#another blast to draw out!

[dhmis-autism]

ITS YOUR BEACH FRIENDSS ITS YOUR BEACH FRIENDS AND YOU

[jumpscaregoose]

au where ren gets to find his true calling as a theatre kid ft. something that happened to me when I was a theatre kid

[qeyond]

oghh ive got B/L brainworms

[peapod20001]

Ppl point out the clean lineart on my traditional drawings and I’m like “huh...yea you’re right..hm, uh. I didn’t really notice to be completely honest with ya”

[keeps-ache]

goo morninrninnnnnnnnnng it's.... morninnggngnggg

[tizeline]

Presenting: The AU I accidentally created OOPSIE!! 😬😬😬

And yes, I know, it's another Seperation AU, and yes YES, I KNOW, they're a bit overdone at this point, bUT LISTEN!! That's precisely how I ended up in this situation!!!

So there's a lot of Seperation AUs exploring a lot of different scenarios with the turtles being raised, well, seperately. I've seen quite a few of them at this point, and despite whatever the combination is when it comes to turtle + parental figure, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed a pattern of specifically Donnie often being raised by a villain. Which makes sense, he has a tendency to put on this evil-mad-scientist-act in the show, so of course a lot of us want to see what Donnie would actually be like as a proper antagonist. But that just made me think think of the opposite possibility, of Donnie being the singular good guy while his brothers are all bad guys. Mind you, I'm sure SOMEONE must've thought of this concept before me, but I haven't seen it! So here we are!

In this AU (which doesn't have a name so don't ask!) Splinter only managed to yoink Donnie during The Incident™, so he ended up an only child, while Raph, Leo and Mikey were raised by Draxum. I also imagine Draxum being at least a decent dad considering the circumstances, so the kids he raised ended up with pretty similar personalities to what they have in canon.

Because of that we get Hero Donnie who acts all villainous cuz he's a total theaterkid, and Villain Raph, Leo and Mikey who act all heroic cuz they honestly believe they're doing the right thing in literally destroying all of humankind and as a result developed an intense case of main character syndrome.

Anyway here's some references-

I don't know how far I'll explore this AU. I fully intended to just make like one or two posts rambling about the basic concept, but when I was drawing these images my brain went into full Brain Blast mode and I started coming up with a bunch of other ideas so uh... we'll see how this turns out later I guess haha

[tragedybunny]

My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

[ravenslvt]

fucking your ex boyfriend in the bathroom of a party.

☆ multiple x f!reader ☆

cw: smut, mirror sex, public sex, rough sex, hate sex (sort of), tension, alcohol, oral f! receiving, v fingering, spanking, pet names, praise, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

you don’t know how your bestfriend managed to rope you into coming to this party, all you did know is you wanted to get plastered while she found someone to hook up with.

you held onto her for dear life as you made your way through groups of people. mostly strangers, but you saw some familiar faces. you started to feel a bit nervous when you noticed some eyes roaming your outfit. maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt…

your bestfriend’s eyes immediately spotted a pretty girl across the room, she gives you an apologetic smile. you roll your eyes.

“just go” you sigh. at least someone would be getting some action tonight. you make your way to the kitchen where there were bottles apon bottles layed out on the counter. you grab one of the disposable cups, pouring yourself a mixed drink before downing it. the liquor bringing a comforting burn down your throat.

suddenly, you felt a cold chill in the room. you look around, there were no windows or doors open. until finally, your eyes immediately draw to a pair of familiar ones. oh great, he’s walking over. you turn around, pretending you didn’t notice him, hoping he’ll walk past you.

“oh, c’mon. acting like you didn’t see me?” he leans against the counter next to you, a drink in his own hand. fuck, he still wore the same cologne. the smell almost made you dizzy. he was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, it looked new.

his name rolls off your tounge in a harsh greeting, taking another swig of your drink. he gives a lopsided smile. “still mad at me, pretty?” he takes your empty cup, refilling it for you the way he knew you always liked it. you give him a glare. he puts his arms up in defense. his body looked bigger, more defined. he was clearly working out more since you two broke up.

you snatched your cup back. if you were going to be forced into this conversation, you might as well be drunk.

“why are you here?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his own. he was drawing you in without even trying.

“i was invited. why are you here?” he pokes your shoulder with his pointer finger.

you just point to your best friend across the room, who was now making out with the cute girl from earlier. he huffs out a small chuckle. “that girl never rests, does she.” he comments. you just shake your head, “no she does not.” you sigh, another swig.

his eyes go back to you. more specifically, your outfit. you had a new top on, he’d never seen it before. he’d have remembered seeing such a pretty shirt on you before. and of course, you wore your favorite mini skirt. the one he always loved you wearing.

“this is cute, wear this for me hmm?” he smirks, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of the skirt. you swat his hand. he was the one who bought it for you. almost fucking you in the dressing room when you tried it on after doing a little spin for him.

“no… i just had nothing else to wear.” your face flushes. you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the fact you were both thinking about the times you’d sit on his lap in this skirt, panties off while you bounced on his cock.

god, he loved that skirt.

you could feel yourself clench around nothing just thinking about it. he gets a little closer when he notices your flushed state, his fingers drumming against the table filled with alcohol. his damned fingers that knew every part of your body.

ok, you were definitely a little drunk, or maybe you were just stupid.

your back slams against the door of the bathroom, the blasting music muffled from the small enclosed room.

your lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. his large hands gripped your waist, your head forced against the wood. he moves one of his hands to shove between your thighs under your skirt, his fingers digging into your panties, making you whine into his mouth when he pinches your clit.

“fuck, this wet already? missed me that much, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling away to pull the flimsy fabric down your legs with his free hand. of course you wore your favorite panties, the ones he bought especially for you. the sight made him groan.

“i’m not your-“

“i wasn’t talking to you.” he stares directly at your slick pussy. great, now he was talking straight to your cunt.

you look at him with glossy eyes as he kneels down, kissing down your thighs. you hook your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, but he gives your thigh a slap. “keep it on. i wanna see you get fucked in this pretty little skirt again.” he practically growls as he gives your thighs a few more kisses and bites, marking you up.

“want everyone to see you still belong to me.” he sucks marks into your upper thighs, placing a few where your little skirt couldn’t cover.

you mewl his name when his tounge delves into your sopping pussy, his fingers pulling your folds apart to get more access. your hands grip his hair for some stability as he laps you, his tounge switching from flicking your sensitive clit to prodding at your tight hole.

he replaces his mouth with his fingers, pumping two into your cunt as he suctions his lips onto your bud, making you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, almost drawing blood.

“fuckk!” his long fingers hit deep inside of you, his digits shifting between thrusts and curling inside. your legs shook, hands gripping his hair for dear life. giving him a particularly hard tug, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you let out a moan.

the mixture of stimulations had you on the edge, he knew you were about to cum.

time almost seems to slow as he feels you clench around his fingers, your eyes flutter shut, gripping his hair for dear life as pools of fire seep low in your abdomen. his fingers continue to pump into you as you cum, wetness dripping down his chin and wrist.

it was probably obvious you hadn’t fucked anyone since you two broke up the way your pussy responded so well to him.

still, he doesn’t pull away, addicted to the taste of you. he was completely lost in your cunt until you pushed at his head, whining his name. he reluctantly pulls away, giving your cute clit a few more kisses before parting.

you both pant, his face glistening in your slick. you almost moan at the sight.

