#and it turns out i did!! but his jeans are slightly loose so the ass is hiding in there. that's my excuse

[non-un-topo]

could i please get some of nicky and joe dancing please <3?

You certainly can, my friend! <3

I may have accidentally made it a little angsty (and they look like they're not dancing rip but I promise they are)

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[maxillness]

She’s Got That || JB22 x gf!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, car sex, secret relationship, nipple play, sub!jenson, no (female)foreplay, praise kink

Wordcount: 1.1k

“Stop staring at her” Jenson got pulled out of his trance at his teammates voice

“I’m not staring, Nando” He said offended as he looked over at him

“Then what do you call it, hm?” Fernando asked, crossing his arms over his chest

“Thinking and happened to have my eyes on her” He said, shrugging slightly, knowing damn well he was staring at her

“Thinking about?”

She’s got that ooh-ooh

When she moves

She’ll never loose unless she wants to

She doesn’t have to prove she better then you or better than me

But she could if she wants to

“Nothing” He shrugged, even if the only thing he thought about her body and the way it moved under or on top of him

“Just ask her out, no?” Fernando said, earning his teammates attention again “You obviously likes her”

“You’re right” Jenson said, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in “I will” He stood up faster than his head could manage, but he didn’t care

“Wanna take a drive?” He came up behind her, startling her slightly

“Where?” She asked, chuckling slightly

“You’re favourite spot” He said, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips

“You don’t have to ask” She said, smiling up at him “You know that”

“Nando’s watching, so I have to” She looked to her side, seeing Fernando turn his head away fast

“Alright, let’s go”

She sat in his car, feet up on the dash as the music played loud from the speaking between them

Her hand was placed on his upper thigh, inching closer as they drove, but never reaching his crotch

She watched how he got harder the longer they drove, and the further down her dress rode her legs, revealing her naked thighs

He pulled into the side of the road, hidden a little by the trees

They both quickly unbuckled their seatbelts before he roughly pulled her into his lap. His hands landed on her ass under her dress as hers were placed on his jaw cupping his face

She leaned in, kissing him roughly, drawing out a whimper from him, his hands squeezing her ass

“What did you tell Alonso?” She drew back from kiss, earning her a whine from the man under her

“He told me to ask you out” His hands traveled up her sides, landing on her shoulders

“Did he now?” She asked teasingly when his fingers hooked under the straps of her dress

“Mhm. Told him I would” Her hands fell to his waist, letting him pull down the straps

“Then why haven’t you?” She asked as he pulled her dress down to pool at her waist, almost drooling at the sight of her bare breast in front of him

“Too shy” He said before attaching his lips around one of her nipples while his thumb circles the other

“Too shy to ask your girlfriend out?” She chuckled to cover a moan that was threatening to leave her lips

“Mhm” He hummed, swirling his tongue around her hardened nipple, earning him a pleasant sigh from her

“Better step up your game if you don’t want to lie to your teammate” She said pulling his face up to meet her eyes

He swallowed a lump in his throat under her intense stare, wanting nothing more than to be inside her

“I won’t give you what you want if you don’t” She said, her grip on his chin tightening “Don’t be a pussy Button” She added, grinding down on him, earning her a moan from him

“W-will you go out with me, love?” He asked, grinding his hips up into hers, his hard cock pressing against her panty covered clit

“Mhm, I will” She kissed his lips soft, letting go of his chin “Good boy. That wasn’t so hard was it?” Her lips trailed over his jaw and down to his neck

Her hands went to the belt in his jeans, funnelling to get it unbuckled as he started letting out small whimpers at the feeling of her starting to suck lightly

“Lift your hips, baby” He did so, letting her push his pants and boxers down to his mid thighs

She spit in her palm, starting to stroke him slowly, pulling out soft moans from him as he threw his head back against the car seat

He bucked his hips up into her hand as her thumb slid over his slit, also drawing out a high-pitched moan from him

“Please, baby, please. I need to be inside you, please” He managed to open his eyes to look into hers, hoping she saw the desperation in them

“Have can I resist you when you look so good, baby?” She chuckled, her other hand showing her panties to the side, giving her access to draw the head of his cock through her folds

They both moaned out when she slowly slid down on him, taking all of him, his hands grabbing her waist tightly

She waited a moment to move until she had adjusted to him. She slowly started moving, her tits jumping as she did

“Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Always do” She pressed her lips to his, silencing both their moans

She forced her tongue into him, exploring every corner of his mouth, loving the taste of him

One of her hands threaded in the hair in his nape as the other hardly grasped on the seat behind him

She pulled back from the kiss, earning her a whine

“You’re beautiful, you know that, right?” She asked, scanning her boyfriends face

“You always say that” He said between loud moans that got louder as she clenched around him, edging him closer to his orgasm

“Yeah, but do you know it?” She asked, starting to roll her hips, feeling him starting to twitch inside her

“Because, you are fucking beautiful. The most” She smiled as he whimpered, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks at her words

“You gonna be a good boy and come for me?” She asked in a teasing tone as her fingers landed on her clit, toying with it

“Mhm” He hummed as he nodded, hands tightly on her waist, leaving marks with his nails

It only took a few more rolls of her hips, and his whole body was shaking rapidly as he came, holding her still down on him as her name rolled of his tongue in a loud moan

She circled her clit a few more times before she came as well, her body feeling limp against his chest

“I love you” She said, face hidden in the crook of his neck as she stroked his chest

“I love you too” His lips met the top of her head “I owe you a date” He said, drawing out a chuckle from her

[chellestrash]

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

[cillivnz]

tidal [murphy macmanus]

PAIRING — MURPHY MACMANUS x F!READER

GENRE — SMUT, SLIGHT ANGST, FLUFF.

WORD COUNT — 2030

WARNINGS — established relationship, cursing, mentions of physical fights, deep cuts (cleaning = pain), bruises, blood, injured!murphy, reader cleans his scars, pet names, sexual innuendo, oral sex (m! receiving), smoking, p in v sex, cowgirl, creampie, slight breeding kink, breasts/nipple play.

A/N — wanted to write fluff, but my horny ass can’t sway from smut. so, enjoy.

NOTES; Leannán — lover

"Fuckin' cocksucker." You hear your boyfriend yell as he entered the apartment. Glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn't yet reached the living room, you proceed with making coffee for the two of you. "What's wrong, baby?" You call out. When no response followed, you decided to pause your coffee preparation and look for Murphy.

Your eyes widened when the sight of him revealed, silhouette first. Murphy was leaning agonisingly against the wall which his bloody hands stained red. The same crimson dripped out of a slick cut tainting his still flawless skin, knuckles reddish blue with incisions.

"God, darling! What happened?" You rushed over in a frenzy, almost falling to the floor, Murphy with you. He chuckled slightly at your reaction before groaning when it ached to laugh.

"He-he, you shoulda' seen the other guy." He said when you began stroking his cheek just below the cut, he winced softly at that. You let your exasperation be known at his pride.

His shirt was torn from places near and above his abdomen which turned out to be slashed as you took a closer look; even, superficially, drawing blood. Your brows furrowed together in pain. You had (through great difficulty) come to terms with his and Connor's way of living, but seeing Murphy in physical agony was something your heart could never grow accustomed to. You knew he was in the best of spirits knowing he let 'justice prevail' yet another time, but you knew he'd feel guilty letting you take care of him. Seeing the pleading look on your face, Murphy gave you a weak smile, the helplessness evident on his face.

"Oh, baby—" you slowly trailed off, kissing the unharmed portions of body. When your kisses trailed off to his abdomen, and finally down to his v-line, you understood where this would end up, and you weren't in the mood right now.

Boy, were you wrong.

"—let's get you cleaned up." You grabbed his hand and gained composure, a tear escaping your eye, unnoticed by Murphy. He let out a sigh before limping slightly, and following you to the bathroom.

You grabbed the medical kit from the cabinet, back facing him as you ordered, "Go sit on the slab, I'll be with you in a minute."

Though the sight of you right now was inviting; tight jeans hugging your curves perfectly, and one of his old t-shirts which was a little raised due to your stretching to reach the topmost shelf, which Murphy would've done for you, if he wasn't the patient; Murphy obediently sat on the slab.

When you turned around his eyes immediately landed on your tits. The shirt was so loose that your bare shoulders were visible, as was your tainted collarbone from Murphy's kissed and your tits. It seemed significantly low-cut, more than needed at the moment. You saw him shift in his pants from the corner of your eye; eyes rolling in disbelief.

He's horny. Broken, beaten up, and horny.

Taking antiseptic and pouring it on some cotton you began to address his wounds.

He seemed to be taking the pain pretty well; his high pain tolerance came to you as no surprise, considering how many brawls he's been in, but he did wince a little as you moved to the slashed flesh of his face. "This one's deep — I'm sorry for the sting, baby." It saddened you to see him in this state, but he did his best to show you he's alright, chucking softly, before coughing in pain.

"I hope I ain't broken somethin'." He groaned, beginning to shift to his side so he could look at you better. "I hope it's not a rib." You sigh softly.

"What was it this time?" You asked, not facing him while rummaging through the drawers to find gauze. "Hm?" He halfheartedly questioned. His eyes were on your body and your body was on his mind; thoughts of you were cut short when you, yourself asked him, "Why did you fight?"

"Rocco." He said less and you understood. You chuckled when he said, "He's a troublemaker, wee lad." You were about to leave the bathroom, looking for a substitute to the hidden gauze, when he grabbed you by the arm. "Come 'ere for a sec," he pulled you closer. You stood between his legs, arms on either side of him.

"You're not even gonna kiss your patient, doctor?" He massaged your curves. "Might be the only cure for me—" His eyes trailed to your lips, oh, how he'd want nothing more than those plump, soft, crimson lips to paint his skin! "You'd make a naughty patient, Murphy." You teased in a sultry tone, "Can't help it," he replied, "My doctor's the sexiest."

"Oh, yeah?" You teased, giggling, "Tell me more." He grinned.

"See, she's the prettiest lass ever. 'Never seen beauty like hers." You blushed, "She's got sexiest eyes that look into my soul when she's sucking my cock. She's got a cute little nose that scrunches up when she laughs at my jokes. And don't get me started on those lips of hers..." You inched closer, softly kissing his neck, and around the tender skin above the cut on his cheek.

"And if her kisses are the cure to my wounds, I'll let myself be slashed over and over." He breathed out, eyes closing in relief when you began sucking on his sweet spot. He placed your hand on the bulge in his pants. "Look what you do to me."

"I didn't do much..." Your voice trailed off as you kissed along his jaw. "You needn't. I could never get over you. Even when you're not around, I'm like this— at the sheer thought of you— it's paining me."

You were at a loss of words; never able to compete with him when it came to vocalising your love, but he never complained. You made up for it by staying. He'd expected you to walk out the first time he got into a fight — but you didn't. You stayed; kissing his crimson scars and watching them heal by your love.

"I'll have the water running for you." You pecked his lips, he nodded, smiling into the quick kiss.

He sat curled by the sink while you filled the bathtub for him. As it filled, you grabbed his hand, and gently stripped him off his rags. Once bare, he let you guide him to warm waters. He was hesitant in sinking in, shivering a little. It wasn't the water though, he trembled from pain and his state devastated you.

"Try to relax, honey." You cooed; he simply sighed in response. "Would you like me to help you?" You asked, an insinuating smirk plastered on your face.

He knew your looks of sexual innuendo like the back of his hand, for he elicited them.

"Please, have your way." He whispered. Even Murphy was surprised at the fact that his hard-on was now noticed by you, not when you removed him from his clothing. "Is this for me, baby?" You asked as you slowly stroked his cock. "All for you, my love. It's made for you." He groaned, head fall backwards as you applied more pressure and hastened your movements. You hummed, licking a long strip from the base to the slit at the tip. "God, you're killing me."

You hum in satisfaction— the sound sending shivers down his spine, causing him to twitch in your mouth. When he began fiddling in the bath— hands not knowing where and what to grab, you began stroking his length instead, free hand gently pressing him down so as to lay him. "Relax, Murphy. I want you to relax for me." Your tone was soothing, nonetheless sultry.

He then let the warm waters consume him. You were all he needed in this cruel world of injustice and dirty politics; to find something as sweet as you, the Lord really did consider him a Saint for blessing him like this.

"That's it darling, I'm gonna cum for you." He grabbed your hair and began hastening your movements. You sucked determinedly, eager to satisfy, and your efforts bore fruit when he hit the back of your throat and let his seed flow down.

"Oh, sweet angel..." He grabbed your face to kiss you. It was damn near impossible for you to not touch his face— his black eye, and slit cheek preventing you— nonetheless, the kiss was passionate and loving.

"Let's get you cleaned, my love." You helped him bathe.

After drying him, you gave him warm clothes to wear. The Boston winters were cruel, and the rain outside was merciless, too. He wore a cozy grey sweater, and sat in front of you, on the couch.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first puff was passed to you, as became his habit; lighting it for himself, yet he'd always let you have it first— something you've always found endearing, though he doesn't realise how much these little make you fall harder in love with him, as if being more than head over heels as you are was possible.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" You asked him, when his gaze darkened. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now." His voice, barely audible.

"Murphy..." You look at him pleadingly. He knew, too, he couldn't even walk without your support and he wants to pound you. But his hard-on was back, and it throbbed for you.

And, that's how you ended up like this.

