#And I feel that the difference is that in the US bitches are too goddamn nosy

[todayisafridaynight]

I know Aoki and Masato are the same dude yet they seem like two very distinct entities in my brain-

no you're right you're absolutely right. they are not the same but they are but they aren't but they are but masato where did your freckles go

[citrine-elephant]

i gotta dissociate from this job a bit because it isn't that fun, but thinking about 1)the exercise (cannot wait for the GAINZ) and 2)the painful whump inspiration, is keeping me going.

one fun thing i see explored in whump is realistic damage. longterm effects, scars, shit like that?

one of my coworkers seems to have permanent nerve damage. says he drops shit all the time and can't feel his fingers.

anyways the moral of this story is unionize.

[snekdood]

why do ppl you barely know or interact with at all think you give a huge fuck about interacting with them?

[bellflower-goat]

<:]

[love-belle]

i should hate u !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them using shady captions to communicate and the media and fans being confused.

or

for when you loved them too much. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

sequel - today and tomorrow and every day after that ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hello!!! i really hope u like this <3 i was initially gonna do daniel ricciardo one first but i already had 1/2 of this done so i just decided to post this :) thank u sm for reading <3 i love u

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by paddock.club, f1gossippage, y/n4everrr and 6,829 others

f1news y/n y/l/n and max verstappen called it quits almost a month ago and it seems like they didn't end on good terms at all. the singer, at her london show last night, threw shade at her ex-boyfriend, saying and we quote, "the next song wouldn't have been possible without this one dude who inspired it obviously. so — here's 'i should hate you'. spoiler alert, i do. thank you!" the reason for the split is still unknown but sources who claim to be close to the pair said that 'it was bound to happen — with their different goals and plans for the future," seemingly referring to the talks that y/l/n wanted to get married and verstappen didn't. both of them have yet to comment on the situation. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

278 comments

username WOAH

username pause.

username ahahahahaha say what.

username oh my god 💀💀💀

username NOT HER CONFIRMING THAT I SHOULD HATE YOU IS ABT MAX

username no bc the way her voice cracked so many times in between the songs like girlie is angry AND hurt

username OH MY GOD

username i genuinely have no words

username omg the photos are NOT of her shading max. it's her laughing at a fan who yelled "you're the baddest bitch of all baddest bitches" at her

-> username YEAH LIKE SHE WAS SO CLOSE TO CRYING WHEN SHE SANG ISHY

username my delusional ass thinking they ended on good terms 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username nah it's so champagne problems and you're losing me kinda thing i can't handle this whatcthe fucj

username OH WHATCTHEBFUCJ

username me getting the big guns out to defend her AND max with my LIFE

username still processing their breakup give me a year to digest this information

username STOP WHAT THE FUCK

username my parents ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

username no bc she's genuinely such a sweet person so if she said this max must've done something 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username STOP NO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username can't believe she's saying this about a dude for whom she wrote "feels like" for like wow.

username I WAS AT THAT SHOW AND SHE LOOKED SO SAD AFTER SHE SAID THIS I FELT SO BAD

-> username SHE ALSO STARTED CRYING WHEN SHE FINISHED SINGING I MISS U IM SORRY AND ZARA (HER LEAD GUITARIST) HAD TO RUN AND CONSOLE HER

-> username AND SHE SAID THAT THE LAST MONTH HAS BEEN HARD ON HER AND SHE APOLOGIZED IF THE SHOW WASN'T AS GOOD AS THE OTHERS

-> username NAH MOTHER ATE AS ALWAYS

username y'all saying this but not the fact that she ALSO said "in another life we would've worked but im grateful for everything i had because for a moment you were mine"

-> username MY HEART JUST BROKE WHATCTHEBFUCK

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,155 others

maxverstappen1 i know i say that i am better now, spoiler alert, i am

8,926 comments

username the way my jaw dropped

username THE PICTURES

username GODDAMN

username someone take away y/n's phone before she hits back 💀💀💀

-> username the way i know that she would absolutely destroy him

username NOT THE PHOTOS OMG

danielricciardo spoiler alert, also a liar

-> maxverstappen1 you promised you wouldn't snitch

username he definitely cried while posting this idc

username max babe it's okay to admit that u miss ur wifey bc same 💔💔💔

-> username "wifey" girl he didn't even wanna marry her

-> username not another word.

username funny haha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 im crying 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 now get back with mom.

landonorris no you're not

-> maxverstappen1 i will block you

username lando and daniel exposing max 💀💀💀

username no bc he probably cries whenever he remembers that he fumbled a baddie like y/n

username "it's all better with you ❤️"

-> username i could've gone along with my day without seeing that just saying

-> username delete that RIGHT NOW before i start crying

username missing max simping for y/n like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

charles_leclerc i swear i can hear you crying from my hotel room

-> maxverstappen1 WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME HOTEL

username the way im SO sure he heard y/n saying that she hates him and that was the moment he gave up

-> username nah bc he was one of the "my girl's mad at me i hope i die" kinda guys

-> username wonder how he's surviving this tbh

username I CAN'T TAKE THIS SERIOUS IM SORRY THE POST IS JUST TOO FUNNY

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by selenagomez, carmenmmundt, dualipa and 2,246,826 others

yourusername i hate you lol

12,628 comments

username HELP

username she could only get this much in before her manager took away her phone ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username no bc girl had a lot to say she's just trying to keep it cute

*liked by yourusername*

username the way i know y/n FOUGHT for the right to post this caption

username this is MILD bc i know y/n can be ruthless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris "in love" alright.

-> yourusername IT'S FOR THE AESTHETIC

username mother and father are fighting i can't take this what tye fyxk

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username mother slays everyday just saying

username no bc if y/n ever said ihy to me i would give up just a thought

lilymhe pretty bitch

-> yourusername u sure that's not u?????

username i REALLY hope she's at the next gp

-> username no bc the way max and her meeting would definitely be more entertaining than the race itself

username NOT THE SONG LYRICS WHAT HAVE U PLANNED

-> username oh fuck that broke my heart what the fuck

username missing my man max in the comments section being a whipped bitch so bad ://////

carmenmmundt can't wait to see you darling 🤍

-> yourusername counting down the seconds omg i missed u!!!!!!

username y/n's manager has her on lockdown i can tell 💀💀💀

-> username with what she said at her last show i wouldn't be surprised

landonorris the post has reached the target and the target is currently eating ice cream while singing your songs

-> yourusername OH OKAY

-> yourusername good to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username she's so pretty it's not fair wtf

username the caption omg

-> username it's SO mild compared to what i was expecting tbh 💀

username slay

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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maxverstappen1 it's all better now

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2,829,626 others

yourusername and i swear to god i'd kill you if i loved you a less hard

13,728 comments

username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

username OH MY GOD

username IS THAT MAX WHATCTHEBFUCK

username NOT Y/N SOFT LAUNCHING HER EX BOYFRIEND

username GIRL 😭😭😭😭 get up

username this is INSANE

username MOTHER?????? WHAT IS THIS??????

danielricciardo the most stressful week of my life if we're being for real

-> yourusername u can send m*x the therapy bill

-> maxverstappen1 don't. i did not agree to that.

username HER SONG LYRICS OH MY GOD

username SHE WROTE THIS SONG FOR MAX 😭😭😭😭😭😭

username okay but like. are we SURE that's max?????

-> username i simply refuse to believe that it's someone else so yes. that IS in fact max.

username OKAYYYYYYY

username did NOT see this coming in a thousand years

username obviously VERY happy for them but y/n censoring max's name is so fucking hilarious like

-> yourusername babe it's m*x

-> username my bad ur absolutely right it's m*x

-> maxverstappen1 this is bullying

username DID HE PUT A RING ON IT WHATXTHEBFUCK

-> username NO BC THAT WOULD MAKE SM SENSE

username so i lost SLEEP over nothing????????

maxverstappen1 nice pants

-> yourusername thanks they would look better on ur floor

-> maxverstappen1 say less

-> username i think i just died whatcthebfuxk

-> username oh they're GOOD now

username imagine they just drop engagement photos out of the blue then what.

-> yourusername imagine lol

-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

username i just know y/n's eating up every moment of this chaos

-> maxverstappen1 demons thrive in chaos so

-> yourusername well! it was nice to reconcile for a couple days, goodbye now.

username im crying whayctrhbfcuk

landonorris mother father

-> yourusername child

-> maxverstappen1 no

-> username ah yes the four family members mother father child and no

username THE HEART THE EVERYTHING THEM

username they STILL don't follow eachother LMFAO

[freedomfireflies]

404*

Summary: The one where you and Harry are software engineers on a project for Juno Inc.

And you can’t fucking stand each other.

Word Count: 2.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“What the hell are you still doing here?”

Your eyes never leave the computer screen as Harry’s familiarly snippy question echoes across the empty lab. “Working,” you answer simply.

He snorts as the door falls shut behind him. “It’s two in the fucking morning, I thought you left hours ago.”

“I did. And then I came back.”

You vaguely hear him walk further into the dark room, slipping around the different tables as he moseys his way closer. “Why?”

“S’this fucking sequence,” you mumble, now glaring at the different variants that litter the test. “Every time I run the simulation, the connection fails. And it shouldn’t.”

Your peripheral catches the way he uses his knuckle to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Is there a missing link?”

“There shouldn’t be. I’ve run it before, and it’s worked fine. But now it’s not. It’s like something is broken.”

“Or missing,” he argues, coming to a stop behind your chair. He studies the project from over your shoulder, and you feel your muscles recoil when you get a whiff of his cologne. “There could be something wrong with the back end.”

“Okay, well, there’s not,” you retort, shooting him a quick glare. “I already checked.”

“Well maybe you missed it. You have a tendency to misplace things.”

“I didn’t misplace it, Harold, I studied every inch of that fucking code, and there was nothing broken or missing.”

He leans back, arms crossing as he regards both you and the program. “Maybe you should check it again.”

“And maybe you should bite me,” you huff, too overworked to deal with the snarky attitude. “I really don’t have time for this today, all right? Can you just leave me to it?”

“I’d like to, but clearly you don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies calmly, and even without looking at him, you can sense his smug smile. “Every time I leave you to it, I come back to find out you’ve wrecked our project.”

Your eyes roll. “First of all, it’s not our project. It’s my project. And second…why are you even here? I thought you had shit to do tonight.”

“I did, but I’m done now.”

“Oh, so, naturally you came back just to annoy me?”

“Naturally.” He places his hand on the desk beside you and leans down, hovering near your arm as he glances over the computer. “There could be something wrong with the framework. Try the sequence again, I wanna see how it behaves.”

“No thanks.”

Harry smirks, and you realize you don’t like how close his face is. “Relax, Tinkerbell, I just wanna help.”

“And I don’t want your help,” you remind him, using your elbow to shove him to the side. “I’ve spent months with this program, it’s my baby, and I will fix it alone.”

“We’re supposed to be working together,” he argues, but it’s much too coy. “So stop being such a bitch and just run the goddamn sequence.”

You snort under your breath as you spin around in your chair to look at him. “It was that bad, huh?”

He settles back against the table behind him, hands shoving into his pockets as he stares right back. “What was bad?”

“The sex.” You jut your chin toward him. “The thing you had to do tonight. It was bad enough that you had to come back here and start swinging your dick around just to feel better.”

He smirks, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Gee, how romantic.”

He exhales an amused laugh and glances around the lab. “She was still hung up on her ex. Think it lasted all of fifteen minutes, and I’m pretty sure she faked it.”

“Well, she was having sex with you. Of course she faked it.”

His smile gets a bit bigger. “Well, I faked it, too.”

“You?” you scoff. “No way. She could have sneezed on your cock, and you still would have cum.”

His head shakes, grinning wildly. “Normally, yeah. But we both just wanted to get out of there.”

“Poor girl.”

“Yeah? What about poor me?”

“Oh, I never feel sorry for you. You always find a way to get what you want eventually.”

His head tilts, green eyes sparkling behind the tortoiseshell frames of his glasses. “Do I?”

“Clearly.” You settle back into your chair, legs crossing. “I mean, have you ever heard the word no in your life?”

“Hear it all the time with you.”

“Exactly. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I’m keeping you humble.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

That smug look of endearment returns as the lab falls silent. He watches you for quite some time, and you think that you’d pay anything to hear what he’s really thinking.

Then, he smirks. “Good,” he says, and with that, he’s pushing off the desk and striding to you.

He bridges the five-foot gap between you with ease, and you aren’t even afforded the chance to take a breath before he’s grabbing hold of your face and kissing you.

His large body bends in order to reach you in the chair, but you can feel him tugging on you. Encouraging you up and into his hold as you gasp against his mouth and allow him to help you stand.

It’s a seamless dance. Familiar. He grabs onto your hips and slams you onto the desk, knocking a few pens and some of the various equipment out of the way.

His hands are sliding up your shirt. Memorizing the expanse of your skin as his lips press into your neck. Nipping and sucking just below your ear in the way he knows you love.

Your fingers have disappeared into his curls. They’re soft and oddly comforting. Perfect to tug on as you whimper gently and arch your back. Pressing your tits against his chest as he groans.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he murmurs, now sliding his hand toward the zipper on your jeans.

You nod quickly, mewling as you practically buck into his touch.

He smiles, mouth trailing across your jaw, “I was thinking about someone else, too.”

Your lashes flutter shut.

“The whole time,” he carries on, rough fingertips dancing down the front of your underwear. “When I was with her. Couldn’t think about anybody else but you. Every time she’d whine or say my name, I thought about how you’d do it. How you’d sound, how you’d feel.”

Your nails scratch down his black t-shirt, needing more than anything to feel his skin. See it littered with your marks. Your claim.

“She could never do it right,” he tells you, and it makes your stomach wrench. “Never do it like you.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe, wiggling in an effort to help him yank your pants down. “S’that why you couldn’t get hard?”

He grins as he flicks his belt undone. “Who says I couldn’t get hard?”

With a rather determined tug, he shoves your panties to the side, large hands stroking through your folds.

“Because if I’m thinking about you,” he whispers, eyes trained on your cunt, “I’m always fucking hard.”

You whine when he thrusts inside, two fingers to start. He’s rarely gentle, but you love it. And so does he, obsessed with the image of your pussy stretching around him. Any part of him. His tongue, his hands, his cock.

He’s bigger than most, and he always makes sure to prep you before he gives you what you really want. Granted, he taunts you with the idea of ruining you and splitting your poor cunt in half each time. Driving himself to the hilt before your tight little hole is ready. He likes the idea of corrupting you for someone else. 

“Relax,” he instructs, soft but firm. “S’gonna hurt a lot more if you don’t.”

You drop your head back and balance yourself on your hands, legs pushed open by his hips. “I’m trying,” you whimper, just to see his jaw clench.

“Gonna have to try harder,” he says, working his fingers into your wet cunt while his glasses slowly begin to slip down his nose. Settling at a crooked angle, and it makes you smile. “Can’t give you my cock if you don’t.”

You push your lips into a pout. “Please, Har.”

He looks up, the veins in his neck prominent as he seems to swallow another groan. “You’re so tight, Tink. Gonna wreck this pretty pussy if I don’t get you stretched.”

“Good,” you moan, thighs shaking as he brings a third finger closer. “Want you to.”

He grins. “Yeah?”

You nod fervently. “Want you to do whatever you want. I’m always good for you. Always fit you.”

“You do,” he agrees quietly, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit as he works through your arousal at a quicker pace. “Always take me so well. Even when it makes you cry.”

You whine again at the thought as he finally yanks his fingers free and moves to retrieve his cock. 

You’re nearly salivating at the idea, scooting toward the edge of the table in preparation as he pulls himself out and steps up to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him. Hard and heavy in his hand, leaking the most delicious looking drops of pre-cum that you’re already thrilled he never offered this other girl.

He runs the tip through your folds a time or two, making you both squirm before he gently begins to push in.

You have to give him props for the amount of restraint he always demonstrates for you. The ability to go slow and be delicate despite the fact all he wants to do is ram himself inside you and settle into your warm cunt.

Like now. You can see the effects of such sluggish movements, the way he holds himself back until he’s sure you’ll be all right. Teeth gritting, muscles tensed, cock throbbing.

You reach out and gently slide his glasses back up, making sure they’re comfortable and that he can see all right before kissing him. “Okay…okay, go.”

He kisses you back quickly before studying you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, hooking your leg around his hip. “Need it, Har, please.”

And that’s all it takes for him to sheath himself inside your aching pussy, disappearing completely between your legs as you both moan.

The quiet lab isn’t so quiet anymore, and you throw your arms around his neck as he begins to pull out and push back in.