“you taste even better than i remember, baby.” his hands sooth down your thighs.

“don’t call me that.” you heavily breathe. he just chuckles, standing up. his firm hands grab your ass, giving it a firm smack, making you yelp.

“face the mirror. wanna watch you take my dick.” he pats your hip, encouraging you. you obligated, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. your lip gloss was completely smeared, making you pout a little. until your ex boyfriend comes up behind you, his hard on pressing against your ass. his hand wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as your eyes meet in the reflection.

his other hand reaches to wipe the smeared lip gloss, cleaning it up for you. his fingers tap your lips impatiently, seeking enterence. your eyes never broke contact. you open your pretty little mouth, his two fingers sliding in. you groaned as you tasted yourself on them. he grinded himself against your rear, hiking your skirt above your hips.

“gonna let me fuck this messy pussy?” his fingers enter deeper into your mouth, almost making you choke. you nod, swirling your tounge around his digets.

“mhmph” you mumble around them.

“gotta tell me how much you missed me first.” he teases, removing his fingers to slowly undo the button of his pants. you roll your eyes.

“just fuck me-“

smack

your ass stings, you were sure there was gonna be a red mark the size of his hand. you whimper.

“what was that, pretty? use your words.” he purred into your ear, biting your earlobe gently, nibbling marks down your sensitive neck.

“fuck, i missed you so much, i need your cock so bad-“ you whine his name. “-i touch myself thinking about it- but nothing is as good as you.” you shamelessly confess, a smirk growing on his smug fucking face.

“good fucking girl.” he growls, taking his raging cock out from his briefs, his hand pressing down on your back so you bend over the sink to give him easier access.

you mewled as his leaking tip pokes through your enterence.

he slowly sheathes himself in, savoring the feeling of your hot walls contracting needfully around his cock. “god, it’s been so fucking long. it’s like she’s sucking me in.”

your fingers gripped the counter in front of you, your eyes focusing on his own. the way his face scrunched once he was burried balls deep inside of you. his deep breaths, the way his hair slightly stuck to his forehead from how much he was sweating.

you’re about to speak, but your words turn into moans of his name as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. your head rolls down to rest against your arms on the counter, but he doesn’t allow that.

his hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist goes to grip your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“watch yourself get fucked by your future husband.” he grunts, his thighs burning from all the rutting, but he’d feel that pain forever if it meant he could be able to fuck you like this again.

you watch as your tits bounce through your shirt in the mirror, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. the mirror was big enough that you could see his dick pumping into you. obscenely wet sounds coming from where you two meet.

“o-oh fuck, feels s’good, don’t stop!” you moan out, staring at him in the reflection. he was so focused on the way you felt around him, he had almost forgotten you two broke up.

“oh god, baby. i fuckin' love you, need your pussy every day, can’t live without it.” he bites your shoulder, hard, making you groan. his hand moving from your throat to grope your tits through your top. his hips only slapped into you harder and harder, your vision going blurry when the head of his cock hits your soft spot. you let out chants of his name, your arms reaching back to grip his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. the way he slid in and out of you with ease made you squeeze around him, prompting a groan from him. your hair was out of place from his rough treatment, marks down your neck and thighs. you couldn’t even think about having to explain this to your friends later.

“squeezing me so good. so perfect for me. gonna let me fill you up, hmm? walk around with my cum dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re fucking mine.” he thrusts with a bruising pace, your whole body rocking with the rolls of his hips.

“p-please yes! need it so bad!” your mind starts to blank, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pulsing inside of you, threatening to spill at any minute.

“touch yourself, baby.” he pants, his thrusts getting sloppier. he was so close, but there was no way he was going to cum before you. you nod, bringing a shaky hand to your ruined pussy, rubbing and pinching your clit the way you liked it. your mouth fell open at the overwhelming pleasure taking over.

“m’gonna cumm!” you whine until the only thing you can say is his name, over and over. just how he always loved it. he whispers dirty praises into your ear, talking you off the ledge. you force your eyes to stay on his own in the mirror. you hated how fucking hot he was.

waves of intense heated pleasure start to roll over you, moaning as your vision gets blurry with tears of ecstasy. “s’good!” you scream, tightening around him, making it hard for him to move. he curses as you grip his cock so tightly, milking him so hard he cums inside of you.

you pant as his thrusts get lazy and eventually slow to a halt. he didn’t want to pull out, but he knew he couldn’t just stay in here with you forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

he pulls out hesitantly, the mixture of your release dripping out of you making him let out a harsh breath.

you finally come down from your orgasm, completely fucked out. oh how much you missed his cock. and him too you guess.

he turns you around, giving your cheeks kisses before enveloping his mouth with your own. your tounges gently roll over eachothers, contrasting in comparison to how he was just fucking your brains out.

your phone lights up on the counter with a text from your bestfriend. you squint, reading the message.

‘bitch i’m leaving. don’t think i didn’t see you guys btw -_-‘

he wraps his arms around your middle, seeing the message.

“gonna come home with me?” he leaves even more love bites down your neck, making you sigh.

“…yea”

GETO, gojo, SUNA, atsumu, leon kennedy, toji, kuroo, dick grayson (sorry not sorry), your fav ;)

masterlist

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least. 

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet. 

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor. 

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows. 

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor. 

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more. 

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating. 

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds. 

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard. 

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly. 

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know. 

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof. 

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[patricia-taxxon]

Attempting to extend sympathy to my younger self via self insert fiction.

"Hello there!"

I looked up from the lunchbox on my lap towards the source of the sudden loud voice, standing four or so feet away from me was a… dog? He stood on two legs, an eager look on his face. I looked around, none of the other kids were nearby.

"Hello?" I said back, a little confused.

"My name is Paul! What is your name?" The dog replied, both in an oddly formal tone of voice and… loudly, even though he was close enough to grab.

"My name's Bradley." I said, and went back to my PB&J.

"How old are you, Bradley?" asked Paul, in that same babyish but too-formal tone, almost like a robot.

"I'm eleven." I replied, without looking up.

"I'm ten!" He said back. "Nice to meet you!"

Several seconds passed, and he didn't move or look away. I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Nice to meet you too, Paul." His tail twitched as I said that, but he quickly moved his paw behind him to hold it in place until it settled. "Sorry," He said, before asking another question. "What do you like to do?"

His awkward storybook-speaking was offputting to me, but no one ever talked to me at recess, especially not completely out of nowhere like this. I answered his question, "I like playing Smash Bros," but I don't know why I thought of that first. I didn't really feel like finishing my lunch, I started to pack it away for later.

"What's that?" He said back. Was that a joke? He looked curious.

"Uh… it's a game, you can play as different Nintendo characters and fight each other." I waited for him to respond, but he was still listening. "You can uh… you can be Sonic."