Riding him fervently, while his hands practically ached to touch you, still, placed on his sides. His grip on the sheets scrunched the bed-sheet; you were desperate to touch him, too, but your own hands were pinching and playing with your nipples.

You bounce on his cock; the lack of support making your movements sloppy, yet so hard and deep, your thighs ached every time you would lift yourself till only the tip remained inside and then pushed back down as your cunt squeezed him in like a vice.

"That's it, baby, cream on that cock." He looks up to you, your messy hair framing your face perfectly as sweat began to form in your cleavage. Your lips were swollen from kissing him, your breasts bounced with every thrust and your knuckles turned white, gripping the sheets instead of running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair.

He was in so, so deep— his tip kissing the top of your walls rhythmically every time you'd shove down on his cock. You were mesmerised even more so by his face. Those pale blue eyes looked at you, pleadingly; aching, for you to cum. He needed release, of modern worldliness and sexually, and you've become that release for him.

It only took a few more thrusts before he plunged inside you and began grinding your hips together. "Yes, fill me up!" You moaned like a pornstar, causing Murphy to continue thrusting into you, while his mouth ravenously devoured your tits. The overstimulation driving you into a frenzy; you shivered uncontrollably as he stilled, having his fill of you, and letting your excruciatingly hot walls drain his cock.

“I love you so much,” You moaned, as you began to pull yourself up, away from his cock, but it seemed like your cunt's vice-like grip had other plans. "I love you too, leannán— so much." He whispered, out of breath. His swollen lips wet at the sight of you— dripping in his load and your own cum. He pulled you in for a fervent kiss before he could get hard again and fuck you more than both of you could handle right now.

You laid him down whilst kissing, and he weakly pulled the blanket up for you. The minute you snug in, his strong arms wrapped around your waist; one hand tracing circles around your nipples, as if hardening them would put you to sleep, but the little erotic feeling satisfied you.

And your tidal love sweeping Murphy's shores of sins clean was all this Saint could've prayed for.

So you drift off to sleep, in each other's embrace.

TAGLIST — the sweetest, @takemetoyourbestfriendshouse <3

to join, interact with this post.

main masterlist. more from ‘the boondock saints’.

[arachpool]

Not long after the Vecna fight, and after Eddie is discharged from the hospital, him and his band mates leave Hawkins. Their reputations in Hawkins are basically in the fucking gutter, and they had a gig out of town, so they hauled ass.

Steve, who may or may not have some memory issues due to head trauma, completely forgets Eddie. He, honestly, forgets a lot of things, and when he’s about 25, him and Robin move away from the shithole that is called Hawkins and get a flat together in the city, insisting that they could do it.

And they did.

They pay their bills and rent on time, they budget their money, and they’re comfortable. So what if Robin brings home the occasional woman and it always ends with mumbled farewells that wake Steve up every time. He doesn’t mind. Just like Robin doesn’t mind when Steve starts bringing home girls, and the occasional guy (after the first one, Robin’s all like “YOU LIKE DUDES? WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME??”).

Every once in awhile, Steve and Robin make sure to call the kids, catching up and seeing how they’re doing. Dustin always asks how Steve is doing, and Steve always says good, even if he isn’t.

Steve was pretty surprised when the kids, each one of them, showed up at his and Robin’s door randomly. Steve blinked, about to ask why they were there, but Robin swooped in and let the kids in, excitedly greeting them.

“Did I forget something again?” Steve asked Robin as she was getting the kids drinks. Robin ruffled Steve’s hair.

“Nah, doofus, I planned this. Don’t worry.” Steve flashed a smile and joined everyone in the ‘living room’, which really was the doorway/kitchen/living room.

“What exactly did you plan, Rob?” Steve asked as he sat on the coffee table, glancing over the kids and observing how much they’ve aged in just a couple years.

“We’re gonna go see Eddie’s band in concert,”Dustin said with a wide grin, but Steve didn’t catch on. Dustin understood fast that Steve had lost all memory of the brunet, smiling still. “Corroded Coffin. I don’t know if it’s your style but Eddie said we could hang out with him and the guys as like a Hellfire reunion,” Dustin informed, doing some odd, back-of-the-hand fist bump with Mike. Steve smiled and nodded. He was fine with that.

—

The concert rolled around, and everyone but Steve was surprised by the huge turn out. Eddie had bought the gang’s tickets for them, and so they had no idea how expensive, or scarce they would’ve been. But judging off the fact the venue was jam packed, they assumed they dodged a bullet by being old friends with the band mates.

Steve felt an odd feeling in his stomach when the band walked on, the guitarist speaking excitedly into the mic. In fact, the guitarist was the only person Steve could focus on. His hair was long, and was tugged into a loose, high bun. Tattoos coated his arms, and he wore a slightly cropped, ripped to shit black shirt that read Corroded Coffin in lightning-esque lettering.

Eddie was quick to pick out his old friends from the crowd, letting Gareth speak as he watched them. Dustin and Robin had told him that Steve didn’t remember much of his last years in Hawkins, and the years before that were a little spotty as well, so he was forgotten. Eddie didn’t mind this much, especially not now that he saw Steve, wearing cute tight jeans and a deep maroon sweater, staring up at Eddie with pure amazement.

Eddie made sure to hold eye contact with Steve as much as possible, and the best part? Steve didn’t look away. His crush on Steve was horrible in Highschool, but he had gotten over it after leaving Hawkins. He got with a couple guys, he got over it. But now? God he was reverting right back into his high school days, heart racing just at the way Steve’s eyes would flick over his body or how he’d fix his hair. Did Steve even like men? God, Eddie sure fucking hoped so.

After the concert, the crew was escorted backstage and into the band’s dressing room. After excited greetings and hugs and stuff of that matter, Eddie’s eyes fell onto Steve again. Robin was talking to him, a comforting hand on his arm as Steve’s brows furrowed in thought. Eddie approached.

“Hey there,” Eddie greeted, and Robin turned, smiling.

“Hey Eds.” Robin knelt up to Eddie’s ear. “He’s trying to remember you. He probably won’t.” Eddie simply nodded, flashing a grin at Steve.

“Hey. Names Eddie, yours?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.” Steve held his hand out to be shook, but Eddie took it, bowed, and kissed the back of his hand. Steve flushed all shades of red as Eddie rose again.

“Pleasure meeting you, my liege.”

“Y-yeah. You- you too.” Eddie let his eyes flick over Steve’s form. He flashed another grin.

“I hope this isn’t the last I see of you?” Eddie proposed, and Steve flushed red.

“You want my number?”

“Of course I do.”

“I- yeah- give me a moment- Rob what’s our flats phone number?”

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 25 “Endurance Test” [Episode List] Tim gets a bit too cocky and challenges his gassy friend by (jokingly) doubting of his farting skills. Dave, whose farts are being as powerful as usual, if not more, gladly accepts the challenge.

This story was originally requested by StraightFartGods.

POV: Tim

The weather outside, despite being warm, wasn’t the best so our plans for the night, being a group of friends who’s starting to surrender way too easily (it’s because once you’re past 25, you get instantly old), we all decided to stay home, our respective homes even, so Dave and I ended up alone. We don’t mind that much.

Dave likes going out way more than me (though it’s not like I don’t know how to have fun) but he too cherishes some good, safe alone-time to recharge social batteries: we’re much more similar than we’d like to admit, which is why we get along so well. They say we’re “the odd couple”, but I think that weirdos simply attract each other naturally, even though they can look very different at first.

“Alright.” Dave said, walking into the living room. He was dressed as if we had to leave, so a grey shirt and a pair of good old dark blue jeans, slightly loose because he untied his belt. “I’m starving.”

“Pizza?” I simply asked.

“The day I’m gonna answer ‘No’ to that is the day you’ll know a skinwalker took my place.”

The power of pizza.

Even though we didn’t actively plan for it, the night slowly morphed into a “movie night”, just the two of us on the couch eating pizza and watching a cheesy, manly, toxic action movie that we can recite by memory because of how many times we watched it: “Bullet Gore”. Now that’s a title!

“Your face is history.” the male hero said, right before turning somebody’s head to bits with his shotgun.

We cheered as and had a sip of beer as if our baseball team scored the match point and enjoyed the unnecessary but fun gore sequences of the film.

“Too bad they ruined everything with the sequel.” Dave commented.

“Aw come on. It’s worse, but not that bad.” I replied.

“Never watched and never will.” he stated, taking a good sip of beer.

By the time the movie was halfway done (it was a surprisingly long flick), I had to turn up the volume because of some noises next to me making me difficult to hear what the characters were saying.

Indeed, Dave started farting, the way he does during nights like these, with pizza and beer acting as fuel for his already incredible talent. He was resting both his legs on the small table in front of the couch, his denim ass facing the TV, so I didn’t have a proper full view of it. I could, however, hear every single blast echoing in the room, with the terrible scent immediately following each thunder.

I would love to say that he was doing this because of my kink, but this is actually what being Dave’s close friend means: you better get used to his farts, because he’s gonna just casually do it in front of you whether you like it or not. He wasn’t even acknowledging that he was ripping one every few minutes, huge ones nonetheless, though once or twice he did snap his fingers to get me to turn to him, so I could see his smirk as he ripped one. Once again, he does this with our other friends as well, but he does seem to put some extra “care” into the teasing part because he knows I actually, well, like it.

But everyone’s got limits: the farts were huge, not overly long, but incredibly stinky. Even for my standards, it was getting a bit… stuffy in there, so I actually went for it.

“I know this is weird coming from me, but… can you tone it down a bit?”

Dave slowly turned to me with a serious, surprised face, and effortlessly replied by ripping a loud, almost wet one, renewing the stench he was immune to. This time it was one of his longer ones, around 7 seconds long.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” he managed to say while farting. “Did you say something?”

After the fart ended and a few moments of silence (ignoring the TV), I opened my mouth to speak again, but my friend’s ass spoke first, emitting another loud, long rip.

Dave gestured to his ear and slowly shook his head, as to say the he still couldn’t hear me, as if we were in a loud nightclub, but the only music piercing through my own eardrums was my bro’s loud fart.

That ridiculous scene actually made me laugh like an idiot, while also giving me the hardest boner so far of the night.

9 seconds and the rip was over.

“So, I did it.” Dave said. “You’ve been healed. I blasted your kink out of you.” he joked.

“Please…” I played along. “Those were like… low-tier farts, for your standards.”

“True.” he playfully admitted. “So don’t tempt me.” he threatened. 

I hated that I found that… hot.

“I’m n-not… I’m just s-saying that the entire room smells like, I don’t know, rotten beer? Is t-that even possible?”

Dave laughed. “If only there was something or someone who could fix this!”

“What are you implying…?” I asked.

“Well…” Dave sat normally on the couch. “I assumed your lungs were better than this. But apparently you just can’t handle my power.” he said, with a cheesy smirk.

“Oh…” I got what he meant. “Well, maybe I’m not complaining because of you’re farting too much.” I leaned closer to him, as if we were doing some shady business. “Maybe I’m complaining because you’re not farting enough.” I dared to say.

My friend replied with a surprised laughter. “Are you seriously challenging me?” he didn’t sound offended or disgusted, just amused. But he can get cocky.

“Wanna bet?” I asked, indeed challenging him.

“Alright, get up.” 

Dave stood up and I did the same: it truly looked like we were doing a business meeting.

“Challenge accepted.” he continued, and we firmly shook hands. “If I win, beers are on you for 3 months.” 

“Deal.” I replied. “But if I win, we’re gonna watch ‘Bullet Gore 2’ later.”

While still shaking hands, Dave looked at me funny. 

“Really? That’s it?” he replied, with a smile. “All of this just to watch a shitty movie with me?”

Funny how that’s the thing he found weird instead of, you know, the boner his farts give me.

“Yeah. Pretty gay, huh?” I joked.

“Okay…” he nodded, still somewhat surprised. “It’s a deal.”

We once again had this super manly handshake going on, just as an helicopter in the movie exploded in a fiery fireball, killing a bunch of henchmen and one of the main villains, with the shirtless muscular hero saying something like “Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!”. Probably the manliest moment I ever lived through.

“So, let’s hear those toots.” I said, bravely.”

“Toots?” my friend replied. “I’m gonna blast your face so hard you’re gonna regret having this kink…”.

Dave casually threatening me like this… got me instantly hard. I knew he was just playing along but goddammit, why am I like this? Why is he like this? Why the fuck did I even accept this bet?! As my own mind made fun of me, my bro lied on this stomach on the couch, his tall figure occupying all of it, his nice jeans-clad ass facing up, looking like a soft warm denim pillow.

I simply managed to sit between his long legs and planted my face into that ass, still stinky for all the farts he ripped until that moment. My nose wasn’t facing down however, as I didn’t want to make it weird.

“Dude.” I heard Dave say. “Honestly, your lack of commitment to your fart kink disappoints me”. he then laughed, reaching for my head. “Be a man and face my ass.” he said, pushing my head deeper between his denim asscheeks.

I tried not to laugh myself at that weird statement, so I just obeyed and turned my head, facing down, now fully at the mercy of my friend’s powerful butt. I took a good whiff, enjoying the smell of almost 1 hour of loud, post-pizza blasts. As I did that, I felt the ass’ muscles relaxing, a sign that Dave was pushing one out, and indeed it came out immediately: an ear-piercing blast and made my face shake, almost wet-sounding, felt like a slap on my face. 

