The background music of the video game played on the television. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen. Not playing multi-player with Alex. He was ruthless and always giddy about it.
You heard the shot seconds before your character fell dead on the screen. “Dammit, Alex! We’re on the same team!” You turn to him and shove his shoulder. He simply smiles and shrugs.
Your character respawns. Struck with an idea, you arch your back in a stretch. The tee shirt strains against your breasts. His gaze flicks from the TV to your chest. Your hard nipples clearly advertising that you’re not wearing a bra. Acting oblivious, you slip to your knees on the floor, leaning over the coffee table. You sway your ass back and forth.
Alex shifts on the couch behind you, moving closer. You hear the shot, bringing your full attention to the TV. Only it’s not your character dead. It’s Alex’s. You gasp in shock then giggle.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Distracting me with those perfect tits and this beautiful ass.” His hand cracks against your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
“You’re leaving the game?”
“I found something better to play with.” His body presses against your back, the hard nudge of his cock pushing against your ass. “Now, don’t die, baby.” You whimper as he reaches under your for zipper.
You live in a small town located on an island which is not far off the mainland, but just far enough that you don’t often get visitors. The island is relatively self sufficient, and even though ships come and go with supplies, you tend to know everyone in the town- or at least know of them. To you, this is the most boring thing imaginable. Your life feels like it’s been mapped from start to finish, to the point where your parents have already started betting on which boy in your school you’ll end up marrying.
They all suck, you think. They’re boring and don’t have prospects. You don’t understand why even kids who go off to college come back to this place.
One day you’re walking home from the second day of class, carrying your backpack, when you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to take a hike through the hills. You’re maybe a mile in when you notice a strange house just standing in an open field. This surprises you, because at best the island is twenty miles in diameter and you’ve never seen this house on any map- the hills don’t have any development on them. What makes it stranger is that there aren’t any roads leading up to it, and there’s no numbers or mailbox or anything to distinguish it as a residence.
You decide to try and see what’s inside, and to your surprise the door opens easily. Inside, the house looked very lived in, and you’re suddenly flushed with guilt as you realise that you’ve entered someone’s personal space, but you’re not given time to dwell on that though. A man walks through a hallway and you two make eye contact.
The man was strange. He didn’t even look worried that someone was inside his home, and you were sure you’ve never seen him around before. He asks you why you’re here and you are overwhelmed with how easy it is for you to complain to him about your life. You two talk, making idle conversation, until you notice that he’s slowly been making his way towards you- not that you mind. He looked ten years older than you, and he wasn’t an active member of your town which made him so much more desirable than just about anyone else. You don’t tell him you’re a sophmore in high school, and he doesn’t ask.
Within moments, you find the both of you undressed, him biting your neck as his fingers caressed your inner thighs. His mouth worked his way down your collarbones and chest, and you could feel yourself becoming more aroused. He didn’t take too much time with his mouth; he rubbed his cock against your crotch, massaging your clit, making sure you were wet enough to enter safely, until finally he penetrated you. He had his tongue in your mouth the entire time he spent thrusting, and after a long half hour he finished inside of you.
You awoke from your sex daze a moment after and glanced outside. You realised in horror that it had gotten dark and you apologise and quickly get dressed and rush back home. When you woke up the next morning you were almost sure everything had been a dream, and you continue to go to school, fantasising about the mysterious man in the hills, who you could find no evidence of existing in town.
A couple months pass and after a long thanksgiving of binging on turkey and mashed potatoes, you catch yourself incapable of not throwing up everything. You brush it off as a stomach bug- it’s happened before to you as a kid, who cares? The nausea slowly fades away, but you still feel sick. You always feel bloated, and you feel yourself going up a pants size.
After another month you were home on winter break, and you binged on the food again- this time keeping it down- but you couldn’t deny you were thickening out around your middle. Your mom noticed as well, commenting about you going on a diet, but you shrugged that the holidays were over and you were going to lose it all anyway, but you had no such luck. By the end of December your stomach had noticeably plumped up, forcing you to wear your sweats to school almost daily. Your sex drive had also increased feverishly, and you spent many hours at night massaging your sensitive labia and clit, rubbing your sore nipples, and soothing your slowly growing tummy.
In broad daylight though, you were definitely self conscious. Your friends were subtle, but you noticed them suggesting workout plans, which you’d try but be too fatigued to keep up with. By mid December your belly was distended to the point where your tee shirts stretched visibly over it, and you wore sweaters and layered heavily to hide it. You thanked the cold weather and assured yourself only your close friends really noticed your recent weight gain.
Then one day going to class you felt a flutter inside of your growing tummy, almost confirming your fears. You kept your hand on your belly the rest of the day, trying to feel it again, ashamed but mesmerised- and partially convinced you were being paranoid until during lunch you felt a flutter again and your heart sank.
You were carrying the strange man’s child, if not children, inside of you. By now, you were four months pregnant and looked every bit like you were approaching your third trimester. You kept staring at yourself in every reflection, trying to deny what you knew in your gut. A few weeks later your navel popped out, and another few weeks the weather got warmer. Your parents didn’t comment on it, probably more embarrassed than you were. Your classmates noticed your condition quickly at the end of winter, and your school had at best a hundred people in your grade so word spread rapidly. You still tried to conceal your belly, but the heat was so much.
March on the island had hot afternoons, and you finally submitted yourself to wearing tank tops which displayed your belly out on the open. The people in your town didn’t even bother hiding their stares, and many would even brush up against your belly or move a hand over it on purpose, which would cause a rush of flutter from inside. You finally went to the local clinic to figure out how many children you were carrying when you looked overdue at six months, and the nurse informed you that you were expecting triplets.
