enough to look at him, cheeks flushed.
For a second Zach thought maybe tonight would be different. Maybe she’d finally let him go further.
But then she gave him that innocent little smile that usually made his heart melt… and right now only made his balls ache worse.“Zach… we can’t,” she whispered, gently pushing against his chest.
He blinked, breathing heavy. “Babe, come on… I’m dying here.”
Hannah bit her lip, looking genuinely sorry as she climbed off his lap. Zach’s dick twitched angrily at the loss of contact, a wet spot already forming on the front of his jeans from how much he was leaking.
“I told you,” she said softly, fixing her sweater. “I want to stay a virgin until marriage. That’s really important to me.”
Zach stared at her, mouth slightly open, his painfully hard cock still tenting obscenely in his pants. His balls felt so full and tight he was convinced they were actually turning blue.
“But… we’ve been going out for months,” he said, voice cracking a little with desperation. “I mean, can’t we at least—”
“I’m sorry, Zach.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek like he was a puppy. “You’re really sweet. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
And just like that, she grabbed her bag, gave him one last sympathetic smile, and slipped out of his room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Zach sat there frozen on his bed, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling with pure sexual frustration burning through his entire body.
His cock was still rock hard, angrily pulsing against his zipper. His balls felt heavy and sore, like they were about to explode. He pressed the heel of his hand against his erection and let out a long, pathetic groan.“Fuck my life…”
He flopped back onto his pillows, staring at the ceiling, painfully horny and completely unsatisfied.
Again.
Zach stayed sprawled on his bed for a solid five minutes, staring at the ceiling like a war veteran who’d just lost everything. His dick was still painfully hard, throbbing in his jeans like it had its own heartbeat.
Every time it twitched, he could feel how full and heavy his balls were. Blue. Definitely blue.
He sat up slowly, wincing.“Wait… holy shit,” he muttered, eyes widening. “Stine wrote her. Of course he wrote her like this. Parental controls on full blast. She’s literally programmed to be a walking chastity belt.”
The realization hit him like a truck.
“NOOOOOO!” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m gonna die a virgin. I survived monsters, Slappy, fucking dummy apocalypse… and I’m gonna die with the worst case of blue balls in history.”
He grabbed his phone with shaky hands, thumbs flying across the screen before he could overthink it.
Zach: Hey Hannah. I think we should break up. This isn’t working for me anymore. Sorry.
He hit send without even rereading it. The second the message went through, he felt a tiny pang of guilt… but it was immediately drowned out by the screaming ache in his pants.“Fuck it. I need to cum or I’m actually going to die.”
Zach quickly locked his door, yanked his jeans down just enough to free his aching cock, and leaned back against the headboard. His dick slapped against his stomach, angry red and leaking all over his abs. His search history was about to get filthy.
He typed fast:
"big titty goth gf riding"
"desperate creampie"
"horny goth girl deepthroat"
"blue balls relief compilation"
The feed filled with videos and gifs instantly. Zach wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock and started stroking, fast and sloppy, biting his lip to keep quiet. Precum was already dripping down his shaft, making everything slick and messy.
“Shit… fuck…” he whispered, eyes glued to the screen as some girl in a video moaned loudly, bouncing on a dick like her life depended on it.
His balls were so tight they hurt. Every stroke made him whimper pathetically. He was so pent up he knew he wasn’t gonna last long.
He switched to another video — a girl with big glossy lips looking straight at the camera while she sucked dick like she was starving for it.
Zach’s hips bucked into his fist. “Yeah… just like that… fuck…”
He was panting, sweating, desperately chasing that release when—
Ding.
A new message popped up on his phone.
Hannah: Wait… are you serious Zach??
He ignored it. Right now he didn’t care. His hand moved faster, the wet sounds of him jerking off filling his room as he scrolled for even filthier content.
He was so close. So fucking close.
Zach’s eyes rolled back as the orgasm finally hit him like a freight train.
“Fuuuuck—!” he groaned through gritted teeth, his whole body jerking. Thick ropes of cum shot out hard, splattering across his stomach, chest, and even hitting his chin. He kept stroking through it, milking every last drop because he’d been holding it in for way too long. His balls finally started to relax, but they still felt sore as hell.
He lay there panting like he’d just run a marathon, phone still in his other hand with some girl moaning on mute.
After a few seconds of pure blissed-out silence, reality hit.“Shit… shit shit shit.”
Zach grabbed the nearest sock off the floor — the crusty gray one he’d worn to gym class earlier — and started wiping up the massive mess on his torso. He made a face at how much there was.