"That's really cool!" He said. "Can I sit next to you?"

"Hm? Oh, okay, I guess." I replied. The dog's tail instantly sprung to life, and he once again moved his paw to stop it. "Sorry," he said, and moved swiftly to sit on the bench next to me, a bit closer than I thought he would. He looked up towards me like he wanted me to keep talking, or… it looked like he was looking at the top of my head, I wasn't sure.

Instead of explaining Smash Bros anymore, I asked a question myself to take the pressure off. "What do you like to play?" Paul blinked and his ears perked up. "I like Marble Blast Gold!" He almost yelped out, before drawing back. "But… shhh, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

That didn't make any sense. "Huh? What does that mean?" I asked.

"It's the best game ever, you like… you roll, and you have to… like, you have to get to the end. Uh." He stammered. "But I'm not… I'm not allowed to play it anymore, my teachers said I'm too obsessed."

"That's bullshit." I spat.

"Yeah!!" He yelled, leaping up onto his haunches, tail wagging up a storm, until he noticed again, and pressed his paw to stop it. "Sorry." he said.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Stopping your tail." I pointed to his butt. "Aren't you like… a dog, or something?"

Paul cocked his head like I asked him a really stupid question. "Yeah? Why." He said, carefully.

We stared at each other for another couple of seconds. I didn't know how to word my questions without sounding awkward. "I've met a lot of… dogs, and wagging tails is pretty normal." I felt insane saying it out loud.

"Well I'm special!" Paul beamed. "I can talk, I can stand on two legs!" He got up and stood upon the bench, barely reaching eye level with me. "I'm in a class for special dogs only." He bumped a fist on his chest.

"Oh… okay." I said, not really understanding. I guess the rules were different for dogs that talk. It felt weird watching him do that though, and saying sorry for it too. "Are special dogs… not supposed to wag?" I asked.

"Yeah. No wagging." He replied. "'Cus humans don't wag."

"But humans don't have tails in the first place." I looked behind myself to check. "So you don't actually know if humans would wag or not, right?" I was getting seriously weirded out by this conversation, but I just kinda kept going. "How'd you learn to talk, anyways?" I asked, Paul looked like he was processing what I said very slowly.

"Like I said, I'm special." Paul repeated. "I'm learning how to make it disappear, like everyone else. First I gotta learn how to keep it still, though, so the magic works."

"Magic?" I said back to him. I mean, it wasn't all that weird compared to meeting a talking dog, but the word still threw me off.

"Yeah, lookit!" The dog hopped off the bench, hunched over with his back facing me, and started screaming like he was about to go super saiyan. I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking at, I was too startled. I might have been imagining things, but I think I saw his tail slowly retracting into his body like a lazy snake.

"Paul! What the fuck are you doing??" I shouted, but instead of responding, Paul just… went silent and flopped onto his side. I quickly rushed over, yelling "Are you okay? What just happened?" I looked over his body, flat on the asphalt. His tail had grown all the way back and… his body shrunk. His head was halfway tucked into his shirt like a turtle. His paws barely poked out of his sleeves, pointing directly forward from his body. He didn't look like a kid anymore, he looked like a dog that someone stuffed into some kid's clothes.

After a second, I thought it wouldn't hurt to poke him. "Paul? Recess is almost over." I poked at his chest, and he rolled onto his back limply. I suddenly felt silly trying to talk to him, like I was trying to reason with a pet. I tried a different approach, I clapped my hands and rapped on my knees. "Hey! Up! Food!"

Paul's eyes shot open, and he sneezed, before wiggling his legs to right himself. He took an instant and a half to realize where he was, and he suddenly cowered, looking straight at me, shivering. "Hey, what's wrong?" I whispered. He looked side to side, back at his own doggish body, and back to me. He blinked, looking like he was about to run away.

"No, no, it's okay." I tried to be reassuring, I'd never had a dog before so I didn't really know what I was doing. I almost forgot that I'd just been talking about Smash Bros with him. "Uh… do you like granola bars?" His ears perked up, and his tail swayed, his new… anatomy making it hard to reach back and stop it this time. I grabbed my backpack from behind me and rummaged through it for leftovers, I got the other of the two bars inside the wrapper, the one I didn't eat, and held it out in front of me. Paul approached me slowly, his nose twitching. "Can you… eat this, even?" I asked, as he sniffed the crumbly rectangle. He licked it soon after, and started nibbling and snarfing after that. I watched carefully, scared to make any sudden moves.

Paul looked up at me again, and I noticed his eyes were a little different. More definition, like I could tell a little more what he was feeling. His new eyes looked concerned, like he was waiting for me to do something bad. He reached up with a paw, it was looking a bit more like a hand now. I let go, and he held the bar himself as he munched away, sitting plainly on his knees.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Maghic." The dog said through a full mouth.

"That was magic?" I replied. "I saw your tail shrink, I'm pretty sure."

Paul swallowed. "How much?"

I thought back, the image was still clear in my head. "Like… barely at all. A couple inches?"

"Aw…" He looked disappointed in himself.

We sat in silence for a bit, but there was a question I wanted to ask. "Why do you want to get rid of your tail? Like… that looked painful."

"Mrs. Millie said I can go to the regular class if I can turn human," the talking dog said, proudly.

"You're pretty bad at that." I chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his ears without thinking. Paul looked like he was about to take it personally, but suddenly lost his train of thought as my hand touched his head. "Bwuhhf…" He woofed under his breath, his tail twitched and his paws lost their thumbs again. I quickly pulled my hand back, "Sorry! I didn't…" Paul's eyes took a second to form together again, and he looked right at me, "That wasn't fair." he whined, but his tail was still wagging.

"You really are a dog!" I said, glancing sneakily behind him. Paul followed my gaze to his own tail, yelped, and quickly pressed it down with both paws.

"Oh, come on, stop it." I joked. "It's psyching me out, it looks like it hurts when you hold your tail in place like that."

Paul turned his head back at me. "It doesn't… hurt," he said, slowly and surely.

"Hm. Whatever you say." I got up and went back on the bench. After I turned around to sit down, Paul was already running towards me. I didn't have any time to think before he bounded into my lap and butted his head into my chest while his tail went crazy. The impact knocked the wind out of me, but he was pretty small, I got it back in just a second. Paul yipped and barked, maybe there were some normal words in there too, but I couldn't understand it. This is where I realized he wasn't a very special dog after all, I think he was just normal.

I scratched behind his head and stroked his back through those baggy clothes, and this time he didn't mind. He might have been crying, it was hard to tell, I didn't really know what dog crying looked like. Eventually, he settled down. I couldn't feel his shoulders anymore, he seemed in danger of falling out of his shorts if he wasn't careful. I had a dog in my lap, an extremely normal dog. He stretched his body up and rested his head on my shoulder. "I like you, Bradley." He said, a little too slowly, and a little too loudly. I didn't know what to say to that, he barely knew me. This was all very weird. "You're a good dog." I said back, just because it felt right.