“There she is,” he grunts, large hand squeezing your thigh to keep you still. “Look at you, Tink, taking me so well.”

“Always,” you exhale, pressing your mouth to his cheek. 

“Better than she ever was,” he continues, setting a quicker rhythm now. “So much better.”

He’s pounding you into the desk, hitting spots that make you see stars, and you clench around him until he gasps.

“Funny how well you take me…when you claim to hate me so much,” he says now, unable to resist needling you, and you whimper.

“I do,” you insist, despite the way you scratch down his back. “Fucking hate you.”

“Yeah?” His hips snap to yours. “S’that why you always beg for my cock?”

You don’t like the insinuation that you beg him for anything, especially when you know that he’s right. But you’re too far gone right now to take care, equally as depraved of pleasure as he seems to be.

The two of you don’t do this often. Maybe once or twice a month, if that. Most of the time, it’s incredibly unfriendly. A quick fuck in the supply closet or in his car in the parking lot. In between quippy remarks about how fucking unhinged the other is. How idiotic, and uncouth, and how goddamn annoying.

Because he is. So endlessly annoying and every day you have to resist the urge to slap those fucking glasses off his face.

But he knows how to fuck. That much is certain, and despite your immeasurable hatred for him, you can’t help but fall victim to his prowess.

In fact, moments like this are about the only time you don’t mind him. That you can actually stand him, and even want to submit to him.

Of course, you’re filled with regret and embarrassment the second you’re both finished, but for these few minutes…you don’t mind.

“Every fucking day,” he continues, holding onto your waist as he buries his cock deeper. “Have to watch you parade around like you’re fucking God’s gift to technology.”

You’d snort if you had enough air in your lungs to do so. 

“In your fucking tight little tank tops and see through dresses,” he seethes, dragging you back to the edge of the desk to angle you the way he likes. “With your hair always up in that stupid ponytail. Just begging to be pulled. To be yanked onto your knees while you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes roll back as you keen into his body. Memories of swallowing around him flooding your mind as you shiver.

Despite his aggravating remarks, he’s always so proud of you when you take his cock down your throat. He knows it’s a lot and he knows he can’t force you to do anything your body isn’t equipped to handle.

But he’s enamored with the way you try. Pleased to see you lick him, suck him, take as much of him as you can. He might hate you, but he praises you more than anybody else ever has.

And it’s one of the main reasons you can’t quit him.

“Then maybe…you shouldn’t look,” you pant, whimpering when he thrusts particularly hard. “I don’t wear that shit for you.”

He snorts, now grabbing onto your wrist and forcing your hand against your clit. He moves your fingers for you, pressing them into the sensitive nerves until you cry out and clamp down on him again.

“No?” he taunts, cock twitching inside you as he nears his release. “Then who do you wear it for, hm? Fucking Sam?”

You make another noise as he pushes your body into more immense pleasure, touch still locked atop yours.

“No, not Sam,” he decides. “Cause Sam can’t do it the way I can. S’why you came to me, isn’t it?”

You don’t dignify this with a response. You don’t have to. He knows.

“Sam can’t make you cum, can he?” Harry continues, almost vengefully as he feels you get closer. “Never fucking could. That’s why you only cum for me.”

It’s blinding. So intense that it makes your entire body ache as you fall victim to the wave of pleasure pulling you under.

He’s right behind you, spilling into your cunt before spilling out of it. Dripping down your legs, down the table, down his thighs as you both ride each other through the bliss.

He doesn’t let you release your clit for at least a good two minutes after, ignoring your pleas for mercy as your body struggles against the sensation.

It’s overwhelming. Hot, sticky, sweaty. He pulls out to go grab a towel from the supply closet before bringing it back and helping you clean up. 

He leaves a few teasing licks to your cunt in the process, and you swat your hand across his head in warning.

He smirks.

Once he’s finished, he pulls your jeans back on and up before tucking himself into his pants to do the same. 

Then, after helping you hop down, he offers you a lopsided grin and pushes his glasses back up.

“Now,” he says coyly, “go be a good girl and run the fucking sequence.”

Next Part:

~ Off the Shelf* (pt. 2)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

[angelicpoison12]

fucking the rockstar ⋆｡°⋆

Adam fucks a cute groupie~

word count: 1.2k

tags: Adam being Adam, rockstar!Adam, groupie!reader, top!Adam, bottom!reader, fucking in the back of the tour bus, spit play, face sitting, doggystyle, rough sex, (mild) breeding kink, AFAB reader, gn!reader, no condoms, spit as lube, piercing kink, Adam's an animal ya'll have fun <3

NSFW, 18+ ✦

you can't even remember what the Hell got you in this situation.

you had the lead man of the band The Exorcists underneath you, his stubble scratching your folds, large hands gripping your thighs, holding you firmly as his tongue lapped at your soaked cunt. and fuck, you couldn't get enough. this had only been going on for two minutes or so, and you were already close to the edge. you ran your fingers through his hair affectionately, grinding your hips down onto his mouth, making you whimper, "Adam.. fuck, oh God," you whimpered. all he could do was smirk up at you, dragging his tongue over your swollen clit, the metal barbel of his tongue piercing making a chill run up your spine. a hand came up to cup your chest, and his eyes closed, a gentle hum leaving his lips. "you taste so fuckin' good, Sinner. like a goddamn dream,"

even though it was a nickname used for his fans all the time, it still made butterflies erupt in your belly when it rolled off of his lips. your humping got heavier, making Adam's tongue go into a frenzy. he wanted you so bad. he was so used to just quickies, making sure he got off first, leaving whoever he was pumping into in the dust. surprisingly though, this felt different. he wasn't one to get sappy or feel his heart get convulsions when he was fucking some whore in the back of his tour bus, but fuck, he got those with you. i mean, it wasn't everyday he let someone sit on his face, okay? you were pretty special to say the least.

"fuck, Adam, i-i'm gonna cummm!" the words were a little slurred. you swore you were getting drunk off of Adam's ministrations, and it seemed to be the same for the man below you, except with the taste of your entrance. he hummed eagerly, burying his face impossibly deeper inside of you, his tongue curling inside of you. both hands went back to digging into your plush thighs, black fingernails digging into the skin, making red crescent moons come up.

you cried out as you came, feeling yourself squeeze around his slippery tongue. he growled under you, cleaning you up from your release. Adam pushed you off, letting you land with a soft thud onto your back, hitting the mattress of his bunkbed. "oh, i'm far from done with you, bitch." Adam said with a chuckle. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. he undid his white studded belt, discarding his black t-shirt, which was wet from a mix of saliva and your fluids. "Adam.. 'm still really sensitive," you whined, feeling him hoist your legs over his thick hips. he quirked a brow at you and mockingly retorted, "too sensitive, hm? c'mere, Sinner,"

yeah, it was a little dumb. he didn't even know your name, yet he's had his tongue inside you, and now he's about to rearrange your guts. you'd heard a rumor that he was packing, and now you were about to find out. like a naive puppy, you lifted your body, feeling Adam's hands hold your shoulders. one hand came up, wordlessly lifting your chin. he hooked a thumb onto your lower lip, making you open your mouth.

he fucking spat in your mouth.

you coughed a little at the impact, feeling the slippery, foamy fluid in your gullet. it didn't taste like anything. it was like your own saliva, actually. you swallowed obediently, and you felt Adam's cock twitch in his pants at the sight. "fuck, that's a good sinner," he groaned, kissing your cheek, then your lips. you mewled into the kiss, your eyes slipping shut.

Adam flipped you, your tummy on the bed, hands and knees flat against the blanket. you felt the head of his cock against your entrance, and you looked back-oh yeah, he was fucking huge. a good six inches in length, a hell of a girth on that monster as well-but what caught your eye was something that glittered. did this fucker have his dick pierced? Adam noticed you staring and he smirked, tapping his tip on your butt. "yeah, got it done a few months ago. pretty cool, huh?" it was a prince albert piercing. you bit your lip, about to make some smartass comment, but whimpered when he rubbed his pierced cockhead against your swollen clit.

"yeah, feels good, doesn't it baby?" Adam asked, his voice teasing. all you could do was whine and press back against Adam, just aching to have him inside of you already. "aw, someone a desperate Sinner?" Adam cooed. you grabbed his pillow, burying your face into it as you grunted, "just shut up and fuck me..!" "mm, good Sinner," Adam purred, pushing himself all the way inside of you in one go.

"fuck!" you cried out, your back arching into Adam's pudgy gut. he groaned and held your hips with an iron-like grip, growling into your ear. "fuck.. you're so fucking tight, Sinner. you don't take a cock this big often, do ya?" Adam asked, snickering. he didn't even give you time to respond, starting to slam in and out of you. it didn't even hurt, it was just a small stretch at first. fuck, Adam's words were making you feel like you were on fire. you felt the head of his cock press against your walls, the piercing adding to the sensory journey of it all. "fuck! yes!" you moaned. you reached to grab the sheets, only for Adam's hand to snake up, trapping your hand in the sheets. this was your dream; getting fucked like some throwaway in the back of someone's tour bus.

by the way Adam was huffing, the erratic pace of his hips, his grip tightening on you-you knew he was getting close. "Adam, pull out," you panted. Adam full-blown laughed at your comment, his thrusts slowing. "mm, nah, babe, i don't think i will." he said with a menacing chuckle.

you whipped your head back to look at him, eyes wide with confusion. "i said to pull out, fucker! i didn't ask for you to!" you barked, getting cut off with a moan when his tip rubbed into your g-spot. Adam let out a huff of annoyance but did as you requested, pulling out. he stroked himself, moaning lowly as he came in hot spurts all over your butt. Adam hummed, rubbing his tip all over his release on your rump, making you groan in embarrassment. "you're gross.." you whined, making Adam let out a boisterous laugh. "aw, c'mon Sinner, i think it's cute. now clean off my cock with that pretty little mouth of yours, yeah?"

his request was too sweet to turn down. you knew you were going to be in this tour bus for a while. you should've texted your friends now that you thought about it, but hey, there's no thinking when it comes to The Original Dick.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

my sweet snowflake buddies! (i hope the first one in particular enjoys this teehee)

@6esiree , @sluxh-xo

[romantique-dreams]

IT'S GONNA KILL ME - E.M

summary: your parents just happened to not be home, and hawkins' infamous sex-god needed an outlet for his anger, but pink rooms and relationships were not his thing.

wc: 3.8k

it's gonna kill me vol. 2 (here)

warnings: 18+ minors dni! spit kink, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, fwb (kinda), fuckboy/mean!eddie, making out, dom(ish)!eddie, creampie, masturbation (m&f), nipple play, petnames. that's all i can think of, but please let me know if you find more!

You could sense the way every time you would give Eddie a kiss, his body would go rigid. It wasn’t hard to ignore—he didn’t like physical touch when it came to purposeful intimacy. It was a routine for the both of you though; you’d meet wherever he saw fit, went inside, laid on the picnic table, leaned against the stall door, or sprawled out on the floor of his van. You would fuck like rabid animals, swap each others stash, and go your different ways. You were almost positive his heart was ripped from his chest. It was possible his core could have been filled with cement, with each ventricle plugged, or nerve endings severed to prevent the dreadful emotions from slipping in or out. 

“Where are we meeting tonight, hot stuff?” You sniggered over the other end of the phone.

“God dammit, how about you not call me that, yeah? And, well, my uncle is home.”

 Eddie hated pet names outside of making you feel good during sex. 

Your eyebrows pulled together while thinking of something. He was going to hate this. “You’ve never been to my house, what about here?”

“No can do,” his vowels were drawled out, “Pink, girly rooms, not my thing. Major turn off. Besides, your family is way too into each other, ‘makes me sick.” 

“Dude, get over yourself. Do you want to get your rocks off, or what? My parents aren’t home, I’m alone, no one will even see you pull into my driveway. I’m plenty far enough away from the main road.”

Eddie’s entire being shuddered thinking of being caught with you, and having to go through the ‘is this your boyfriend?’ conversation.

The line was silent until Eddie muttered under his breath.

“Alright, fine. I’ll just come there.” He hung up. 

“Love you too, sweetcheeks,” you sneered and slammed the phone down onto the receiver. 

Eddie went as far as shaving. He had a sex-god reputation among the girls in Hawkins, and there was no way he was going to lose that title due to being unshaven on one of the worst weeks of his life. He splashed some aftershave along his jawline, and rubbed some on the freshly shaven skin below his belt, a hiss escaping between his teeth. He dressed himself in a black and white flannel, the top two buttons undone, his mane framing his face and cascading down his back, with his infamous bulge-hugging black jeans. Regardless of anyone wanting to admit it at Hawkins, he was some goddamn eye candy. The metalhead placed himself in the driver seat of his van, he ruffled his flannel, and smoothed down the collar. He started his van, and drove off.

You had dressed yourself into a tight tank top that accentuated the apex of your breasts just right, and pulled your hair to the crown of your head in a ponytail held up by a tattered scrunchie that was tradition to use while sucking him off. It was in no time that he was pulling up to your driveway, hearing him stroll down the winding trail that led to a hidden house away in the woods. 

You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose. You could feel it again. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t as if this was going to be different than any other time, it was merely a routine—each position and touch just another item checked off on the list. You and Eddie were each other's relief. While others meditated, you guys fucked. 

You gathered yourself, picking up all the sentiment that had seeped out onto the floor beneath. “”Sup, bitch?”

“Just here to fuck your brains out, I guess.” Eddie shoved his hands in his front pockets. 

“You should try taking a girl on a date first, sheesh.” You stepped out of the way and bent down, signifying royalty entering your humble abode. 

“Um, how about try shutting the fuck up?” He snipped back towards you while kicking his shoes off. “You know I don’t do that, I like getting to the point. Less hassle, less attachment, freedom.” 

“How do you even keep a girl around? Going on a date and actually having fun isn’t that barbaric to you, is it?”

He turned to you, eyes narrowing. “Let’s just say my skills make up for lack thereof in the dating department, ‘kay? And are you trying to go on a date, or are you trying to come? Because right now it seems like you want me to take you out and spend my hard earned money selling to minors on you. You gettin’ all mushy on me? Do I need to end this?” 

You shrugged with a sly smirk. “Believe whatcha’ want to believe, honey. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Eddie was taken aback. Was he really making that up because he wanted to, or did it just seem like you wanted to?

 He took a slight step towards you with his mouth pressed into a firm line, his jaw clenching tightly as the muscles moved under his pale skin. “Can you stop with the pet names, for the love of god?”

“Mmm—, I’ll think about it.” You shot him a finger towards him and then scratched your chin with a half-assed pondering look on your face. 

“You piss me off, you know that?”

“It’s what I do best, right?”

You were putting up a facade that didn’t feel like you, clearly. You enjoyed the banter between the both of you, but sometimes you wanted it to be laced with something for one another. You just wanted him to have some sort of care in the world, the smallest hope wanting it to be for you. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You tell me all of the time, can’t forget.”

“So, are you going to show me to your bedroom, or are we just going to sit here holding our dicks in our hands?” He peered at you, sticking his head out with an annoyed look.

“Well, considering you’re the guest and all, and I’m a nice host,” you jabbed his chest with your finger that was still hanging in the air. “I was going to ask if you wanted water or anything, but you can’t wait to get into my pants, so I’m assuming you aren’t thirsty.” 

Eddie’s wall faltered, a brick crumbling and dropping to the ground. He stepped back from you while he fiddled with the metal around his fingers. You were just trying to be nice, that’s all, but all he could do was take his anger out onto you at the end of a long week. Wayne was on his ass, business at school was slow, and the shop had a month's wait that was filled with cars needing to be fixed. 

“I mean I could use some water, sure.” He was quick with his words and rounded the couch next to the entryway of your house. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Don’t get too impatient.”

His wall was reconstructed and his posture firmed. The couch was too hard, it was too sterile in here, it looked like no one even lived in here. His hands rubbed up and down his upper thighs, too uncomfortable to lean back. He was out of his element. These events never happened anywhere but his house. He didn’t have the comfort of his home to be able to keep up the crassness of his persona.  

You scurried yourself off to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, hair trailing behind you as you turned the corner. You began to realize the neverending roller coaster of emotions you had purchased a ticket to when you first endeavored in this risque escapade with Eddie. He gave you whiplash with his constant demeanor changes and his vulgar words. 

You were quick to return to the living room with the glass of water in hand. You stopped in the doorway noticing his unyielding silhouette, he was sticking out like a sore thumb in your living room that was littered with family memorabilia. Eddie had told you once a small snippet of past life; the desolation of it all as his mom worked countless nights at the hospital, while his dad was out doing ‘business deals’, or so he told him. You could do nothing but hurt for him as he opened up to you. Although you were both stoned out of your minds, you appreciated the small intimate moment you’d cherish between the two of you. It had been the only occurrence, yet all you tried to do was get to know him from then on, and he never budged.