My task was clear: not a single particle of gas had to reach Dave’s nose, so I inhaled it deeply and loudly as the fart kept erupting straight down my nostrils. I inhaled so hard and for so long that I actually surprisingly outlasted my friend’s 9 seconds: now the only noise we both could hear (besides someone getting shot in the movie) was me breathing his gas in… which made me realize how weird that was.

Am I making this weird? Too… “porn-y” for my straight friend? I love that he has no problems with me and my kink, but I don’t want to cross certain lines you know. He’s not saying anything… but his silence only makes it worse. I had to make sure.

“Dave.” I said, my voice being muffled by his ass, which made him laugh. “Am I making this weird?”

My friend simply turned his head, trying to look at me. I managed to get a quick look of his facial expression but the only thing on his face was a cocky smirk.

“Not weirder than usual to me.” he simply said. He then reached for my head, making it bounce a bit in his ass. “…Ready?”

Another fart erupted, which itself was Dave’s real answer to my question: “it’s fine”, he knows what this kink is by now, and he’s the one who basically challenged me to sniff it all up. Plus, if he was weirded out he knew he could just tell me and I wouldn’t be offended: we’re all adults here after all.

So there I was, my nose enduring some of the worst rips my friend ever gifted to me, the sheer power of those blasts being raunchier than his usual for some reason, maybe because of the beers being warmer or the mozzarella on the pizza being spoiled. No idea.

Or maybe it was just Dave putting extra efforts into his farts, if that was even possible. He’s the Fart King after all, so if he was somehow able to set custom pitch, loudness and power for each farts he ripped I wouldn’t have been surprised. Then again, he could even fart on command, so maybe he doesn’t need more buffs than he already has.

“Your face is history” my friend said, in a deeper voice, a clear reference to the masterpiece we were watching earlier.

And just like the henchman from the movie, my head was blown away by a sheer deadly force, this time in the form of Dave’s being unhinged, each natural blast somehow bigger and better than the previous one. I feel like that it doesn’t matter how this bet goes: I’m winning by simply having a bro like him.

I kept sniffing it all up as the blast rushed down my throat. He was good at farting, but I was also good at taking it. It’s like I said: weirdos work better together!

Yeah, I was taking it all like a champ.

“I could do this all night you know.” he boasted, during a rare moment of his ass being silent.

“What a coincidence: me too!” I bragged.

“Ohhhh… someone’s getting cocky back there.”

Dave really wanted those free beers, huh? He once again reached for my head and, with a firm grip, pushed it deeper down his warm denim ass, now almost sagging.

“Let’s see if you can keep your promise, shall we?” that was a threat.

There was like 10 seconds of silence, 10 never-ending seconds, but I just knew Dave was brewing something big, as he kept my head there (not that I was planning to move it anyway). Finally, he turned to me, with a cheesy grin, purposely trying to look like some kind of serial killer from a slasher movie before finish his victim off. 

And then he hit me with his weapon of choice: the loudest fart I heard that night. It was big, it was powerful, it was deep, long. His hand didn’t move and my whole face was shaking because of the sheer power of the blast; I had to close my eyes ‘cause the gas was making them burn. How was it possible to fart so naturally and casually like this for him will always be beyond me… but I didn’t care. I managed to breathe that monster in with my mouth open, almost choking on my friend’s deadly gas.

Dave loved the challenge, but two can play this game! I could tell he was amused, disgusted and surprised by how good I was at enduring his powerful rips.

And finally, after 16 whole seconds, that impressive display of flatulence was over, not a single particle of gas reaching my farter-friend’s nostrils, as I promised.

“I believe you’re losing your touch.” I mocked him.

“With all the farts you've been eating, of course you'd be talking shit you ungrateful bastard!”

“Ohhhh sorry, someone's a little touchy.” I kept teasing him.

“Alright, I’m done holding back.” he sounded comically annoyed by my impressive endurance.

My friend slowly turned over until he was lying on his back, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick me with his long legs. He now assumed a more familiar position, the one he usually has when blasting me. He cocked his legs up, showing off his denim ass and a tiny bit of his red boxer brief, and wrapped his legs around me, pulling me closer to his gas source. His long legs had an even stronger grip than his hand, and my whole face was now completely planted into my friend’s ass.

“I’m feeling merciful tonight, so I’m giving you the chance to surrender now.” he stated, as his legs held me still, keeping my nose right between the rough fabric of his jeans-clad buttcheeks.

“Never.” I boasted. “…unless, you know, you actually want to stop because this is getting too weir-“

“Shut up!” he cut me off. “You just had to ruin my villainous speech, didn’t you?!” he laughed.

I just didn’t know what to say.

“Again, this is your last chance bro.”

I played along, knowing he was okay with it. “Hit me with your best shot, but don’t wound what you can’t kill.”

We both laughed like immature idiots, but Dave took my words at heart, because once we were done laughing at that ridiculous moment, he felt air being sucked inside his anus.

Yes, he switched to “on-command” mode, his secret weapon, his final secret move. Despite my face being there, my bro didn’t have any trouble at sucking more and more air through his ass like a vacuum cleaner, and the sound that made wasn’t that different from an actual fart. Every time I heard that “air-being-sucked-in” noise, as silly as that sounds, I think of a drumroll, the kind of tension that raises before the beat actually drops, because that’s what Dave’s farts are: something to look forward to… if you’re into it of course.

He’s been sucking air for like 20 seconds now and I started to regret my cockiness: when even a kinky bitch like me ends up being afraid of his own best bro’s farting skills, you just know something big, maybe too big, is gonna happen.

The anticipation made me hornier than ever, and the fact that it was, well, Dave, just Dave, my friend, made it even hotter for me. So casually, undeniably hot.

Finally, he stopped sucked air in, and I could hear Dave breathing (from his mouth) heavily, a sign that he was getting tired… and even his ass was getting sweatier and warmer.

“Your face is history.” my bud said again, in a comically deep voice. 

We love that movie.

What followed, however, almost made me pass out. 

The loudness was almost unnatural, I feared it could make me deaf. Imagine the stock sound of a fart, only longer, more powerful, airy, the most impressive fart Dave ripped in months, something so powerful that he can even feel the recoil as he pushed it out… just like a shotgun.

The more he farted, the louder it got, and I swore he was gonna tear a hole through his jeans this time, there was no way his clothes were able to endure that. I kept sniffing, breathing heavily, the fart’s pace being faster than my own breathing, if that makes any sense. 10 seconds already and the blast didn’t seem to lose any power: I almost got scared.

As the fart kept getting ripped, I felt Dave stretching his long denim legs wide to ease the fart out, which in turn made it sound even louder and deadlier. I felt like living a weird fever dream, probably because of all the poisonous gas in my lungs. But I also felt the luckiest man in the world.

I dared to peek over that denim ass, only to be greeted by Dave having the most evil smirk in the world, completely unfazed by how weird I was, how all of that was… but I could also see how tired and sweaty he was from forcing all those farts out, incredibly enough.

I planted my head back where it belonged, sniffing as much as I could, as if my life depended on it, even though I was almost passing out for all that stench… and the blood rushing down to my boner didn’t help to focus at all.

And yet… I won. The fart was losing power, ending with a quick series of toots, Dave’s legs crashing down the couch, his left one on my right side, his right one on my left side, and I got up myself, my face leaving that gas trap, finally sitting down normally on the couch.

I took a good look at Dave: he was indeed tired, sweaty, sporting a silly smirk.

“Is that how you look like after sex?” I dared to joke.

My friend laughed. “Hey, I love you bro, but you gotta settle for my farts.”

I patted one of his legs in response, as a cheesy way to thank him, and hopefully he knew how thankful I was. I mean, he already knew how aroused I was anyway, so why keep the fact that I’m grateful a secret?

Dave too adjusted his position, this time kicking me on purpose while doing it, and sat back normally.

“I gotta say, I didn’t except you to win.” he admitted.

“…win?!” I replied. “Bro… I was basically done. That last one almost killed me.”

We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Let’s call it a tie then.” he proposed. “Until next time at least.” he just casually said.

I simply turned to the TV, only to find out that the movie was over.

Did Dave just face-farted me for like… 30 minutes?! Time truly flew by.

My friend then reached for his beer and the remote. We some on-demand features on our TV and, after navigating the UI for a few seconds, he started downloading “Bullet Gore 2”.

“Really?” I asked. 

“Well, if you can endure all of that gas, I can sit through a turd of a movie.” 

I think he was gonna watch this movie with me either way, regardless of any bet, just like I’m more than happy to offer him a beer whenever I could, so all of this fart-bet was for nothing.

Then again, weirdos attract each other naturally...

End of Episode 25

[sweetyyhippyy]

Birthday Boudoir. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *FLUFF*

Summary: Reader takes some spicy boudoir photos for Eddie’s birthday, and gifts them in a book for him.

Word Count: 701

TW: Spicy elemements througout. Suggestive themes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She tied the ribbon one more time around the book, making sure it was secure enough against the wrapping paper.

This present had to wait until they got home, it being far too saucy to be seen by anyone other than her boyfriend.

Eddie was sprawled out on the couch, absentmindedly watching a rerun of Miami Vice on tv. A few of their friends went out to the Hideout for some drinks, something very lowkey per Eddie’s request.

She comes around the couch, the book hidden behind her back and a smirk on her face.

As she comes into view, Eddie turns to look at her, immediately knowing she was up to something mischievous. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” Eddie raises his eyebrow.

“I have another present for you.” She says, sitting next to him on the couch and putting the present on his lap.

Eddie readjusts himself on the couch, grabbing the present and shaking it next to his ear jokingly. “Hmm, what could it be? Is it a car?”

Playfully she rolls her eyes, the anticipation of him looking at the pictures eating at her. “Yeah totally, I got you a car.”

Eddie smiles back at her, pulling the satin ribbon loose and instantly ripping into the wrapping paper. He grabs the brown leather book, opening the front cover, choking on his breath. “Holy shit, you didn’t.”

Eddie stares at the close up of his girlfriend, the only part of her face that’s visible is her glossy, pouty lips, her hair cascading in the frame along with her boobs spilling over the cups of lacy push-up bra. “T-this is for me?” He stutters over himself, in disbelief that he was actually experiencing one of the hottest things he has seen in his life.

Her stomach flips as she nods her head. “I got them done a few weeks ago. Keep flipping.” She smiles softly.

Eddie goes to the next page, groaning and rolling his head back against the couch, “Oh my god.” He laughs. “Look at you.” He continues to flip through the pictures, his pants getting tighter in the crotch, using the book to cover the ever growing hardon he was sporting.  

With every page flip Eddie groans, grunts, moans, and whines. “I can’t believe you did this for me.” His already round eyes grew impossibly wider at each saucy picture and pose she was positioned into.

“Thought you should have something special for your birthday.” She wraps her arms around one of his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Flip to the last page. I’m dying for you to see those.”

Eddie flips to the last page, his eyes protruding from the sockets. “Oh, fuck.”

Her knees were on the mattress, lacy panties peeking out from under Eddie’s infamous Hellfire tee. Her eyes focused on the camera while her lips were slightly parted open.

The next picture he could see was his custom Dio jean vest, his patches a dead give away it was indeed his. She was in the same position as the last picture, but the Hellfire shirt was off her torso, her bare stomach and cleavage poking through, her hands were wrapped up in her hair.

“Do you know how hot you are? Jesus Christ.” Eddie was practically drooling as he looked at her. He leans over to give her a peck on her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, Eds. So, it’s safe to say you liked them?”

“Baby, I am the luckiest son on a bitch on this earth to have a girl as beautiful as you do something like this for me. I’m never letting this book out of my sight.” He leans in for a quick kiss before getting his own devilish smirk on his face.

“What’s that face for?” She giggles, biting her bottom lip slightly.

Eddie flips to the middle of the book and points to the picture, staring directly at the camera, her lips looking juicy in the dark lipstick she was wearing, and her ass peekabooing behind her head in the back. “How about you recreate this pose for me?” Giving her the most puppiest of eyes.

“For you, anything. Let’s go birthday boy.”

[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~

Be mine 🌸

Female bodied reader X Eren Jaeger

Eren comforts the reader, who's boyfriend isn't treating them right. Well, he has a few things to say (and do) about that...

Warnings: Cheating. Smut. Emotional abuse. 18+ only.

Eren’s brooding eyes snap towards his roomates bedroom door when he hears the muffled voices of you and your boyfriend. Your voices weren’t quite yells - yet. But it was abundantly clear that there was almost certainly a storm brewing. Ignoring it, he returns his emerald greens onto the manga book he was reading, silently telling himself not to pry. This would be the fourth argument you two had this week - and it was only Wednesday. Over the course of the month…? He’d lost count.

He pushed away the irritation that began to claw under his skin. He’d always secretly had a thing for you and he seen that his douche bag of a roommate did not treat you as well as he should.

He leasuirely turns the page, his usual calm exterior hiding his frustration as sure enough, the volume of your voices begin to rise through the wood of the door.

He tries to ignore it, focusing on the magnificent art work that brought his pages to life. But he couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind how much happier you’d be if you just left his ass and got together with himself.

When he hears your voice crack and an uncontrolled sob break through your lips, he leaps up with a sigh, scratching the back of his head and heading into his room. Hopefully by the time he has a shower and is dressed, the two of you would have hashed it out and made up.

Fat chance.

“You don’t even have sex with me anymore…” He hears you cry tragically as he passes by the door to his room. “Do you think I’m ugly now…? I’m desperate here!”