I could feel Paul's body shaping up into a more human posture again as he regained composure. He let go, turned to the side, and sat down on the bench next to me again, staring at his paws in his lap. I leaned over, "You okay?" I asked. He didn't answer, he just put his paw on my wrist and started twirling the hair under my sleeve.

I quickly jerked my hand away and covered the hairy skin. "Don't look at that!" I snapped.

"You have fur too!" Paul yelled.

"No, no, that's hair. I'm just…" I didn't want to explain, it was too embarrassing. I looked like I had my dad's arms, I hoped that no one would see. "It's a condition."

"Oh. Okay." Paul stared into the distance again. We sat in silence for another couple awkward seconds before the bell rang.

"Bye, Bradley." the dog said, scampering off.

"Bye, Paul." I waved after him, being sure to hold my sleeve up with my other hand.

[ellieswyfe]

Hood Connie Tales PT 1

(#hood connie being so sweet to his princesa 😍🫶🏾)

warnings: gun kink??, puerto rican connie, riding, daddy kink, chocking, mention of drugs and guns. (this is so nasty yall) 😂 MDNII!!

mood song (luv this song)

Hood Connie who picks you up at random ass times in the a.m 🤦🏾‍♀️. his light grey 2023 ford mustang BLASTING down your street. whether it be the music or the loud sound of his exhaust, you can always tell when he arrives. (your neighbors have complained multiple times)

Hood Connie who has a nice ass car, all blacked out with dark tinted windows, vegan leather seats, and dark blue leds, paired with red stitching all customized by him. which always smelt like a nice cologne mixed with a low, deep, weed smell. he even got your initials hand sewn into the passenger seat headrest.

Hood Connie who greets his baby with a loong kiss, sucking on your tongue and whining softly when you pull away. “c’mere girl,, wasn’t finished..”he says in a deep husky tone, closing his eyes and drawing you in for another kiss.“babyy stawpp” you giggle pushing at his chest, eventually giving into his kisses.

Hood Connie who when pulling out of your driveway, does that sexy thing where he puts his arms on the back of your seat and leans in his, so he can look in his back window, the hairs on his chin look gruff, like he hasn’t shaved ina while.

Hood Connie who pulls up to the nearest McDonalds (the only thing opened at the time) and orders you whatever you want off the menu. he always makes sure you eat even throughout the day while he’s at work.

Hood Connie who works as a mechanic and sometimes sells with his bro eren in his freetime. he doesn’t do it often but still makes hella money off of it when he does.(which ofc he uses to spoil you...and his car)

Hood Connie who isn’t too far into the drug business but still totes a heavy, black, glock 19 since he still has hella opps. opps who would go out of their way to try and hurt his girl and he wont be having that.

Hood Connie who pulls up to yalls favorite spot. a hidden lake that not too many people know about, which is only really used for fishers and kayakers but still hosts a beautiful view, which is even better a night with the stars twinkling off of the glistening dark water.

Hood Connie who lets you eat in silence before he starts to talk. “so wassup mami? did you need something, you seemed worried when you called…” his voice trailed off, he knew what was wrong he always does. its just that finals week was coming up and you were so stressed with all the studying and pre exams, youve had no time to spend with him. 🥺

Hood Connie who is not the slightest bit surprised when you swing your leg over the middle console and straddle him as if you’ve done it a million times before. wrapping your arms around his waist while leaning into his gun print sitting on his hip, and digging your face into his neck. he smelt good- really good.

Hood Connie who rocks you back n forth feeling up and down your thighs to squeezing your ass. when he hears your meek voice asking him to do the thing.. constance knows exactly what to do.

Hood Connie who reaches for his glock and caresses it on your cheek. when he feels ready he prods the tip on your plump lips until you open up. staring into your low hazy eyes, you begin to suck on the nozzle. sliding the underside of your tongue up and down, admiring the rifts and ridges.

Hood Connie who praises you all the way while you suck on his glock. “there ya go..suck on that shi good princesa.” and “good girl always doing what daddy says.” which makes him get uber hard when he hears you loudly moan for his praise.

Hood Connie who as your salivating on his gun, starts to touch on your pussy. you wore nothing but a hoodie and slides. connie was surprised to feel there was no kind of cloth clothing your core and he could immediately feel your wet sticky pussy, which was yearning for his touch. “please touch me papa..hurts there..” you whine sliding your lips off his glock now.

Hood Connie who lets his princess ride his dick while he holds up his glock to your head, chocking you.

“ooo..o-oh shit baby- so deep.” you sob while he thrusts up once again, continuing his brutal attacks on your pussy.

Hood Connie who might not last with the way your gripping and creaming around him, a white ring forming at his base. “ungh...oh fuck- dios mioss..chupando mi mierda bien..” he damn near screams feeling your cunt cleanch on him- hard this time letting him know your close.

Hood Connie who times his nutt perfectly, to be in sync with yours. he watches as your brows furrow and your mouth opens to form an “o” not even a drop of sound leaving those lips- until he hears a meek “ooo..o- shit daddy..ungh cummingg.” the grip you have on his dick almost making it impossible for him to pullout in time, cumming on your belly.

Hood Connie who carries wipes and aftercare supplies in his car, cleans you up and makes out with you.you continuing to straddle him for about an hour more till you fell asleep.

Hood Connie who stops by the corner store before dropping you off. leaving you sleeping in the car for a quick minute so he can get some of your favorite snacks.

Hood Connie who drops you off and is elated to hear that you passed your exams next evening, all thanks to him 🫶🏾🩷.

[cursedhaglette]

Thrice Before Dawn

She thought he was having a nightmare, so naturally, she thought she was helping. Opening the tent flap, she's surprised to find something entirely unexpected.

Rating: E Word Count: 2,900 Content: 18+, oral sex, PIV sex, male masturbation, squirting

[ao3 link]

Halia takes last watch, preparing to guard over the camp until dawn breaks over the horizon, sketchbook in hand. It’s been ages since she’d been able to take the time to draw or journal, either tied up in other things that needed doing while she kept watch or simply too exhausted to do anything but stare off into the darkness. 

She opens the book to where she’d left off, finding the page she’d marked to be the one she’d filled with sketches of Astarion. She can’t help her cringe as she looks over her work. It’s not bad by any means, as far as her ruined mind can tell, but since they’d spent the night together out in the forest a tenday ago, things between them had grown strange and tense. 

Gone was the playful flirtation, the long, charged stares, and the touches that lingered just a bit longer than could be called casual. She kept telling herself it was fine, he wasn’t obligated to want her just because they’d slept together. Though, truth be told, she very much wanted to repeat the experience - she wanted him to like her, to want her, more than she felt she should. 

Blasted, handsome vampire. 

Sighing to herself, she turns the page, trying to think if anything notable had occurred in the last couple days that might be worth jotting down. The same thing day after day, fights and hiking and threats of death or the end of the world. At least they were almost to the creche, which might prove interesting or different.

Across camp, she hears a muffled groan and she snaps up at the sound. Scanning the tents surrounding the dying embers of the campfire, she tries to make out if anything is out there - hunting them in the darkness.. 

There is…nothing to be seen though. Only darkness and then - a grunt followed by something almost like a muffled whimper. 