“Alright, order up!” You slid him the glass of water across the coffee table. 

“Yeah, thank—,” He began monotonously.

“You’re welcome my kind sir.” You bent before him and curtsied.

Eddie was quick to gulp down some of his water as you sat down next to him, setting the cup down after with a content exhale. He was still sitting upright, his back never touching the sofa behind him. This was not him, nor will it ever be. He didn’t do the cordial conversations in the living room, or the witty flirtatious remarks, or the talking stage in the first place. He was there to liberate all of his pent up emotions into you and get out. You were his release, merely but a short hour of his day. 

 You were quick to place yourself next to him with a raised brow. “Why do you look like you have an actual stick up your ass right now?”

Eddie turned to you and glared as he gestured between the two of you. “Because this shit is stupid, that’s why. I don’t want to be here longer than it takes to fuck you. Get in, get out. That’s all I’m here for, so can we get this show on the road?”

Your heart twinged within your chest. Was it really that bad to actually spend some time together without fucking your brains out? Was it oh so terrible to not be around you without your tits out? Those were questions that were meant to be left unanswered, unaccounted for; because in all honesty you couldn’t stomach the actual truth.

You clicked your tongue against your teeth and motioned towards the stairs. “Yeah, you’re right. C’mon, my room is upstairs.”

You briskly walked away, leaving a scrambling Eddie behind you as he followed to your bedroom. Without hesitation you slammed the door behind you, immediately removing your clothes from your body. Your blood was boiling, pumping hot beneath your skin and fuelling the fire that was burning. You grabbed Eddie by his broad shoulders while your fingernails dug into the fabric hanging off of them and stood him in front of you, following by undoing each button on his flannel. Your jaw was tightened and your eyebrows were low, pupils growing in size from the anger that resonated within you. 

Eddie looked down at you quizzically, both hands beside him in the air to surrender. He didn’t mind the idea, but your abruptness startled him. You never took initiative when it came to starting these moments, but he wasn’t complaining. 

You continued on with your mission; unbuttoning his pants next and removing them, completely taking his flannel off of his slender body. You were already shirtless and pantless by now, only remaining in your bra and underwear. You placed both of your hands onto his bare chest and shoved him down onto the bed, straddling him instantaneously. Your bra was gone within seconds as you ground your hips down onto his confined length, slotting your mouth above his. Hot, sweet breath was fanning against his cheeks as you stared at him with intensity. Eddie was the first to connect your lips together, with each eager kiss ending in you both gasping for air. 

“Goddamn, baby, what’s got you all riled up?”

First he’s mean, now pet names?

“You, asshole,” you spat at him as you slid your hand into his boxers, only after you spit into your hand. Your anger was evident in every movement you made. 

A sharp inhale was heard from Eddie as your velvety hand that was slick with spit connected with his now swollen cock, precum beading at the tip. You gave him quick pumps to his mid-shaft as you could feel it twitch beneath while your hand grazed the under ridge of his head. His head was thrown back, his hair cascading down to either side of his while his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took. A carnal instinct was building within Eddie’s aura, he attached his lips to yours once more, savoring the sweet flavor of your saliva against his taste buds. 

Eddie wasn’t about to be the one taken control of. You made him come to your house, you made him come into your room, you were the one making him only think about you. He flipped the both of you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pinned both wrists down against your duvet cover. 

“I’m going to set the record straight for ‘ya—,” He paused as his hair tumbled down to cast a shadow over your features, “I’m in charge, not you. It’s bad enough we’re at your house, in your room, got it?”

You were quick to submit, curtly nodding up at him, lips forming into a pout.

“Good, wasn’t taking no for an answer anyways.” He shrugged, pulling your bottom half to the edge of the bed. 

Eddie was quick to have his hands on you, making sure to let his hot touch linger on your skin. He danced his fingers down your side, harsh squeezes being made to each malleable part you held, sure to leave imprints in your delicate skin. Your lip was pulled between your teeth and you exhaled short breaths through your nose. He continued his expedition down to your puffy core with one slender digit trailing up between your folds and collecting your arousal. He replaced his now slick finger with two others rubbing abrupt circles into your clit, his other finger slipping between his lips and releasing with a pop. 

“Y’taste so fucking sweet, ‘ya know that, baby?” He cooed, a harsh contrast to his actions.

Your legs squirmed beneath him and your eyes shut tightly as crinkle lines formed by your lash line. Your body was jerking with each of Eddie’s swipes over your bud, electricity shooting to the end of each neuron in your brain. There was one thing about Eddie you couldn’t deny, when he said his skills in bed made up for where he was lacking, he wasn’t wrong. He was so good at making someone feel good. He knew just what made you give yourself up to him, and what left you wanting more. He could read you like a book, and had memorized each word with sticky notes next to each quirk that made you come in an instant. 

While his left hand was working his other had traveled to your throat, fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck. The veins in your neck were bulging and you could feel the air becoming harder and harder to breathe, your air supply was being cut off now. Eddie could feel your rapid pulse that was bounding beneath his calloused hand, a smirk of satisfaction resonating on his lips. Your climax was building, but interrupted by his fingers sliding into you with an embarrassingly wet squelch.

The metalhead's fingers slammed into you with force, the edges of his fingertips were curled to graze the spongy spot with each entrance and exit. Your eyes were now rolled to the back of your head and your jaw went slack, mouth dropping down to touch your chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Gasps and chokes for air, slapping skin, and your arousal being spread beneath you were the only sounds heard in the room.

Positions were eventually switched and Eddie was soon enough plunging his aching cock inside of you. You swallowed him whole, each thrust inwards being met with a clench of your slicked walls. 

“God, you’re so fucking warm, fuck—,” Eddie cooed, pussy drunk already.

This was one thing you had over him. Your whole being when you were intimate had him intoxicated, so inebriated to the point you could get him to do anything for you. You wanted him to eat you out? Done. You want him to finger you a certain way? Done. Whatever it was, he was at your beck and call. You knew you were special compared to the other girls, the way he paid extra attention to all your curves and delicacies, but also sold to you for free on the side. You were higher on the totem pole compared to the groupies who hung around The Hideout.  

Eddie’s thrusts picked up in pace and depth, giving your cervix slight kisses with each dive into you. Your lips attacked the soft alabaster skin of his neck while your nails did a number on his back—scraping harshly, leaving puffy trails of red behind. Little did anyone know it, but you owned him. You always made sure to leave marks, whether that be just for you to see, or others. 

“Shit, baby. Y’gonna leave me lookin’ like a leper when I show up to school tomorrow,” he grumbled against your neck, syllables emphasized by his plunges. 

“That’s okay, god damn—, that’s fine. Gotta let them know I’m your favorite,” you hissed through your teeth, whimpers trailing behind. 

Eddie’s smirk glistened in the dim light of your room and he nipped at your neck. “You caught me there, you feel so fucking good compared to anyone else, mhm.”

Your orgasm was rising in your lower stomach, only noticeable from the immense heat flowing throughout your body, while pleasure kissed each overstimulated neuron. Your muscles were tensing; all the way from your calves to your jaw, the skin above going rigid. As Eddie continued his relentless pace your hands were entangled in the mess he called his hair, harsh tugs ensuing after. 

Eddie had come to the decision to really set you ablaze beneath him. His ring clad hand found its way around your neck once again, only applying pressure to the sides, making sure to be careful of not cutting off your airflow too much. How considerate. His mouth attached to your pebbled nipples, and gently rolled them between his two front teeth, while contrasting with brutal bites to the supple surrounding skin. He finished with his free hand moving to your clit, the sad, pitiful bundle of nerves that ached for him.

It wasn’t long before you were overstimulated.  “Eddie, ‘s a lot, c’mon,” you choked out. 

“Ah-ah, what did I say? I make the rules tonight sweetheart, fuck‒,” he grunted with a particularly gruff thrust into you. “I came here, this is my night. Do you understand?”

His words were succeeded with a splat of saliva from Eddie that landed on your tongue. You were quick enough to savor his taste sucking on the remnants dancing on your tastebuds. Something about him tonight seemed so primal, so salacious. You couldn’t help but succumb to him and nod your head. 

“Thatta girl.” His pace accelerated significantly to the point you were sure he was tearing you in half.

He raised an eyebrow towards you and released his hand from your throat to snatch your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb. “You’re gonna let go for me in just a second when I tell you to, okay? I want you to come so hard on my fucking cock while I come inside of you. I’m gonna let you have all of my sweet stuff, and make you all sticky and shit. Y’gonna feel so fucking dirty, ‘mkay?”

All you could do was nod, you were desperate. You were already robbed of your first orgasm, and each thrust of his was bringing you closer to the brink of your release. It was becoming painful, tears brimming at the bottom of your eyes. You had known from experience what it was like to come when Eddie had told you not to.

Eddie replaced your newfound necklace, his hand, and smirked. He had already angled your hips slightly upwards so your bottom was off of the bed, and your spongy spot was being hit with a relentless amount of force. Lewd sounds were filling the room—nothing but slicked symphonies and desperate whines were to be heard, and Eddie was the director of it all. Surely it was the most sinful orchestra you had listened to. 

With each dive into you, your breasts recoiled and your eyes screwed shut. A layer of sweat was visible now as small droplets formed at your temples and above your lip. You could feel it. Your orgasm was approaching and you were hoping to god his was too, practically praying on your hands and knees to have some sort of relief. It was as though angels were singing to you when you finally heard him speak.

“Go ahead, baby, come for me,” he gasped out as his own release came.

Your body jerked as the wave of consolation consumed you. With toes curling, hands ripping at the sheets beneath you, walls convulsing, and your back arching you were letting out the unholiest of sounds. Wetness pooled beneath you while Eddie’s potent seed covered your gummy walls. 

Eddie’s hips slammed into you a few more times until he was hopelessly rocking into your sticky hole, the both of you riding out your orgasms. He fell completely forward while small wisps of his mane tickled your neck. He let out a shudder and slowly pulled himself from inside of you. 

“Good, huh?” He chuckled and laid himself down next to you, a content sigh coming after.

“It was mediocre.”

This wasn’t a common occurrence for Eddie after your visits. He never laid down next to you, instead he was lighting up and ushering you out the front door as soon as you were dressed. 

He looked over at you, bewilderment covering his soft features while he slid closer. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“Great catch, smart one,” you quipped as you rolled your eyes. “I wouldn’t have came if it wasn’t mind blowing, ‘ya know? I have high standards after all.”

“As if you’ve ever been with anyone besides me,” he grinned. “Your standards are literally me, idiot.”

“Whatever.”

Eddie stood himself up from the bed, legs a bit wobbly as he carried himself over to your vanity. He bent down to inspect the damage done to his neck and back, gently tracing his fingers over the love bites that were beginning to form. 

“Looks like I’ll only be exclusively seeing you for the next week, my dear. Can’t have my other babes knowing I let you give me these, no one gets to mark me up.” 

Did he just say that? 

There was a strange feeling residing in Eddie, he wasn’t sure what it was. Did you just break through to him?  There was no way you had steam rolled the wall he built for himself when he was around you. It was secure, strong, fortified with every emotion blocker known to himself. Was it really all that bad? 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb as he let out a shaky exhale.

There was no way Eddie could possibly indulge himself in this mess, he couldn’t. Relationships weren’t his thing, or were they?

a/n: this was a whole process of writing, i apologize if it isn't my best! i have been very busy and mentally ill LMFAO. i hope everyone enjoys it tho! i'm very insecure about this one hahahads. i went through and proofread it myself, so i'm hoping there are no mess ups, but if there are please feel free to let me know! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[honeyedmiller]

Anniversary | Frankie Morales

frankie morales x f!reader

synopsis: frankie takes you out to a nice restaurant on your first wedding anniversary, but with a little twist.

rating: explicit – 18+, minors dni.

warnings: established relationship, canon divergent tf one shot, smut (f & m oral receiving, fingering, unintentional edging, teasing, unprotected piv), small endearments of spanish are sprinkled throughout, frankie is a simp for you in this (as he should be), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy frankie friday y’all

“You almost ready, amor?” 

You were putting your favorite earrings in before giving yourself one last look-over in the mirror. Once you felt satisfied with your appearance, you turned to walk back into the master bedroom to see your husband buttoning up a crisp white long sleeve tucked into some black slacks. 

Frankie whistles when he sees you in your floor-length red dress with a high slit on the side. “Goddamn querida, you’re giving me a run for my money tonight. Gonna have to fend off all the fuckers that are gonna check you out.” He laughs, holding his hand out to twirl you once to get a 360 degree view of you before pulling your body into his. 

You can’t help but laugh at his words, knowing damn well you’ll only be focused on the man in front of you.  

“Too bad for them,” You offer him a smirk, holding up your left hand toward him, wiggling your fingers. Your wedding ring glinted in the soft bedroom light—a reminder that you’re his and he’s yours forever. “I’m already taken.” 

“And I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive.” Frankie says, grabbing your hand before laying a gentle kiss onto your ring. 

“That you are, Mr. Morales.” You shoot him a wink before giving his cheek a kiss. You separate from him to retrieve your black heels from the walk-in closet, sitting down on the bed to put them on. 

Frankie knelt in front of you with a soft smile settled onto his lips, the crinkle lines around his eyes deepening. 

“May I?” His voice is soft, lulling you into a brief blissful state. You hand him your heels, playfully nudging his chest back with your foot, pushing him back on his haunches. He takes your leg in one of his hands, tracing a featherlight finger up your calf and to your thigh. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you watch him carefully. He slips the heel onto your foot, kissing the inside of your knee before giving the same attention to your other foot. His lips meet the inside of your other thigh, but instead of pulling away, he starts to trail his lips up toward the apex of your thigh. 

A ghost of a moan slips past your lips before you thread your fingers through his curls, giving them a soft tug as your head lolls back. Your husband continued nipping, licking and kissing his way up your thigh until he reached the lace of your panties. 

His face was buried underneath your dress at this point, teasingly poking his tongue out to run over the lace. 

Your moan was louder this time and you could practically feel Frankie’s shit-eating grin. 

“I think you should wear different panties tonight.” He starts, and he pulls his face back from underneath the chiffon fabric. 

“I thought you liked these ones?” Your lips form into a slight pout that drives him absolutely crazy. It takes all of his willpower to not say fuck it and skip your dinner reservations just to keep you in bed and eat you out all night long. 

“I do, bebita, but I have other ones for you to wear,” His infamous sly smirk appears, and you furrow your brows in confusion. He stands up to full height, trudging over to the dresser before pulling out some white panties. He hands them to you and you look down at them in confusion, wondering why there was a bit of added weight pressing between your palms. “They go with this.” He says, pulling out a small remote. 

Your jaw drops in shock, looking up at your husband in disbelief. 

“Frankie—”

“Let’s try something new, hm?” His words were tender with plea, but his eyes pooled dark with desire. 

“Okay.” You agree, slipping off your panties you had on before slipping on the white ones. You knew he was going to have fun with this one, and truth be told, you couldn’t ignore the thrill that settled in your bones at the thought of Frankie using vibrating panties on you in public—let alone the fancy restaurant he was taking you to for your one year wedding anniversary. 

You knew you were completely fucked tonight. 

-

You were admiring the general romantic atmosphere of the restaurant as you and Frankie stood behind a couple that was checking in with the host. The soft orange glow the lights emitted left a romantic feeling lingering in the air. 

Your hand was wrapped around Frankie’s bicep, too distracted to even see him dig into the pocket of his slacks. You felt a low vibration against your clit, and you quietly gasped as you gripped onto his arm a little tighter. You already had an agonizingly dull ache heavy in your core before you left your house due to his incessant teasing, and this was only making matters much worse. 

The hostess returned to the stand with a smile on her face, coaxing you and Frankie to walk forward. Frankie upped the vibration with one click and you had to bite down on your lip from moaning, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“Hi, how can I help you folks?” The hostess asked, and Frankie gave her a polite smile before telling her the last name under the reservation. 

“I have reservations for Morales, party for two at six.” 

“Ah yes, I have you right here. Go ahead and follow me this way.” She leads you two through the restaurant, Frankie’s broad palm splayed over your lower back as he guides you in front of him. 

She sets the menus down on a booth tucked in the corner, practically away from prying eyes. You quietly thank her as you scoot in, Frankie sliding in right next to you. 

“Your server will be with you shortly.” She turns away and you’re left sitting next to Frankie in agony. 