“Jesus Christ, I came like a pornstar,” he muttered, half proud, half disgusted. When he was done, he balled up the sticky sock and yeeted it under the bed with perfect accuracy. It landed with a sad, wet thump somewhere in the void of forgotten shame.
His phone buzzed.
Champ: DUDEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥
Champ: Finally tapped that?? My boy Zach finally got some pussy lmaoooo
Champ: How was it?? Did she moan all cute like in the movies?? Tell me everything bro
Zach stared at the messages and let out the most pathetic, exhausted laugh known to man.
He hit call immediately.
Champ picked up on the second ring. “Yo! So how tight was—”
“Champ, I didn’t fuck her,” Zach deadpanned, still lying half-naked on his bed with cum drying on his abs. “I just had the most depressing breakup jerk-off session of my entire life.”
There was a pause.“…Wait what?”
“Hannah shut me down again, dude. Full virgin-until-marriage speech. I’m literally gonna die blue-balled. Stine wrote her like a fucking nun with parental controls on max. My dick is suffering, man. I think my balls filed a complaint with the Geneva Convention.”
Champ started wheezing with laughter on the other end. “Broooo. You got rejected and then nutted into a sock? That’s actually tragic.”
“It’s not funny!” Zach whined, even though he was kinda laughing too. “I’m serious. I’m one more ‘we can’t’ away from joining a monastery. Or exploding.”
Champ finally stopped laughing enough to speak. “Okay but real talk… if the problem is that Stine wrote her with that goody-two-shoes lock on, why don’t you just go ask him for a new one?”
Zach blinked. “What?”
“You know, like a letter to Santa but for horny teenagers. ‘Dear R.L. Stine, please write me a girlfriend who actually fucks. Sincerely, a desperate survivor of your monster bullshit.’ He owes you big time after the whole Slappy thing. Dude literally almost got us all killed. Least he can do is write you a baddie.”
Zach sat up slowly, eyes narrowing in thought.“…That’s actually insane.”
“But kinda genius, right?” Champ said proudly. “Go full Monster Fucker request.”
“Monster Fucker?”
“I don’t know, man, I’m spitballing my hentai addiction. Just write the man a letter. Worst he can do is say no… or turn her into an actual monster that eats your dick. Either way, progress.”
Zach looked at the sticky sock graveyard under his bed, then at his phone.
He let out a long breath.“…I’m actually considering this.”
Zach threw on a clean hoodie and some basketball shorts, still feeling that post-nut clarity mixed with pure desperation. He grabbed Hannah’s sweater (the one she left behind) as an excuse and headed downstairs.
“Mom! I’m going to Mr. Stine’s house real quick!” he yelled toward the kitchen.
His mom poked her head out, drying her hands with a dish towel. “Oh? Everything okay with Hannah?”
“Yeah, uh… just returning some stuff she left at my place,” Zach lied smoothly, forcing a casual smile. “Won’t be long.”
“Alright, be back before dinner. And say hi to Mr. Stine for me!”
Zach gave her a thumbs up and bolted out the door before she could ask more questions. The second the front door closed, his shoulders slumped and he let out a long sigh.
“Returning stuff… yeah, right,” he muttered to himself as he started walking down the sidewalk toward Stine’s creepy old house at the edge of town. “I’m actually going to ask the guy to write me a girlfriend who’ll let me hit it. This is my life now.”
The walk was like ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity with how hard his brain was working. His hands were shoved in his hoodie pocket while his mind went full degenerate mode.
“Okay… so what do I even ask for?” he thought, kicking a pebble down the street. “I don’t want another Hannah situation. No more ‘virgin until marriage’ programming.”
He started listing options in his head like he was customizing a character in a video game.“Should I go for innocent? Like… shy, blushy, cute little bookworm type who secretly wants it really bad? That could be hot. The whole ‘good girl gone wild’ thing.”
He smirked a little.
“Or slutty? Straight up unhinged. The type that sends nudes at 2 a.m. and rides you like she’s trying to win a rodeo. Fuck… that sounds amazing right now.”
His dick twitched in his shorts just from thinking about it.
“Chubby option?” he considered, biting his lip. “Soft thighs, big tits, belly I can grab… the kind that smothers you when she sits on your face. Jesus Christ.”
Zach groaned quietly and adjusted himself mid-walk, thankful no one was around.
“Or maybe a mix? Like… looks innocent but fucks like a pornstar. Thick thighs, pretty face, massive sex drive. Down for anything. Literally anything.”
He was getting hard again just imagining the possibilities. By the time Stine’s old Victorian-style house came into view, Zach had a full mental wishlist and a semi in his shorts.
He stopped at the front gate, heart pounding.“Alright… don’t fuck this up, Cooper. This is your one shot at not dying a virgin.”