His eyes widen and hands form into a fist, his entire body freezing at the sound of you sobbing those words.

Are you - no. Is he for real?! You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. Funny. Caring. Strong… What the fuck is wrong with him?!

He shakes his chestnut brown head and storms into his room, unintentionally slamming his door a lot louder than he’d meant to.

Eren takes his time in the shower - allowing the steam and hot water to relax him and refocus his mind. Really, it had nothing to do with him.

So why couldn’t he shake you out of his mind?

He was relieved when he eventually got out, dried and dressed and he no longer heard the yelling. His eyes scanned the alarm clock next to his bed.

21:43

He’d been in the shower for a little over an hour. The warm water soaking into his skin and making it feel that extra bit soft. With a lazy yawn, he strolls to his door to pick up his book from the living room. He’s surprised to see you sitting on the couch, alone reading his manga.

“Hey.” He sounds, eyes wide as your beautiful form is melted onto the sofa.

“Oh, hey.” You sit up nervously, placing his book down. “Sorry Eren, is this yours?”

“Where is he?” Eren asks, walking into the room.

“…I don’t know.” You mutter.

He could see that spark behind your eyes becoming extinguished due to that Jack ass and he wasn’t going to just stand by and watch that happen.

He places his hands in this trouser pockets, leaning against the wall. His man bun a lot more loose than usual from his freshly washed hair; a couple of strands falling over his handsome face.

“You know… I think you’re gorgeous.” He admits without a care in the world.

You blink in surprise, not really knowing what to say. “I… Uh… Thank you, Eren. It means a lot.”

“I know.” He shrugs, slinking over to you and plonking himself down next to you, the weight of him making you sink slightly. “I couldn’t help but hear you arguing. If you ask me…” He turns his head to look at you - his dark smouldering eyes peircing your very being. “He’s an idiot.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you glance away shyly, your confidence well and truly in the back pocket of your boyfriend’s jeans - wherever they may be or who’s floor they’re on right now.

He returns his gaze ahead, arms splaying over the back of the couch, his left arm over your shoulders but not touching you.

“I’m sorry you heard us arguing.” You whisper.

“Doesn’t bother me.” He shrugs. “What bothers me is the burning question of why you’re even still with him.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have an answer. It’s a question you’d asked yourself all too often.

Whatever shower gel Eren uses rolls off him into your nose. A mixture of spiced sandalwood with a hint of teatree maybe? Whatever it was, it combined with the warmth of his skin, blanketing you with such compassion you could almost feel his increased heart rate as his eyes slyly drink you in.

“I heard other things, too.” He mutters, suddenly leaning his face close to yours with a smirk. “I can help you, if you want.”

“H-help me?” You heart palpitates and butterflies flutter within you, his demeanor totally changing into something you’d never seen from him before.

“I can make you feel good.” He explains with such simplicity, you were certain he couldn’t possibly be taking about what you thought he was.

Your vacant expression forces him to spell it out for you.

With his large hand cupping your face , he brushes his lips against yours his eyes then scanning your orbs for any resistance. All he can see is how startled you are; wanting to kiss him but your conscience holding you back.

“Let me take care of you…” He reiterates, his hand now slowly moving up your thigh. “In more ways than one.”

“E-eren…” You breathe, your logical thinking quickly being taken over by your now throbbing libido as this gorgeous man now gently slides his tongue into your mouth, catching your lips tenderly once he was fully inside.

He’s beyond elated when you return his affections, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair; your breathing rate quickened yet heavy. His tongue caresses yours, swirling and entwining, his throat buzzing with a low, short moan.

It’s a hurried kiss - your hands roaming each others face and hair with quick succession, your inhales and exhales pushing through your nostrils loudly, the both of you quickly becoming flustered.

Whether it were his alpha male DNA coming into play, or he got too fired up (maybe both) he ends up scooping you up with ease and carrying you, bridal style, into his bedroom. His lips never leave yours as he pushes the door closed with his foot behind hiny, reaching around and clicking the lock, before lowering you gently onto the bed.

He crawls over you, his breath heavy and eyes heavy lidded; his mouth finding its way to your neck and grazing it.

“Eren… I can’t. It’s not right…”

You hear yourself but it didn’t feel like it was you saying those words, your body screaming at you to just shut the fuck up.

“I’m just showing you how you should be treated.” He breathes, hand now roaming up your shirt. “You’re not doing anything. It’s all on me.”

Your moan that escapes you as he pulls at your nipple pushes him on the verge of crazed lust, his lips returning to yours as he rolls your breast around in his large palm, squeezing and pulling. It had been so long since you’d been touched in this way, your body craved it so badly. You found yourself grinding against his thigh, your kisses now desperate as you tug at his hair.

Somewhere within enjoying his touches and kisses, he’d removed your pants. You weren’t sure when, just one moment they were there, the next your legs were bare as his hand cups your crotch, your wetness soaking through the material of your panties.

“Eren…” You gasp, back arching at his warm skin - even through the material it felt so good.

His fingers hastily push them to the side with a groan, wanting nothing more than to have you fully. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible. Not with the thought of him looming over you like a shadow.

You cry out a lot louder than expected when his long finger slides into you, followed by a second, his thumb circling your external magic spot as he continued to nuzzle into your neck; kissing, whispering and biting.

“Do my fingers feel good inside you?”

You nod, your grip on the sheets tightening, your legs tensing and releasing as he begins to wiggle his digits.

He’d spent many-a-night imagining you under him like this. His long cock was solid, and you could feel his yearning for you pressing tightly against your thigh.

Your body is on fire as he works you, picking up speed as your insides suck him in, caressing him and begging for more.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous…” He hums, now looking down into your eyes. “Fuck… You’ve got me so hard.”

You whine loudly at his words, back arching and nails digging deeper into his matress. Your face is burning, boardering on hysterical as your untouched sex is so lovingly caressed.

“yes, Eren… It’s so good…” You sob, your mouth hanging open and your eyes clasping closed. “Ah~ Ah~~!”

“Fuck…” He marvels, watching you squirm at his charity.

“I’m going to… Already…” You warn, feeling suddenly full as the pleasure begins to get too intense.

“yes, cum baby…” He smiles softly yet devishly, his pace getting faster.

Your silent scream confirms your climax, your back springing and your insides clamping down, sprinkling his palm with your water as you swirl right down the drain and into the palm of Eren Yeager.

He watches you in sheer awe as you come undone, unweaving and unravelling at his mercy. Squirming and trembling, your body now under his control during those few seconds of unrestricted ecstasy.

You expected to be riddled with guilt when you’d come back to earth. But strangely you didn’t. It felt… Right.

“Do you feel better?” He mutters, his mouth caressing your shoulder.

You nod, speachless.

He removes his fingers reluctantly; placing them on his flat tongue. “You taste good too.” His tone has a bitter sting to it, you’re perfect, just like he’d always thought.

“Be with me. Leave him.” He states. “You deserve so much better. I want to be the one who takes care of you.”

You think about it for a moment. It makes so much sense to do so. But well, y/n… Whether you take him up on his offer or not - it’s up to you.

[elsliterarylibrary]

Scotland x reader x England Idk maybe the reader was expecting to come over for tea only to for the brothers to fight over the reader?

Okay. I feel ya. I might break this down into multiple parts with different endings. I dunno. Let's see if ya like this one shot first.

I'm sorry for the LONG wait. I was just recently put back on an anti-psychotic because I was showing signs of ✨paranoid schizophrenia✨and I'm also struggling to find a job so I can start college. I was barely conscious of my existence for a while there. I'm stressed, depressed, and losing my damn mind.

So let's try to numb the pain with yandere country personifications! Lmfao

(Y/N)'s POV

I drove over to Arthur's house. Arthur invited me over for a cuppa and considering Alfred decided to drop by my house with Matthias and Gilbert, I much rather be at Arthur's. Those three are so annoying.

When I got there, Alistair was there too. He was wearing a loose, white dress shirt that had the top two buttons unfastened and dark blue dress pants. His fiery red hair was messy as usual and he had a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, smoke slightly obscuring his face. He seemed a little agitated, but he always seemed that way so I brushed it off. (That man needs to take some anger management classes, I swear.)

"Hey, where's Arthur?" I asked, looking around Arthur's big ass house.

"In the sitting room." Alistair huffed, glaring in the direction of the room containing his little brother.

"Alright, thank you." With that, I make my way towards the sitting room, throwing a smile towards the older Kirkland man. Once I walked in the sitting room, I spotted a head of blond hair. He was sat on an arm chair, muttering angrily as he fussed with a tea kettle. I smirked and snuck up behind Arthur. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Arthur yelped in shock and whirled around with his fists raised.

"Alistair, I swear-" He began, before realizing that it was only me. He put his fists down, smoothed out his vest, and the smiled at me. His emerald green eyes shone and he moved to envelop me in a hug.

"(Y/n)! I'm so glad you made it!" He pulled away from the hug, his hands remaining on my waist as he looked deeply into my eyes. This felt way too intimate for friends. This is uncomfortable. Can he let me go now?

"Um..." I began. "I'm kinda thirsty. Is the tea ready?"

That seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he was in the middle of. He let me go and led me over to the couch.

"Ah, yes. Tea is ready. I hope chamomile is good enough."

I giggled. "Yeah, chamomile is good. Did you make any snacks?"

He smiled at me, but soon his expression went sour as he looked at something by the doorway.

"If he did, our house would have burned down." A gruff voice sounded from behind me.

I looked over to see Alistair standing against the doorway, his arms crossed and a lit cigarette between his fingers. Arthur huffed.

"My cooking is not that bad." Arthur argued, face turning red from embarrassment and anger.

"I'd beg to differ. You'd kill the poor lass with your cooking." Alistair retorted.

"Okay, please calm down. I came over here to escape Alfred and his friends' annoying antics, not to hear you two bicker." I take a deep breath. "Let's just enjoy some tea."

Arthur sent one last glare at Alistair before fixing me a cup of tea, handing it over to me with a quiet "here, love". I grab the tea cup, taking a sip while I leaned back and crossed my legs. I hummed in satisfaction as the flavor of the tea spread across my tongue. I brought the cup away from my lips, watching as Alistair made his way to the couch opposite Arthur and me. His forest green eyes were trained on me, eyeing me up and down. His staring made me feel subconscious of my choice of clothing. I was wearing a mint green sweater and a pair of skinny jeans. It felt like he was undressing me with his eyes.

"So, Arthur. What books have you read recently?" I asked, turning to Arthur. Maybe starting a conversation will get Alistair to stop staring at me. Or to help ignore his eyes burning into my body.

"Oh, I just finished reading All the Light We Cannot See. It was pretty good. I suggest you give it a try."

"Ooh, what's it about? Maybe I'll add it to my To Be Read list."

"Well, its about-" He was cut off by a groan from the oldest Kirkland brother. Our gazes fell towards Alistair.

"God, why are you both so boring? Can't you talk about something more exciting than books?"

"Well, I-" I began. "I'm sorry that you find the things I like boring."

The Scottish man's eyes flicked to me as they widened, as if he didn't mean to offend me.

"Now, look what you've done! You hurt her feelings!" Arthur growled. "Just because you aren't intelligent enough to enjoy a book doesn't mean you can just insult those of us who do enjoy them."

Alistair huffed. "At least I have more manly hobbies. What type of man does embroidery?"

"Excuse me?" Arthur yelled. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Hey, wait a minute-" I whispered, panicking because I realized that a fight was almost inevitable at this point. I was cut off by Alistair.

"It means that you're not a man. At least not one worthy of having (Y/n)."

"Wait, what-"

"How dare you! I am perfectly worthy of her! As if she would ever want to be with a brute like you!" Arthur shouted, standing up. His cup of tea fell to the ground, spilling it onto his khaki dress pants.

"Hey, guys. Please-"

"Oh, please. All women want to be with men like me." Alistair scoffed, slowly raising himself up from the couch. "She probably gets wet every time she sees me."

"That's not-" I stood up, trying my best to protest against these claims.

"Are you serious? Quit sexualizing her! I highly doubt that she is that much of a tasteless degenerate."

"Quit sexualizing her? I hear you nearly every night rubbing one out while moaning her name. You sexualize her so much more than I do."

Excuse me? What? That escalated quickly.

"I- But I- Well-" Arthur stammered, cheeks blazing red from embarrassment. "Well I never!"

"Please just stop!" I yelled. "I came over here to relax, not listen to you argue! Clearly, that isn't going to happen, so I'm just going to go home!"

I began to make my way towards the doorway, Arthur and Alistair protesting all the way. I was just beyond the doorway of the sitting room when I felt a strong grip on my hand yank me back into the sitting room.

"(Y/n), wait! Please don't go!" Arthur pleaded, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Man, I just wanted to have some tea and relax, not listen to you two talk about what you think is going on with my vagina at any given time or how you masturbate to the thought of me."

"I know! I know and I'm sorry." Arthur's grip on my wrist tightens as tears began to form in his eyes. "Please don't go! We'll behave! I promise!"

"I don't know-" I began, looking into Arthur's eyes. "I don't know how to feel about everything I just learned about how you two view me."

The grip on my wrist tightens and Arthur tenses up.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered. "Please don't hate me."

"I-" I take a deep breath and pry my hand away from him. "I'm sorry. I gotta go."