Halia stands, tip-toeing across camp and approaching each tent, praying that without her usual armor and robes she can stay quiet enough to catch whatever had snuck up on them before it caught onto her. At least everyone was nearby to aid her, should it be something truly deadly. 

She doesn’t hear anything again until she finds herself before the last tent - Astarion’s. Then there’s rustling sounds, and another groan almost like he might be…dreaming? Or rather, having a nightmare, she guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time hearing him toss and turn, tortured by the memories of his awful past even while trancing. 

Is it appropriate to check on him? They’ve gotten to know each other well enough and she hardly wants him to suffer through whatever was going on in his trance, but she knows he can sensitive to such vulnerabilities. 

Biting her lip and bouncing on her heels, she tries to decide what she ought to do, and then there’s another muffled groan and acts.

The tent flap swings wide, held open by her hand, and time seems to slow. It wasn’t what she’d expected to find - Astarion tortured by a nightmare, curled on his side and whimpering for her to wake him from the horrors. 

He lays flat on his back, one hand pressing into his forehead and something in his mouth, an attempt to muffle the noise he was making, if Halia had to guess. His shirt was pulled up enough to reveal part of his chiseled torso, but her eyes didn’t linger there.

He was fucking up into his hand, his hips thrusting eagerly and cock weeping pre-cum that glistened in the low light creeping in through the open tent flap. She’s seen it before but like this, Gods, it was like a work of art.

He’s suckling on a rag, which Halia realizes quickly was bloody and - Gods, was that what she’d used to clean up her bloody wound from the fight earlier in the day? How had he…?

She can't move - entirely transfixed as she watches his muscles flexing into another hip thrust, the curve of his glutes visibly working even in the low light. Her breath catches in her throat and she’s trying to process the immediate want that heats her blood at the sight before her, catches his attention and finally, Astarion turns to look.

His ruby eyes widen as he looks over his favorite warlock, and then he smirks, studying how she blushes while he lazily strokes his cock once more - holding her gaze as he works his precum around his shaft. 

“Fuck, oh Gods, I’m so sorry,” Halia mumbles, finally turning away before she can stare any longer, and manages to shut the tent flap with all the urgency she could muster before hurrying away. She wants to stay, of course she does. She wants to watch and taste and touch and moan with him. But if he wants that, she knows she would have been invited. 

“Leaving so soon?”

Halia half turns at the question, already several paces from his tent and thinking of a million ways to apologize for her intrusion but coming up short. He catches her quickly and holds his loose trousers up in one hand, the other snaking around her middle and holding her fast against him. His cold hand sends a chill through her skin, still warm from the fire and encouraging that blazing want that’s settled in her core at the sight of him so unguarded - alone, whimpering, eager. 

“Didn’t enjoy the show, darling?” The question is pressed into her neck, and she knows he delights in the goosebumps that immediately appear under his cool breath. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers without turning to face him. “I thought you might be having a nightmare or…I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And you didn’t think to wait and make sure I was alright?” He tuts in her ear, his mouth so close she can feel the way it curls into a smile. “So cruel.”

She took in a deep inhale of breath, unsure of what to do with herself as his hand tightened around her waist, tugging her closer to him. He’s still hard, despite his cock being stowed in his trousers, and Halia has to resist the wanton urge to grind against him in the middle of the still sleeping camp. 

“Perhaps you’d like to come help me…get back to sleep,” he murmurs before taking one earlobe between his teeth and nipping gently. His hand crests lower, teasing the waistline of her loose camp pants and moving so slowly towards where he knows she wants him.

“Only -” she pauses as he kisses her neck, humming in approval as his hand dips lower, finally touching at her core. She knows she’s already soaked, the sight of him fucking into his own hand, cock glistening with precum, had immediately drenched her. Now Astarion knows it too. 

“Only if you want me,” Halia stammers, biting her lip as a single, cold finger dances across her clit. 

“Oh my dear, I believe you’ve already seen how badly I want you tonight,” a second finger joins the first, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against her. Astarion huffs a smug laugh as she bites her lip, holding back a whimper of desperation and pleasure. “Come with me.”

And then, Astarion’s hands are gone - a hollow ache left where he’d been. She can’t help but follow him back to his tent, called by the pleasure she knows can be found within. The mess of blankets and open books welcome her, as does the smell of him - earth and spice and whatever perfumed oil he uses to make his skin smell like heaven made flesh. 

The flap drops behind Astarion as he moves and kneels before her, and the space goes dark, but she doesn't need any light as his hands move to the laces of her pants. He makes quick work of them and then her legs are bare and he’s teasing, and Halia knows it - knows he wants her to beg for more, for his touch or his tongue. 

“My golden, little bird,” he purrs as he nears her center, finally calling out how soaked she’s been for him since the first touch. “Look at you, such a mess. Is this all for me? All from your spying?”

Halia has to force herself not to give in to her nerves, not to wrap her arms around her waist or cover her face to hide her slowly growing blush - knowing it will only make him more smug. He likes her shameless, knowing he can pull that side of her out with each touch as she grows more desperate. 

“I wasn’t -” he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, humming in approval when she gasps in response, her argument lost at the feeling of his lips drifting higher and higher. 

He pulls her panties down finally, one swift movement freeing her pussy for him, but he continues teasing along the edge of where real pleasure would be found and Gods if he doesn’t touch her again soon, she’s going to be reduced to begging. 

And she really doesn’t want to have to beg, it will only mean far too much smugness to deal with tomorrow if she does.

“Lay down,” he commands. When Halia does, he finally descends upon her, ready to feast. 

Astarion draws the flat his tongue up her core slowly at first, and once he reaches her clit, he pauses to softly suck and kiss at the swollen bud before licking up her again. It’s simultaneously everything and not enough, her hips rolling up as she seeks more from his practiced, wicked mouth. Each soft kiss has her whimpering, and finally he indulges her fully, sucking herr pulsing, ready clit into his mouth and plunging two fingers inside, spreading and filling her.

She desperately wants to fuck herself on his fingers, but his other hand holds fast to her hips to keep her in place while his hand continues slowly, testing how she stretches around him while his tongue dances up and down along her folds.

“If I’d known how greedy you’d be for me, I’d have you like this every night,” Halia hears in her mind, his voice echoing through the tadpole so he can taunt and tease without removing his mouth from her cunt. “I’m going to have you begging for more before I finally take you.”

“Oh Gods,” she moans, his words adding to the intensity building in her core. She can feel it building, his tongue the spark to the kindling of her want.

Astarion huffs a laugh against her soaked cunt as he curls his fingers inside her, finding a spot she’s never had stroked before and immediately makes her squirm. Halia’s legs twitch, wanting to close at the intensity of the sensation, but Astarion’s broad shoulders keep her from moving too far. 

“Keep these spread,” he chides, picking up speed. And then she’s lost in her release, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the primal, desperate moan that tears through her chest as her body clenches around his hand. A gush comes as she rides out her climax, soaking his wicked mouth and the blankets below her. 