“Baby, please.” You beg, shutting your eyes as you practically force yourself not to rut your hips into the vibrations. 

“Oh,” Frankie coos, “Does my poor wife need me to stop?” He teases, nosing at the shell of your ear. 

“No, Francisco, I need you to fucking touch me.” 

He pulls back from your ear, a lust-filled gaze searching your own. “Yeah?” He quirks a brow, checking over his shoulder. The server walks up a few moments later and greets you both with a bottle of wine, pouring you both a glass. 

You could barely even think straight when the server asked what you guys wanted to eat, and you gripped the leather of the booth as you forced a smile and told them what you wanted. As soon as the server walked away, Frankie took a casual sip of his wine before leaning into you again. 

“Bet she’s so fucking wet for me, hm querida?” 

“You know—” Your breath hitched in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you swallowed harshly. “—Damn well, Frankie.” 

“Bet she’s gonna taste so fuckin’ good when I get my mouth on her, hm?” 

“You’re not playing fair, Francisco.” 

“And how should I be playing, baby?” He coos, kissing your cheek. The unfathomable ache that was once a low flame in your core has now been ramped up to a point of desperation, release impending very soon. 

You grip onto his thigh and squeeze your eyes shut, concentrating on staying quiet. You both know if you were at home right now, you’d be anything but. 

The server comes back with both of your plates, unsuspecting of your little escapades with your husband. You thank the server as graciously as you possibly can before they disappear again. 

“Frankie, baby please. I’m gonna come.” Your whisper is strained, nails digging into the meat of his thigh. 

“Make a mess for me. Can’t wait to clean it up after dinner.” 

“Baby please, I—” And right when the coil was about to snap, the vibrations stopped completely. Tears pooled in your eyes as you sat completely still, not expecting to be edged like that. 

“Did you turn it off?” You whisper, hands starting to shake. You took your hand off of Frankie’s thigh and clasped both of them together, looking at him with a desperate stare. 

“No baby, I swear I didn’t. I think the battery might’ve died.” 

Of course it did. 

You nod and swallow hard, trying to focus on the meal before you. It was hard to have an actual appetite when all you really wanted was your husband. 

Frankie felt bad, and he really wasn’t one to deny you of your needs. He got the server’s attention and asked for to-go boxes and the check, and within the next few minutes, you were both leaving. 

“We didn’t need to leave, Frankie. This was such a nice place and I didn’t mean—” 

“Uh uh. I’d rather be at home where it’s just us. Somewhere I can take care of you properly and not get arrested for public indecency.” 

You laugh at his words as he opens the truck door for you, kissing your temple as he offers you his hand to hoist yourself up into the cab. Once he settles into his seat, the truck roars to life and you’re on your way home. 

The throb in your core was so unbearable that you were gripping onto the handle of the door, steadying your breathing. Your eyes snapped up to the road and noticed an abandoned dirt road that no one ever went down coming up. 

You glance at Frankie and contemplate for two microseconds before your hand lands on his thigh. Fuck it. 

“Pull over,” You say, nodding your head to the dirt road. Frankie looks at you in confusion, but it suddenly clicks when he sees the pure desperation in your eyes. “Please.” You whisper. 

He pulls over onto the side of the road, turning off the headlights and the truck. You were both surrounded by the darkness of the night, with only a sliver of moonlight peaking through. 

“Cariño—” 

“I can’t wait anymore, Frankie. I fucking need you.” You cry, pawing at the buttons of his shirt. Frankie jerks his head to the back. 

“C’mon princesa, more room back there.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You clamber into the backseat first, thankful that it was roomy back here, leaving little to no room to be cramped. Frankie sits on his haunches as he stares up at you, licking his lips. 

He doesn’t waste any time. He pushes your dress up and hooks his fingers into both sides, pulling the skimpy white material down your legs. He’s amazed at the string of arousal that was attached to the panties, eyes flicking to your core. 

You were absolutely soaked. 

Frankie smacks his tongue against his teeth, “Pobrecita. You’re really soaked, honey.” 

Frankie doesn’t say another word as he tosses your legs over his shoulders, kissing and nipping his way up your thighs. He starts to lick up your arousal at the apex of your thighs, hot tongue making you gush even more. 

You whine in desperation, a string of pleasepleaseplease evading your lips. 

“Love it when you’re so needy for me, baby. You and this pretty little pussy of yours.” He says, and finally, he licks a long stripe up through your folds and to your clit. 

You inhale sharply, threading your fingers through his thick brown locks before shoving his face closer to your cunt. He groans, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your husband’s skillful tongue laps up every last drop of your arousal. 

Frankie plunges his tongue into you unexpectedly and fucks you with the muscle, nose bumping your clit with every thrust. 

“Frankie, fuck, please—” You pant, and he removes his mouth from you for a second to look up at you and smirk. The whole bottom half of his face was coated in your slick. 

Staring back at you was a man who loves to eat his wife’s pussy like it was the last meal he’d ever have, and fuck was he always starving. 

“You need my fingers too, baby?” He asks, moving to suck on your clit. A loud moan escapes you, and you grip onto the back door handle for dear life. 

“P-Please.” Your voice is a desperate cry, the coil building up so quickly it nearly gave you whiplash. 

He eases two fingers into your sopping heat, the warmth of you contracting around his fingers. He moans at the feeling of you, the sensation going straight to his already impossibly hard cock. 

He needs you to come first. That’s his rule. 

“She’s so needy for me, hm?” Frankie asks, and you can’t even begin to form a coherent thought as he scissors his thick fingers in and out of you. He picks up his pace and curls them, the squelching sound obscene as it reverberates through the cab of the truck. 

“Don’t stop Frankie, please,” You beg, the coil about the snap. He brings his mouth down onto you once more, licking through your folds, flicking his tongue once he gets to your clit. 

Your whole body stills as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, orgasm washing over your body like a wave crashing down onto shore. 

“There you go baby, that’s it. That’s it.” Frankie’s voice is smooth; calming. It’s almost dream-like with the way he sounds and the euphoric bliss that pumps through your veins. 

Your body slumps against the seat as you try to catch your breath. Frankie takes a seat next to you on the bench and pulls you into him, tipping your jaw up so your lips meet his. Your tangy-sweet taste dances on your tongue as he slips his into your mouth, groping at your body desperately. 

Your hands make their way down to the bulge in his slacks and you rub your hand over him. A groan rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest, and that’s when you’re quick to get to work. You fumble with his belt buckle but eventually get it undone, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks. 

You tap his hips and he raises them so you can take off his slacks and boxers simultaneously. His hard cock springs free, and Frankie’s shoulders slump at the slight relief from restraint. 

You maneuver yourself onto your knees in front of him, placing both of your hands on his thick thighs before rubbing your hands up and down. You move a hand to gently grasp his cock, thumbing the pre-come off and popping your thumb into your mouth. You moan at the taste, moving your head down to lick a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

 Frankie’s hand cradles the back of your head as he closes his eyes in pure bliss. You love seeing him like this, falling apart under your touch—or rather, your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around him before taking him as far down as you can go. You swallow around him when you feel the urge to gag, easing yourself all the way down until your nose meets the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. 

“Fuck, honey, your mouth feels so fucking good.” Frankie praises, peeling his eyes open to see you taking him so well. Your gaze locks on his and he inhales sharply, the sultry look in your eyes nearly sending him over the edge. You move your head up to feel and taste his silky flesh onto your tongue as it glides upward. 

You keep a consistent pace, moaning around him as he pants and grunts above you. Pleasing him like this only added to your arousal further, a deep need lighting aflame in your core once again. 

Frankie’s panting was getting louder, and he had to abruptly yank you off of him. 

“I don’t wanna come yet,” He pants, “I wanna be buried in you.” 

You whine softly at his words as he pulls you up to straddle his lap, teasing the head of his cock through your slick folds. You gasp when it catches your clit, slumping forward onto him. 

“Look at me, querida.” He instructs softly, and you move your head back so your gaze meets his. His eyes are full of carnal desire for you, muscle in his jaw ticking furiously as he concentrates on your gaze. 

He notches his tip at your entrance, and your eyes briefly shut before opening once more as you sink down onto him. Your jaw hangs open and your brows furrow, Frankie’s expression mirroring yours. 

You buck your hips forward, loving the feeling of his cock buried in you as he stretches you so deliciously. You thread your fingers through his locks once more, grinding your hips down onto him. His hands bring themselves to your hips, keeping your pace steady as you rock yourself against him. 

Your lips meet his once more, the kiss so passionate and hungry and full of a primal need that you can never seem to satiate. 

“So fucking lucky you’re my wife. I love you so much, honey.” 

“I love you too, Francisco. I always will.” You pant against his lips, enveloping his in yours once more. He stills your hips and fucks up into you as you trail your kisses down his throat and suck on his pulse point. 

Frankie slots a hand between you both and finds your clit, rubbing furiously at it as you both brace yourselves for impending release. 

Before you can even clock it, your cunt convulses around Frankie’s cock as you gush around him, head thrown back between your shoulders as you hold onto him. He leans forward and noses at your neck, kissing and nibbling the spots he knows drive you wild before his own hips still and he comes undone, spilling everything he has into your warmth. 

He groans repeatedly into your neck, both of you panting furiously as you try to catch your breaths. 

You huff a laugh and slump into his body, enjoying the post-coital bliss as you inhale the earthy musk and salt your husband smells of. 

“Did I take care of you well enough, bebita?” He asks breathlessly with a smug grin plastered against his lips, not-charged-enough-vibrating-panties completely forgotten. 

Your nails lightly scrape the exposed skin of his chest, and you’re so fucked out that you can only hum in approval. 

He kisses your forehead and admires the glow you always have after you two have sex. It’s the little things like this that he truly never thought he’d have in life, and then you walked into it all those years ago and made him an honest, loving man—and he truly wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Happy anniversary, baby.” 

tags: @endlessthxxghts @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @party-hearses

divider by @saradika-graphics

[jez-bez]

Another unpopular opinion: Korn does not want to sleep with Fasai

Korn is a lot of things, but a cheater he is not.

In a fit of 'Jez analyses things because she sees things differently' here's my take on the KornFasai situation.

It's starts with Korn arriving at this place, entering the room where the director (his uncle? I think?) is waiting for him with Fasai sitting there too, sipping from her wine, wiggling her toes, all in what i feel is like expectance.

First of all, what is she even doing there? Who is she? Why is she important?

Korn, as shown above, is hella nervous. His whole demeanour is off, tapping his fingers, waiting, waiting, waiting. And then his uncle tells him off immediately, saying 'first day on the job and you've already tanked the shares'

The shot changes to show Fasai, and lemme tell you smth, I can recognize a bitch when I see one. (sorry not sorry, she just screams main character syndrome to me) She doesn't do anything but swirl her wine a little, sizing Korn up. She's putting him on the spot, is what's she's doing. Keeping him there, locked in her gaze. Korn cannot hide.

The conversation goes on to discuss what Korn can do to fix shit, and Fasai only takes her eyes off of Korn for just a second when the uncle says 'i know what to do about the issue'

but then after, her gaze is right back on Korn, intimidating, nailing him to the chair he's sitting on. Now lemme tell you, it could ofc be something they're into. Fasai being in control and Korn being her puppet, but I don't think that's the case.

"You have a lot to learn, Korn."

The whole conversation is clearly a means to get under Korn's skin. Sure, they make it seem like they want to help him, but body language tells me they're attempting to knead him into submission.

"You've got a lot to learn, Korn."

And then Uncle looks straight over to Fasai with the dirtiest smirk known to mankind. That, to me, speaks VOLUMES.

And the way Fasai is still looking at Korn makes me think that she never took her eyes off of him. Swirling her wine, sizing him up. She's ready. She's waiting for the right moment to strike.

And Korn, poor baby Korn, is so uncomfortable. Eyes twitching, not knowing where to look, taking a sip from his wine because he just doesn't know what to do. With this new position, he's been thrown into a pit full of starving lions.

Drinking the wine as liquid courage. In later eps we see Korn absolutely abusing alcohol to forget what happened. Why would he do so if he enjoys sleeping with Fasai?

The scene then changes to Korn and Fasai alone, she has two wine glasses, one for her one for Korn. Saying that 'Korn doesn't need to worry anymore.' She's looking down at him. You can play this off of 'yes, but Korn is seated and she's still standing' and you'd be correct!

But this series is at this point, (we're already at ep4 im just slow in making posts lmao sorry) at this point we know how 4minutes uses camera angles to tell a story. Fasai is looking down at him.

"Fah, do you know how your father took care of that shareholder?"

She knows, even if she says she doesn't. That smile says it all.

"If there's any other problems, you can call me."

Aka I'll take care of it for you, because Fasai has power. Korn's face is so uncomfortable right now. This scene shows they've known each other for very long, but that doesn't mean he likes her.

More symbolism. She's towering over him. She's the boss.

Must I say it again? Power. Authority. Expectance.

Walking over and sitting down onto the bed wordlessly, demanding Korn to understand.

When she reveals her naked legs, Korn looks over and knows what time it is.

He then turns away with this look on his face that I can only describe as 'I don't want to.' but knowing he has no choice.

More liquid courage.

Korn strips bare naked all in front of the watchful gaze of Fasai.

Vulnerable. That's what he is right now. Completely at Fasai's mercy. (tho, goddamn Bas, your ass please.)

Korn's face when Fasai touches him. The camera position here is important too. It's just above him, pointed and tilted down, so that we too, are looking down at him.

And can we just quickly jump back to his face when he was with Ton Kla? Because the difference is HUGE.

That's a smile on his face right there after Ton Kla patted his crotch.

The differences, y'all. I'm telling you.

Woman, a beautiful man is about to go down on you, please pay him some respect and look at him.

But also! Camera angles! We're looking up to her. Again, she's the boss.

During the whole 10 seconds that we are to assume Korn is going down on her, she camera is only trained on her. From below. We're looking up at her.

This, to me, is more of a business transaction than a 'hey we like each other, we hook up' kind of thing.

Is it cheating? I mean, Korn does sleep with her (i assume) and I would consider going down on someone absolutely cheating, but I don't think he wants to.

He has to, whether he wants it or not. This is his life.

[steddie-island]

Do it for him

Written for week one of @softsteddieseptember Prompt: Facing your fears WC: 1,517 | Rating: T | Tags: Hurt/comfort, Steve has a fear of doctors, Eddie Munson lives See ao3 for the full list of tags Dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

It should have been easy, something he didn't need Eddie here with him for, but it wasn't.

The room was cold, and despite the layers of clothes and the crinkly paper beneath him, the table was somehow even colder. There were goosebumps over Steve's arms that weren't brought on by the cool air.

It should've been fucking easy, but Steve was fighting the urge to throw up.

"Hey." Eddie's arm came up and wrapped around his shoulders, tugged him closer. "I'm right here."

Steve didn't trust his voice, could only find the energy to give a quick nod. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eddie, or that Eddie didn't make sitting there easier.

Steve hadn't seen a doctor since Starcourt. Since he and Robin had been tied back to back, since he'd been tortured and they'd come thisfuckingclose to being dissected. Even after Vecna, after he'd been chewed up and spat back out by the bats, Steve had insisted on not going to a doctor. Hopper had gotten it. He'd had stitched Steve up, had gotten him a prescription.

Their experiences might've been different, but the scars and the nightmares were similar enough that he didn't push. Steve had seen the effort it'd taken, too, for him to sit there while he sewed Steve back together. Every comment had been bitten back, the only sign that there was something to hide in the way the sheriff released his breath.

Steve had sat by Eddie's side in the hospital, once he'd been given the okay himself, but that was different. He could watch. Could guard.

Could use his bat if anyone so much as looked at Eddie the wrong way. That'd taken some convincing, too, to get the nurses to let him keep it in Eddie's room with him. Steve still wasn't sure what Hopper had said, but after the second or third day they'd mostly stopped paying him and his weapon any mind.

Steve's grip only loosened when Eddie's eyes opened up again.

It was a long road to recovery. It took a week for Eddie to not sleep through most of the day, then another week for him to eat anything more solid than chicken noodle soup. Week three they (albeit reluctantly) declared everything healed enough for him to get out of bed long enough to be wheeled down to Max's room to sit with her for a while.

After the hospital came months of physical therapy. Steve was right there, making sure Eddie made it to every appointment. Even on the days when Eddie shouted, when Eddie threw his books at the wall to try and push Steve away. Even on the days when Eddie broke down, because it was hard, and it fucking hurt, and the progress was so goddamn slow he was going crazy.

Steve was there when Eddie stopped fighting him, because even though the pain didn't go away he could feel the changes happening to his body, could finally tell that he was getting better.