With that I ran away, not looking back. Hopefully, these two will get themselves together and quit acting like horny teenaged boys.

So this was less Yandere than I wanted. But I feel bad for nearly 2 years of nothing, so I'm going to post this. Maybe in the future I will redo this one.

[brandyllyn]

This Time

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader [no use of y/n. 3POV]

Sequel to Next Time - but I think it works as a stand alone

Words: 2.8k

My Masterlist

Rated: Teen. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff.

Smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, Jack frowned at his reflection in the Bronco’s side mirror. The material was a soft grey, short-sleeved with pearl snap buttons. It was one of his favorites, good for a casual day out, having a beer with friends - a utilitarian shirt.

His frown deepened.

Making an effort to look away, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to make the lean against the truck as casual as possible. Wear the same thing as last time, she’d said.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t like surprises, he enjoyed them as much as the next person. He just liked to be informed, that was all. How could he protect people, do his job, if he didn’t have full information?

“Hey Jack.”

Her soft voice startled him out of his musings and he jerked his head up to see her. His mouth froze on his greetings, the words garbling in his throat. 

Lord have mercy, she was wearing jeans. Jeans that looked like they had been painted on her, framing soft thighs and an ass he felt a sudden irresistible urge to bite. She had on a loose blouse with one of those camisoles with the thin straps underneath. 

And she was smiling. At him. 

The beauty of her knocked him on his ass and he completely missed his opportunity to meet her, to walk with her and open the car door like a gentleman. Instead he scrambled inside and flung himself across the bench seat, grabbing at the passenger door handle and giving her a sheepish smile as she slid inside.

“Lord, you’re pretty as a speckled pup.” She raised an eyebrow and he gave his head a sharp shake. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

Damn it to hell, how was he messing this up already? Again.

“It is,” he turned the key in the Bronco and set it to drive. 

When she had offered to plan their second date, the old school gentleman in Jack had balked. He’d been raised to believe it was a man’s  job to do the romancing. To plan the outings, pay for dinner, make the moves.

Then again, their first date had gone so poorly he hadn’t objected when she’d offered to plan their second. Only some of it had been his fault, in his defense. He couldn’t have done anything about the tornado. 

“Where to, darlin’?”

“Head into town, then north on New Circle Road”

They chit chatted on the drive into Lexington, a little over an hour with light traffic. Plenty of time for Jack to learn more about her. She wanted a pet, but worried her job at Statesman would interfere. Never been married, although she made passing mention of a proposal that perked his ears. She asked him questions about his hobbies, and then made appropriate follow-up noises of appreciation about the Bronco when he said it was refurbishing older vehicles.

“It’s very shiny,” she smiled and he choked back a laugh. Maybe he should have mentioned his ever so slight obsession with World War II documentaries instead.

She gave no clues to where they were going, nodding slightly when he got off the highway onto Route 4 but aside from that remaining mum. When they turned on to the city streets north of town Jack almost asked but held his tongue. Stadium signs rose to their right as she directed him into a half empty parking lot. Even as they approached the stadium, he didn’t ask the question that bubbled in him.  Not until she handed two construction paper tickets to an older lady and led him inside.

“Baseball?”

“The Lexington Legends,” she chirped back, slipping into the sparse crowd and looking back to see if he followed.

He did, his gait slipping into an easy saunter. Earlier, he’d have laid all his money they were going to a museum for the day. Maybe some kind of art gallery.

“Never figured you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not really,” she shrugged, eyeing something over his shoulder as she came to a stop. “But this isn’t baseball. It’s minor league baseball.”

“Other than the obvious, what’s the difference?”

“Baseball is about the sport. It’s about winning and all that.” A soft aha noise left her and she grabbed his hand, slipping her fingers between his and dragging him to a vendor. “But minor league is about having fun. It’s a carnival with baseball as an excuse.”

Glancing up at the sign he smiled, “Funnel cake?”

“To start,” she answered with a decisive nod. “After that they have one of those things set up where you hit baseballs and win prizes.”

“A batting cage?” His interest was piqued.

“Yeah, that,” she said distractedly.

He didn’t have her attention. She was practically salivating as she gave her order, not just the cake but deep fried Coca Cola and a lemonade to go with it.

“Shouldn’t be possible to fry a liquid,” Jack mumbled, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. “But damn if it ain’t good.”

She beamed back at him, reaching up and using her thumb to wipe at the corner of his mustache. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” He managed not to shiver at her touch - barely. “But I have to admit it’s not what I expected.”

“Well,” she turned her back to him, leading him to a nearly empty set of bleachers. “One of the times you were asking me out you mentioned going to the state fair. If I remember right you tried to lure me with fried Oreos.”

“I did,” he nodded.

“And I know you play on the distillery’s softball team so I figured it wouldn’t be the most boring venue.”

Staring at the first baseman, Jack tapped the heel of his boot on the steel bleacher. “That was pretty astute of you.” Ducking her head she concentrated on their food and Jack eyed the field. “You rootin’ for anyone in particular?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I don’t even know who the teams are.”

Shutting his eyes for a moment Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me, sugar, that you brought me to a baseball game solely for the food?”

“Well, I brought me solely for the food. But I thought you might like the game.”

“You are…” he searched for the word. Finally he settled on a huff of laughter, sliding the funnel cake from her hands and ignoring her protests. He leaned over and pressed his nose to her shoulder, “… somethin’ else.”

“Is that good?” She asked, one hand snaking over to his lap and the fried strings of dough. He picked one up instead, straightening and holding it out to her.

“Is to me.”

The Legends were playing a good game - relying a bit too much on a strong pitcher in Jack’s opinion, half the team couldn’t bat for shit - but he didn’t protest when his companion tugged on his arm in the third inning with a pleading look in her eye. 

“Pickles?”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Fried?”

 “Of course.”

“Lead the way.”

It was probably coincidence that the vendor was right next to the batting cage. And Jack couldn’t resist those pretty eyes when she bit her lip and glanced over at the stuffed animals hanging from the fence.

“Want me to win you one, sugar?”

“You think you can?” she asked with a tease on her voice.

He hummed an affirmative, rolling his shoulder under his shirt. It ached sometimes after the distillery league games, but it had been fine lately, certainly fine enough to knock out a couple homers and get the purple dog looking thing she was staring at.

“What do I get?”

She tapped her lip thoughtfully at the question. “Third date?”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling out a five and handing it to the guy without preamble. Her giggle followed him and he gave the bat a trial swing before setting his stance. 

Crack.

The first ball was a foul, sailing almost straight up and into the tarp. Jack jumped back to avoid being brained and grunted. He’d gotten used to the underhand throws of the softball league. He’d need to re-evaluate.

Whiff.

Fuck, he hadn’t even touched the second. He felt the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and took a swing at the third. It felt solid as it connected, a low hit midway down the far tarp. A solid hit in a real game, but not enough to read as a home run in the cage.

He had another five in his hand before the ball stopped rolling “Again.”

Another foul.

And another.

A low drive to a non-existent third baseman.

“Again.”

“Jack,” her voice sounded too soft and he didn’t look at her.

Two hits and a miss, one that should have been a home run but the damn game clocked it as a triple and Jack gritted his teeth against the argument that rose in his throat.

“Jack, come here.”

Shoulders sagging he turned to the fence, taking a step to it and frowning. “Sugar I-“

“A kiss.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Win me the dragon and you get a kiss.”

He blinked again and darted his eyes to the purple stuffed animal. Is that what it was? A dragon?

Wait.

Wait.

A teasing smile pulled the corners of her lips up, a touch of powdered sugar still dusting the lower one. She’d be sweet, he knew that. And soft.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, thumbing another bill at the kid running the cage. The prize wasn’t worth twenty bucks but that wasn’t the point.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Three home runs, a light and siren going off each time. 

She looked skeptical. “Did you batting cage shark me?”

“Did I what?” he spluttered, pointing at the largest version of the dragon for the worker.

“Batting cage shark, like a pool shark. Pretend to be bad so I’d offer you something?”

“Yes…?” he said slowly, drawling the word out and squinting slightly. It was a better explanation than anything he had. He handed the stuffed animal over, taking the nearly gone pile of fried food from her.

She frowned as she wrapped her arms around the ridiculously large toy. After a moment her face broke into a grin. “Liar.”

“I simply lacked proper motivation.”

Shifting the toy in her embrace she leaned towards him. “Are you going to collect?”

He traced his eyes over her face and settled a hand at the base of her spine. “Later.”

The spluttering sound she made at that warmed his heart.

“I’m assuming we don’t have dinner plans?” Jack asked as he held open the Bronco door for her. He took the dragon from her with one hand, patting her thigh slightly as she buckled in.

“Are you still hungry?” she responded incredulously.

Grinning, he leaned into the back of the truck, setting the plush down and pulling one of the lap belts across it. “Not a bit, I was just checking.” Dragon secured, he slipped into the front seat. “Where next?”

He didn’t expect it to be a bar, a dive bar at that. She was a fancy gal - she’d shown for their first date in a pencil skirt and heels for Christ’s sake. Then again, the last time he’d told her he was going to ‘Show her the town,’ so maybe that was just a miscommunication.

“You dance?” he asked after they got their drinks, leaning in a dark corner a little away from the speakers.

“A little,” she shrugged. “Never had much of a chance to learn.”

“Not interested?”

“Two left feet.” She laughed and he shifted closer. “It’s also a lot to keep track of. Counting, which direction to go…”

“You ever have a good partner?”

Without giving her a chance to answer, Jack swung her into an easy two-step, the live band doing a passable cover of an old George Strait song. She stumbled at first, but he kept a steady hand on her shoulder blade, giving the direction she needed to match his movements.

“Quick, quick, slow slow,” he muttered down to her helpfully and she glared back up at him.

Despite his teasing, she followed him like a dream, letting him guide her in a large circle around the floor. There was no looking behind her, no fighting him. With the gentlest pressure from him she turned slightly, keeping the rhythm and facing forward by his side, their interlinked arms ahead of them. 

“You’re a natural,” he smiled, guiding her into a turn so she was facing him again.

“You’re a good teacher,” she smiled back. He kept an eye on their drinks, making sure no one messed with them, but that only took about 5% of his concentration. The rest he could focus on the woman in his arms. She was settled into his embrace like they’d done this a hundred times before, his fingers spread behind one shoulder while he traced his thumb over her other hand. He knew the song was ending soon and he gave a silent prayer for another two-step.

Instead, a car engine revved and a twangy guitar intro followed. One any cowboy worth his salt would recognize, and he smiled. “Ever line danced?”

A shake of her head and his smile turned into a grin. “I’ll show you.”

It should have been easy, this one was a classic for a reason. A simple grapevine, a toe tap or two, some clapping and a booty shake.

She was hopeless at it.

“No that way,” he huffed, turning her waist with one hand. 

“One, one-two, one, one-two” he tried to help out as she double tapped and looked lost.

The third time she spun into him he gave up, pulling her close. “You weren’t kidding about those two left feet.”

“I told you-“

He shushed with her a turn, swinging her out of the way of the other dancers and back to their waiting drinks. “I thought that was modesty.”

She snorted, stirring her drink with a straw.

He did eventually manage to get her through the electric slide, but they did much better in the partner dances. Jack didn’t mind, any excuse to get his hands on her was welcome. 

It was raining by the time they left, rushing to the Bronco while Jack tried to hold his hat over her head. They were laughing when the doors shut and he did his best to ignore how the water made her blouse stick to her skin.

“Home then?”

A nod and he shifted into gear. He jumped in surprise when her hand slipped into his, drifting up to cradle his forearm when he needed it to change gears. He liked it, even though her fingers were cold, and once they got on the highway he entangled their fingers together and chatted about absolutely nothing.

She was sleepy by the time they got back to the compound, leaning back in her sleep and fighting to keep her eyes open. He shut the truck off, frowning when her hand slipped away after he was forced to let it go.

“I’ll walk you up.”

“You’re not going to claim that kiss?” she asked with a small frown and pout.

“Nah.” With one hand he swept his hat off, turning and settling it in the backseat. “I figure I’ll save it.”

“Save it for what?”

“Third date,” he informed her with a grin. “And my second chance.”

A soft smile came over her face and Jack couldn’t help but press his fingertips to her jaw, rubbing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “But Lord you do make a man think twice about his convictions.”

“Oh do I?” A sly, sultry look replaced the shy one. “Maybe your convictions are in the wrong place.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his thumb slipping down to trace her lips. “You’re enough to tempt a saint to sin.”

Her laughter warmed him, and his focus was so pinpointed on her smile that he missed that it was moving closer until it was almost a surprise when those smiling lips were pressed to his.

Lord he was right, she was sweet. And soft. Her mouth brushing over his with the barest of pressure. A groan escaped him, one hand clenching in the hair behind her neck. He wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t. But if she wanted to rub that body of hers against his and lick at the seam of his mouth who was he to deny her?

They were both panting when she broke away, and Jack’s jeans were fitting a bit tighter than normal.

“Next Saturday?”

“Tomorrow.” The word choked out of him and he winced. “Don’t make me wait a week to see you again, sugar.”

“Brunch?”

Yeah. Yeah he could do brunch.

“My place?”

In her house? Where her bed was?

Ain’t no way he would survive that.

“How bout we go out somewhere? You got any pretty Sunday dresses?”

The smile she gave him was dazzling, and a little mischievous. “I think I have something.”

Lord have mercy, what had he gotten himself into now?