He took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Hannah’s sweater clutched in his hand like a sacrificial offering.
Zach barely had time to knock twice before the heavy wooden door creaked open. R.L. Stine stood there in his usual dark sweater and glasses, looking mildly annoyed like someone had just interrupted his writing session.
“Zach Cooper,” Stine said flatly. “If you’re here to beg me to get back with Hannah, don’t waste your breath. I already put her back in the manuscript the second you two broke up. Clean slate. No hard feelings.”
Zach blinked, surprised. “Wait, you already—”
Stine waved a hand. “I wrote these things, remember? She was never going to put out. That’s by design. So if you’re trying to stay on my good side by returning her sweater—” he eyed the garment in Zach’s hands, “—just leave it on the porch.”
Zach shifted nervously on the doorstep, cheeks already burning. “Nope. Actually… I’m not here about Hannah. I wanted to ask you for a... something.”
Stine raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. “Something? From me?”
“Yeah…”
The older man studied him for a second, suspicious. “How big of a favor are we talking here, kid?”
Zach glanced left and right down the empty street, then back at Stine. His face was turning redder by the second. He lowered his voice like he was about to confess to a crime.“Uh… a really big one. And it’s super embarrassing. Like, I’d rather not say it standing out here on your porch like a desperate idiot. Can I… come inside?”
Stine stared at him for a long moment, clearly intrigued now. He stepped aside slowly and gestured toward the dark hallway.“Alright. This better not be another monster-related disaster. I’ve had enough of those for one lifetime.”
Zach stepped inside, heart hammering. The door shut behind him with a heavy thud, and the familiar creepy atmosphere of Stine’s house wrapped around him like a bad memory.
He clutched Hannah’s sweater tighter, already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment… but too horny and desperate to turn back now.
Stine led Zach into the dimly lit living room, where old books and creepy manuscripts were stacked everywhere like some haunted library. Zach stood there fidgeting, still holding Hannah’s stupid sweater like a security blanket.
“So?” Stine asked, crossing his arms. “Spit it out, kid. What’s this big thing?”
Zach took a deep breath, face already burning red. He stared at the floor, then at the ceiling, then at a creepy ventriloquist dummy in the corner before finally mumbling “Well… you know how anything you write becomes real, right? Like, I’m not asking for crazy stuff. I’m not gonna say ‘write me a million dollars’ or a Lamborghini or some dumb shit like that…”
Stine narrowed his eyes, waiting.
Zach swallowed hard.“But you made Hannah real. You made Slappy real. You made the freaking Abominable Snowman real. So I was thinking… maybe you could write me a new girlfriend? But like… one who can actually… you know…”
He made a vague hand gesture that looked suspiciously like a blowjob motion.
Stine stared at him deadpan.
Zach panicked and kept going.“One who actually wants to do stuff. Sexual stuff. Not the ‘wait until marriage’ programming. I’m dying here, Mr. Stine. I’ve got the worst case of blue balls in Madison County history. I’m gonna explode, man.”
There was a long, painful silence.
Stine pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Zach Cooper…” he said slowly, voice dripping with disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. “Are you seriously standing in my house asking me to write you a girlfriend who’ll suck your dick?”
Zach winced. “I mean… among other things! But yeah. Mostly that. And maybe ride me. And let me—”
“Jesus Christ,” Stine cut him off, looking genuinely offended. “I’m not the Ask Box of some smut Tumblr blog, kid. I write horror stories, not personalized porn for horny teenagers.”
“But you owe me!” Zach blurted out desperately. “After all the Slappy shit! I saved your ass, man! Multiple times! The least you can do is write me one extremely down-bad girlfriend. Please. I’m begging. I’ll do anything.”
Stine stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe this was his life now.
Stine picked up his pen, hovering over the blank page like he was about to commit a war crime. He looked at Zach with pure exhaustion.“Anything else you want to add before I do this, Cooper? Last chance to customize your walking sex doll.”
Zach scratched the back of his neck, face burning red but too desperate to care.“Uh… yeah. Two things. Can you make her… sterile? Like, so I can finish inside without worrying about anything. And… maybe make her more sweet than full-on slutty? At least at the beginning. This is gonna be my first time and I don’t wanna feel like I’m fucking a pornstar on day one. I want her to be… nice. Like, affectionate. Cute.”
Stine slowly lowered the pen and gave him the most deadpan, judgmental stare in human history.“Zach Cooper… are you actually asking me to write you a custom literary prostitute just so you can lose your virginity? Because you can’t talk to real girls?”