She’s never experienced such intense pleasure, never been so wet, but cumming so hard for him only leaves her mindless and unable to be bashful about what’s just happened. Her body just wants more, aching for the stretch of his cock and to feel the heat of his pleasure inside her.

“Good girl,” he tells her, pulling his mouth away. He wipes away the shine of her squirting release with one hand, the other firmly in place as his thumb circles her sensitive clit and fingers continue to work inside. “Can you give me a little more? Can you soak my hand again before I fuck you?”

“I want you to fuck me now,” Halia pleads, her voice thick with want and almost whining for him, every trace of resolve not to act desperate for him gone in the wake of her climax. 

“Then cum for me again, sweet thing, and you can have your fill of me.”

His thumb presses into her harder and she sees stars, the intensity of the feeling earning him a deep, guttural moan that he chuckles at. His fingers keep working inside her, and Halia can only watch as he reaches for the rag he’d used to muffle his moans and presses it into her mouth. 

“Bite down on this, love, we don’t want you waking up the whole camp, do we? I don’t intend to share your pleasure with anyone else.”

Before Halia can protest, his fingers find the rhythm she needs and her body crashes again, soaking him just as he’d asked while he continues to finger her through the peak of her pleasure. He only pulls his hand away once she’s finished clenching around him, trying to catch her breath and watching as he lifts his soaked fingers to his mouth.

He sucks her cum off himself as he undoes his pants with his other hand, groaning around the taste of her while his cock springs free. It’s still desperately hard, soaked in precum and actively leaking more. Any other night, she might have asked to taste it - to lick every drop of his precum clean and have him fuck into her mouth with abandon.She wants his hips rolling into her throat just like she’d seen him fucking into his hand. 

“Now, what was it you wanted?” he asks smugly, nudging her legs apart further and smiling at the mess he’s made. He rolls the sheath of his cock, smearing the precum as he prepared himself to fuck her. 

“I warn you, darling, I was close before you showed up the first time so I don’t know how long I’ll -” his words are quickly cut off by his own groan as the head of his heavy cock finally begins to stretch her, and Halia’s warmth welcomes him wholly.

They whimper together as he finally pushes inside, and she watches as his eyes close in pleasure, her body working to take him while he slowly presses into her. He pulls away once, twice, and then slides home, burying himself to the hilt - both of them gasping in unison at the feeling.  

Lewd, soaked sounds filled the tent with each thrust of his cock within her warm walls, hands roughly guiding her hips and core along his cock. He rips the rag from between her teeth, replacing it with a deep, bruising kiss before taking her tongue in his mouth and sucking on it.

“Fuck, Halia, it’s like you were made to take me,” Astarion says, pulling away from her lips but reaching forward to take one nipple between his fingers and twisting enough to make her clench around him, earning her a satisfied huff. 

“Please,” she whines, closer to oblivion with every passing moment that he spends inside her,  “please, more, more -”

His hips roll harder, each slam driving deeper into her and she sees stars, unsure if she’ll be able to walk again after he’s done with her. She knows she isn’t technically his, but if he asked her in that moment, she’d give him everything - entirely undone by the pleasure he’s offered her.

“So greedy for me,” he repeats with a moan, still trying to play the rake though so close to the edge himself. “My good girl, my sweet Halia, my -”

He spills inside her with a grunt before he can finish his last thought, and the abrupt warmth of him filling her is enough to send her shuddering into one final, blissful climax - milking the last few seconds of his spend deeper within her.

She pants for a moment and he nearly collapses on her, shifting to one side before reaching for the rag. He doesn’t look as he wipes at what remains of their joining on his skin, and ruby eyes meet hers in a contended gaze she’s only seen a handful of times. If her heart weren’t already racing, it would be the moment he looked at her that way. 

Dawn is on the horizon by the time Halia makes her way from the soaked bedroll and the perfect lover within, and she desperately works to calm her still thundering heart. Her knees wobble and she’s going to be sore all day, but by the Gods does she feel alive. 

She’s going to fall for him if she’s not careful - throw herself headlong into something she knows he won’t want. Even still, she can’t bring herself to regret what they’d done. She’s going to fall into the trap that is Astarion and it’s going to tear her apart and then he’s going to have her begging for more, just because he can. 

And then footsteps sound behind her and he’s there, kissing her cheek softly. 

“Come on, we should clean up before anyone wakes up,” Astarion says quietly, and she spots his blanket under his arm. 

“That was…nice,” Halia says simply, smiling at him. “Fun.”

“It’s hard not to have fun with you,” he says in return, and there’s no performance in his words. Just honesty. 

It’s the first time Halia ends her watch feeling so content. 

In fact, it might be one of the best mornings she can remember.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“Give it to me, baby. C’mon,” JJ MAYBANK gestures to you, beckoning you with his sets of fingers flicking towards him as you gun right for him. He stoops, ripe to catch you, strapping his forearms under your thighs as he growls in approval with his teeth sunk low into the skin past his lips. You sling your arms around his neck, bumping the bill of his backwards-cap, so you fix it for him with a giddy lovesick grin.

“Jayj,” you sing, folding your legs around his hips coyly. The alcohol has reached your head, all woozy as you lull back. Preemptively, JJ arches away, counteracting your weight with his to rebalance you and bring you back to him. A tinge of hot color dusts your cheeks from the tipsy intoxication.

“How’re we feelin’, babycakes? You look a little out of it.” he asks but you know he doesn’t care about the answer, he just wants to point out how cute you look when you’ve been drinking. In your little stringy bikini, you let him grab onto your ass as he walks with you in hand. With every step, you jostle limply, breaking eye contact to pick yourself up again. Aware of your drunken state, you grin in spite of yourself, and it curls his lips too. There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes when you meet his gaze again after you take a while to answer. “There’s my girl.”

“M’feelin’ al-right.” you reply with a committed nod, mustering up an endearingly determined expression as you draw closer to him. Sweetly, he pecks your unresponsive lips, kissing your wet teeth a bit and pulling back a string of saliva between you two that breaks. Instinctively, you chase his mouth, and murmur: “Bored.”

“‘Bored’?” he parrots, playfully incredulous, as if his princess could dare be bored. “You’re bored, huh? Well, that just won’t fly.” He shows you he’s about to drop you with a little double pat to your ass cheek, and you brace yourself for it, landing on your feet and adjusting the straps of your swim suit. “Want another beer? I’ll make it special for you.” His way of making beer from a keg in a red solo cup special is to blow a little kiss on it before he hands it to you. But you’re not interested in that right now.

This beach-side bonfire party had gotten to your head, and now you’re looking for a change of pace, so you grab onto two of his fingers to lead him away. As you walk in front of him, swaying your hips, he gets a glance at your backside stuffed into that teeny bikini bottom and he moans through his nose, head lulling back. He straightens, rolling his tongue between his lips, eyes glued to the way that ass moves when you take a step. “You look fuckin’ good, baby.” He gives you a sharper smack this time, one that makes you face him to hit him scoldingly with a scoff. As if he didn’t just swat you, he holds his arms up in feigned bewildered surrender, mouth gaping in obtuse shock. When the novelty wears off, he drops the act and steps to you. You press your hand to his chest to ward him off, but he checks you out, “You feelin’ slutty?” his low voice isn’t low enough, and you consider shoving him for saying something like that amongst all these people.