Somewhere between one appointment and the next, over cheeseburgers and milkshakes and joints shared in the middle of the night when neither of them could sleep, something shifted between the two of them. Neither of them could remember who actually made the first move, but it didn't matter in the long run.

Now Eddie was the one doing the pushing. He was a better pusher, really didn't have to push much when he could just turn those deep, wide eyes on Steve.

"I'm worried about you," he'd whispered in bed one morning, when Steve was in that soft space between sleep and wakefulness. "I know your hearing is getting worse, and you need glasses… I know you didn't get looked at after everything, and I get why, but…" He'd kissed Steve's hair, his temple, his cheek. "I can't lose you. Please, Stevie. For me?"

That was all it had taken for Steve to crumple— something Robin had bitched about later, because she'd been begging Steve to go to the doctor for literal years. Eddie hadn't even had to mention the chronic migraines that put him down for days sometimes.

Once Steve had agreed, Eddie and Robin did the calling around, did the appointment making.

Now there they were, and Steve wanted to be sick. When he'd agreed he hadn't actually expected anything to happen, but of course his soulmates hadn't let him get off that easily. He hated them.

He loved them so much it was a physical sensation deep in his chest sometimes.

"I'm right here," Eddie reminded him. He had time to brush a kiss over Steve's temple before the door was opening and a man in a white coat stepped inside.

It wasn't just one doctor's visit. There were more physicals, there were x-rays and MRIs and visits where they checked his eyes and his ears. Eddie was still right there for every appointment, holding on to him when he could. When he couldn't actually be by Steve's side, he spoke to him from where the doctors said he could stand. That wasn't as good, but it got Steve through without him melting down right then and there.

The meltdowns always happened later, when they were in bed together, when Steve could let the stress of the day go and fall apart in Eddie's arms. Eddie held him, kissed his tears away and whispered how good Steve had done, how proud, and how grateful he was that Steve was taking care of himself, especially since he was doing it for someone else and not for himself.

Sometimes Steve fell asleep with Eddie whispering those sweet things into his hair. Sometimes he calmed down enough for Eddie to let him go, to start kissing down his neck and start sliding down his body, beneath their comforter. "You took care of yourself today, now let me take care of you, too."

Sometimes Steve ended up crying after that, too, but it was for a different reason. It was for how hard Eddie loved him, how softly he was touched, as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Because Eddie believed he was the most precious thing in the world.

"What do you think?" Steve blinked at Eddie from behind his new glasses. They were simple, round gold frames he'd picked out with Robin.

With his new hearing aid he didn't have to strain to hear Eddie's small intake of breath.

"I didn't know it was possible for you to look better than you already did," Eddie said. He cupped Steve's face between his palms and tipped his head this way and that, getting a look at the glasses from every angle. "You're so fucking beautiful, sunshine."

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie and buried his face against the worn fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," he murmured.

"For liking your glasses?" Eddie shook his head. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"No, not for— for that." Steve lifted his head and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "For staying with me. For helping me through this. I know it wasn't easy. I wasn't easy, but you stayed with me." His fingers fidgeted nervously with Eddie's shirt. "You didn't have to, but you did."

"Wasn't easy?" Eddie pressed closer, so Steve's back bumped against the counter behind him. "It was the easiest thing in the world for me. I hated seeing you upset, but it meant you weren't letting these things stay unchecked." His thumbs stroked Steve's cheeks, and Steve leaned into the touch. "We have a baseline now, to know if things get worse. You have medicine now, so you won't have to suffer through a migraine the way you did before. That was easy, sunshine."

Steve felt more than saw Eddie's smile as he was pulled against his boyfriend's chest again.

"Even if you would've been as much of a pain in the ass as I was, even if you'd yelled and pushed me away, I would've stayed. Because you stayed, too. You made me take care of myself."

Steve sniffed softly— he wasn't sure when he started crying, but he could feel the tears that weren't trapped behind his glasses soaking into Eddie's shirt. "You fought so hard to stay alive, couldn't let you give up."

"You did, too." Eddie kissed the top of Steve's head. "You've been surviving for so long, making sure everyone else had what they needed. It was time someone returned the favor."

Steve lifted his head, and Eddie brushed over his cheeks again, wiping away fresh tears. "And here I thought that's what you've been doing all this time."

"I had a lot of favors to return," Eddie said. He brushed the tips of their noses together gently.

Steve tried to argue sometimes, when Eddie talked so sweet to him, but as Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, the arguments died in his chest.

Maybe Eddie was right, and it was time to let himself be taken care of after all.

And maybe this time, he would do it for himself.

[hwan-g]

I WAS ALL OVER HER. (bang chan)

pair. ex soldier! chris x fem! reader | genre. attraction at first sight, bartender mc, angst, smut | warnings. smoking, profanity, mentions of trauma, mental struggle, flawed characters, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus | word count. 5.7k

synopsis. you get off exactly at two o’clock every night. chris is patient—he drinks, and watches. you don’t look very happy where you are. he wants to change that, wants to know why. he’s not happy, either. but he could be, maybe. with you. for you.

Every man in there has been flirting with you.

You appear oblivious to it, and maybe that’s exactly it—a pretense, a hoax, because this is how you pay the bills and keep your job, and now Chris sees you under a different light, no more the deer in the headlights, but rather the car heading straight for the poor animal, foot on the gas, unyielding.

Not quite so innocent, and nothing about this place is. Lee Minho’s own bar, his pride and joy, bleeding reds and yellows, a jukebox from the late eighties bought at an auction placed aesthetically by the window wall with the neon sign and the street lamps outside. It’s all very purposeful, very strategic. A house of cards, if you ask the man sitting at the bar, sporting a whiskey-on-the-rocks in his strong hand, but what isn’t? Everything collapsing, all at once, constantly—he’s seen that, too, a thousand times.

His rib cage feels restricting, his breath hitches. You’re bending over the ice cooler, and he can clearly see the trace of your underwear underneath the black linen skirt. Your ass curves deliciously, and his palms are suddenly itchy. No, Chris is no different than the men polluting this establishment, nor has he ever claimed to be. He’ll show you a good time if you’re up for it, but he won’t beg, won’t even pick up the courage to flirt his way into that sinful fucking skirt. Black suits you.

He doesn’t stand a chance. And he’s not a creep, not for the most part, at least.

He’s been a regular, though. You know his name and he knows yours. He heard about your grandma passing and that one time your car broke down in the middle of nowhere and you had no one to call except for your boss. He almost volunteered that night; almost opened his stupid mouth, muttered something he would never be able to take back—you can call me, I’ll always come—but he didn’t, because there had also been a boyfriend for a while back then, too. Tall and lanky, covered in tattoos and bad decisions. Chris knows all about those, but what he didn’t know—

What you saw in that guy. How he took you home once and then kept taking you, in multiple ways he supposed, burying between your legs, kissing your lips and laying a claim on you everytime he got the goddamn chance—he’s glad the fucker’s gone, but not glad for the broken heart and the tears. Oh, and the shots. You’d been too drunk to stand, could barely talk. Still, Chris wasn’t the one to take care of you then, either, though he’d jumped out of his chair the moment he saw you swaying. Hands as fists, teeth clenched, he saw Minho carry you to the back, then called for Jisung to come and close the bar for the night.

He’d been an observer his whole life. And when he wasn’t—when he showed up, took initiative, buzzed his hair and made a choice—it all went to shit. Two years of goddamn sand, sunburns, bullets scratching past his thick fucking head, innocent civilians dying before his eyes, his own arms raising a rifle, pointing, threatening. Killing. Lots of that, mostly that, and orders. So many fucking orders he could recite them in his sleep, if he had any of that. Insomnia was a hell of a bitch, as it turns out, and she’ll see you know that. She’ll make sure of it.

Sergeant, take your comrade and go back! This is an order from your captain. Do you fucking hear me? It was a suicide mission, for fuck’s sake—

But enough of that. He does a lot of remembering on his own. He’s there to forget about it all for a while. He’s there to look at you, to observe your hands fixing other men drinks, to fantasize having those same hands wrapped around his cock, to feel how they would work him over the edge, how much or how little you’d squeeze, if you’d take him in your mouth, how your lips would pucker to suck him in, his head falling back, breathing rugged, his entire body in full attention, very similar to his training days, mud up to his knees—

It’s only been six months. You’ll go back to normal in no time, they’d said. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to give us a call on our office number. He had a lot of those. Concerns. Mostly about the dead people behind closed eyelids, how they moved and moaned his name even though he never told them, or just the simple fucking question of his mind—it’s all jumbled now, it replays memories like a broken record, and cannot seem to shut the fuck up, not even for a single moment. Chris feels like he’s drowning, most of his days. Neck deep in water, surrounded by bulletproof glass, no way in, no way out. What to do about that?

Leave a message after the beep, apparently. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.

He’d like to flirt with you. He’d like to say one thing and then keep pouring out, keep saying, keep talking, if only to have your eyes on him, to keep your gaze trained on him, to have your undivided attention. But to hear your voice reply back, to invest in him, to listen and have words for him. He craves your words, the way your mouth would curve around the syllables, how your lipstick will coat your sentences, so that when they travel they reach their destination sweeter than ever.

Chris is starved. Of many things, yes, but of what you have to offer him. Of what he wants to ask of you. It’s a specific hunger, wanting you, one that’s hard to shake. So, he doesn’t. He couldn’t possibly.

The men continue ogling. He considers it a mercy to let them—to his friend, but to you, also. ‘Heaven knows I’m miserable now’ starts playing on the old piece of junk in the corner, the guy responsible for the choice of song going back to his booth, cherry cigarette glinting amongst a rain of color. Chris tries not to smoke in front of you, you’ve probably inhaled enough of it to last you a lifetime, but it’s times like these, times he can’t seem to stand himself—

“Really, Al?” You ask the record player, and the man shrugs, lifts his glass your way.

“It’s one of those days, doll.”

It is, indeed.

“And you?”

It takes Chris a full five seconds to realize you’re addressing him. Why? Which God should he thank? And how to form coherent sentences when your eyes are piercing through him like a million knives? He wraps his hand tighter around his drink, hoping you don’t notice how undone, how completely in your web he is now—a caving man, ready to fall on his knees for you. You could do anything you want, you could spit at him for all he cared, kick his sorry ass out, as long as you didn’t take your eyes away.

His voice comes out raspy, distorted. Alien. A false sense of confidence.

“What about me, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks are flushed, your eyebrows knit together as if you don’t quite understand what he’s asking. His eyes travel to where your shirt has ridden up to reveal the soft skin of your waist, though he doesn’t let himself indulge too long. Chris would love to have you under him, to guide your hands over his bullet wounds and his own down the hills and mountains of you. But how to get you away from here, how to take a girl like you from this impenetrable tower he’s locked you in. He laid down the bricks, he cemented you in place to keep you out of his life, when all he’s ever wanted to do was let you take over everything, let you annihilate, destroy, build anew.

He really can’t fucking stand himself.

“You look sad, Chris.”

I’m sorry. His fingers search for the pack in his jacket, slipping a stick between his teeth, bringing the flame close, and inhaling. You blink and busy yourself with wiping down the counter, but he can tell you don’t like it when he smokes, him in particular, a question mark he’s burning to know the answer to. Do you care? Do you care like I do?

How simple it’d be, to be sad. A state that will pass, chemistry of the brain that can easily be overturned, switched with a quick fix of serotonin. It almost makes him laugh. No, what he is—wretched, forlorn. A rotting corpse somewhere in the Middle East. If he were to guess, he came back, some fucking semblance of him, only for you. And he’s fucking it up, he’s letting you slip right through his very hands. You’re single now, but for how long? How fucking long will it take for him to grow the balls and tell you straight up?

Tear me apart and put me back together. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. I’m all fucking wrong now, but you can fix me. God, I’ll let you. Say the word and I’ll let you.

His lips quirk, a bitterness enveloping him. “Yeah? Is that what I am?”

You turn your back to leave a beer to the man on the other side of the bar, and he misses you already. Chris obliges you when you look ready to make small talk with him. He’s even cracked a joke or two on occasion, just to feel that constricting feeling in his chest again, the one that warms his bones and makes his ears ring. The sound of your laughter is intoxicating, unlike anything he’s ever heard, but much like a bomb. Devastating. Impossible to ignore. Today’s not one of those days.

The clock on the wall reads one-fifteen. He’s faintly aware of the sputtering on the window, the rain that’s coming or is already here. He’ll have to go home soon. He wonders if you’ll come. He wonders if he’ll ask you to.

When you turn around, he thinks the rainbow’s already out. The worst has passed.

And then you lean in. Towards him. The cigarette in his mouth stills, his heart stops. He can smell you, the sweetness of you, the warmth of your hair, and he’s surely dreaming. You’ve never done that before. He’s never let you. But you’re here now, so close he could exhale in your mouth, so close there’d be a misunderstanding, could be considered an invitation—

“I’m here if you need to talk, you know?” Your eyes are real empathetic. They make him sick to his stomach.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Brick after brick.

“There’s nothing to say, baby girl.” Tell me what shampoo you use. Do you have trouble sleeping at night? What are you doing in this bar?

Let me take you away. Come with me.

You don’t believe him. “Promise?”

The side of his mouth curves again. He muses at the cherry between his thumb and index. “Scout’s honor.”

You walk away from him, time and time again. Angel hair framing, devil’s body swaying, those fucking lips taunting.

“If you say so, Christopher Bang.”

What do I know, sweetheart. What do I fucking know.

He waits. He’s real good at waiting, too.

Chris thinks about your proximity earlier and can’t seem to let it fucking go. In that same sense, he could do anything, and he ponders over that leaning against the exit, knowing you’re in the background of him, sweeping, putting chairs up, washing the glass his lips have touched, and isn’t that a closeness as well, a different one, one that matters more than anything else or ever?

He feels like he’s on the verge of something tonight, and for once he’d like to know what it is. He wants to screw concepts like control and restrain and just grab you—hold you—press his nose against your cheek. You’re such a vague emotion for him, he doesn’t know what to do with you, how to start, he just wants, he just craves, and that same hunger stirs again, the one that never goes away, the one that started the first night he ever set foot in this place, the soft opening, and he saw you, and you looked at him, and he was gone.

Have you ever felt that way? Do you want to? Is it even a sane feeling to have? It never ends for him, never stops. Not the war, not you, not the orders, and maybe control isn’t so overrated, maybe he still has time to pull it all together enough to walk to his car and go sleep it off on his empty bed with the colorless sheets and the humidity that clings on and to and from everything.

His waiting had a purpose, though. He has to go through with it.

Hyunjin, your little helper on Saturday’s, comes out the door with a backpack strap on one shoulder, cig drooping between full lips, brown hair falling out of a loose bun. Chris barely glances at him, before tapping his boot on the cobblestone underneath him, and focusing his gaze back towards the light coming from the street lamp on the other side of the street. It’s drizzling now, but he wishes to see that magnificent lightning crack once more, to feel thunder under his skin, the water pouring down on him like karma from times passed.

Some sort of punishment, surely, he deserves. He fought for a country that won’t even acknowledge him, lost friends he’s known since he was four years old learning how to ride a bicycle, and his mind is somewhere left behind trying to dig itself out of the thick of it, and for that—surely, surely for that—redemption will not come, but cruelness? Cruelness must. It has to.

“She’s been sleeping with Minho, you know,” the pretty boy says exhaling clouds of smoke. Chris watches them morph then dissolve into nothing.

He knew that. It was bound to happen at some point.

“You come so often and yet never say anything at all, man. What do you think she’s gonna do? Wait?”

There’s humor in that, he supposes. Wait, yes, one option. He has, he thinks, for so long. It’s never crossed his mind to stop, to look elsewhere, to find someone else. It’s who he is, it’s how it works with him. But were you anything else besides a princess locked in a tower with a dragon, a tower he’d build you, and it keeps coming up because it’s true, it won’t seize just because it doesn’t fit the narrative in his stupid head. He has no right to feel anger, no reason why he should feel wronged. Minho is your boss, you’ve worked for him for a good while, you’re pretty, beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon, and Minho’s cunning. Handsome. Successful.

Why the hell not? No, he doesn’t fault you. He can’t.

It doesn’t sting less coming from someone else.

Chris asks what is obvious. “How’d you know? About me?”

Hyunjin lifts his hands in front of him. “Tunnel vision. It’s like you see no one else,” he pauses to take another drag of what looks like a Camel. “Kinda obsessive, don’t you think?”