“Hey! I can talk to girls!” Zach protested, throwing his hands up. “But my last girlfriend was literally written to die a virgin! Hannah wouldn’t even let me touch her tits over the sweater. I’m traumatized, man.”
Stine blinked once. Twice.“…Fair point.”
He sighed deeply, like his soul was leaving his body, and started writing.
“Fine. Sterile. Sweet personality core. Lace-stitched body. High libido but with a soft, affectionate default mode. She’ll call you ‘baby’ and mean it. Happy now?”
Zach nodded aggressively, practically vibrating with nervous excitement.
Stine kept writing for a few more seconds, then closed the manuscript with a heavy thump.
“There. It’s done. She should appear any second now.”
Zach looked around the living room, heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
“So… what happens n—”
A soft, warm burst of pinkish light suddenly filled the room near the old couch. Sparks of what looked like black lace and glowing thread swirled together, slowly taking shape into you.
A swirl of glowing pink light and shimmering black lace threads exploded in the middle of Stine’s living room. The threads twisted and stitched together rapidly, forming soft curves, smooth skin, and delicate lace patterns that looked like they were sewn directly into your body — beautiful, intricate, and strangely elegant.
You stepped forward as the light faded, your body fully formed. You were wearing a tiny black lace top that barely contained your chest and matching lace panties that sat high on your soft hips. Your skin had subtle, pretty stitch lines along your thighs and under your breasts, like the most expensive lingerie ever created.
Zach’s jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit the floor.
He stared at you — your pretty face, your thick thighs, the way your tits strained against the lace, the sweet but sinful look in your eyes — and his brain completely short-circuited.
“Holy… fucking… shit…” he whispered.
His legs gave out. Zach literally fell to his knees in front of you, eyes wide like he was staring at a goddess.
You smiled softly, tilting your head as you looked down at him.“Zach, babe…” you said in a sweet, slightly husky voice, “I missed you.”
That was it. Game over.
Zach made a broken little noise in the back of his throat, still on his knees, staring up at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.
Stine, who had been watching the whole thing with a mix of amusement and regret, let out a tired chuckle.
“Well… looks like it worked,” he said, standing up from his chair. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Just do me a favor and clean the couch when you’re done. I don’t need teenage cum stains on my antique furniture.”
He paused at the doorway, smirking to himself.“Besides… now that I remember how fun this is, I’m gonna go write myself a hot MILF Succubus. Been a while since I had some fun too.”
Stine gave you both a lazy wave and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two of you completely alone.
You looked down at Zach, still kneeling in front of you, breathing hard with pure awe and desperation on his face. You reached down gently, running your fingers through his hair.
“Hi, baby…” you whispered sweetly, smiling. “Are you gonna keep staring… or are you gonna touch me?”
You barely finished speaking before Zach surged up from his knees, cupping your face with both hands. His kiss was desperate but incredibly sweet — soft at first, almost shy, like he still couldn’t believe you were real. His lips trembled against yours as he poured months of frustration and longing into that single kiss.
You smiled into it and gently pushed him back until he sat down on the old couch. Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your thick thighs settling on either side of his hips. The lace of your panties brushed against the obvious bulge in his shorts, making him groan into your mouth.
“Fuck… you’re so pretty,” Zach whispered breathlessly between kisses, his hands sliding down your waist, squeezing softly. “I can’t believe this is happening…”
You let out a cute little giggle and arched your back, pressing your chest closer to his face. Zach’s eyes darkened with pure hunger, but there was still that sweet nervousness in them.
He leaned in and kissed the top of your breasts reverently, then lower, trailing soft, wet kisses across your lace-covered tits. When he reached one nipple, he wrapped his lips around it through the delicate fabric, sucking gently while his other hand cupped and squeezed the other breast.
“Mmm… Zach…” you moaned softly, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.
He groaned against your skin, switching to the other nipple, licking and sucking with increasing need. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every stitch of lace sewn into your perfect form. He was rock hard underneath you, his cock throbbing desperately against your clothed pussy as he kept worshipping your tits with slow, adoring kisses and gentle bites.
“You feel so good, baby,” he mumbled against your skin, voice hoarse. “So fucking soft…”
You rocked your hips slowly against him, grinding down on his lap while he continued burying his face between your breasts, completely lost in you.
You shifted back on Zach’s lap just enough to reach down between your bodies. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his basketball shorts and boxers at the same time. Zach’s breath hitched as you tugged them down in one smooth motion, freeing his cock.
It sprang up hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach. He was painfully hard, the tip already glistening with precum after everything that had happened today.
Zach didn’t stop touching you. His hands stayed on your tits, squeezing them softly, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the lace as he stared at you with pure desperation in his eyes.
“Baby… wait— fuck…” he whispered shakily.