Indignantly, your jaw hangs, blinking at him in disbelief as he flashes you a raise of his brows. You concede with a roll of your eyes and a huff, snatching back his hand in which he leisurely follows you by. He knows where he’s going, what you’re about to beg him for. Find your car and finger blast you in the passenger seat until you’re ready to rejoin the party like nothing happened. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll wanna sit on his cock a bit, play a little game of just-the-tip which always ends in you getting plowed. Warily, he glances over his shoulder to gauge any prying eyes as he lets you lead him away.

[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material: Enzo Berkshire

A sweet but sneaky Enzo tries to win you over with his boyfriend skills. He works hard to make sure you’ll never want another man, so things get smutty.

This is a requested part two of ‘Boyfriend material’ about Enzo. Read part one here.

Warning: piv, no protection, oral fem receiving

Feedback is always very welcome.

Lorenzo was convinced that you were a 100% wifey material, now all he had to do was get you to think the same of him. The music was blasting and Enzo was showing off his best moves while his eyes searched for you. So far four girls had already thrown themselves at him and you were still nowhere in sight, making him down another glass of liquor. Maybe you were already with someone else, maybe you had left the party with someone, maybe you… Enzo shook his head trying not to think about you alone with some other guy. He urgently poured himself another drink and jumped on a nearby table, drawing the crowd’s attention with some fine moves.

A childlike joy filled him when he finally found you among the dancing people and you were staring right back at him, like no one else was there. A wide smile appeared on your lips and Enzo winked at you, while he mouthed the lyrics of a rather suggestive song. You couldn’t help but get flustered and laugh. This was his moment. The moment that you would tell your grandchildren about. About how you found each other in the crowd, laughed and fell in love. However, that didn’t happen because out of nowhere a drunk girl pulled Lorenzo towards her and started grinding against him. People started cheering and when Enzo looked over at you, you had already turned away from him. Realizing how bad it must’ve looked he immediately jumps off of the table and moves in your direction, getting annoyed by everyone who’s in his way.

When he finally finds you, he stops in his tracks at the sight of you in Draco’s arms. Your arm is slung around Draco’s neck and you’re laughing at something, while he moves a little closer with every dance move. When Draco leans in to whisper something or worse try to kiss you, Enzo panics. He steals a glass of booze out of someone’s hand and purposely runs into you, spilling the drink all over your dress. “Oh, Merlin.” Enzo says, faking innocence. “What the fuck, Enz!” You exclaim rather annoyed. “I’m so, so sorry (y/n).” As your eyes lock with Lorenzo’s soft ones you instantly forgive him. “Oh well, not that bad.” You reassure Enzo as you try to hide the sadness about your soaked dress. “Hey, I know a spell for that.” Hermoine comes to the rescue, but Lorenzo interrupts her. “No, no! No magic when you’re drunk, Hermoine. You might set the girl on fire if the spell goes wrong.” Hermoine frowns but before she can protest Pansy pulls her away, winking at Enzo.

“Follow me.” Enzo offers as he holds your hand. He leads you through the partying people, but you just watch his hand perfectly wrapped around yours. We fit like a puzzle piece. You have totally forgotten about Draco’s attempt to win you over and Enzo doesn’t feel bad about stealing you either. He might be sweeter than the average slytherin he still knows that I’ve you want something you’ve got to be quick and cunning. “Enzo, where are you taking me?” You’re met with an excited grin. “My room of course, I’ll get you something of mine to wear.” You let out a laugh, not taking him very seriously. “What?” He questions playfully. “You’re wearing an oversized shirt, aren’t you? I happen to have plenty of those things lying around.”

Once you were inside his dorm he couldn’t help but secretly stare at you and bite his lip, while you scan the room. Things weren’t going according to plan, but he still got you here. “You know I’m not that small, I need a big enough shirt.” He frowns as he searches in his closet. “This one’s even too big for me, it will do.” You nod and reach for the first button, to then look up at Lorenzo and his cheeky smirk. “Shouldn’t you turn around, while I change.” He acts baffled and you let out a laugh. “And miss the show? No, I’m definitely not turning around.” He closes the space between you two and you can’t help but heat up. You slowly work on the first three buttons, giving Enzo a glimpse of your lingerie. “I’m pretty sure I also spilled some on your bra, you should probably take it off as well.” You laugh and give him a playful slap. “Enzo!”

“Sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying. I mean you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You bite your lip and tug on his shirt, pulling him into you. “Can't blame a girl either.” You lean closer and he gets the hint. It’s a soft and slow kiss, despite the immense desire there was calmness between you two. However, this didn’t keep Lorenzo from giving his hands carte blanche and trailing your figure like you were already his. When you break the kiss he places a few soft and playful pecks on your lips. His hands fall to your ass and squeeze it before lifting you up and walking you to his bed. When he sits down with you on top of him, his hands dig into the flesh of your thighs. He pulls you against his body not allowing even a little space between you two. You swing your arms around him and drag a hand through his soft locks, before kissing him slightly rougher than before.

Lorenzo takes his time exploring your body, from slowly caressing your thighs to tenderly massaging your hips and finally moving under your dress. “How are you still wearing this?” Enzo complains and you don’t waste a second pulling your dress over your head with Enzo’s help. He reaches up to cup your cheek kissing you tenderly, while his naughty hand unclips your bra with one swift move. Your mouth opens mid kiss out of surprise and he grins into the kiss before taking his chance at dominating the kiss. He slips off your bra and starts kneading your breasts, his thumb circling your nipple and making you moan in pleasure all the while his lips are still on yours. “What are you doing to me, Berkshire?” You ask through moans and softly move your hips against his pants hoping to calm your throbbing cunt. “Darling, I’m just getting started. When I’m done with you’ll never want another man.” This promise alone turns your pussy into even more of a soaking mess.

Your continued movement against his crotch tells him your pussy is in need of him. He picks you up, places you on the bed and gives you one more kiss before quickly pulling down your shorts and panties. He stares at your wet pussy and you get a little flustered at your own neediness. He looks up at you, surprised to see you all shy and blushing. “You are so pretty.” He reassures before forcefully pushing your legs as wide as he wishes and leaning in, placing kisses along your thighs. He keeps a firm grip on your legs as his tongue darts into you, playing with your clit and having you tremble in pleasure. You repeat his name as you dig your fingers into the sheets for support. Soft sounds of ecstasy turn into cries for more, increasing Lorenzo’s hunger for you. You want to explain how close you are and tell him how much you love what he’s doing to you, for you, but you can’t manage to form a decent sentence. Thank Merlin, Enzo catches on and pushes your body down, making you lay down on the bed and fucking your pussy even harding with just his tongue and fingers. An euphoric cry and your pooling arousal tell Enzo he needs to let your body recover for a moment. He crawls over you, adoring your squirming body as you come down from your high.