For updates on stories please follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

Songs from the saloon: George Strait - I Just Wanna Dance With You Brooks and Dunn - Boot Scootin' Boogie

[pawsomelestat]

༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚˳ . 1 . ˳༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚

Red flags and long nights

～～～～～～～～～～～

tw ; drugs, swearing, stalking kinda ?

4am. Shit time of night, whole city full of street rats starting fires and yelling. You'd think a loft apartment would get less noise being up so high, but you could still hear the shit covered junkies blowing eachother to bits down below. It was a nice apartment, just a bad part of town, the rent was low due to a past accident that happened so many years ago.

You woke up to a soft meowing and a scratching sound, making you groan as you opened your eyes to face a small white fluffy cat scratching at the base of your bed.

"Ozzy come on."

The sleep in your voice battled with the sound of a movie playing by your bed, a shitty little box tv connected to a vhs player and a super nintendo. An odd pairing, the tv playing a copy of a nightmare on elm street on loop before you sluggishly reached over and turned it off.

The cat then ran to the large circular window at the other end of your room, playfully chirping and swatting at a crow sat outside.

"Ozzy lay it off."

Wearing only a pair of boxers you slipped out of bed with yet another groan, heavy feet dragging tiredly. You scooped your fluffy companion into your arms and held him to your chest, trying to calm him while watching the crow who seemed to be peering into your room.

"You're a pain in my ass you know that"

You said that lovingly, nuzzling your face into his back, walking to a small set of red bowls on the floor. Ozzy was your companion, the keeper of all your secrets and the guy you played tekken 2 with. Cats are shit at co-op, but at least you had a player 2.

"Shit."

You pushed your hair back, noticing the lack of cat food.

"How desperate are you?"

The cat meowed in response, making you groan at the thought that you'd need to go out at this time of night. A baggy band tshirt sat ontop of a black pair of low-rise jeans on the side of your messy bed, the same clothes from yesterday that you'd thrown off in a tired manner. You pulled them on, slipping your feet into a scuffed pair of boots and pushing your messy long hair back.

The streets were a dangerous place during the day, but at this time of night they were a total death wish. All the things you'd do for a cat huh.

Cigarette ash blazing under the dark sky, night air filling your lungs and.. Footsteps. Not yours, someone behind you. You turned, glancing at the man close to your back, not quite taking in his appearance, just making a quick assumption.

"Look man I'm not selling anything tonight, barely got anything for myself."

Continuing to walk after addressing the stranger, you made it to a shitty little corner shop where you could buy a couple tins of cat food. You dropped the cigarette into a puddle, grinding it with your heel to put out the flame.

"Deluxe tuna chunks in a thick gravy. Delicious."

You chuckled slightly at your own sarcasm, reading the tin of cat food in your hand while you walked to the register.

"Shit."

Patting your pockets, there were nothing but loose coins and rolling paper in there. Nothing that could pay for the food. Once again you ran your fingers through you hair, it'd become an anxious habit.

"I've got it"

A low voice from behind you, close to your side and a hand reaching next to you to place a five dollar bill on the counter infront. You looked behind, recognising the same face as earlier while you grabbed the can ready to leave.

"Look man I appreciate it but really I've got nothing, can't buy me out with some shitty dollar store cat food"

You slipped out, thinking to yourself and mumbling about the weirdness of the guy you'd just encountered. Doing what you did was an oddly social job, you'd meet alot of weird people selling shit on the streets. But never someone wearing full clown makeup. Definitely a fucked up individual.

Footsteps behind you. For fucks sake.

"How many times do I have to say I got no-"

His hand against your lips, making you gasp as he pushed you up against the harsh brick wall of the trash lined alley. Your back being bruised as you squirmed under his grip, his dominant hand reaching into your pocket and pulling out a pre-rolled blunt.

"These will kill you, you know."

The man's voice came out in a half chuckle, his face close to yours. With one swift movement you took the tin of food and hit it against the back of his head, making him stumble back and let go of you.

"Touch me again and you're fucking dead you weirdo."

Another chuckle, raising his head slowly while staring deeply into your eyes.

"I already am"

You kicked him back as he edged closer, quickly clutching the tin and preparing your feet to run.

"I have nothing on me you know that, I literally couldn't pay for the damn cat food. There's no point trying to rob me you freak."

He laughed, finding amusement from your alarmed state, the cracks in your voice from fear just fueling his ego.

"I have no intention on robbing you."

Your feet took off, scrambling to run away as fast as you could, not even thinking to look back behind you. Adrenaline filled your lungs, it was a familiar high feeling but this time terrifying. Who knows what that creep wanted for you, the city was full of all sorts of bloodthirsty scum who'd do anything just for kicks.

Seeing your apartment building just before your eyes you stopped, panting and sweating from all that exercise. The cat food was still in your hand, funny how dedicated you were to keep him fed.

You weren't greeted by Ozzy's soft yet annoying meows as you entered through the front door, odd. Maybe he'd actually settled down on your bed for once instead of trying to swat at crows outside.

A soft click ran through the room as you flicked on the light switch, illumination spilling around the room.

A sight you didn't want to see. That same man, standing right in the middle of your apartment holding your cat.

Well tonight was about to get even longer.

[yoosmekihyun]

Conversations in the Dark (M) (pt. 5)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (male and female masturbation)

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related)

Word Count: 2.2k

Part 5

You watched Matt as he entered his apartment, vaguely aware of how good his ass looked in the jeans he was wearing. Before closing the door, he turned, slipped his glasses off, and winked at you as if he could see that you hadn’t moved from your spot in the doorway.

The click of the door shutting shook you out of your aroused shock and you quickly slipped back into your apartment. You moved in a slightly drunk daze into the main area and stood for a moment staring blankly, trying to remember what you were planning to do before Matt decided to unknowingly finish wrecking your panties. Deciding to rectify your current uncomfortable situation, you headed into your bedroom and pulled out a pair of loose shorts. You slid out of your leggings and panties and the cool air hit your wetness causing a small groan to leave you. Would it be the worst thing to take care of yourself now? Thinking about it as you slipped on your shorts, you decided to do the cleanup in the kitchen first so you could properly enjoy yourself after. You didn’t want to be thinking about the food that needed to be put away or dishes that needed soaking while you were trying to get off.

With a sense of purpose, you marched in a mostly straight line into your kitchen to get things done as quickly as possible. As you were doing the bare minimum in your anticipation, you daydreamed about Matt’s unobstructed eyes visible while the lower half of his face was buried in your cunt. The idea of his stubble lightly scratching your inner thighs as he made you come with that gorgeous mouth had you pausing and gripping the edge of your sink. After the first unenthusiastic attempt your old boyfriend made at going down on you, you decided it wasn’t something you cared to experience again, and you hadn’t. But something about Matt’s mouth and ability to turn you on more than any man you’d ever met made you want to try again.

Finished with what needed to be done, you tossed the hand towel you were using onto the counter and shut off all the lights in your main living area on your way to your bedroom. You slid your door shut out of habit rather out of any concern of getting caught and paused. How did you want to proceed? Get off as fast as possible? Or take your time and really savor your desire? You glanced at your bedside clock and decided it was the perfect time to really enjoy yourself. You didn’t have anything concrete planned for the next day and you couldn’t remember the last time you had a little drawn out self-care.

Grinning and feeling pleased with your decision, you pulled out your phone and selected your “panty dropper” playlist. Listening to the lyrics you took your time undressing as you headed into the bathroom for a shower, imagining what it would be like to have Matt help you slip everything off.

Bottles of Merlot, I can't stand up now Boy, you got me feeling so weak Your ocean was drowning me, arms wrapped around me Now I'm getting in too deep, not falling 'cause I want to Baby, you keep pushing me Don't love you 'cause I need to But it's everything you doin' to me, yeah Make music when you're moanin', from night until the morning Just tell me when you're ready And I'mma paint your body with my lips

You hummed along with the melody as you turned on your shower to let the water warm up. Pinning up your hair, you sung along softly to the chorus:

Baby, I'll do anything you want Lock me down like I'm your slave 'Cause ooh, when you're done with me I can't even concentrate, concentrate ooh I can't even concentrate, no eh yeah

Steam started to billow out of the shower stall as you stepped in. The hot water felt heavenly on your tired muscles, and you stood and enjoyed the heat for a few minutes. Inevitably, your mind wandered to Matt again and you started to think about what it would be like to shower with him. Would it be after a night of mind-blowing sex, the need to rinse your sweat and release encouraging you to slip into the shower together? Or maybe in the morning, both of your running a little late and sharing the shower to save on time and getting in a few kisses to start the day? Or perhaps your favorite, sliding into the shower with him, unexpected, and dropping to your knees to show him how much you cared for him, how much you wanted to help him relax?

This last thought sent an intense wave of arousal through you, and you slid your hand slowly down your abdomen until your fingers found your swollen clit. The first touch sent shivers down your spine as you imagined Matt behind you, softly caressing your body under the hot water with one hand as his other played you with an expertise you knew he had. You moaned softly as you stroked yourself, building your pleasure slowly. You continued to imagine the attention Matt would pay to you and how incredibly sexy it would be if he got you worked up to the edge and then stopped only to spin you around and press you against the shower tile. Lifting your leg to slide into your hot, wet, heat would make both of you moan loudly as you were doing now.

Your eyes were closed tightly as one hand rested on the shower wall, bending at the waist slightly, and widened your stance so the fingers playing with your clit could slip down to your sopping entrance. You teased yourself with one finger and slipped it inside. You knew it wasn’t enough and dreamed of Matt’s calloused masculine hands playing with you the same way. The thought of his thick fingers sliding into you sent another wave of arousal as you slipped a second, then third finger in. You fucked yourself with your fingers as you imagined him behind you, his fingers instead of yours, whispering the filthy things he wanted to do to you, and you careened over the edge loudly crying out, “Matthew!” You took your time, drawing out your orgasm as best as you could as the water began to cool on your back. Slipping your fingers out, you hissed slightly at both the mild discomfort and the emptiness you felt.

Turning the water off, you grabbed your towel and stepped out to dry yourself off. You knew you weren’t done but decided to take a couple minutes to slather on lotion that you knew your skin would appreciate come morning. Your playlist continued in the background and you sang along to the next song as you enjoyed a little afterglow. You let your hair down and walked back into your bedroom, tossing your towel haphazardly into the hamper. Sliding under the covers, you relished the soft sheets against your bare skin and had a moment of gratitude for your past self making the effort to set up the timer to your small electric blanket. You snuggled into the warm sheets and sighed happily.

After a moment, your mind began to drift to Matt again and you knew the orgasm in the shower wouldn’t be the only time you got off tonight. Between the wine, the touches, and the whispering in your ear, you were still too turned on to sleep. Reaching into your bedside table, you pulled out your small wand vibrator. You slipped your arms back under the covers and let your imagination run wild.

-X-

Matt chuckled as he closed the door, sensing your frozen body still in the doorway of your apartment. He tossed his glasses on the entry table and walked towards his kitchen while he listened for you in yours. While he filled a glass with water, he was pleased that you still seemed to be a bit dazed from his goodbye as he listened to your heart and breath standing still in your living space. He wasn’t planning on going out as Daredevil for another hour so he decided to indulge himself by listening to you and imagining what it would be like to finally be with you.

He heard you walk into your bedroom and change…just your bottoms? His face broke into a slow, lascivious grin at this. Did he get you so aroused that you needed to change your panties? The idea of this delighted him. He knew you were very turned on for a good portion of the evening and your scent—both your pheromones and arousal—made it difficult to keep from dragging you to your bedroom, dinner be damned. Matt had been at least half hard from the moment he stepped into your apartment.

Walking to his couch, Matt sipped his water before setting it down on the table and stretching out to continue to listen to your movements. You stumbled slightly walking to the kitchen, but you kept a quick pace as if you didn’t even realize it. He covered his mouth and chuckled. He could tell you had a decent amount of wine and despite the delicious meal you made, it wasn’t enough to soak up all the alcohol. The wine was why he hadn’t leaned in and kissed you after Karen and Foggy left; he wanted you completely sober and consenting when he finally did.

Your movements in the kitchen were confident and relaxing as Matt lay on the couch, enjoying the sounds. You finished quicker than he was expecting, and he heard you click the light switches and lamps off. Matt figured you were going to crawl into bed, and he could be reassured that you were sleeping and safe when heading out for his patrol. However, he tilted his head as he heard the first notes of what he realized was a fairly sensual song. Was this just a nighttime, relaxing playlist? He hadn’t heard it before but that wasn’t surprising considering he tried not to listen most of the time.

Matt listened as you undressed and walked into the bathroom, and he realized you were going to shower. Wary of invading your privacy further, he was about to focus himself to listen to anything else until he heard your soft voice sing so sweetly:

Baby, I'll do anything you want Lock me down like I'm your slave 'Cause ooh, when you're done with me I can't even concentrate, concentrate ooh I can't even concentrate, no eh yeah

Matt couldn’t remember a time when he got hard so quickly. He rushed to undo his belt and pants and slid everything down to his thighs before giving himself a rough stroke. The idea of fucking you stupid was a tantalizing one and he hoped he’d get to one day.