Yes. If I knew better I’d walk away right now. But he won’t. Because he doesn’t care that someone else has you, has had you, will eventually have you. It’s you he wants, not the pretty packaging, no matter the fantasies and hard ons. You, he wants to talk to you, bring you in his car and dissect you, learn about you, hear you speak, let you address him how you do—Christopher—his full name taking shape, blooming, transforming into something else just because it came out of your mouth.

He’s never let himself think about kissing you, not really. But, God, would that feel a resurrection.

The door opens again.

“Hyun, what—oh.”

The boy smiles, dips his head at Chris and walks away, two fingers up and swiftly moving as goodbye. Your phone is pressed on your ear, and you look tired. He was wrong to sit there and demand. He was wrong to expect, to assume. Embarrassment creeps, and the back of his neck feels hot. He bites on his tongue and tastes metal.

“I’ll call you back,” you say to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, no, maybe not tonight. Okay,” your eyes on him. “Okay, bye.”

He can’t help himself. “You had plans.”

Your lips curve, and your skirt is so fucking short. He could bend you over right then and there. He could have his way with you, and walk away forever. Get you out of his system, strip you from him. How easy it all sounds.

“I have new ones now,” you simply say, and take a step towards him. “Why are you still here, Chris?”

You’re begging him for the truth. This time he thinks he can give it to you. “Because you’re here.”

You blink and shift on your legs. Your boots are black, leather. Tall. Still not taller than him. You look into him like you know him and it pisses him off. He wants you so badly his insides twist and turn against him. He could die with this want, he almost has. Move closer. Reach out. Keep your eyes on mine.

I could fuck you so good. Almost as good as you fuck me.

“And that means?”

He swallows. He doesn’t think. “Whatever you allow it to mean.”

Your huff is bitter, your gaze manic. You’ve had a few drinks, laughed with a couple customers, let them slip you tips and led them on until you couldn’t, and he watched it all. He won’t say it out loud, but you’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you. If so, why don’t you give out? Why must you starve him like this?

He lights another cigarette just to see you care again.

You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth, and glare at him. He grins. You shake your head, and cross your arms, fake mad. Look how good you’re playing this game. What if you played forever? What if you played it in his bed or his car?

“I’ve fucked your friends,” you admit, but he thinks it’s supposed to hurt, because there’s an edge to your voice. “Jisung still has my clothes. Minho thought we were gonna fuck in the back after work yesterday. I almost let him. His fingers were inside my cunt for the longest.”

I could kill them. I could wear the arms that aren’t mine and pick up a gun again. But you want this reaction.

“Is that so, sweetheart,” he says carefully, concealing any sign of acid jealousy running rampant inside of him.

“You didn’t come yesterday.”

You do care. I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“You are a blind man, Christopher,” you scorn him, eyes turning vile.

He’s losing you before he’s even had you. You told him loud and clear, and he still won’t dare lift his hands from his ears. This needs to be something more. He needs to make it so, build on it. The smoke burns his eyes, burns you. Let it burn me alive. He had you, somehow. He walked the line, treaded carefully, and found you in the middle, like a mirage. Where you weren’t before, you appeared suddenly. It had been like that for a while, and he’d never dared lift his head up, in fear you disappeared, in fear of missing you.

“Show me, then,” he rasped. He watched your hands as you locked the entrance, as you hesitated to turn back. “Come with me.”

You were hurt. “And let you become one of them? You’re not one of them, Chris.”

You’re right. They’ll never want you like I do. But to go from one point to the next—something needed to give.

“I won’t touch you,” he licked his lips, stepping back, stepping down. “I swear it.”

Something he didn’t expect you to do—snatch the Marlboro right out of his mouth, stick it in yours. Your saliva mixing, the tobacco running down your throats, blackening your lungs. He was staring. You looked back just as defiantly. The rain was nowhere to be seen.

She’s testing me. Measuring up.

“Fucking liar,” you accuse. “Say that again and look at me straight.”

Chris started walking, instead. You exclaimed and laughed triumphantly. But if you followed, he didn’t check. He almost didn’t want you to, couldn’t trust himself with the promise he made, and isn’t that how he mostly gets himself in trouble—words that can’t seem to match his actions. He’s fucked himself over too many times like this. Surely there’s some sort of award for that.

“You have been nothing but a coward and that’s why you’re running away, even now, even knowing what you know.”

The need to make you shut up was raw and primal. It made his teeth grit, his fists clench. It also made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What do you know about running away, baby girl?” He spat, turning his head half way. “You think it’s easy?”

He heard them, then. Your footsteps.

He almost smiled, the crazy bastard.

“Yes, I do,” you retorted stubbornly. “My ride is gone and I stayed. What do you think that means?”

Don’t love me. Don’t get in the same pit, six feet under.

“You’re playing with me.”

“No more than you are with me.”

It took exactly three strides to reach you, to bury his fist in your hair and bring your face flush against his. Your breath hitched, your eyes grew wide, wild—he’d caught you off guard, he was rough, angry, furious. If he passed his forearm under your ass you’d shoot your legs up and around his waist in surprise, perhaps desire even, that was simple to calculate, but—what then?

Chris would fuck you tonight. He knew fuck all about anything else that had to do with you, but your very scent spoke to him. You were turned on, you were fucking wet. For him. Your knees squeezed together, he felt it against his pants. He bets you can feel him, as well. He wanted you to.

“Dangerous path you’re treading there,” he mumbles against your mouth. His fingers dig deeper in your scalp, he wants to feel your heartbeat over his, he wants it to accelerate, to make you dizzy, to surrender, to give in, finally, for fuck’s sake. “We’re not very good at bluffing with each other, are we, baby girl?”

You did something, then, something he hadn’t counted on—you leaned in, you let go. Chris almost flinched away, almost locked you back in that room, in that tower, away away away.

“You should kiss me,” barely a whisper, barely a command. “I want you to kiss me.”

There was no logic behind that, if that were to happen he’d— “I’m not gonna stop,” he warns, pleads. “I have—I have been starving for you…for so long, (Y/N). If you know what you’re doing, know I’m not gonna stop.”

You blinked, and then you smiled. “No one’s stopping you.”

He continued, entranced, drunk, insane, “I’m not going to fucking be one of them. You’re gonna stay with me. We’re gonna give this a try.”

“You’re delusional.”

You kiss him first. You end it first.

His car is right there, so close, so far, but he’s clutching your shirt, your hair, your face, your hip, and it’s so fucking hot, no, you are, you’re the hottest thing he’s ever touched, he could burst into ashes and smoke right there if it were possible, perhaps he wants to, perhaps making the first move was never an option for him—

Your teeth click against his and it hurts but it feels good, like violence, like the battlefield, and he wants to show you—what the bullet feels like piercing the skin, what hands as guns are capable of, how truly terrifying it is to not be in control of your own life, of your own destiny; Chris is sure you’re holding that red string for the both of you. You could snap it, twist it, break it. Maybe you should. Maybe there’s still time to put a full stop to this, the what if’s are too many, his head is spinning, his cock is fully erect, he’s—

Fuck him, he’s really holding you right now, isn’t he? He’s backtracking you to privacy, he’s looking for the keys in his back pocket, and you’re going along with it like you would’ve all along. It pisses him off. He wants to tear you apart, limb from limb, not quite aware of how dark that sounds, only the insistent pulse of hunger present.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathe into him. He staggers, scared of your thought-reading abilities. “Not for my sake.”

There’s one bone chilling moment where he pulls back and stares at you. In the feverish dream, he could pretend this was all make believe, that he had most likely passed out on the bar stool waiting for you to close, or even further, that he was still choking down sand next to dead bodies and machine guns—to actually—actually think you craved something like this?

After all the pushing and pulling? After Jisung’s embarrassed unanswered calls, Minho’s obnoxious smirk, Hyunjin’s shame inducing comments?

“You want this,” he tests, stricken. Confused.

You dare roll your eyes at him, closing the door after you. You’re properly straddling him now, your core pressing where he needs you most, and his hips buck, instinctively, his arms steadying you unconsciously. He wants to do it again, goes for it, but you meet him halfway, and it’s as good an answer as any. What comes out of your mouth, not quite a moan or a quiver—heaven, it must be, the gates opening, welcoming.

“I’m here, Christopher,” you say, and—

Say it again. Say it again and again and again. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.

“Isn’t that enough? Get it through your head or I’m leaving.”

He does. He tries. He undresses you slowly, whatever he can reach, whatever’s accessible, and you let him, you stroke his shoulders, relax them, tense them to the point of fucking stiffness, but he can’t tell you that, he’s got one chance, he’s fucking taking it, he won’t miss, he won’t back down.

When he goes in to kiss you again, you press your naked chest over his thin tank top, and even then, he feels it—your pointing nipples, how hard they are, asking for attention. His hand comes out to reach for your neck, creating space by pushing you back, his tongue quickly wrapping around one bud, nibbling, sucking, teasing. You shudder, and his dick twitches. Holding you like this, applying just enough pressure to induce pain but making it manageable, he learned it for other purposes, it was never supposed to be for this, never for this—

He thinks he can begin using it for pleasure now. For something softer, more innocent. For you. On you.

You slip his thumb past your lips, licking over it, and he looks up through dark eyelashes, watches you do it, fantasizes about that mouth and how it would feel in other places, but he doesn’t want that from you now. He’d rather bury himself between your legs. He’d like to think you’ll have more time for everything else, more miracle chances.

Chris can smell your arousement. You’re practically soaking his pants with how you’re dry humping his thigh. He loves watching you losing yourself, he’d just love it even more if you were doing it with his cock inside you. His nails dig into your waist, his wanting unbearable, uncontrollable.

He’s shaking with the sheer force of it, though he would never truly admit it to himself.

You release his finger, and he brings you back, hand getting lost at your nape, holding you there, boring his eyes into yours, searching, asking, verifying. You’re so warm, his girl. The girl he’s wanted for so long, he’s dreamed of, has fought for in a silent war—before he even knows what he’s doing, he pulls you in for a hug, forgetting his own flesh, his desire.

You’re warm. Are you always this warm? Will you let me have this? I’ve been cold for so long, so fucking long…

“We’ve waited too long, don’t you think?” You mumble in his ear. You fall into him, relax your weight. Crush me. Let me feel you. “Do it, Chris. Please.”

Yes. Yes, you’re right. “I want you to know,” he starts, voice cracking, full of emotion. “I’ve lived through Hell wasting all that time. I’ve thought about death and addiction, and about how none of that could ever fucking compare to having you, like this, one day. You’ve kept me straight, sweetheart. Sane.”

It takes only a second for the words to register, before you’re unbuckling his belt, unzipping, hand getting lost, and he holds his breath through all of it, holds you even tighter, and when you finally, finally, have him in your hand, he pulls your panties to the side and guides you over, slams you down, on him. You bite his lip to keep from screaming out and he only digs deeper in your cunt.

“Take them off,” you cry out, trying to move by your own volition. He won’t let you. “Take them off now.”

He reaches behind your back and rips the thin fabric off you, throwing it on the driver's seat. Then he’s fucking into you full force, pistoling his hips up into your warmth, feeling you squeeze around him, your mouth sucking on his neck, the car heavy with your breathing, windows smudged. When he’s not guiding your hips, he’s gripping your ass, he’s abusing your waist by smacking you down on his length, hard, forcefully, painfully by the scrunch of your brows, but the way you take it all—the way you’re blossoming over him, hungrier than he is, a slut dripping for him, for his cock, for the way it fills you up, the way he fills you up—

Chris is convinced your pussy was made for him, he fits so perfectly inside it. Your rhythm is manic, chasing, brutal, but you’re so wet, so fucking wet, it feels so good, he needs you to know, he needs you to hear it, something else other than his cock burying, fuck, fuck, baby girl, your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt, I wanna be inside it forever, I’m gonna fill you up so good, look at you, look how you’re moving on me, let me see you, sweetheart, let me taste it, I bet you taste incredible; God I could fuck you all night, I could ruin you, I want to, you’re gonna fucking kill me.

“I’m going to cum,” you rasp, breathless, turned on beyond belief. “Chris, I’m going to fucking cum, fuck, just like that, please, don’t stop, faster, please, please…”

He drills into you one last time, two, three, before his arms fully wrap around you and envelop you, bodies shaking, releasing. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and you’ve made a mess of his car seat. He could give less of a fuck about the stain, it’s the smell that’s driving him crazy, his musk mixed with yours, the desire stirring in the pit of his stomach, the way he wants to throw you in the backseat and to take you from behind as well.

His cock empties itself inside you in aftershocks, and your rocking hips against him are not helping. He wants to pin you down but can’t bring himself to do it. It feels overwhelming, good as fuck, to know you want him this much, even if just like this, it’s a start, it’s something he can work with.

“Never fucked in a car before,” you admit, dazed, giggling.

The sound tickles him.

“Took your first time, then, didn’t I?” He retorts, aware of how ridiculous it sounds.

But then you lean back, your gaze grows serious, you stop squirming. He listens, he tunes in.

“Wish you had,” you say. “My first time was in a back alley of a club. I was drunk and left to find my own way back afterwards… Not quite a decision I’m proud of.”

Chris’ heart dropped. “Consensual?”

You nodded. “Not to worry.” But the smile you threw at him didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I wonder how it would’ve been, though, if it was you from the start. You joined the army so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

His worst mistake. Something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Chris gently lifts you from his lap and lays your upper half body on the seat next to him, quickly propping one knee where he was sitting, grabbing your hips and passing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal, hands clutching at your chest, as you watch him.

He boyishly grins your way before digging in your pussy, slurping away, cleaning you dry. The sound that came out of your mouth upon contact, fucking hell, he’ll never forget it. His cock rose in full attention again, his heart melted right off his goddamn chest. And you kept making it, kept giving it to him, sending him straight to his grave, moaning his name like that, his full name, as his tongue lapped, his nose nudging your clit.

Fuck no, you weren’t cumming. He wouldn’t let you. Not yet.

He withdrew his mouth, lowering you gently but still having a forearm under and across your waist. You kept your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in quick motions.

“Now I can take you home.”

Your hand in his, he brought you back to his lap, held you until you calmed down. He kissed your lips and let you taste yourself. He looked at you and looked at you and looked at you.

You weren’t going anywhere.

“This could be something,” you muse quietly, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Chris bit down a chuckle, nodded softly in agreement.

“Let it,” he responded. “Let it be.”

You didn’t move an inch. A minute or a year passed, it was hard to tell. Then, ever so agonizingly slow, you tilted your head.

You smiled.

Fuck me.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @streetlight-s, @amnmich, @imtoooyoungforthisshit.

[vingvks]

I’ve never done this before so be easy on me 😾

Also- sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong use of words.

Manjiro is the legal age in this.

Edited!

Shameless ⚠️ (not too shameless actually because I can’t fucking say the word cock for some reason.)

You have a desk in your room because I said so

Top male reader x Kanto manji manjiro sano

The room that was once quiet, occasional groans escaping in which Manjio sloppily undressed whatever clothing was in the way, along with you doing the same. Was now filled with moans, cursing and the frequent sound of flesh smacking together profusely.

“Ah-… Oh- fuck!” Manjiro muttered under his breath, feeling you so swiftly thrust inside. “Take your goddamn time…” he whispered, slight harshness in his tone. His body stiff as he holds back a gasp, feeling you start to thrust he tenses up. “I’ll do what I want, Manjiro.” You replied in result with a quiet scoff. “Your so loose…” You muttered, he glared at the desk in response. “Don’t provoke me.” He replied bitterly, Biting back a whimper as he felt your teeth sink into his right shoulder blade. Gripping the end of the desk under him. He roughly closed his eyes, the feeling of pleasure was distracting enough for his mind to become foggy.

He could feel the cold desk pressed against his skin. Along with your hips pressed into him while you held his waist firmly, smoothly and swiftly pulling his waist down so he could feel each thrust. Embarrassment filled with shame turns the tips of his ears red, as if he hasn’t sinned the same way multiple times with you.

For the notorious kanto manji leader, it was out of character for him to be bent over somebody’s desk, his hair a mess along with his cheeks and ears flushed.

Mikey had developed a lust for power that started to become uncontrollable, due to dark impulse. He was quite relieved to be put in a submissive position in fact. After everything that happen with Tokyo manji gang and kanto manji he needed a breather. Just some sex to relieve this stress, and the upcoming stress he knew was bound to become reality.

Manjiro gets most of what he wants regardless. Sex doesn’t make a difference in that. It didn’t make a difference if he was submissive if nobody was aware of that. Right? So fuck it.