Enzo places a kiss on your cheek and whispers a little confession. “I hated seeing you in Draco’s arms, so I purposely spilled that drink on you to get you away from him and underneath me.” Your mind is still hazy from your orgasm, but slowly a surprised look forms on your face. “What? Why?” He gives you another kiss. “I wanted you to be mine so bad, darling, you gave me no choice, but I’ll spend the entire night making it up to you.” He pushes himself off of you and starts undressing. You shameless stare at his hard, precum soaked dick and feel your pussy ache for him. Having your lustful eyes focus on his hard member has Lorenzo feeling more confident than ever.

You watch him carefully as he takes place in front of your entrance and grabs your legs to rest them against his shoulder. He gently diggs the tip of his cock inside of you, teasing you. As a whine leaves your lips, he smirks pleased with the effect he has on you. “I’m going to fuck you so slow and so deep.” He places a soft kiss on your lips and slowly thrusts his dick into you. You seriously worry for a moment if it's normal for a dick this hard to be so deep inside of you as he leans over you almost folding you. “Enz, so much.” You manage to mutter in between moans. “Don’t worry, you’ll stretch.” At a teasingly slow and steady pace he fucks deep into you at angle that has you seeing stars. You want to complain about his slow pace, opening your mouth to say something. But the sensations he makes you feel, keep you quiet and Enzo can’t help but grin at your failed protest. Being filled with more pleasure with every thrust, your body seems to reach a limit and your eyes get watery as your second orgasm hits you. All Enzo thinks about as he watches your blissful and pretty face is how he hopes you’ll stay with him.

You laying there, worn out and coming down from your high, has Enzo worried that him continuing to fuck you for his own needs might hurt. “You okay, darling?” You smile at his soft voice like he didn’t just angle you like a doll to then fuck you dizzy. “I’m better than okay, Enzo. I feel like I’m in heaven.” He bites his lip, pleased with his work and fucking into you only a few more times before climaxing. You always thought Lorenzo was handsome, but hearing him moan and pant while his eyes get shiny from his orgasm was just godly.

He lets himself fall next to you, clearly exhausted from the intense workout. “I overheard Pansy say you were looking for a husband- I mean boyfriend. So I thought I would show you my skill in an attempt to convince you.” You giggle at his little mistake and crawl closer to him. “I’m also a great listener and I play the piano.” He adds and you kiss his shoulder, making your way up to his lips. “I’m definitely considering you as potential boyfriend material.” You whisper playfully, earning a little butt squeeze from Enzo. Consider? Oh, darling, don’t taunt me. I’ll fuck you silly.

[vampcubus]

imagine playing with dbz!vegeta’s tail while pegging him, pretty boy’s gonna be in heaven but would rather die than admit that <3

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!vegeta, afab gn!dom!reader, pegging, tail pulling, finger sucking bc i apparently can't escape that kink, brat -> fuckslut pipeline with a single gesture.

It isn't often you have the privilege of seeing your fiesty Saiyan prince splayed at your mercy like this, bent over and vulnerable to attack and yet begrudgingly eager to fuck himself back onto your plastic cock. His reddened face is deliberately hidden in the sheet that threatens to tear in his iron grip, but his rear is elevated, knees parted to present his toned ass to you.

"You're so cute when you get shy, 'geta," you purred in an octave that makes his heavy and neglected cock twitch between his legs. He sputters and growls in humiliation, though the frantic back-and-forth motions of his hips are no gentler.

"Shut up," he spits through clenched teeth, though it holds only a fraction of its usual bark as his brain turns to mush. "D-don't call me that, idiot." He cries out as your hips snap against his sharply, the toy striking that spot that makes his knees tremble and buckle.

"Oh, my mistake, my prince," you mocked, and for some reason he groans instead of hissing out another insult. It's not his fault, you're forcibly fucking the sense out of him. "No need to get hostile. After all, I'm treating you good, aren't I?"

Vegeta can't even conjure a flustered lie with the way you're baring down on his prostate, strong hands holding his bucking hips in place so you could bend over him and plow into him more efficiently. You always fuck him perfectly, and even if he doesn't trust you as far as he can ki-blast you, he's helplessly attracted to you. You aren't the first to top him, just the first to keep him engaged, in-line, and sated by the end of each session.

Your chest slips and slides against his sweat-glistened back, and his twitching tail gets caught between your bodies. He faintly has the presence of mind to move it out of your way, although that that only draws your attention to the furry appendage, spelling his doom.

Vegeta is so large and imposing that the existence of his tail always makes you grin and coo. It's so cute, just like him, just like the choked noises he makes as your thrusts become bruising and rough, just the way he likes them. His chestnut-colored tail swishes and curls in midair, waving around your face like a feathered toy to a cat. An unintentional tease, and an opportunity.

A hand leaves his hip to snake around his body, stroking over the layers of hardened muscle adorning his torso to find his jaw. He half-expects you to wrap your nimble fingers around his throat and squeeze, to which he tenses and sends you a warning glare over his shoulder. You only smirk back, sliding your fingers over his kiss-bruised and bitten lips.

"Open," you command, and he grunts in protest, shaking his head.

"Stick your fingers in my mouth and I'll bite them clean off, that's a p-promise-! fuck, what are you-?" Vegeta's growl turns into a startled yelp as your free hand catches his tail in a firm grip. "You insolent- fuuuck."

You give his tail a tug, and it sends a shockwave down his spine, making his entire body tense up and then abruptly go limp. He hates how weak and helpless he's become with a single gesture, and how his traitorous cock only throbs and leaks all the more for it. It's not his fault. It feels too good to submit to you, even if his mind disagrees, his body surrenders enthusiastically.

His jaw loosens, lips parting around your digits as if in a trance and embarassingly, he moans as your fingers glide across his tongue.

The immobile state of his body only seems to amplify the feeling of your cock filling him over and over again, forcing his insides into the shape of the toy. He's ruined surely, no one else could pin him down and fuck him within an inch of his life as you do. The realization both terrifies and turns him on beyond belief.

He can't need you, it's unbecoming. But as your fingers fuck his mouth in time with your purposeful thrusts, his doubts go quiet in his mind, replaced by primal pleadings he's thankful are muffled by your digits.

He wants to cum. He wants to be filled, taken, used. He wants to please you but can never say it. Especially not to you, whom his body ignorantly has been tricked into believing you're his mate.

Mate. What a foolish notion.

Still, he is a weak Saiyan, and he is yours. So he lets go of the illusion of control, just for tonight and allows himself to be conquered.

His tail curls around your wrist in a serpentine manner, and he chews and licks at your fingers. The resulting coo and praise that spills from your wicked lips makes his eyes glaze over. "Pleathe," comes his muffled plea around your fingers, and you are filled with pride. Your grip loosens, and you caress the length of his twitching tail between your fingers, transfixed by the way he squirms and whimpers at the touch.

Your fingers retreat from his mouth, connected to his swollen lower lip by shiny drool. You tilt his head to the side, bending over him further until your lips brush over his own.

"Again. Beg again, and I'll let you cum," you proposed, and this time, he doesn't hesitate, feelings his balls tense in anticipation of an orgasm he needs before he's driven utterly insane with desire.