He heard you step into the shower, and he longed to join you. Even just slipping in with you after a long day and helping you wash your back and touch you would be more than enough. He wanted to appreciate you and make you feel good in general, not just sexually. Although, yes, sexually as much as you’d let him. Matt continued to stroke himself as he imagined his hands washing along your soft skin, teasing you a little as he was currently teasing himself. He almost missed it but heard you moan and, without thinking, listened more closely. Matt nearly exploded when he realized you were fucking yourself on your fingers. He could now hear the wet sounds of the movement under the falling water of the shower, and he began to stroke himself faster, throwing his head back, wishing he had your soaked panties pressed to his nose.

Matt was on the edge, trying to wait for you, for any indication you were coming when he heard it. The moan of his name as your orgasm crashed around you caused him to come so hard, he nearly passed out. With a slight ringing in his ears, Matt tried to calm his breathing as he came down from the unexpected intensity. He knew you responded to him and he was enjoying building the tension and teasing you but he didn’t know he was who you fantasized about. Smugness and pride filled his chest as he awkwardly stood from the couch and adjusted his pants enough so he could walk to the bathroom.

After cleaning up, Matt pulled out his Daredevil suit and started to change. You were certainly going to be sleeping soon and he was going to be living off the high of you moaning his name for the rest of the night. As he was pulling on his boots, Matt caught something unexpected coming from your apartment. The music was still playing and he had registered that you slipped in your bed and you sounded content. What was that new sound?

It took Matt a moment as he paused and focused his hearing, needing to make sure you were okay and that this new sound wasn’t from something dangerous. Suddenly, he realized what it was. You let out a breathy whimper as the buzzing noise moved slightly and Matt’s shock quickly shifted to a deep longing. He ran his hand roughly over his hardening sensitive cock and growled in frustration. One day, he’d make you come as many times as you could handle.

Copyright © 2024 by yoosmekihyun. All rights reserved.

[badreamiest]

Finney's Day Off

One morning, Finney feels as though school merely isn't worth it. And he drags Robin down in his bad attendance to hang out for the day. It turns out they have the cutest time together.

TW: Very light angst, slight mentions of the basement, hurt/comfort, Robin swears like a sailor at moments, extremely fluffy, like it'll rot your teeth-. Oh and Finney worships Robin because I said so.

My ao3 account if you wanna find this and more of my works there. I don't write a lot so- yeah-. Enjoy!

Translations for later: "¡Mierda!" - Shit!

Finney wasn’t sure what had come over him that morning, but he did not feel like going to school. Something must’ve been in the air, polluting his common sense. Like, come on, he knew he couldn’t not go. That wouldn’t be very Finney Blake of him. Plus, he couldn’t risk the school contacting his dad over his disappearance. He was sure they wouldn’t; they’d likely assume he was sick since Finney wasn’t the type to just decide he wouldn’t go. Besides today, anyway.

So why was he currently walking in the opposite direction of the school building?

Robin was never one to turn down skipping school, and half the time, he’ll pretend he’s practically dying to avoid it. The other half is him being suspended or sent home for fighting. He wasn’t complaining, though. He enjoyed time away from the judgemental assholes roaming inside those pathetic school walls. So when Finney ran up to him on the way to school, panting and dripping in sweat, despite the particularly chilly air around them, asking him to take the day off with him, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Though, he did question Finney the entire way back to his house.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? This is very…weird of you, Finn.” Robin asked as he strutted beside the taller but skinnier male. He didn’t quite understand what could’ve caused such a strange decision from the same boy that lectured him about skipping, even if he’s got bloody knuckles.

“I ‘dunno. I just- woke up this morning and decided that school wasn’t worth it today.”

“Are you sure no one fucked with you? I’ll beat their asses. You know that.”

“Yes, Robin. I’m sure. I just wanna hang with you today.” Finney felt pathetic admitting it, but that was the only reason he could come up with that would make him want to ditch school. He assumed that’s also why Robin was the first person he ran to when he decided he would ruin his perfect attendance record.

Though now that Finney was walking calmly beside him, decision made and now in a clear head, he could take in Robin’s outfit today. He wasn’t wearing his signature t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, but in its place was a sweatshirt that looked almost too big for Robin’s physique. It was slightly devouring his hands, reaching just below where his belt would be. He had black sweatpants, a somewhat different shade than the sweatshirt, but you’d have to squint to notice. Robin was wearing his everyday dirty sneakers that were loosely tied and were severely in need of a deep wash.

Robin was indeed the polar opposite of Finney. Finney was rocking a denim jacket with wool on the cuffs of the sleeves and on the inside for top warmth. He was wearing jeans that he thought would keep him warm but soon realized that he would freeze if they didn’t make it to Robin’s house fast enough. Finney was also sporting his favorite pair of Vans. He liked his outfit, but he enjoyed Robin’s even more. Maybe it’s just because it’s Robin.

Finney and Robin had been dating for almost 3 months now. When Finney had escaped that blasted basement and confessed all his feelings to Robin in a daze from the lack of sleep, Robin had waited until Finney awoke to ask him if he meant what he said and returned Finney’s feelings. After they spent at least an hour crying and hugging, Robin had sworn never to let anything happen to Finney again. Finney had proclaimed to always be there when Robin’s knuckles took beatings to kiss them better. Robin could live with that.

Ever since then, they have been inseparable. Robin would always come over to Finney’s house throughout the week to “study” (more like whining about being bored and then somehow pull Finney away from the table to cuddle and watch movies. Finney still didn’t know how he did it.). While Finney came over on the weekends to sleep over and avoid his dad.

Eventually, they noticed their days slowly get better when they had each other around. Even on the nights Finney would sneak out and tap on Robin’s window at 3am, bawling to him about what his dad had done. He screamed and cried in his lover's arms until his lungs burned, and he felt like he couldn’t cry anymore. Or on the days Robin felt utterly hopeless and scared with the fear of losing everything, so bad that he would break down and sob until he was choking on tears. Sometimes Robin would get so worked up he’d start punching his thighs if he was sitting, getting so frustrated that he was so weak. Finney would have to pull him into a hug to get him to stop, feeling Robin softly beat on his back before accepting that it was okay to not be tough all the time and then falling asleep in his angel’s grasp. They knew they had each other, which would outdo whatever they had to experience.

Finney watched Robin’s house come into view and almost punched the air. He felt an incredible adrenaline rush from his slight rebellious decision this morning. He was going to spend the day with Robin Arellano. No bullies. No teachers. No abusive father. Just Robin. And he couldn’t decide on which higher being to thank. He slowly grasped Robin’s hand in his, squeezing lightly, until he felt the hand pull away from his grip.

“Jesus fuck, your hands are freezing, Finn!” Robin shouted as he stuffed his hand in his pockets for a moment. Finney giggled evilly as he stared at his hands.

“Are they? I’m sorry,” he started before quickly shoving his hand on Robin’s neck, anywhere he could reach that wasn’t blocked by his beautiful dark brown hair. Robin screeched and pushed Finney away and into the street before gripping the collar of his sweatshirt and pulling it higher to cover the part Finney had touched. His hands left a tingly cold feeling that Robin couldn’t say he hated, but he didn’t love it either. He was perfectly warm before Finney had touched him with his ice-cold fingers, and now he had shivers running up and down his spine.

“Damnit, Finn-! Now I’m cold! Fuck you!” Finney was laughing so hard that he about fell over. His lungs were begging him to stop as he slowly felt lightheaded. Robin glared at him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back onto the sidewalk.

“You brought it upon yourself when you pulled your hand away!”

“Well, sorry that your hands are colder than the fucking arctic waters of the South Pole!”

“Now you’re just exaggerating! They aren’t that cold!” Finney argued as he put his hands to his cheeks. It took a minute for the feeling to come back to his face, but when it did, he quickly pulled his hands away and shoved them in his pockets.

“Yeah, see? Fucking freezing.” Finney pouted as he stopped on Robin’s porch. Robin pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, allowing Finney to walk in first. They both kicked off their shoes and plopped onto the couch, absolutely defeated by the chilling walk. Their hands were aching and numb simultaneously, and their noses were bright red. Robin would’ve kicked Finney’s ass for ditching on such a cold day if he weren’t so surprised still. He didn’t understand why Finney decided today would be the day to fuck up his attendance, but Robin knew Finney. Robin knew Finney didn’t understand, either. Robin could see it on his face that he was just as shocked.

Robin sat there to warm his hands before an idea popped into his head. He quickly turned his head to the latter and smiled brightly, which resulted in Finney cracking a smile of his own.

“Wanna make some hot chocolate?! That’ll warm us up!” Robin asked excitedly and leaned closer to Finney’s face. Finney hated it when he did that. It would always make his face get hot, even if he felt as though he was on the verge of frostbite. Finney leaned away slightly to clear his throat and smile wider.

“Of course. Anything to bring the feeling back to my fingers.” Robin jumped up at this and pulled Finney with him, leading him to the kitchen. Finney leaned against the counter when they walked in and let Robin find the materials for the chocolatey drink. Finney knew Robin’s house like the back of his hand, but he knew Robin loved to make him things. The thought brought him back to second grade when they had an assignment for arts and crafts. Robin had made it his mission to make Finney a kitten out of cotton. It didn’t last long, though, because a random little girl in their grade had snatched the kitten when Robin wasn’t looking and ate it. You can only imagine why Robin landed in the principal’s office that day.

Robin finished putting the chocolate mix into the cup and stirred it gently before handing the exceptionally burning cup to Finney. Causing the latter to hiss quietly and start blowing on the drink while shifting his fingers uncomfortably around the mug. Robin began swirling his and then took a sip before jumping back and whisper-shouting a swear.

“¡Mierda! That’s hot!” Robin quickly set down his drink and fanned his lips, causing Finney to burst into laughter and spit out some of his hot chocolate. He wanted to ask if Robin was alright, but all he could do was mutter out incoherent words between giggles. When Robin regained his composure, he shot Finney the most upset glare he could muster. Of course, it didn’t affect Finney besides making him laugh harder. All of Finney’s giggling began to chip away at Robin’s glare until he started laughing with him.

When they finally managed to calm down, they walked to the living room with their mugs of chocolatey goodness. Finney was the first to sit down and huddle up with the blanket in the corner of the couch. Robin glanced at him and forced a frown.

“You plan on sharing my blanket, right?” Robin questioned as he frowned more and raised an eyebrow. Finney giggled at his expression and gently shook his head, causing his beautiful curls to shake.

“Nah, it’s my blanket now. Find your own.”

“That is my own! My mamá bought it for me!” Robin argued as he crossed his arms and glared at Finney. Finney laughed and sipped his chocolate. All Robin did was observe because they both knew he wouldn’t take it from Finney. Robin couldn’t help but think about how cute Finney looked at the moment. His cheeks were flushed from the hot drink the same beverage was making his flushed nose run a bit, so he was sneaking in adorable sniffs between giggles and sips. His hair was slightly covering his eyes, and he was beautifully wrapped in the latter’s blanket, completely comfy and warm. How could Robin steal it from him when he looked so angelic the way he was?

Finney finished his sip and sighed contently before bringing his fingers below his chin to pretend to think. When he was satisfied with his amount of fake consideration, he lifted the side of the blanket and nodded his head sideways to nonverbally tell Robin he could snuggle with him. His act had Robin’s heart leaping towards Finney, pulling his entire body with it as he slipped underneath the covers.

Both his and Finney’s hearts were racing, and both could feel it. Finney would definitely use this for his daily journal writing that Gwen was making him do for “therapy purposes.” It’s what Finney usually did; write about Robin. If it wasn’t something random like school or bullshit feelings about his father or his bullies, it was about how Robin made him feel. It’s how she found out that not only was Finney gay, but he was madly in love with Robin. Gwen immediately confronted him about it, asking him unbelievable questions finishing the conversation with an “I knew it” and walking away. It left Finney dumbfounded, but he left little notes at the end of each prompt saying how she should NEVER bring it up.

Tonight, he was going to leave a lengthy ass essay about how Robin’s heart was beating so hard and fast against his arm as he snuggled into him. He would write in meticulous detail about how many beats Robin’s heart made in a second or how it made his own skip a beat or two within moments. He would explain his stomach twirling every time he imagined how Robin must’ve felt at this moment since he was practically on the verge of a heart attack. Or maybe Robin’s body was breaking out into goosebumps, and Finney’s hair was standing on end, and how it was incredible that just one person, that person being Robin Arellano of all people, made him feel such a way. How could one person make him feel like he was suffocating and yet oh so alive at the same time? How could someone that shares the same amount, if not more, hatred towards the world make him feel as though the gods brought him here to bless him with such a beautiful person? It was mind-boggling.

Robin’s breathing started to slow, and his grip gradually slipped from his cup. Just before it spilled, Finney quickly caught hold of it and gently pulled it from him to set it on the table, along with his own. Robin snored softly into his ear while Finney admired him. How could he not regard the divine proportions of his partner? The way Robin’s hair outlined his face. How his nose was just the perfect shape for his face. How his eyelashes were the ideal length for his beautiful, big, doe eyes. Robin’s cheekbones were barely visible unless you got as close as Finney, so close that you could see the slightest indent of his cheeks but still puffy enough to exaggerate when he pouted. Finney also couldn’t help but adore how plump his lips were. How they could express so many emotions just from the direction they turned. How they contained so many soft-spoken words that only Finney got to hear, so many secrets they kept between each other. Robin’s lips were almost always chapped and covered with teeth marks and rips from when he got too nervous and bit them, yet every time they kissed, they were softer than anything Finney’s ever felt. Sure, he’s never kissed anyone other than Robin, but he’s sure no one could compare to Robin’s lips. Robin’s kisses were something out of this world. They could snatch Finney’s breath away faster than he’s ever experienced.