You smiled sweetly, wrapping your hand around his throbbing cock and giving it a few slow strokes. Then you rose up on your knees, pulled your lace panties to the side, and lined him up with your entrance.
You started lowering yourself slowly.
The moment Zach’s tip pushed inside you, his head fell back against the couch and a broken groan ripped out of his throat.
“Oh my god…” he whimpered, voice cracking.
You sank down inch by inch, taking him deeper. Your pussy was warm, ridiculously tight, and wetter than he ever could’ve imagined. Every little movement made him twitch and throb inside you.
Zach’s hands tightened on your tits, squeezing harder as he fought to keep his eyes open. His mouth hung open, soft desperate whimpers and groans spilling out with every inch you took.
“Fuck— fuck, it feels so good…” he moaned, voice hoarse. “Better than I thought… so much better— shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, baby…”
You kept going until you were fully seated on his lap, every inch of him buried deep inside you. Zach’s whole body was trembling underneath you. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your breasts as he tried (and failed) to stay quiet.
He looked completely wrecked already — flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and those pretty little whimpers every time your walls fluttered around him.
“You okay, babe?” you asked softly, leaning down to kiss his neck.
Zach could barely speak. All he managed was a shaky“D-Don’t move yet… I’m gonna cum if you move…”
You stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, letting Zach adjust to being buried deep inside you. But the moment you gave the tiniest roll of your hips — just a small, slow grind — Zach’s eyes widened.“W-wait— baby, I— fuck—!”
His words cut off into a loud, broken moan as his whole body tensed up underneath you. His hands flew to your hips, gripping hard as his cock started pulsing violently inside your tight heat.
Zach threw his head back against the couch, mouth open as deep, desperate groans ripped out of him.“Oh shit— oh my god— I’m cumming— I’m fucking cumming—!”
His orgasm hit him like a truck. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded deep inside you, rope after rope, filling you up so much you could actually feel your lower belly get warmer and fuller. He kept moaning loudly, hips jerking up uncontrollably as he came harder than he ever had in his life.“Fuuuuck—! It’s too good— baby— ahh—!”
You smiled softly, gently stroking his hair while he kept spilling into you, whimpering and groaning with every pulse. When he finally started coming down, still twitching inside you, you leaned forward and kissed his forehead, whispering sweet praises against his skin.
“Mmm… that’s it, baby,” you cooed lovingly. “You came so much… I feel so full. You filled me up really good, Zach. Look how deep you are… I can feel every drop.”
Zach let out a pathetic little whine, face buried between your tits, breathing hard and fast. His cheeks were bright red from embarrassment and pleasure.
“I… I didn’t mean to cum that fast,” he mumbled against your skin, voice shaky. “Fuck, you just felt too good…”
You giggled softly and kissed the top of his head, still gently rocking your hips in tiny movements, making him hiss from the overstimulation.
“You were so cute, babe. So eager… and you made me so full. I love it.”
was still pressed between your tits, flushed bright red with embarrassment as the last little twitches of his orgasm faded.
“Fuck… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your skin, voice hoarse and shy. “I didn’t last at all. I have zero stamina… that was like fifteen seconds, baby. I’m pathetic.”
You let out a soft, sweet laugh and gently lifted his chin so he could look at you. You cupped his face with both hands, still sitting comfortably on his cock, full of his cum.
“No worries, babe,” you whispered lovingly, brushing his hair back. “We can try again. And again. And again. We can do it all day… every day if you want. I was literally made for this. I never get tired. I can ride you for hours, let you cum inside me as many times as you want.”
Zach blinked. His brain short-circuited. “…What did you say?”
You smiled innocently, but your eyes sparkled with pure filth as you slowly rolled your hips once, making him hiss from the overstimulation.
“I said we can fuck all day, every day FOREVER, Zach,” you repeated sweetly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m your personal little dream girl. No limits. You can bend me over, fill me up, make me moan your name until you can’t walk straight. That’s what I’m here for, baby.”
Zach stared at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly open, looking completely stunned and already getting hard again inside you.“Holy shit…” he whispered, voice cracking. “Stine actually cooked.”
You giggled and kissed him properly this time, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to whisper against his lips:“So… you wanna try round two right now? I want you to last longer this time. I’ll be really gentle… until you beg me not to be.”
Zach let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh and gripped your hips tighter.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, already smiling like an idiot in love.
“Yeah,” you said, kissing his neck. “But you’re gonna die happy... Literally.”
I love that Pete Wentz wrote a masterpiece thinking of Mikey way I'm only able to write porn about him
I had a dream of Dylan singing I'm your man to me shirtless oooh what a dream 😇