He trembled violently that he was sure he’d end up shaking the desk. At the feeling of your pants and cold zipper gently poking against his thigh, he slightly leans up before you push his stomach back onto the desk. The warm room and feeling was different than the feeling of your cold zipper, sending chills down his spine. He could feel relentless pleasure being sent from the feeling of you hitting against his prostate meanwhile you could feeling the endless feeling his soft insides swallowing you hole. “Your moaning like a bitch, so sweet..” You spoke, before he could retort he feels your hand slip around his throat. He immediately bites back his salty response.

From your perspective.. all you could focus on was the shorter boy that was currently bent over a desk in your room while stretching his arms out to hold the other end of the desk with an almost weak trembling grip, your hand around his neck that he doesn’t protest against. His hands were staring to grip that he held to the point his hands were hurting. He was sure of the moment he let go he’d completely break.

The only thing refraining him and keeping him on edge was his grip on your desk. Your thrust turn into pounds. Drool threatening to spill from his mouth as he grips tighter, unsure if he’ll be able to walk for the next few days. “Ahh… slow down- Im- I-!” His words becoming incoherent.

“Fuckfuckfuckkk- ha! pleasee!~”

He whined, the most pathetic mewl escaping his lips as your hand around his neck tightens, he rolls his head back for more air and you cackle at his advances. Although Manjiro wasn’t even sure what he was begging for. Did he want more? Or less? He couldn’t think straight. Not with you inside of him. The way you were manhandling his hips down into you was almost insulting to his pride. Pulling him down only so he could you hit exactly into his prostate. A sloppy yet fast pace.

Along with his his own gang uniform being all over the place, his pants and boxers below his knees, his shirt laid out somewhere on the floor. His upper body revealed showing his toned body and muscles while his jacket was hanged on a coat hanger near the front door.

Manjiro’s thick blonde hair that was usually tied up in a way was now free and messy yet it looked so beautiful and addictive to look at,

Your shirt off with your pants on still but the zipper all the way down, enough for you pound roughly into Manjiro while he slowly melted in your hands. Desperate whines and pretty moans escaping him every time your fast pace hit his prostate.

“Oh my-! fuckk! Mm-“ Manjiro mumbled. Then like a leap of faith Manjiro finally let one of his hands slip away from the desk in order to hold his mouth. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted you to hear the noises that were bound to escape him.

In the meanwhile you were softly yet loudly moaning and occasionally groaning while staring at Mikey’s hair, his hair was oddly alluring. His moans like honey to your ear before you concentration was broken by him muffling the sounds escaping.

“Now that’s not fair is it?” You asked firmly. Leaving Manjiro confused before his heart dropped hearing your next words. “I wanna hear how much of a mess I make you, Manjiro Sano.” You whispered before grabbing both his arms and holding them in one hand tightly, his body to weak to free himself from your grip therefore all he could do was cry out to you.

“Ah fuckk~” He whined, his body slowly growing more weak and tired. His stamina was still high, just as much as his body was high form the pleasure being sent. “I won’t Ugh-Please, I won’t do that again-“ he spoke out in a struggled tone referring to his restrained arms from your grip while his strength is weakening, he was beyond desperate for you to free his arms and let him grip onto something again. He

His mind growing foggy as small drool escaped his lips he grit his teeth in response. He hated being in a weak position or being weak in general but this wasn’t something he could have control over. You’d be the only one to ever bend him over this way.

Your body pressing against him from behind was making him go into a frenzy, feeling your pants and zipper slightly rubbing against his skin every pound made him feel like he was on fire but in heaven at the same time, the way you both felt was unexplainable but you both loved it just as much.

Apparently Manjiro’s begging only made things worse for him as your grip tightened. By now Manjiro was nothing but a whimpering moaning mess, his moans progressively becoming more vocal and whiny than he wanted you to hear.

He could feel his stomach get tight followed along with his face heating up.. he could tell he was close just by the way you were starting to drive him more insane than he already is.

Manjiro whined again with a small groan feeling his member twitch, his moans mixing with yours filled the rest of the empty room. You could feel yourself being overwhelmed with pleasure knowing that you were close and so was he, A quiet grunt escaping you as you sped up your pace before speaking up.

“Good.. you’re close aren’t you, correct Manjiro?”

You teased him speeding up your pace. Making sure to cautiously pull out in the last second making sure he came before you did so.

“I’m!- im gonna-mm ohh~ fuck- yes!- yes-!”

….

The one and only kanto manji leader, bent over your desk trembling and panting quickly and loudly while your both tried to catch your breath. Your sperm leaking from his thighs and his sperm underneath the desk and floor.

He breathed out quickly and deeply gritting his teeth from embarrassment at the big mess he, along with you made, small scratch marks on the desk and small drool on his lips. He whimpered softly before wiping away the drool left on his bottom lip.

He could practically see the grin on your face without even looking. Dull yet sharp black eyes glared at the desk as if he was glaring at you. “Your so loud..” You said with a tone that almost seemed as if mocking. He bit his lip, holding onto his pride. With whatever voice was left he could muster up, Manjiro spoke “Ugh.. next time use a fucking condom..”

Embarrassed at the fact he knew you’d be in the shower with him for the next thirty minutes trying to clean up in an awkward silence for him while you just hummed peacefully as usual. The way he wished he could skip that part to eating curry in the living room with you.

…

[makur0]

No Nut November?

synopsis — they’re drawn into this daring challenge, all hoping to win. but who really has the guts to do so? [various enstars! x gn! reader]

featured characters — kuro kiryu, hiyori tomoe, shu itsuki, mika kagehira, mao isara, izumi sena, niki shiina, madara mikejima, adonis otogari, jun sazanami, tsumugi aoba, rinne amagi (phew a mouthful haha)

content warnings — nsfw, mdni. rough sex, jealous sex, cunnilingus, use of toys, penetration (both reader and character recieving), some hard dom! chara some reader, reversed role, sexual frusturation, teasing, degradation, face sitting, crack in some, fluffy sex in some, all of them being absolute whores (including me lets not lie)

author’s note — CROWD CHEERING IM BACK TO SMUT Y’ALL (tbh i failed the challenge like a week in but never actually opened that up bc... yeah.) and special thanks to all my mutuals for the characters, lol (these skanky-ass whores are kinda... mmm)

word count — 3559

Give it up for Rinne Amagi y’all, for he isn’t trying to win. I swear this man has no intention of going clean for even twenty-four hours, what makes you think he’ll do it for a whole month? In fact, just to piss off all of the contestants he’ll drag you into his room and go feral on you. Good thing Hiyori and Kanata had decided to bunk at a different dorm (they probably saw this coming) or else they would see Rinne fucking you into his mattress, your tear-stained face shoved into the pillows as you moan shamelessly every time he slaps his pelvis against your ass. Calling you dirty names, leaving handprints on your ass, hickies, bruises and even broken skin littering your chest and shoulders. He literally turns you into a dumb stuttering doll as he pulls countless orgasms out of you, soaking his bedsheets underneath you and generally creating a mess. Which he’s honestly aiming for. Riling up all those so-called ‘clean’ people and making them regret their choice for accepting the challenge. It’s in his nature, after all, to stir up chaos.

Oh? You were planning to participate in the challenge too? Well that has him even more hyped up. He’s gonna scramble your mind (and insides) so much that you’ll be so fucking glad that you didn’t take up the offer and instead stayed with him. If he can make you feel this good, why throw it away for such a shitty gamble that you wouldn’t even gain anything from it?

I don’t think it’s quite obvious, but Jun Sazanami would have lost within the first day. He may have a bit more dignity than our favorite redhead, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a horny teenager at heart. Dragged into this mess by Ohii-san and taunted by him, he was really set on winning it, poor man. He only realized his fault as soon as the first day, when he went out with you. Jun really couldn’t help himself as he would constantly steal looks to your body, feeling himself heating up even more than usual due to the challenge itself. (Literally why are you the most horny when you want to become clean?) I feel like he won’t just fold you and start rutting into you like a bitch in heat— well to be honest i want him to do that— but he’ll secretly jerk off away from the prying eyes of his friends, in hope that people wouldn’t notice. Frantically fisting his hard-on, his other hand desperately muffling his moans, as he comes for what seems like the third time that night. Imagining that it was your hand around his cock, pumping his seed out, and your tongue licking up all of his cum. Goddamn- he can’t escape from your hold.

Of course Hiyori finds this out, but Jun isn’t really all that pissed about it... at least he can fuck you now without worrying about this stupid challenge anyways. 

Talking about him, Hiyori Tomoe wouldn’t last either! Definitely hypes himself too much, proclaiming that he will win this challenge easy-peasy. But that’s him talking when he gets pussy/dick almost every night. Even going as far as teasing his friends about it, catcalling them, but soon enough he’ll be eating those words when it hits him that he can’t call you. At least, to call you to meet him at his room again to do their almost-daily quickie. And what?! He can’t even masturbate too??

Somehow he gets through the first week (with him grinding against his sheets softly I may add- which unfortunately made the man even more needy) but it soon turns to be futile as every time he lays eyes on you, dirty fantasies fill his mind. Damn the challenge; why can’t he just have you sit on his cock in public, your nice little hole drooling over his length as you grind impatiently against him? You look so cute in those clothes anyway... 

And when you get irritated? By god he’s spiraling. He wants- no, needs you to peg or ride him until he’s seeing stars. Losing his sanity by the second, he’s shoving you into the nearest bathroom stall, impatient to finally get off after so long. And please do help him... he’s been good for a week, right? A whole seven days! He surely deserves a treat, no?

As a joke, Madara Mikejima would take on the challenge fully knowing that he’ll loose... so why? Just to see your face when he announces it? He’s fully aware that you can’t handle the sexual deprivation (even more so than he), so you’re devastated when he tells you his plan. Of course this is all just to see you break and whine to him just so he can tease you about it, but not just yet...

You couldn’t keep your composure for even a week, so soon enough Madara finds you getting off to your toys, trying to keep your loud moans at bay. He doesn’t bite for a minute or so, but once he sees your blissful face once you come undone on some fucking silicone something eats at him. Within a second he’s towering over you, throwing that slicked-over toy and biting at you with a tight smile that clearly tells you that you’re in for it. He’s being extremely petty over getting jealous by a toy, but he’s set on making sure that nobody, not even nothing can make you feel as good as he is right now. Surely, with the way you’re screaming his name for all the neighbors to unfortunately hear, right? And the way you’re convulsing on his cock, pushing him to fuck you even harsher and deeper, yeah? In the end Mama set you up for a trap but he fell in it instead... but really, what does it matter when in the end he has you fold for him?

Poor Tsumugi Aoba, trying so hard for the sake of... what was it exactly? Did he hopefully write it down? Anyways, there’s no shot that this baby wins with all the work stress he’s under. How can he lose you, his main source of relief, for an entire month? He’s likely one of the few people who took the challenge but realized the struggle, so as soon as he’s starts he starts drowning himself in even more work, as ironic as it sounds. It’s successful... for what, the first week and a half or so? But there’s only so much work to be done. He somehow burns through a whole month’s work in a span of a week, and comes up with nothing after that. That’s when the real struggle happens.

It’s almost like he’s death-staring you as he sits with you at the dinner table, but in reality he’s having a mental conniption. All of his walls melted like ice thanks to the lack of distraction, and he’s trying to stop the flow of dirty, dirty thoughts about you. His dick getting hard within a snap of your finger, his face getting flushed and hot, it doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots and mentally sigh. Usually Tsumugi would listen to you thoroughly, but as soon as the words he wanted to hear slipped out of your lips he’s pressing against you like a dog in heat, apologizing profusely as he fucks you right over the table. And he’s likely going to keep you there for a good hour- this man has stamina. Prove me wrong >:(

Kuro Kiryu is struggling because you are. See, if he didn’t catch you biting your lip in frustration, rubbing your thighs together subtly, even ghosting your hand over your sex, he himself wouldn’t feel himself getting hot and hard. What’s turning him on is your sexual frustration... which later on would definitely put it to good use. Unfortunately for him though, he’s still tied into the challenge so he has to at least try. It’s probably the worst two weeks of his life as he tries not to fold your sleeping figure next to him in bed, instead going as far as staying up through the night and taking out all his frustrations on a poor sandbag (I’m telling you, by the end of it his dick his harder than that lmfao). Yes, he loses. Halfway through November, itching for some intimate touch, he nearly praises the lord above when he catches you playing with your sex like a bitch in heat, hurriedly trying to get off. 

He’s your man, so of course he has to help you! Just thank him by spilling your loud whorish moans into his ear as he fucks you on the cold bathroom floor, the heat radiating from both of your sweating bodies competing with the hot shower steam. His pent-up energy is either a blessing or a curse to your poor body, because he’s not letting go of you until he’s come at least... be real. Five or six times. And plus I’m normal about breeding so of course he’s watching his thick cum seep out of your hole, decorating the already-white marble tiles. He can’t help but take a picture for masturbation food, seeing your slicked-over hole and ass pairing with the purple, red, and pink marks he proudly left behind. Is he ashamed of losing the challenge? Honestly a bit during post-sex and when he finally has reason... but he’s learned so much that he wouldn’t know before. So it’s a 50/50 for him.

Shu Itsuki struggles because you aren’t. The Shu Itsuki, the self-proclaimed best artist, a man of culture, is frantically trying to calm down his raging hard-on as you waltz away from him, perfectly fine and calm?? No no, it should be the tables turned! You should be the one begging him to please you, and he should be scoffing at your brazen behavior! But no matter how much he wishes it to be this way, your lack of attention, sexually, has him bucking into his expensive sheets, whining into his already-soaked pillow as he tries to get himself off. I feel like Shu is the type of person to train himself to control his sexual desires when you’re not around, taking extreme caution to not to try to come over anything but you. Oh how it bites him in the back now, frustrated tears falling from his lilac eyes as he can’t bring himself to reach an orgasm even once. And he’s not the type to use toys, as the traditional man he is, so there’s nothing in his house that could accommodate to his needs. So he’s, in the worst time possible, stuck.

Finally dropping his pretentious ego, he comes to you as a whiny, horny flustered mess as his obvious hard-on pokes through his pants. You can’t help but coo at his helplessness, teasing him bit to further rile him up. But you can’t have your pretty princess wait for too long, or he’ll actually lose it. So give him a good hard fuck, riding him or pegging him it doesn’t matter, and break him over your lap until he’s a babbling flushed mess. Because of how sensitive he is you have his watery cum staining your slacks, feeling the cool liquid touch your hot skin, but you could care less as you please your baby <3.

Mika Kagehira is adamant on making sure nobody finds out he’s cheating. Who is he kidding- a person who basically lives on your quickies almost every day wouldn’t survive this challenge. But you just look so hopeful as you turned to him to win, genuinely thinking that he’ll succeed. So for your sake he’ll stay quiet, although it’ll probably kill him that he won’t be able to feel you for a while. All he has to survive off of are shitty sex toys and every once in a while plushies that permanently smell like you, so it’s definitely not the best but it could be worse.

But out of all people (although looking back he was relieved) you were the first one to find out that he was cheating all along. Walking into him whining against his pillows, grinding his dick into the cum-soaked sheets as a vibrator was shoved into his ass at the highest speed. You’re frozen in your spot for a good minute, trying to process the scene in front of you, before your wrenched out of your thoughts as the male moans out your name quite shamelessly, gripping onto the ropes he wrapped around his wrists for the thrill of the burn. He was so far gone that he couldn’t even care who walked in on him, which, good for you, could enjoy the show a little bit more before you intrude on his session. So there you are, sitting at his desk, staring at the writhing boy pleasing himself at your name. Around ten minutes pass by, and Mika’s looking pretty worn out so he reaches for the remote. But before he could shut it off you suddenly appear on him, resting your hand over his. The poor boy is flabbergasted, trying to come up with some silly excuse before your other hand is rubbing dangerously close to his dick. Even after all the orgasms he’s had he feels himself getting hard again at your touch, and soon enough wanting more like the spoiled whore he his. But dear me, he’s expecting you to be nice to him especially since he hasn’t had you for so long. He broke his promise after all, didn’t he? Hope he doesn’t mind a bit of pain...

To be fucking funny, Niki Shiina would have won. So hard. Just the way his mind works has him thinking about food all the time, and of course your one of his favorite snacks but somehow it hasn’t brutally affected his sexual deprivation. Somehow. Butttt of course you go and screw everything up. Just like Rinne you fucked the whole challenge... but why is Niki doing it??? Who the hell convinced him to do so? And just ditch you? Nope, not on your watch. You’re gonna make sure he looses, and hard.