All these thoughts were making Finney exhausted. He planned to save the rest of his sentimental thoughts for his journal entry later and decided to nap with Robin. Robin’s mother would be home around 2-3pm, and Finney was sure she would wake them up and ask about them being there. It would be good for him to get home around the same time he generally would so he wouldn’t have to worry too much about his father. He could lie about what he was doing to cause him to be late and play it off as nothing. His plan's calm and soothing words made him feel safe enough to sleep. Or maybe Robin’s warm touch and welcoming scent lured the boy to slumber.

All Finney knew was that with Robin, he was safe. And that’s all he needed to sleep soundly.

[angelsdevils]

Flufftober: Day 27❤️

Title: Let Loose Prompt: Halloween Party Day 27, 2022

Flufftober Masterlist

Tag List: @missmadness123 @galactict3a @kazenomegaminowanpisu @pseudophyllus @staymoarmyzen

You weren’t one for parties, but your best friend decided to drag you out this evening for the Halloween Party. You didn’t want to go, let alone dress up. So you ended up being the only person not in a costume, in the corner with a cup of soda. The music was blaring, and a lot of people were already drunk. You hated this scenery, especially since your friend ditched you. Several guys came up to you wanting you to dance with them, or try to get you to drink but you stood your ground by rejecting every offer.

You sighed softly and pulled out your phone, just as another familiar face came next to you. It was your classmate, Eren Yeager. Pretty popular with the girls, an idiot, but nice enough. You completely ignored his presence as he leaned against the wall next to you. It was quiet for a few minutes as if Eren was trying to think of something to say. 

You eventually looked over at him, and he flashed you his charming smile which caused you to roll your eyes. Nothing against Eren, but you knew what kind of guy he was. You looked the other way, and he scooted closer to you, which caused you to move to the other side of the couch. But he only followed you and you sighed softly.

“Yeager, what are you doing?”

“Ouch, last names huh?” 

“Oh hush, what do you want?”

“Well, I saw you over here by yourself. So I figured you could use some company.”

“I am perfectly fine alone.” 

“Yeah, but I know a lot of guys are bothering you.”

“Why do you care?” 

“Never mind that, if you didn’t want to be here, why did you come?” Eren asked and you leaned against the couch.

“My friend dragged me to come with her.” 

“Ah… is your friend the loud one over there?” He asked pointing. You raised your eyes and looked up at him. 

“You are the one to talk… but yes that’s the one.” 

“Everything makes sense then, she kept her word then.”

“Huh?” You looked at him confused, and he stood up offering you his hand.

“Follow me.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Outside, it’s fresh air out there.” 

“Oh…” 

“No need to stay on guard, I am not a terrible person. I won’t do anything, relax,” he said. Eren grabbed your hand and led you outside. You glanced back at your friend and she winked at you and you sighed. Once you both were far enough in the backyard, you both sat on the ground under the tree.

“I am so confused, why are you even talking to me?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, before he could say something someone touched your shoulder and you turned around and screamed before jumping on Eren’s lap. The guy behind the creepy mask laughed and Eren rolled his eyes.

“Go away Jean~ before I kick your ass.” 

“Fine, fine. Don’t want to ruin your date night.” Eren growled and Jean laughed slightly before running off. You got off Eren, but he quickly pulled you into his lap.

“What did he mean to ruin our date? This isn’t a date…” 

“He is an idiot…”

“Can you let me go?”

“No?” He said and you looked at him, and he had a goofy smile. Once you assumed he didn’t show anyone else since you only ever saw his flirting small.

“What is going on Eren? You are acting weird.” 

“Truth is, I like you. I have for a long time. I thought maybe you would be jealous if I flirted with other girls but you just ignored me and avoided me. So I gave up.”

“Wait… wait. You thought dating other girls, and playing with other girls would make me jealous?” You asked and Eren rubbed his neck embarrassingly.

“Reiner, Connie, and they told me it would.”

“You are friends with Mikasa, Annie, and several other girls. Didn’t occur to you to ask them?”

“It was embarrassing… I am sorry okay.” He huffed and you attempted to get out of his lap but he pulled you back down.

“Don’t need to apologize to me…”

“Okay, will you go out with me?” 

“I have to think about it…” you said and Eren’s shoulder slumped slightly. You glanced back at him, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. You bit your lip before cupping his cheeks.

“How do I know you won’t play with me?”

“I won’t I like you,” he mumbled slightly as he met your eyes. You both just stared at each other, before he leaned in and captured your lips with his. You closed your eyes and turned around in his lap. He hugged your waist and you hugged his neck kissing him. You sighed softly against his lips before parting away. He smiled widely and you chuckled before pecking his lips again.

“Fine, I will give you one chance…”

“Deal, you won’t regret it.”

“Better not Eren~” 

He buried his face into your neck and your friend came up to you guys.

“Enjoying the Halloween party?” She asked, with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

“Where are your wings?” 

“Hmm?” She looked at her back and gasped before running off and you shook your head.

“She is a dork,” you said. 

“What was she supposed to be?” 

“A butterfly? Maybe a fairy?” 

“Ahh.” He nodded and cuddled into you. 

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted etc. I do not own the character, but I own the plots to these stories.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ timeskip! haikyuu captains matching with you on tinder | daichi sawamura and toru oikawa

warnings: timeskip! daichi and oikawa, fem! reader, tinder, unprotected sex, protected sex, bondage/handcuffs, multiple orgasms, biting/hickeys, fangirl fucking, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling, missionary and doggy style, fluff at the end, pwp, this made my editor loose their mind (ily opal mwah)

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.5k

Daichi Sawamura | Stress relief

Being a cop was a good job. Steady income, health benefits, all that jazz. And there really wasn’t a lot of crime in Miyagi, so there was little to no stress. Perfect for a guy who spent his high school years screaming at underclassmen to behave, right? Wrong. Paperwork was a pain in the ass, and his only relief was going home to an empty apartment, along with the occasional visit from his younger siblings or old teammates. Overall, Daichi was stressed as hell. Did he have an early grey?

Anonymous sex was his only relief. Yeah, it was unlike Daichi to not know the girl before making her see stars repeatedly, but he just didn’t have the time. Balancing being a police officer with his sex life was hard work, and emotions just complicated things. He didn’t see women as objects, absolutely not. Daichi was a gentleman (at least in the streets.) He just sees the sex as a good way to let himself go, to pound his frustration out into a gorgeous angel beneath him, her moans and cries of euphoria filling his apartment. 

So when he saw your pretty face appear on his Tinder feed, how could he say no? Swiped right immediately, and the two of you were a match. 

“F-fuck, Daichi!” you mewled into his neck, attempting to hide your flushed face in his tan skin. Your hands were cuffed together in front of you, wrapped around his broad and gorgeous shoulders. “M’gonna cum again, shit!” your wanton sobs were like music to his ears, although they were slightly muffled by your hiding.

“Hey, I told you I don’t like it when pretty girls hide from me,” Daichi purred, stopping his thrusts inside your sobbing core to adjust your body. He pulled your face away from hiding by gripping your messy and tangled hair; a dark desire pooled in his chestnut eyes. “I wanna see that face of yours make cute little expressions as I fuck you, baby.” Fuck, his voice was so fucking filthy, and it made your legs quiver beneath him. 

You pathetically nodded as Daichi pushed your legs further up into your chest, placing your arms around his neck. The cold metal from the handcuffs tickled the hairs on the back of his neck, the steel sensation only further adding to the pleasure of your warm pussy squeezing onto his pulsating cock. “God, you feel so fucking good.” he punctuated his sentence with a harsh thrust, feeling his orgasm approach. He usually lasted much longer than this, but the sensation of your gummy walls pulling him impossibly deep was driving him insane. Fuck, were you trying to kill him?

“Fuck!” he growled into your ear, biting down on the cartilage of the shell. “You’re gonna cum with me, yeah? I know you’re fucking close, baby girl. I can feel you squeezing around me like a slut. You’re gonna milk me for all I’m worth, huh?” 

“Yes, fuck!” his words sent you over the edge, his rough and powerful thrusts only making your release even sweeter. You made a mess all over his cock, sweet moans escaping your puffy and bruised lips. An animalistic, almost feral grunt emerged from Daichi’s throat as he slammed his mouth against yours, drowning out his moans as he came inside, hot ropes of cum filling you up so nicely. 

“Good fucking girl,” he pulled himself out of you, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The bed felt lighter as he got up to put on the rest of his casual clothes, his jeans pooling at his ankles. He didn’t say anything, causing you to raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

“What, no aftercare?”

Daichi turned to look at you, equally confused. “I thought girls who wanted to hook up got grossed out if a guy stays too long.”

You shook your head and gestured to the handcuffs on your wrist, a displeased expression on your flushed face. “First of all, you’re sleeping with idiots. Second of all, please uncuff me.”

Daichi let out a nervous chuckle, unlocking the handcuffs. He noticed a faint purple bruising on your wrists, which rubbed him incorrectly. “Do…do you want me to stay a little while?” He just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all. He wasn’t catching feelings for a girl he wanted to hook up with, right?

“You’re more than happy to stay if that’s what you want.” your smile is so sweet and sincere. How could he refuse some after-sex cuddles? Especially with you.

“I’d very much like that.”

Toru Oikawa | Fangirl fucker

It was no secret that Oikawa had plenty of fan girls. No matter which team he played for, there were always several hundred pretty faces in the crowd ready to cheer his name. It fueled his already massive ego, that was for sure.

Being a professional athlete came with rules, of course. Sure, he was allowed to have sex. It was against the law to prevent sex between two consenting adults, no matter what league or team he played for. However, one of the unspoken rules of being a professional athlete was not to sleep with your fans by any means necessary. It would ruin your career and tarnish the reputation of the team. But Oikawa didn’t care. It didn’t stop him from setting up a Tinder profile that very clearly showed off his athletic ability, getting so many matches a day. Fucking fangirl after fangirl was the best, and you weren’t any different. You were still a fan even though you only had an “I <3 Toru Oikawa” button on your lanyard displayed on your profile. His fan.

“Say my name again, princess,” Oikawa huffed from behind, his soft yet calloused hands tightly gripping your hips. His fingers squished the flesh between them, rolling it sensually. You looked so pretty like this; face down, ass up, mascara running down your face, and his handprints beautifully decorating your round ass. Fuck, you looked so perfect for him. “Say my fucking name.”

“Oikawa!” you mewled, your walls fluttering around his pulsating cock. You knew he was strong from the various shirtless photos of himself floating around, but he was showing you no mercy as his member pounded in and out of you, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your sweaty form filling the expensive hotel room. 

His hand cracked down onto your ass in disapproval, his bottom lip pouting in mockey. “Nuh-uh, pretty girll. That’s not my name. You wanna try again?” he purred, slapping you ass a second time, not as harsh as the first. “C’mon now, don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid?” Oikawa loved teasing you, your cunt became tigher with each word that fell from his lips.

“T-Toru! Fuck!” you sobbed in both pain and pleasure, your knuckles turning white from gripping onto the silky sheets that were drenched in your sweat. “Harder, fuck me harder! W-Wanna cum all over you!” Your desperate little begs and pleads were music to his ear, filling his head with dark and twisted thoughts. Fucking his fan girls was a high in of itself, but you were a special kind of breed. You made him want more, more than just a random fuck on a Saturday night. No, Oikawa could definitely get used to this. 

“Cutie,” he decided to indulge you, grabbing onto your messy ponytail so your back could arch in an even more beautiful way. Oikawa’s other hand left your hip and chose to massage your throbbing clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud. “Cum on my cock be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock for me.”

You let out a wanton shriek as your orgasm hit you like a runaway freight train, making a mess all over Oikawa’s cock and hand. Fuck, no one has ever made you cum that hard before. “T-Toru! Fuck…”

His thrusts were becoming disorganized and sloppy as Oikawa’s orgasm washed over him as well, his cum filling up the condom. “Mm, fuck,” he sighed, pulling himself out of you with a small squelching sound. Oikawa tied the condom off and tossed it into the nearby waste basket, landing it perfectly. He pulled you into his arms, cuddling his face into your bruised neck from an earlier hickey assault. “You feel good, cutie? It’s my job to make sure my pretty fans feel good.”

You slowly nodded, giggling slightly as his taped fingers massaged your pert nipple. “Mhm, I feel fucking amazing. I never thought I would ever live out my fantasy of having sex with you, this feels like a dream.”

“Fantasy, hm?” he playfully purred, licking your collarbone with a glint of mischief in his milky brown eyes. “Do you…have any other fantasies about me? I’d be more than happy to help you make them come to life.”

You blushed and covered your face with your hands, earning a dissapoving look from Oikawa. “Y-yeah, I got a lot of other fantasies about you…but don’t you have other fangirls you need to, uh, attend to?”

Oikawa shrugged and pulled you closer to his chest, your cheek landing on his right pectoral. You could feel his heartbeat, calm and steady. It was relaxing, welcoming, and warm. “Eh, they can wait a little longer. I’d much rather keep cuddling you than drive to another hotel.”

“You’re a sweetheart.” you smiled at him, feeling comfortable enough to give him a peck on the cheek.”

“I know, cutie. I know.”

kuroo, bokuto, and ushijima are next! should i do other guys as well? what positons?