Completely exposed and at the mercy of your hormones, you started having sex with some of the boys in your class to ease your sex drive, and they all marveled at how round you had gotten. They played with your distended belly button and traced your stretch marks and marked your skin with hard kisses. You also noticed some of your teachers lusting at your fertile body. You finally had the guts to approach one of your middle aged teachers after noticing his bulge, and you let him fill you with his seed while he muttered how exquisite your underage body was.
This all happened behind closed doors though, but in front of them you were the laughingstock of the town. You were barely sixteen and unwed and you were carrying a bastard’s children.
You were approaching thirty eight weeks, congratulating yourself for being able to carry triplets so long, and you also had finals. You pulled on maternity pants you had given in and bought, and a shirt which draped over your stomach, which was stretched tight and held it for a second, waiting for your children to settle down before starting your walk to school. You managed to make it through your finals with ease, even in the face of your children visibly kicking against the walls of your belly.
You were starting to walk home again when you felt a contraction. You’ve been feeling slight ones for the past week now but this one was strong enough to knock the wind out of you, and you leaned against a wall, your hands roaming your circumference, as you realised you were frightened. Instead of going to the hospital, you started towards the strange man’s house in the hills. This time the hike felt like torture, as contractions riddled your unprepared body. You managed to make it, and you let yourself inside to find the man not home. You had no choice but to remove your pants yourself and lay down on his couch- the very one you conceived his children on.
The birth was agonisingly slow and lasted the entire rest of the day and night. You labored intensively, your make up dripping off your face due to sweat, your stomach convulsing, your babies frustrated. You were sure you shat yourself as well, to make matters worse, and every time a new contraction hit the pain was excruciating. You finally pushed out the head of your first child while screaming in agony. The shoulders stretched you wider still, but soon your baby slid out, and you placed him against your nipple. The rest was short lived though as your body struggled to expel your other two children. Finally as you birthed your third child, the man walked through the doors.
He instantly helped you clean everything up, cut the umbilical cords, and wrapped up the newborns in clothes he had conveniently lying around. You didn’t dwell on it, thankful to be done, and passed out.
When you awoke, the man had his cock inside of you again, thrusting hard into your bruised vagina, and you almost screamed had he not silenced you with his mouth. He then sent you on your way full of his cum again, keeping the kids with him, telling you to visit. You tried to put the situation behind you, but in the middle of summer you started getting sick again.
Mac and Den get caught in a downpour on their way home to the apartment they live in together.
“Goddamnit, Mac! I don’t know why I still listen to you,” Dennis seethes as the first droplets of water begin to fall, faint pinpricks of cold against his skin. Mac had talked him into walking to Paddy’s for work that morning (“To make up for the fact that gyms don’t exist in North Dakota,” Mac had suggested, despite Dennis insisting that they did). He’s beginning to regret it now, craning his neck only to find an ominously grey sky overhead.
“You didn’t have to,” Mac responds in that annoyingly bright tone of his, not giving a single damn about the water beginning to seep into his stupid slogan tee - what kind of self-respecting middle-aged man wears slogan tees out in public, anyways? “Besides, water is great for resistance training.”
“Only if you’re physically submerged in a body of water, you dumb shit.” Before Dennis can berate Mac any further, a clap of lightning startles him into silence, and the light trickling suddenly becomes a steady downpour. He sighs, his eyes trailing after Mac walking in front of him, half expecting the anger bubbling near his temples to bore into Mac’s skin like a set of laser beams.
I CANT WAIT FOR THAT JIMON FIC OMG I HOPE ITS DONE SOON IM SO EXCITED
who is this???? i love you thank you for inspiring me to finish this <3 <3 <3
04.10.17 edit: found the anon!! inspired by @caqtis
introducing you & me || (jace/simon, coffee shop au, 5k+) || read on ao3
Maia ‘discovered’ Simon’s musical act through her girlfriend Clary, and
decided that she’d torment Jace – who is technically her boss – by letting Simon do a gig for their live music nights. Jace
hates him so much. He’s loud, and obnoxious, and wears bright graphic tees that
stretch over his broad chest and are fucking annoying. He never shuts up, and has apparently made it is his
personal challenge to piss Jace off as much as possible by calling him names
and bringing in increasingly ridiculous things for his sets.
“You have a crush on him!” Maia had gleefully accused after Simon’s first night playing. Jace, leaning against the counter and watching the packed audience listen to Simon’s soft, crooning voice, had frowned and spluttered out “I do not.”
time is the flight tomorrow?” She hears Jared ask as she walks into the
kitchen. Her heart sinks at the thought of him leaving her again, especially
since her prison sentence is officially over tomorrow. “That’s it.
Thank you,” he says disconnecting and shooting her a smile.
ya off too tomorrow?” She questions, trying not to sound too
widens. “I wish you wouldn’t have heard that."
Rey wondered if it was so wrong that she wanted to be in something besides one of his stretched out tee shirts and a pair of boy shorts while being proposed to. She swallowed her mouthful of grapefruit as she carefully chose the right thing to say.
She wanted to marry him. Rey had every intention of marrying him. It felt incredibly selfish to reject him for a superficial reason like his mode of proposal.
What about an "everything run-down and suddenly a guy falls through the ceiling; now there's a hole in the ceiling of my bedroom"-AU thing? c:
The first time it’s a leg through the kitchen ceiling.
Derek finishes chewing his mouthful of cereal, stares up at the twitching foot.
“Uh, little help?”
He stands, pushes the table directly underneath the flailing leg and pushes it back up. A face appears through the hole in the plaster, and it’s a nice face, albeit a little sweaty and shocked looking.
“Uh, thanks, dude.”
“Derek,” Derek supplies, waves a hand dumbly from where he’s standing on the table.
“Right, thanks,” the guy grins, and it lights up his face. Derek feels his knees sway a little. “Sorry for interrupting your breakfast.”