He only realizes your intention halfway through, but it’s too late. Because of your influence his dirty mind is turning everything sexual, and it’s pushing him over the edge. He’s pretty much had enough. So, completely disregarding the challenge, he manages to corner you and outwardly express his aggravation, throwing a tantrum like the little kid he is. You simply laugh at his antics, dragging a finger across his collarbone and... wow, you can’t remember what happened after that. All you could focus on was how harsh he was shoving his face into the sheets. The high-pitched whines and moans did not match at all with the brutal pace he set on you, destroying your insides. All you could do was grip on the sheets for dear life, your pupils blown wide and face extremely flushed as Niki fucked into you like a dog in heat. If you didn’t have the pillows masking your sight, you would’ve seen the man have tears streaming down his face in pleasure, his lips stuck in a pout as he watched your hips bruise under the iron grip he had you in. For such a soft guy, he sure is rough... tenfold if he was pent up. 

Izumi Sena would be close, but not enough to win. Without you he definitely has the mindset for it. You would think he would get so frustrated by his model workload but ironically it’s what keeps him sane. Give him more than a few days off and his mind will be in the gutters in no time, no matter how much he tries to resist. But the gods seem to be on his side for the entire challenge (how he learned of it, who knows. why, confidential i guess) because the more work he got the less he talked to you. Of course you two contact on a regular basis but nothing more than a short, sweet call or texting each other for minutes at a time. It seems to be enough for him, at least. Whereas you, with a much much higher sex drive, is crying in your sheets. You just want to get off so badly and that’ll just be the end of it, but with the cocky idols teasing you and the haunting nightmares of Izumi being extremely disappointed in you helps you hold off... at least for now. You’re not sure if you can hold it out for any longer.

Fortunately for you, unfortunately for him, the Knights had an ‘emergency’ and he was called back to Japan a week before he was scheduled to leave. The emergency in question was just a lost Leo Tsukinaga, which was solved in no time, but that left Izumi back with you in person while there was just one week left in the challenge. And oh boy did you use that to your advantage. You couldn’t wait when the two of you were alone after the whole fiasco- in fact within the next day the man woke up to your naked figure sitting on his chest, tracing your fingers along his collar. With that and his usual morning wood, Izumi’s sanity and patience snapped like a twig. Flipping you over and immediately pushing inside of you, he’s plowing into you like a starved man, which he is. All of his manner, ego, and common sense is thrown out the window as he moans and curses into your chest, trying to go faster than the pistioning pace he’s already setting on. He’s reduced to a horny teenager, saying how much he missed you and your hold, even coming within the first minute of fucking you. But as soon as he has that post-orgasm mindset, and realizes what you’ve done to him with a flushed angry face, he’s not letting you go for the rest of the day. Be prepared to call out from work tomorrow, because he’s gonna make sure that you get more than what you bargained for.

Mao Isara perseverance is so godly I’m jealous of this man. ...Ok, maybe he acts like a teenager with a middle school crush around you during this challenge, but that doesn’t mean that his common sense and rationality is leading him the right way. But major kudos to the President himself because he’s balancing the stress of work and deprivation for an entire four weeks.

Like all he gets itchy when his time is almost up, and almost loses when he has a sleepover with you, seeing your slumbering body so flush and close to him he’s immediately getting hard. But no, for the sake of his reputation he has to continue, just for a little while. Then he’ll get the prize he’s drooling for. He’s jumping on you, asleep or not, and shoving his face into your sex as soon as his phone says December 1st (which he has been checking several times). He missed your taste and smell so much, he literally comes into his pants as your scent hits him like a brick wall. You’d be waking up to him devouring you from in between your legs, already waking up disoriented and, frankly, now needy. But don’t worry- he’s not letting you go anytime soon until he quenches his thirst and has you come several times for his pleasure. Even after that he’d be fucking you into the mattress, babbling about how much he missed your tight hole and thanking you so much for being patient with him, wrenching out an almost high-pitched moan every time he empties his overloaded balls into you.

Adonis Otogari has the most control over himself so of course he’s one of the very few winners among these horndogs of idols. By no means does he win for boasting rights or to tease the others, but he genuinely believes that it’ll impress you- I swear this boy will jump on any opportunity to see your face light up in excitement; he lives for it. So if this challenge will have you jumping up and down in joy, he’s down.

Minimal struggle. Of course he wakes up with the occasional morning wood, but calms himself down within an hour or so before Koga points it out and shit crashes and burns. Further into the month he has to use more... creative ways (I swear this man is willing to bathe in ice cold water to get his dong to freeze up and feel nothing) but somehow he perseveres as everybody around him starts dropping like flies. And when that clock strikes twelve on the last day of November he’s on cloud nine. Fortunately you’re with him at this time, so he doesn’t waste a single minute to drag you into bed and indulge in you for the remaining nightly hours. Instead of being rushed, harsh, and overall needy (although he is don’t lie), he’s going to take his sweet time and remind himself the pleasure he gets from either fucking you nice and slowly or eating you out so that both of your minds are reeling. He survives, but don’t expect him to do this again anytime soon.

Taglist: @mishkakagehishka @yandere-daze @ciderwebs @sakumasmut @mumuugi @procrastination-is-my-profession @ibaraluvr

[celestialhole]

Simon Riley x GN!reader headcanons

Warnings: Contains NSFW content below the cut, read at your own risk! Sorta proofread, random as fuck but here's your din din. Thinking about Simon Riley who uses his kids as weights for him to lift while working out. Just for fun. He likes hearing his kids laugh and giggle. Simon Riley who gets hella annoyed when your family/extended family buys so much crap for the kids. "The bloody hell they need this for? Don't we already have the damn pool outside!?" Simon looked down at the huge box in their living room, it was a goddamn bouncy house for the little ones. "I dunno Si. We can put it in the frontyar-" "WE ALREADY HAVE THE BALL PIT OUTSIDE!"

Never really celebrated his birthday before meeting you. You started giving him presents, taking him out, and taking him back to hotels (or your home) to ride him til' dawn. Now that you have little ones you all plan a small birthday party for him since he's old and grumpy. You give him one of his favorite desserts, have all the kids pile on him, and show him some love it resulted in him counting to 5 before chasing them all down while you record all of it.

Will fantasize about what life could've been like if his family were still here with him, what it could've been like if they had lived long enough to meet you. He's sure his Mother and Nephew would've loved you, and his brother would tease him n' say something like, "Now you know how it feels, it ain't as bad as you thought huh?" He wished to God he'd get to experience that in another lifetime. In my world, he doesn't celebrate Christmas and we know damn well why. If he's been with you for a long time he'll find a way to make something for you to make it special or he'll buy you something you mentioned wanting a few weeks or months back. But don't expect him to place a big ass tree in his apartment. If you manage to convince him to buy a tree he'll buy it and maybe a few ornaments he likes but the rest you're buying. Riley totally tore that bitch up and trust me, he tried to stop her but it was too early in the morning for that and he didn't want the tree anyways so he just sighs, puts some tea on the kettle grabs his reading glasses and his favorite book, and just relaxes on the couch as his military dog is tearing up your 350$ Christmas tree. "Jesus fucking Christ what happened in here!?" You stumbled over an ornament as you walked into the living room. Simon was chilling peacefully on the couch as Riley held a broken branch in her mouth and they both looked as if there wasn't a shit tone of ornaments and small pieces of the tree everywhere. It looked like a cluster fuck in your living room. "Tree became a chew toy," Simon mumbled. "I can see that.. And you didn't stop her?!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Tried to, then it fell and I gave up," Simon took a sip of his tea and turned a page of the book he was reading. "Oh for fucks sake Simon.." You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at you from the couch with an amused smile and looked back down at his book. "...This is what happens when we don't listen to Simon says-" "I'm kicking you and Riley out." You cut him off.

I see this man with an uncut shave because he's too lazy for that shit, however, if he notices he has a whole ass fucking jungle down there he'll trim it and then leave it alone for another 5 months. A solid 7 inches when soft and hard. Girth? Lots of it. Saggy balls. The type of man who doesn't notice when you get something done (hair, nails, etc). When you ask him if he notices anything different he'll immediately look at your ass to see if those squats did you any good. Speaking of your ass he loves your ass. Flat or thick he's smacking it when he casually walks past you. If you're plus-sized or just thicc it's even better. Don't ever bend over with this man in your perimeter. And it's even worse when you're in front of him and walking up the stairs cause he's staring hard at it. When you bend over he's smacking it, groping it, caressing it, and if he's really bold he's sneaking a quick hump against it. It's all shits and giggles till he's in that position. And you never hold back either. Now he doesn't trust walking up the stairs in front of you because you won't stop poking his ass and he hates it he loves you anyways. Call him daddy and he's not gonna speak or look at you for the rest of the day. You've made him spiritually nauseous good job. HE'S A BODY MAN BUT IN MY WORLD HE'S A THIGH AND TUMMY MAN! Also, I can see him being obsessed with ya nipple piercings if you ever got them. But nipple piercings are one thing, a genital piercing IS ANOTHER THING. Mutual masturbation is a must on the weekend mornings. He'll wake you up with pepper kisses to your neck while his hand is rubbing your tummy, when you wake up he'll gradually run his hands over your chest and pinch your nipple before moving his hand down to caress your arousal. He sucks the skin on your shoulder and neck to pleasure you and when you turn over to stroke his already hardened cock, he groans and moves his hips to slowly thrust his cock along your hand while his fingers slowly speed up. Now imagine his groans + his morning voice. This man loves you with every fiber of his being and tries his very best to make sure you know he loves you no matter what, so don't even think about asking him if he'll still love you as a worm. He'll keep you safely tucked in the pocket of his shirt and feed you noodles. He doesn't give two shits if you're hairy, plus-sized, or "unattractive". He'll cross the Amazon or even Antarctica to eat your ass I'm just saying. Don't protest or even speak, just bend over and let him have fun with his beautiful partner.

[shoshiwrites]

In which I said “there’s no way I could make Jo and Stalag Bucky truly cross paths other than postwar but a bitch does wonder for the vibes” and then proceeded to take it totally seriously. Enabled by: @floydmtalbert, @basilone, @mercurygray

@junojelli, @upontherisers, and @rosies-riveters. (Seriously, most of this is direct quotes.)

My apologies for the time skips, but it’s just the way the brainstorming cookie crumbled. For those of you unfamiliar with Jo, 1. I'm sorry 2. More here! Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC

→ Jo’s even more restless in this version, and doing some very stupid things. Namely, getting herself in Buck’s fort for the Bremen raid. → (Why would you do that, Jo? Well.) → Bucky’s been wearing his heart on his sleeve — much more obvious, with regards to her, and she doesn’t want him to be a rebound. Maybe said something in an unguarded moment that sounded a lot like love, and she’s not ready to let herself be loved like that. Maybe a sleepy mumble into her hair. It just slipped out. → So she’s really running away. → Easier to fling herself up into a plane, clearly. → And maybe people are doubting her previous stories. Some pencil-chewing prick in the London office telling her the folks back home need to feel more of what our brave boys are doing in the sky to stick it to the Germans. Maybe Jo’s trying to record à la Ed Murrow, so they can broadcast it over the radio later. Maybe the original thought is a milk run, and she pushes for a mission over Germany. A milk run could turn into something else, but she knows it needs to be something bigger for a chance at a harder-hitting story. Tells them that if they want to know “what it’s really like,” they’ll send her on a different mission. → Kay would be furious but also ! at the story and good thing Jo doesn’t quite tell her. → The way she's trying to prove to herself that she has nothing tying her down. Benny’s not about this at all. Buck: "Come on then. Before I find you mid-flight in a place you shouldn't be." He’s practical like that. → If she hadn’t been up before she would not be getting the time of day. And Buck's not about to let her fly with anyone else. He sighs, just the tiniest bit. Gestures, like, well, come on then. "At least you know the risk." Benny's little "last chance to go to London, Jo. tell Buck to scrub this flight." Later — "Going to tell home about this, Jo?" (he’s shouting a little, gesturing at the amount of enemy fighters).

→ So Our Baby goes down. → "John is going to kill us" — Buck’s first words when he sees Jo. To be fair to him, Jo is alive. Which is Benny’s argument. “She’s not dead, Buck, I think we did okay??” Buck just shakes his head. → So Bucky’s in that phone booth. Unaware that Buck went down but also that Jo was even there. Red only tells him about Buck. Because the people who know he should be told about Jo are not anywhere near a phone. → He heads back to Thorpe Abbotts. Red is fuming about a reporter crashing with them. They’ve got the worst discipline, they’re not hitting their targets, and now they’ve gone and killed a reporter, and a woman reporter to boot. There’s no good way to sell that to the homefront. Red and Harding and maybe Kidd are having a bitch session in an office. Bucky goes up to the door, to tell them he’s back, and overhears. “What a goddamn mess. That reporter — she was on the goddamn plane too. Brown, was it?” Bucky, in the doorway, on the edge of the fucking darkness: “Brandt.” → Because he wouldn’t know what to do with himself beside get in the plane, right. → Like maybe no one saw any chutes. Maybe she’s reported missing presumed killed. → And let’s not pretend Harding would be able to keep him off the roster, Major Rear Backup Observation Pilot, who is definitely not in the rear or backup or observing. He'd assign himself another made-up role just to get on the next plane if he had to. → I’m even sorrier to Brady than to Bucky and Buck in this whole thing actually. Jo owes him drinks for the rest of his life. He wanted a passenger princess who could be trusted with the aux cord, and instead he got Bucky.

→ So Bucky’s lying on the ground in the forest thinking he doesn’t mind if he dies right there. → We see a man ten miles from the end of his rope and we drag him further away. → Jo seeing him again, seeing him all bloody and bruised. Maybe this is the processing camp and they see each other in the corridor — he’s coming in, she’s being taken somewhere else. The double-take. The recognition. Both of them fighting the guards to try to get to each other. In her jacket that’s too big for her and her hair messed. → I don’t know how this works from an intelligence standpoint shh I know it doesn’t but her using those few moments to tell him Buck’s alive. Just the quietest whisper, if she can manage to get that close to him, trying to hide it with a cough. → So he knows they’re both alive now. Can’t get that info out of him if he already knows. So all you get is John Egan, Major, fuck you very much. → I know it doesn’t really have lasting potential because she wouldn't really stay with them in the stalag (like any of this is really plausible lmao) but if I want her to then, well, it's my AU. Like, maybe she’s with them in the stalag for a little while, while the Germans figure out what to do with her/negotiate some kind of prisoner swap with the allies. They've never had this happen before. They’re wary because she’s a reporter — about keeping her but also about letting her go. She could get swapped home after the processing, or some time in the stalag if we’re going for something longer. → So there’s a version where he sees her first when he arrives at SLIII, standing back from the crowd or back at the hut. → The embrace though. He's never held on tighter. Her toes are scraping the floor. → He’d absolutely brawl if he sees her being flanked by soldiers being taken out of the camp by herself later on. Maybe she gets out on one of the Swiss Red Cross visits.

→ Also. The issues this causes between Bucky and Gale. Very chewy. Gale letting her. Not telling Bucky he is letting her. Bucky's "wouldn't flat out stop her from doing stupid shit because he also does stupid shit and also knows she's her own person" vs. Bucky’s "why didn't you stop her, Buck.” → Gale knows what running away looks like. And he knows she won't stop until she realizes some things. This will make her realize faster. IT SURE WILL, GALE. → This is the dumbest thing Jo has done in any universe in a very long time and I’m processing but also living for it tbh. → Benny, probably: can I interest you all in talking about how you fucking feel. → Buck and Jo at the same time: shut up. → Benny’s bailing half to get away from them lbr here. Composing a letter to Kay in his head about this. → I have a hard time believing that Bucky would hold onto this toooo much once he's in SLIII and they're all alive but also. Like the relief is there but so is the "why didn't you tell me what the fuck.” And Gale is very…easy about it. “She wanted to, John." (If you have to argue take it up with Miss Wanted To, John.) “Maybe you need to hear her out." → The unspoken "maybe you need to actually say things" at Jo (even though she's not here for this conversation). Which he’s made pretty clear — maybe no in so many words, but his "I hope you had the right reasons to fly with us" is loud. Jo: wow must be a coincidence that I feel nauseous rn it’s definitely not Buck’s tone. → Speaking of Benny’s “leave me the fuck out of this” — Brady. He’s sinking down next to Benny, holding his head like it’s about to explode. "He wanted to go down with the plane, Ben.” (Benny, not paid enough for ANY of this.) → Jo this is an awful lot of trouble to cause because of your situationship. → Benny's commiserating. telling Brady they will get a very strong drink when they get out of here. And Jo is buying. → Once again, Jo, drinks are on you for the rest of forever. → Uhhh that’s all, folks! → For now.